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traditionally nontraditional | park sunghoon
SYNOPSIS: newly married, you and your husband love creating your own...unique traditions
PAIRING: husband!sunghoon x wife!female reader
GENRE: smut
AU: established relationship, chrithmith ∩(·ω·)∩
RATING: explicit/18+, minors dni
WORD COUNT: 7.2k of pure smut baby
WARNINGS: unprotected sex, creampie, dom/sub dynamics, big dick hoon, cock abuser!hoon, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, nudes, sexy ornaments, dirty talk, slightly bratty y/n and hoon is not having it, impatient insatiable hoon, he's so down bad for his lil wifey, teasing, sex with barely any prep, size kink, mentions of size training, strong language, sunghoon cannot stop praising you for the life of him, implied oral (m. receiving), choking, pet names, begging, body worship, overstimulation, forced orgasm, punishment kink, y/n gets tied up :) they are so grossly in love i was gagging the whole time
SNAIL TRAIL: merry belated christmas! for all my freaky horny down bad sunghoon stans. this one's for you. but mostly to my favorite hoonie girl @sungbeams who not only made this incredible banner, but also beta read for me and continued to throw constant words of encouragement my way when i was struggling to write this. as always, i love you so much and everything i do is for you.
“Sunghoon…what is this?”
You’re sitting in the living room of the home you and your newly wedded husband purchased only a few months ago. Wrapping paper and gift bags are strewn throughout the room, traces of hours of opening presents together for the first time as husband and wife littered in a haphazard mess. The fireplace, which is the only lightsource in the room right now besides the ones decorated on the Christmas tree, is warming the entire room as gentle snow falls outside, colorful lights reflecting off the sparkling white substance. You’re bundled up in your favorite Christmas pajamas on the couch while Sunghoon sits in a plush recliner facing you. A proud sparkle adorns your husband’s eyes as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees while he rubs his hands together with excited anticipation as he watches you closely.
“Do you like it? He can’t help the way his lips pull into a subtle smirk, his eyebrows quirking up on the word ‘like’. Sunghoon feels insanely proud for being able to keep this particular gift a surprise. Normally he gets too excited and has to tell you as soon as possible. There’s been quite a few birthdays and anniversaries in the past where Sunghoon hasn’t even made it out of the department store before FaceTiming you and showing you what he’s in the process of buying you. Getting a view of the department store workers side eyeing your husband as he excitingly gushes at you through the phone always warms your heart. An array of apologies always leaves his lips after telling you what he’s gotten you. If it were anyone else, you’d be slightly annoyed with the ruined surprises. But, in all honesty, you actually adored it from him. Your husband being too excited to keep a secret is just another way of him expressing his love. Plus, even if he can’t hide the larger, more extravagant things, he still finds ways to surprise you.
Like with what you have resting in your palms right now. The plastic squeaks slightly as your thumb rubs against it. Memories flood your mind, your thighs twitch, yearning to rub against one another as you lick your lips. It’s hard to ignore the dark haze in your husband’s gaze and the way his legs are spread so perfectly apart.
Noticing your staring, Sunghoon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looks down at his hands before raising his eyes to meet yours once again. He’s waiting for your response, you know he is, and you also know that he’s patient enough to sit here for hours until you’re able to find your voice and speak just what exactly is pulsing through your mind.
And the longer you make Sunghoon wait, the more pleasure he gets from seeing you squirm beneath him later.
“I-I love it. Wow…” You gulp as you stare at the ornament in your hands, eyes unable to tear away from the polaroid Sunghoon has placed perfectly inside.
But it’s not just any polaroid.
It’s a very explicit photo of the two of you on your wedding night where you’re on your knees, throat stuffed with your newly wedded husband’s deliciously thick cock. Mascara running down your cheeks and a hint of drool dribbling down your chin is visible in the photo along with Sunghoon’s large hand gently pulling your hair back.
“I remember that night so well,” Sunghoon grumbles as he leans back in his seat, his eyes still trailing over your body.
“I would hope you do!” you laugh, looking up at him, “Our wedding night, it was only a couple months ago after all.”
“And I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” his gaze darkens, his arms moving to rest behind his head, “Especially the way you moaned once my dick hit the back of your throat. Or when I could see my bulge in your stomach. Or how you could still see my handprint on your ass the next morning. Or-”
“Hoon!” You laugh and toss a throw pillow towards him, which he catches easily, laughing along with you.
“Sorry. Like I said though, it’s a night I’ll never forget. And when you suggested we try to make our own Christmas traditions, well, what can I say? I was inspired.”
His smile is so genuine with a light sparkle in his eyes being reflected from the firelight. You can’t help but walk towards him, needing to be close and to feel his warmth. You’re about to lean in for a kiss when his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in until you’re sitting on his lap. But that wasn’t good enough for him. Sunghoon repositions you so that you’re cradled in his arms, your head resting beneath his collarbone. He leans down slowly, a smile blooming on his face, until your noses touch. Giggling together, you both close your eyes and move your heads back and forth, noses bumping together repeatedly in the process. The innocent moment doesn’t last long, though. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about, but before you get the chance, his soft pillowy lips are brushing against yours, his strong arms pulling you closer to his body.
The kiss seems innocent at first, full of love and tenderness as your mouths move together. But one little shift of your hips in his lap has your husband groaning, deepening the urgency of the kiss. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you eagerly grant him entry all while one hand cusps your cheek and the other grips your hip tighter. Your own hands can’t stay still as one dips below his shirt and wanders from his stomach up to his chest, marveling at the way his muscles feel against your palms and fingertips.
He quickly repositions you. Now, straddling his lap, his hands are free to roam down your body, exploring every curve he can. As if he hasn’t already familiarized himself with every inch of you. Continuing the kiss, he groans as you naturally grind your hips against his lap. His hands grab at your waist, quickling seating you down on him fully until you’re able to feel his cock hardening beneath you. At the feeling of friction against your clothed clit, you moan into his mouth, head tilting back slightly while you grind on him harder. Sunghoon catches your bottom lip between his teeth, growling slightly as he pulls and sucks.
Once he releases you, his mouth is attached to yours again immediately. The kisses are deep, feverish, and desperate; his tongue sloppily entering your mouth muffling any sigh or moan that was lingering within you.
Only when air is needed do you two break away. You look into his deep brown eyes and easily get lost in how lustful he appears. At the same time though, you see something in his eyes soften, complete love and admiration evident amidst the yearning.
“How about we make our second ornament, hmm?” Sunghoon smirks, nipping at your lips again. All you can do is quickly nod your head as you place your hands on his cheeks, savoring the tender moment before it’s gone. One thing about your husband is that once he gets riled up, it’s almost impossible to satiate the beast that consumes his sweet and romantic side.
“Perfect,” Sunghoon’s voice is husky with desire. Quickly, he stands up effortlessly with you still in his arms, one hand firmly placed on your back while the other holds one of your thighs. You can’t help but giggle as you cling to him, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. You slow your ministrations down when you hear him groan as you nip at a particular spot under his ear; you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue brush against his skin before biting down gently, careful to not leave any marks (per his unfortunate request, no visible marks can be left on him due to his new position at work. Plus, it’s been harder to cover them up and there’s only so many times he can wear a scarf during the summer without getting weird glances from coworkers. And the amount of turtle necks he’s worn during this winter season in particular is fashionably criminal).
Sunghoon easily carries you to your shared bedroom, not even bothering to close the door as he gently tosses you on the mattress. You quickly sit up, peeling your clothes off of you before Sunghoon even has a chance to get on the bed himself.
“Slow down, let me help you,” he murmurs, placing a hand on your arm to stall you. You let him remove your shirt, although he’s doing it painfully slowly; leaving soft kisses along your collar bones and the base of your neck once they’re properly exposed. Even though his movements are slow and intentional, it feels like time is speeding up between you in the best way possible. It’s something you can’t quite explain. You’ve heard other people talk about how time seems to stop when they’re with their partners. But, for you, time has always sped up with Sunghoon, the entire world spinning by as the two of you live in your own timezone; a cocoon created just for you two to find solace in.
You wouldn’t change it for a thing.
Finally, Sunghoon has you completely naked and laying on your side, supporting your upper body weight by laying on your elbows as you look at him towering over you. He’s already swatted your hand away from him when you tried to lift his shirt up, a wide, goofy smile plastered on his face as he gently encourages you to wait. What you’re waiting for? You have no idea. But your heart is racing with anticipation, your body warm and cheeks flushed already.
All he does is roll up his sleeves slightly, exposing his veiny forearms. Instantly your eyes are drawn to his hands, though, his fingers flexing slightly as they move back down to his sides.
“You’re staring, darling.”
“Can’t help it,” you sigh, “look at you.”
Sunghoon chuckles softly, an endearing smile back on his face, “Look at me? Look at you. So pretty for me…” he takes a step forward, his gaze primal and hungry, “so pretty for me to ruin, tsk tsk. What am I going to do with you?”
You feel your face heating up even more, blush surely spreading across your cheeks. You can’t help but wish he would hurry up, though. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest with how fast and hard it’s pounding. Hands craving for a purpose, you keep reaching for your husband, desperate to feel his skin mingle with yours, but he keeps swatting you away. Your body is aching for him like it always does, no matter how many times you’ve had him inside you. You always want more of him- need more of him.
Sunghoon looks towards the closet where you keep your polaroid camera resting safely on the shelf above your hanging clothes, the long neck strap spilling over the ledge. But, he bites his bottom lip and turns back to you, groaning as he places his knees on the edge of the bed. One of his hands comes out to grasp one of your knees, spreading you apart so he can properly look at your glistening cunt.
“Fuck,” he exhales, “I can see how wet you are for me already. Darling, I haven’t even touched you yet.”
You try to look away from him, but his gaze is too captivating, holding you in place.
“Just looking at you has me like this,” you quip playfully, “my husband is just so sexy.”
“Fuck…say that again,” he groans, massaging your knee with his hand, his eyes glued to yours.
“My…hus…band,” you say slowly, drawing out the syllables with a smirk, clicking your tongue at the end while you bring a foot up to rest on his thigh.
His free hand instantly grasps your foot, stopping its movements immediately. Sunghoon can’t help but sigh and marvel at you. But only for a moment. Roughly, he tosses your leg to the side and buries his face in your heat, forgoing the slow build up he initially was going for and presses his nose against your clit as he tongues at your hole.
“Oh!-” You let out a surprised choked yelp, but you’re quickly sputtering as one of your husband’s hands comes up to grasp one of your breasts tightly. His thumb flicks over your perked nipple, massaging your mound harshly as his tongue continues to lick at your arousal. Your back naturally arches, your hands grasping at the sheets near your head as moans easily leave your lips.
“Mmm, so sweet for me,” Sunghoon coos, bringing his free hand up to wipe at his mouth. At first, you think he’s done, but then he has two fingers roaming between your folds collecting your slick. “So wet, all for me,” he says proudly, eyes locked in on your cunt. He’s more so talking to himself. More praises and remarks are made but your head is becoming too foggy, thighs now twitching with the soft contact. You need more, more of him.
Your hands snake down to his head, making him look at you for a moment while you silently plead for him. You know that he knows what you want, but all he does is smile happily at you, continuing the slight touches. His fingers circle the outside of your hole and just far enough outside of your clit to have you clenching. It’s completely unfair for him to do this to you, but unfortunately, it’s not the first or last time he will play with you like this.
“So needy,” he coos again, “is this what you want?” Sunghoon slowly pushes one digit into your cunt, making sure not to move it around. You try to suck him in further, hips wiggling unintentionally.
“Sunghoon,” you groan, closing your eyes, “please.”
“Please what?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it’s enough to make you want to throw a bratty tantrum. But, somehow, you’re able to stop yourself. Because this is exactly what you want. And if you give into your bratty dynamics, it’ll only prolong what you need.
So you’ll give your husband what he wants, for your own selfish agenda of course. “Please touch me more. I need you. No more teasing. Please.” The more you talk, the whinier you sound, but you don’t care anymore. Your hole continues to clench around his digit, desperate for it to move, piston, curl, do anything other than just sit dormant.
Sunghoon chuckles lowly, “Being so good for me today, aren’t you? Fine. I’ll give my wife what she needs since she’s been such a good girl this year.”
Your eyes are still closed as you sigh, waiting to feel more of his fingers inside you or even to feel his lips around your clit.
But that’s too predictable. And Sunghoon doesn’t like being predictable.
Instead, your eyes pop open as you feel Sunghoon’s cock pushing into you. The stretch is painfully delicious, your body shivering as he fills you up more and more. Once he’s completely sheathed inside you, Sunghoon groans and grips your knees tightly. You don’t know how you didn’t hear him slide his pajama pants down his thighs, but it’s a detail you don’t mind missing. Plus, you’re more focused on the way your body stings, urgently trying to adjust to his giant cock. Sunghoon stills for a moment, chest heaving as he adjusts himself inside you.
“God, you’re so tight,” he hisses.
“That’s what happens when you don’t warm me up properly.”
“Smart fucking mouth,” he tsks but he can’t hide his smile. Sunghoon quickly rips his shirt over his head, tossing it mindlessly to the floor next to him. “I know you can take it, though. Your body was made for me, afterall.”
He doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before his hips are pulling back, snapping forward back into you just before you feel his tip about to leave your hole. You moan with the force of his thrust, hands reaching out to grip onto his firm biceps.
“Look at you. You’re so perfect like this, so beautiful,” Sunghoon groans as he thrusts harder and faster into you. “So…beautiful,” he grunts again. You gasp as he leans forward, his cock hitting a new angle. But you don’t have time to fully appreciate it. His hand wraps delicately around your throat, squeezing until a slight gasp leaves your lips.
It feels like your body is levitating; every inch of your skin prickles with a rush of adrenaline as your husband continues to abuse your hole. The way his hips snap against your thighs has you feeling bruised already. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Some might feel embarrassed for how quickly they get to their orgasm, but not you. You feel a sense of pride swell in your chest knowing that your husband knows your body so well and is always determined to have you come before he does. It’s a law he’s written for himself. And, ever since the first time you’ve been together, he’s held true to it. The rare times he comes before you do is if you’re sucking him off quickly somewhere outside of your home, which is usually taking place in a restaurant bathroom or a dressing room in a random department store. Being the man Sunghoon is, though, that same night he makes sure to spend hours with your thighs cushioned against his head. No matter how much you beg for his cock, he always insists on using his tongue or hands to fully appreciate your body as a reward for taking care of him at the random moments when he needs to use you.
Ever the selfless, Sunghoon lessens his grip on your throat and leans down, kissing you softly while his pace doesn’t relent. It’s drowning the way his lips naturally mold with yours, all the words you want to say get poured into the way you receive his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and bucking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.
“Don’t come yet,” he commands, a harsh bite in his voice as he pushes your hips down, “I want our next ornament to be a picture of you right as your orgasm hits. Can you do that for me? Can you hang on just a little bit longer, baby? I just want to have a little more fun with you before I grab the camera.”
You shake your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip to try to keep yourself from orgasming. Tears prick your eyes as you feel your body start to betray you despite your best efforts.
“C’mon, baby, please? Fuck, I don’t think I can stop. You just feel so good,” he groans loudly, both hands gripping your breasts tightly as he continues pounding you into the mattress. “If you can’t hold it I’ll just have to make you come again and again until I get the picture I want.”
“Please let me, Hoon. I-I can’t-” a choked moan interrupts you when Sunghoon presses his thumb firmly on your clit, rubbing harshly at a steady pace while his cock continues to piston in and out of you. You don’t even have a second to enjoy the dual stimulation. Your orgasm hits you like a train, exploding from the bottom of your body and rippling upward. Eyes rolling back so harshly, it feels like you’re going to pass out as your body starts to tremble violently underneath Sunghoon.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, slowing his pace down only slightly, “look at you, my pretty doll. Can’t even let me fuck you for more than two minutes before you’re losing your mind on my cock. You did so well taking me without any prep. Always so good for me.” He’s kissing up your chest between sentences, arms holding you tightly in place. You focus on the sound of his voice, letting the low familiar tone guide your soul back to your body.
Sunghoon pets your hair comfortingly, leaving gentle kisses along your face while his cock still sits snugly in your heat, unmoving. “You back with me?” he whispers, seeing the light returning back to your eyes and your body shaking less. You nod your head in response, a soft smile spreading on your face as you blink slowly at him.
“Good. Now that you’ve had your moment to catch your breath I can punish you properly.” Sunghoon removes himself from your body and the bed, now walking towards the closet.
“W-what?” You sit up on your elbows and watch him, confused with the way his jaw clenches and his back muscles tense.
“I thought you were gonna be a good girl for me, but I guess I was mistaken.” He’s digging around in the closet, nowhere near where the camera is.
“But I have been good!” You pout shamelessly, your tone whiny and full of attitude.
Finding what he was looking for, Sunghoon straightens himself and grabs the polaroid camera without a second glance. When he turns around, you gulp, seeing the four fuzzy cuffs in his hands alongside the camera.
“I told you not to come,” he flicks his hooded gaze at you, his face cold and annoyed, “so you don’t get to touch me since you wanted to be so greedy.”
Silently, Sunghoon walks back towards the bed and quickly fastens your feet into two of the cuffs, securing them snuggly and pulling out the fabric straps from under the mattress to hook the cuffs to. His jaw is still clenched while he moves impatiently, huffing at himself when his fingers fail to get them secure the first time. Only when he moves to your last free wrist does he finally look at you. Trying to appear sorrowful, you jut out your bottom lip and lower your head to look at him through your eyelashes. Sunghoon groans, always falling into this trap when it comes to you.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know what you did was wrong. And I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You disobeyed so you’ll be punished. I know how handsy you get so it only seems fitting.”
You tug playfully at your wrist constraints, eliciting a stern scowl from your husband. Sighing and shaking his head, he takes out the camera and sets it down next to your body.
“But it’s Christmas…” You try again, but he doesn’t acknowledge you this time.
Sunghoon patiently looks over your body, his eyes slowly combing over every curve of your body, biting at his bottom lip as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you like this. You desperately want to rub your thighs together, missing the feeling of his cock stretching you out. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband, the way your legs tug at the cuffs or the way your hips buck up slightly. It’s almost worse that he won’t acknowledge you, even slowing down his gaze. And it’s killing you that he’s not even saying anything so all you’re left with is the cold air settling against your skin and feeling like a frog about to be dissected with the way you’re displayed before him.
You let out a low moan, a huff really, while you furrow your brows and desperately try to meet Sunghoon’s gaze. He trails a finger from your thigh down to your ankle, your body twitching under his touch.
“Hoon-”
“No.”
One of his hands falls to his aching cock, still erect and glistening from your arousal. He slowly moves up and down his length, wincing slightly while looking hungrily at your exposed pussy. Flashbacks of your first night together flood your mind, the way Sunghoon practically drooled over your naked heat while your body trembled with a surge of adrenaline. The look on his face now is the same as it was all those years ago.
Finally, his eyes trail up your body, resting into your gaze. That soft smile is back and you wonder if he’s reminiscing like you are, if he’s feeling the same overwhelming swell in his chest, wishing this moment wouldn’t have to pass and you could stay like this together forever.
As romantic as that sounds, you’re both over it. Smirks blooming on both of your faces as the yearning and needing for one another takes over your bodies. You use another wasted attempt at your constraints, whining for your husband in a near tantrum state. It only fuels his ego, loving how desperate you are for him. His erect cock visibly twitches, pulling Sunghoon towards you like a magnet. Placing a knee inches away from your dripping cunt, he leans down and groans as he kisses you, putting so much pressure against your lips that your head pushes deeper into the pillows until your neck starts to ache. His tongue doesn’t wait for your permission, forcefully pushing past your lips until he’s able to collide the muscle against your own. You moan into him, bucking your hips up once again to try to feel his body against your own, but he’s hovering a teasing length away, just enough for you to not be able to reach him.
In compensation, one of his large hands moves to grip your waist tightly, nails digging into your skin while he continues to attack your mouth. You desperately want to reach your hands out and wrap them around his neck, to tug on the ends of his hair and move his head to the side to nip and pull at the skin beneath his ear.
The tension building up in your body is reaching a boiling point and you’re afraid you might actually lose your mind. Sunghoon loves to hear you beg, that’s nothing new to you, but the type of begging you’re on the verge of doing will only become a regret shortly after. You want to keep your composure, you really do, want to be the patient perfect wife Sunghoon married months ago. How could you possibly behave in a time like this? With a man like this?
You’re about to let loose when Sunghoon breaks away from your lips, moving his own along your jawline and dipping down to nip at your collarbones. In doing so, Sunghoon’s body lowers and you feel the tip of his cock bump against your swollen lower lips. Gasping, no, moaning, no-, whining, fuck, maybe all of the above sounds leave your lips simultaneously. Arching your back, your body desperately needs to be closer to him, to feel him against every inch of your skin. You feel dizzy, high even from the lack of contact and he has the nerve to sit there and watch you, chuckling as if you did something cutely amusing.
“You think this is funny?” You finally manage to pant out, wrists getting sore from tugging too harshly against the cuffs.
“Very.” Fangs beaming through his smile and sparkling eyes, Sunghoon gives you a moment before reaching for the camera. Quickly his fingers work until a bright light flashes in your face making you blink quickly.
“Sorry, love. Just couldn’t resist that pouty face of yours. Definitely one for the books. Now,” he grunts, looking down where your bodies are almost connected, “you ready for me? Gonna listen this time?”
You nod your head earnestly, clenching around nothing, aching to be filled again.
“Take a breath,” he instructs, lining himself up to your hole, “because I’m not warming you up again. And I don’t plan on going slow.”
Instinctively, you do as you're told and inhale slowly. Sunghoon watches and waits until you’re exhaling to shove the head of his throbbing cock past your walls. Only getting halfway in, Sunghoon winces, letting out a low groan as his brows furrow while he looks at you, gritting his teeth as his eyes darken. Moving back onto his knees, Sunghoon tears his gaze from you and pushes his hair out of his eyes, his brows furrowed while he lets out another impatient huff. A failed experimental thrust getting him nowhere deeper inside you only elicits more huffs and a few muttered swear words. He leans down and lets a wad of spit string down from his mouth, landing directly where his cock and your pussy meet. Sunghoon brings one hand down and smothers the spit along his digit, moving it along his cock and up to your clit where he rubs annoyed circles frantically. He knows it doesn’t feel that good for you to be instantly met with harsh pressure and fast speeds, but he’s not trying to make you feel good right now exactly. No, he wants your body to react faster, to adjust to him before he completely loses his patience.
“After all this time I’m still too big for this little pussy? Thought I trained you better.” He’s shaking his head in disapproval and all you want is to get on your hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness; to beg for him to show you how to take his monster cock properly. But you’re left to just lay here like a starfish, whimpering as you try to relax your body. It feels impossible with all the anticipation building up. Your body is tense, heart rate increasing with every passing second. Your walls pulse around his thick member, sucking him in further and further with each subtle rock of his hips. Sunghoon’s brows are furrowed so deeply and his jaw clenched so tightly makes you clench around him even harder. Fuck, he’s so hot like this. Normally so patient and unbothered, it’s moments like this that really excite you. Because an impatient and bothered Sunghoon just means more fun for you.
“Sorry,” Sunghoon grumbles and grabs your hips firmly, backing out slowly only to ram himself completely into you. Gasping as his tip hits your cervix, your hips stutter against his pelvis. Sunghoon exhales a slow chuckle, biting his tongue between his fanged teeth with a smirk.
“God, you’re clenching me so tight I feel dizzy.”
Moaning out a haggard, “‘M sorry” is all you can muster. Not that he gives you more time to form a proper sentence. Sunghoon is already moving before you can even adequately appreciate the full feeling he’s giving you. Your chest bounces with each harsh thrust, every muscle in Sunghoon’s body is flexed and strained as he finally delves into his own pleasure. His biceps and pecs are bulging right in front of your face, almost mocking you for not being able to touch or gnaw on them.
“My pretty wife taking me so well,” grunting, his pace quickens, “you’re doing so, so good for me.”
Your body is desperately fighting against the restraints, feeling so good and overstimulated all at once. The pleasure building up inside your body is looking for any sort of relief. Not being able to rake your fingernails against the skin of his muscled back, not being able to leave open mouthed kisses along the side of his face and neck, it’s all driving you crazy. To just sit here and take this continual cock abuse is driving you so quickly over the edge you’re afraid of coming too quickly again.
“Sunghoon,” you gesture your head to the side where he placed the camera minutes ago, “the camera.”
“Already?” The innocent and shocked expression on his face has your cheeks feeling hot, biting down on your bottom lip to keep you as grounded as you can. But that knot is winding tighter and tighter, he’s hitting all the right spots and one more low whine out of that pretty mouth of his is all it will take to have you coming undone.
Sunghoon stares at your face, the way your nose is scrunched and your eyes are closed, and hurries to grab the camera. His thrusts slow only slightly, the intensity lessening as he moves his body to grab the device. From fast and deep, he changes to slow and intentional; languidly dragging his cock against your walls.
Sunghoon raises the camera up to his eyes but stops, his body completely stilling, the camera lowering to his side.
You open your eyes and blink slowly at him,“What’s wrong?”
“I have a crazy idea.” There’s a far away look in his eyes mixed with a little sparkle, a look you’re not completely unfamiliar with.
“What is it?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” you say confidently, without any hesitation. What a silly question for him to even have to ask. Curiosity is starting to overwhelm the back of your mind when you see Sunghoon turn the camera over in his hands, the long black neck strap slipping between his fingers, wondering what the hell he has planned in that quiet mind of his.
Sunghoon is inspecting the camera strap carefully, then glancing back at you.
“I’m gonna choke you with this.”
“What?”
A proud smile adorns his face as he guides your head up and slips the camera around your neck. You gulp as you feel the scratchy material against your esophagus, Sunghoon’s grip already tight while he adjusts everything until it’s in the perfect spot with the extra fabric wrapped around his fist. The camera itself is in his hand in a ready position just in case he decides he needs to take a picture quickly. He gives some experimental tugs, relishing in the way your eyes flutter with the constriction. Twitching, his cock that’s still buried deep inside you pulls his focus back.
Sunghoon’s body now fully envelopes you, resting his body weight on his free arm while the other angles the camera near the side of your face.
“Why didn’t I think of this before?” He chuckles with satisfaction, taking a quick experimental photo of your chest. He tosses the expelled polaroid on the other side of the bed, making sure the photo lands faced down.
You couldn’t answer even if you wanted to; same old dance, different song really. Because your husband has started up his rhythmic thrusts again, going back to his original pace and pulling at the camera strap attached to your neck. You don’t miss the way he slips one of his fingers underneath the material though, the digit resting lightly against your skin.
Again, you desperately wish you could touch him. There’s no way to properly convey the yearning you have to feel his skin against your fingertips. To make up for the lack of physical action you can show him, you compensate with an array of moans with his name and swear words, you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. Anything that will convey to him just what he’s doing to you exactly and how well he’s doing it too.
“Oh my-, fuck, Hoon! There- right-, yeah! I’m-, hmmm.” It feels like your body is levitating with how deeply your back is arching, brain getting dizzy, your eyes are rolling back so hard. You can feel your thighs starting to shake more and more with each thrust Sunghoon pounds into you. Has he ever been this deep before? There’s no way he hasn’t. He could be pushing your uterus further into your body for all you know with the way he’s going absolutely crazy on you.
Sweat blooming like 4am dewdrops on Sunghoon’s forehead glisten, some drops falling down against your own brow. He’s muttering something back to you in between kisses along your skin, but you can’t make out the words with how fast and quietly he’s talking.
Not that it matters anyways. Your release is building up so quickly again you’ve become a sputtering mess yourself.
“My god, you’re doing so well for me, baby,” Sunghoon winces, voice louder and understandable once more, “You’re gripping me so tight. Are you close again already?”
“T-take the picture!” You squeal through a gasp, grinding your hips against him.
Moving fast, Sunghoon loosens his grip on the camera strap, positioning his fingers on the button and tries to angle the lens to a spot that fits his liking. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he watches your expressions. He almost can’t believe that he’s the reason your eyes are rolling back so hard, that he’s the one making your entire body shake without barely having to do anything at all.
“Oh!” You gasp as your husband’s cock twitches inside you mid thrust, hitting your g-spot easily. Your mouth falls open, back still arching and your eyes roll back yet again. The bright flash from the camera goes off while Sunghoon spews an array of swear words, tossing the camera to the side quickly. He grabs your hips and thrusts in and out of you at a rapid pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he chases his own high.
“You’re so fucking hot for letting me tie you up and take pictures of you, holy fuck. I have the best little wife,” he growls, “letting me do whatever I want with your body. You’re perfect, perfect for me.” A guttural groan leaves his lips as he ruts his hips against yours, muscles stuttering as he shoots hot ropes of cum as far into your cunt as he possibly can. Finally, you let out a loud sigh as you let your orgasm wash over your body. Electricity shoots throughout your veins as you ride out your high, Sunghoon slowly moving back and forth as he fucks his cum deeper into you. Even after you’re both panting and coming back to reality, he’s milking out every drop he possibly has left, making sure it’s well seated in you before pulling out fully.
With shaky legs, Sunghoon stands and stretches his arms over his head, returning to give you a shaking, soft kiss to your trembling lips.
“I love you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your cheek before giving a swift peck to your nose. He moves to undo the cuffs from your wrists, massaging your skin lightly for a moment before moving onto the next ones.
You whine as he moves away from you, wanting to kiss his lips over and over again until you physically can’t anymore. Brain spinning from your high and body buzzing, you’re not ready to have any sort of space away from him just yet.
When Sunghoon finally gets the last cuff off your ankle, you sit up and grab his arm, pulling him back down to the bed and enveloping his body in your arms. He laughs as he falls on top of you, wasting no time to reciprocate the embrace, littering your face with rapid kisses that leave you giggling.
“I love you too, by the way.” You giggle, squishing your cheek against his while squeezing your arms around him tighter.
“I know,” he says softly. “Hey, we should see how the pictures turned out!”
“Oh god,” you groan, completely unprepared to see what you look like in a total fucked out dazed state. Sunghoon moves to the side, resting his head against your shoulder and reaching over your body for the photos, hiding them from your curious eyes so he can get a peak first.
“Daaammmnn,” he whistles with a side glance towards you, “I just felt myself twitch again. These are too good. Can we do this every time we have sex?”
“Lemme see.” You laugh and reach for his hand. He hands over the photos willingly, watching your face intently while you take in the photos. “That’s me? I look like that when I-”
“Yep,” Sunghoon sighs dreamily, “I never get tired of seeing it.” He tilts his head to the side to give you that rare goofy grin that you love so much.
“Should we put it in an ornament now?”
“Nah,” Sunghoon takes the polaroids from your hand and sets it on the nightstand, pulling you closer so now it’s your head that’s resting on his chest, “Let’s stay here a bit longer.”
Closing your eyes and breathing in his scent, you sigh happily, arms wrapped securely around his waist while he murmurs soft words into your hair. An array of “so pretty”’s and “my baby did so well”’s tumbling from his kiss swollen lips.
It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s doing. And you get your confirmation when you open your eyes.
“You want to go again…don’t you…”
Sunghoon exhales with a low chuckle, his head falling back while he continues to play with your hair. “What gave it away?”
“Well…you’re being very affectionate right now. And I have eyes.” You giggle and gesture towards his naked bottom half, with his (once again) fully erect cock on display.
“Oh…that.” Sunghoon shyly replies. “Can you blame me?”
Without waiting for your response, yet again (does he ever wait for you to properly reply to him?) Sunghoon moves quickly and is hovering over you once again, lowering his bottom half until his cock is nestling between your folds. Teasingly his tip nudges against your clit, your body already weeping to have him inside you again.
Thinking he’s about to put himself back in, you brace your body to feel the stretch. Instead, Sunghoon gives you a mischievous grin and grabs your waist. He flips you around, pulling your hips back until your ass is in the air and flush against his pelvis.
You feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance again, but he pauses. And you groan because he seems to always be doing this; somehow always getting lost in thought just when you’re ready to let everything go and be fully consumed by him. But nothing can ever be that simple to Sunghoon. Every minute, every second, every detail is thought out in ways that only Sunghoon could do. But the more he gets lost in thought, the more pleasure you’ll feel later. If only your patience could keep up.
“Fuck, I wanna tie you up again.”
You let out a surprised laugh, somehow, at the same time, you’re not completely surprised by this at all. His words are so simple, yet they send an excited chill throughout your body. You know better than to move when you feel his presence leave you, most likely heading back to the closet to rummage through your shared box of fun.
You hear his feet shuffling back, followed by the bed dipping under his body weight shortly after. “Mmm. Love you like this,” he sighs, massaging the swell of your ass with his hands before landing a playful smack to it. He grabs your arms and places your wrists on top of each other. The feeling of what’s most likely one of his ties wraps around, tightening deliciously around your skin until you can’t move your arms at all.
“We’re going to make so many ornaments tonight, baby.”
♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 12/30/24 do not copy, repost, or translate
#sunghoon smut#sunghoon hard hours#sunghoon hard thoughts#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x you#enhypen x you#enhypen x reader#park sunghoon smut#enhypen sunghoon smut#park sunghoon#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen angst#sunghoon angst#enhypen imagines#sunghoon imagines#enhypen au#sunghoon au#enhypen fanfiction#sunghoon fanfiction
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— SQUID GAME WOMEN STRAP HCS
◜ featuring ... player 196 (bee girl), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), sae-byeok (s1 player 067)
𔗨 author's note — didnt add junhee cos she preg and no hyunju bc i dont think she'll be comfortable w a male genitalia toy BUT LETS FUCKING GOoOO strap game hcs coming right up !! [lowercase intended]
p.s. thank u for all the reqs!! give me time and ill post my work one by one, i js have so many ideas in my mind its gonna explode
warning: smut [use of strap-on, taking pictures]
player 196 —
- ! PINK STRAP PINK STRAP PINK STRAP !
- sweet talker during sex but her movements are definitely the opposite of sweet
- would DEFINITELY take pretty pictures of you while you drool over her strap
- has a special album for you with pink emojis on the side <33
- slows down right before you orgasm !!!
- she makes fun of your pathetic state :((
- you get even more turned on ofc
- mostly just her teasing you whenever she fucks you using her strap
- sometimes she'd add fun and use a vibrator on u alongside her strap!!
- one time she wanted to test the new mascara she bought if it was really waterproof like it said on the packaging
- .... guess what ....
- she applies it on your lashes, brings out the strap and fucks u non stop til u were literally crying
- lashes stayed bomb after sex though so she took note of that !
- loves to edge u COS LIKE I SAID SHE'S A TEAAAASE
- after a few edging rounds she'd finally let u cum
- she's not THAT mean to not let u !!
- LOVES hearing your moans !!! sometimes she'd get off herself by just that.
- AFTERCARE !! would make u feel like a princess and im talking about bubble baths, cuddles, and sometimes would even do your nails <3
"good girl, taking me in so well"
no eul —
- doesnt rlly care abt strap colors but i can imagine her w the skin tone one
- prepare to not be able to walk the next day
- ABSOLUTELY MERCILESS !!!!!
- poor baby's stressed most of the time so fucking u with her strap serves as her stress reliever
- u wont complain though, her strap game has u crying out of pleasure
- though once you've had enough and said the safe word she'd stop w/o hesitation
- DOGGY STYLE?!?
part 1 ✧ part 2
summary: rafe hated you, but he mainly hated how obsessed he was with you. placed during senior year of HS. both are of age
warnings: smut, swearing, masturbation (m), reader catching rafe masturbating, bullying, 18+ mdni
pairing: bully!rafe x reader
rafe cameron made sure to make your life at school a living nightmare. he went out of his way to trouble you, and despite your best efforts to ignore his childish behavior, you just couldn't seem to get him to lay off you. it was odd, the way he found pleasure in making you angry, or uncomfortable.
you never knew why he only treated you like this so consistently. you knew that he was in no means a kind person in general, other than the girls he often hooked up with and led on, but he never hung on to someone the way he did with you.
you weren't some annoying, loud, pogue. you kept to yourself on most occasions and found yourself finding peace alone and reading books, or hanging out with your small but close-knit friend group. you honestly couldn't wait till summer, or just graduation in general.
rafe cameron hated her, or so he wanted to. he hated the way she made him feel, vulnerable, and unlike his usual cocky self.
maybe it was the way she kept her calm, when anyone else would've ran away crying? or maybe it was the way she would look up at him, with her doe eyes, a slight glimmer that just told him how she could read through his arrogant front easily. she knew what he was. he hated, hated, that.
why couldn't he just forget about her? why did he find himself thinking about her at the most unconventional times. and why, when her face came up in his mind, he felt his body grow hot and an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. god, when it would happen, often so, he never felt more embarrassed. he was rafe cameron, he could find any dumb cheerleader at the school to fuck and throw away.
yet he found himself yearning after the girl in the back of the class, quiet, smart, and mature. in all his best efforts to make himself forget about her, he only made his obsession worse, and her hatred for him deeper.
rafe cameron was your worst enemy. you couldn't think of a more emotionally immature person than him. you heard the stories about how he ghosted this girl, or cheated on his girlfriend, or hooked up with his best friends ex.
you found yourself having to remind yourself how much of a horrible person he was. it was just that, when he would make fun of you, you'd look at him. really, look at him. you saw his insecurities, his vulnerability.
gosh, was he good looking though. you understood why so many girls at your school pined after him. when he would make fun of you, you felt a lot of things. you felt upset, mostly at yourself due to the wetness you could feel between your thighs. you didn't like how your brain heard his words, but focused on his distracting eyes, and smooth lips.
you wanted him to stay away from you. mostly, you just wanted the uncontrollable needy thoughts to stay away. you knew he would never, ever, be attracted to a girl like you. of course, that's why he hated you, right? he thought you were ugly, and a bother, that had to be why.
you were at your locker, as unbothered as anyone could be. until your locker slammed shut right in front of you, revealing nonetheless then rafe cameron.
this time, he didn't say anything immediately. his mouth opened, but shut after he eyed you up and down. his eyes trailed over the stockings you had decided to wear today, which you couldn't have regretted more in the moment. you squeezed tightly onto your books, just wanting to hear whatever snarky comment he had to make and get it over with.
"really? nice choice of clothes, you going for a degree in slut?" he laughed, and walked away. you were thankful he quickly left so he didn't see the way your face turned red. if only you knew the reason he left in a hurry was to avoid you seeing his rising boner, on a rush to the bathroom stall.
you knew you had to go neaten up, get yourself together. your panties felt damp, your shamefulness deepening. haven being so deep in embarrassment, you didn't notice the boys restroom sign when you walked into the bathroom.
looking into the mirror, you took a deep breath, brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, until you heard a noise from the end of the bathroom. the bell had rung, so the stalls were all empty, except one. the one all the way on the end of the hall, which you thought you could've heard a small noise from.
taking a step closer with caution, but almost choking on your spit when you heard... a moan? you halted yourself, and your assumptions were true. you wondered who on earth would be jerking off in a bathroom stall, waiting for the next noise to try and recognize the voice.
rafe quickened his pace, feeling himself reaching his climax. he knew the bathroom was empty, but he still tried his best to control his voice. it almost made him mad how desperate he felt thinking about fucking you with those stockings on, or you sucking him off while looking up at him with your gorgeous innocent eyes. it was hard to control his voice thinking about you, so he naturally loudened his moans a little.
oh my god. it all clicked with you. you accidentally walked into the boys bathroom, and rafe cameron was in the stall jerking off. your throat closed up, mind unable to process how this was real. all you were able to do was slap your hand over your mouth to cover your gasp. until you heard- "fuck, y/n." how'd he- oh gosh. correction, rafe Cameron was jerking off, thinking about you. you froze, but knew you had to get out of there before he caught you.
coming down from his high, rafe cleaned himself up, his breathing raggedy. he was ready to get out of this stall, act like it never happened, and go back to class. until, his heart dropped at the sound of the bathroom door shut. no way someone was in here, how'd he not hear them? whatever, they probably didn't even know it was him.
@anitalenia for the borders! ♡
part 2 - follow for more (◕ᴗ◕✿)
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#bully!rafe#mean!rafe#frat!rafe#islandheartprincess#rafe cameron imagine#outerbanks fanfiction#outer banks#outerbanks smut#obx smut
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we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
prompt: four times you spent a holiday with your best friend Steve Harrington and one time you didn't and missed him.
word count: 10.2k
warnings: friends-to-lovers, everyone can see it (including steve and reader but they're both kind of in denial), mutual pining, characters in their mid-twenties, fluff and (some) emotional angst, steve uses a cheesy nickname for reader, mentions of partying and alcohol consumption, some swearing, no use of y/n
notes: hi all, this is the first reader fic that i publish here, so bear with me, i tried my best <3 in light of the year-end celebrations, this fun little idea of a fic came to me and i decided to give it a shot, so i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3
🥂🥂🥂
“What are your resolutions for the new year?”
You looked up from your glass of champagne when Steve asked you that question out of the blue. You were both leaning against the kitchen island at Nancy and Jonathan’s apartment, distractedly observing your friends playing a drinking game you had both stepped out of. You were glad to allow your friends their fun, but mostly, to have a reason to get some alone time, just the two of you. A silent agreement, as always.
“You know I don’t believe in resolutions,” you answered before bringing a flute smudged by your red lipstick to your lips.
“Oh, come on, kitten, humor me for a second.”
You raised an eyebrow at him while he waited for your response with a cheeky smile. You heard Robin burst into laughter from the living room, but you were too focused on Steve’s loose strand of hair and the woody scent of his new cologne to acknowledge it.
“Fine,” you obliged him. “Well, I resolve to quit drinking coffee, exercise more, and buy a new and well-functioning car.”
“You’re full of shit,” Steve laughed. “Like you’re ever going to get rid of Gina.”
“Of course I’m not getting rid of Gina, she’s my ride-or-die,” you said, referring to your personified old car.
“Yeah, emphasis on ‘die’ – you're missing a rearview mirror in there.”
You nudged him playfully, briefly losing your balance but Steve helped steady you immediately, putting a hand on your hips that hovered there longer than necessary. You chuckled for good measure but couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face.
Everyone knew you and Steve had a thing for each other. It had been that way since high school – lingering looks in the hallway between classes, overly tactile during a mundane conversation, pretending to forget something at the other’s house to have a reason to go there again… Everyone knew it, was used to it, and never mentioned anything about it – you and Steve included.
Nothing had ever happened because the timing was always off. If it wasn’t Steve who was dating someone, you were; then you moved away to go to college, and when you came back to Hawkins after graduating, Steve had just left for an internship in New York. Eventually, you grew tired of the never-ending “what-ifs” and made your peace knowing that Steve Harrington would always be more than just a friend but less than a lover. A fine line you both tiptoed in and out of too much over the past eight years.
“What about you?” you eventually asked Steve. “You’re corny as shit, you must have a lot of them resolutions in mind.”
“I only thought of a couple, and they’re not that corny.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Steve laughed again, running a hand through his hair as he reflected on what he’d say. You admired him while he did so. It was frustrating, still having that teenage crush on your longtime friend, not being able to let it go, not entirely at least. You sometimes wished you could be his friend the way Robin was to him, or Eddie was to you. It would make it all so much easier, so much less painful than this in two minds you were both stuck in, this blatant desire for more, this fear that it could all be ruined in seconds, poor decisions fragmenting the illusion of a blissful friendship.
“I thought about learning how to play the guitar.”
“Cliché,” you teased. “What else?”
You could see the turn the conversation had taken when Steve hesitated before talking – looked nervous, even.
“Moving out. Getting my own place.”
You stared at Steve, quiet. You couldn’t say you were surprised – he’d been roommates with Eddie since they both enrolled in community college a few years ago. Even after graduating and getting a job, they stayed that way, because it was simple; splitting the bills, having someone to talk to after a lonely day. But it could only work for so long. It was only a matter of time until one or the other got bored and needed a change of scenery. To you, it was no surprise Steve had that revelation first.
“You sound serious,” was the only comment you could express.
“Because I am,” Steve said. “I started looking at one-bedroom apartments to rent in the neighborhood.”
“Does Eddie know?” you asked.
Steve pursed his lips as he shook his head from left to right. You hummed and couldn’t help but look at the young man in question, with his curly hair tied back in a bun and his poor imitation of some football player his team had to guess the name of. You loved this friend group – you loved the dynamic, the hijinks, and the stability. You loved hanging out with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan at Eddie and Steve's apartment. You loved everything about it and the thought of losing your bearings, of disrupting your habits, made you too sad for the 31st of December, five minutes away from another midnight of confetti, embraces, and promises.
“You’re the first person I told,” Steve eventually said, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. “I thought you could share some of that wisdom you have to advise me.”
You snorted, lazily knocking your shoulder against his arm. “You buttering up to me, Harrington?”
“Only if it’s working.”
You got lost in his beautiful brown eyes, aware of the subtlest things, like his pinky finger brushing your hand timidly, the mint toothpaste on his breath, or how perfectly he wore the sweater you gifted him. It felt so right, standing close to him and toying with the possibility of the unknown. It always did with Steve.
“Okay guys, it’s officially one minute away from midnight, gather ‘round!!” Nancy exclaimed, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.
Reluctantly, you left the little bubble of peace and happiness you had created in the kitchen, Steve following closely behind. As you started counting down from ten, surrounded by all your closest and dearest friends, you only had eyes for Steve.
It had become a habit since you first celebrated New Year’s Eve with him years ago – you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d kiss you at midnight. It was a fantasy you’d entertained ever since you were eighteen, the final and first thought of each year that passed without ever becoming real. Each year, naively, you thought it’d be different. But each year, it was the same old song all over again.
As the clock struck midnight and cheers erupted among the friend group, you hugged everyone. You saved the best ‘til last, heart beating frantically as Steve wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in his neck, getting drunk on his cologne – pathetic, disillusioned.
“Happy New Year, kitten,” Steve whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek – soft, tender, and terribly platonic, as usual.
“Happy New Year, Harrington,” you kissed his cheek in return, the trace of your lipstick leaving a mark on his skin like a temporary tattoo.
And you were too busy thinking about the undone to notice that this year, Steve held you in his arms a little longer than usual.
🌹🌹🌹
“Bro-lentine’s Day?”
“Is that one of those boys band they keep talking about on the radio?"
You held back a laugh at Steve’s question and Eddie’s comment regarding the odd suggestion Robin had just made. The four of you were waiting in line at a Wendy's drive-thru in Steve’s car, the crescent moon shining its feeble light in the night sky above.
“Why would you even think about spending Valentine’s Day with your loser single friends when you have a beautiful girlfriend you could shower with gifts?” Eddie asked, to which Steve, behind the wheel, concurred immediately.
“I mean, I obviously love you guys, but I mostly suggest that because Vickie’s working a night shift on the 14th and I figured it’d be nice to hang out together, the four of us, instead of just… I don’t know, being alone?” Robin admitted.
“Oh, so we’re your stand-ins?” Eddie exclaimed, feigning offense under your amused attention. “Classy, Buckley.”
“That sounds a hell of a lot like a pity party, Rob,” Steve pointed out.
You laughed along as Robin kept putting her foot in her mouth. It was often like that – Robin and Eddie gently bickering in the back seats while you exchanged knowing looks with Steve, in your designated seat at the front of the car.
The only difference was this time, when Steve searched for your eyes to have a silent laugh with you, you avoided his gaze, pretending to look in the distance, thinking about something you needed to say to him but couldn’t find the courage to.
“Okay, fine,” Eddie eventually yielded. “Let’s do this thing. But I have one condition – we go to Steve’s new apartment.”
“Excellent idea!” Robin exclaimed, enthusiastic.
“I told you guys, I’m not done unboxing my stuff, the place is a mess,” Steve argued as he started the ignition to move forward.
Robin rolled her eyes. “You say that like you have a thousand boxes.”
“It's his plethora of hair products - they take up a lot of room,” Eddie teased, which made Robin snort.
“You’re both hilarious, seriously, I can’t stop laughing,” Steve said with a straight face.
“So, it’s a deal,” Eddie said. “Bro-lentine’s Day at Steve’s new place – no, I’m sorry Rob, you’ll have to find another name, I hate how it sounds when it comes out of my mouth.”
“What do you think, babes?”
You only focused back on the conversation when Robin called your name, looking away from the constellations in the sky.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry babes but count me out of this one,” you said with a sorry smile.
Robin laughed, thinking you were probably messing with her. Steve was driving slowly now that the line ahead finally seemed to clear.
“Right, because you have something better to do on Valentine’s Day, of course,” Robin joked while Eddie chuckled.
You tried not to take offense because you knew it was some innocent banter, but it didn’t stop you from frowning.
“Actually, yes, I do,” you contradicted. “I have a date that day.”
The car braked abruptly, causing a blast of horns from the vehicle behind and surprised yelps from the back seats.
“What the fuck, Harrington??” Eddie ranted. “That’s why I keep telling you you’re a shit driver, seriously, how did you manage to get your license, man?"
“Sorry, I got… distracted for a sec’,” Steve apologized.
You couldn’t bear to look Steve in the eye, so you toyed with the bracelets around your wrists and stared at your shoes, waiting for your friends’ reaction to the news.
“Is it someone we know?” Robin asked bluntly. “It’s the cute guy from the music shop at the mall, isn’t it? I knew he had a crush on you, you’re the only one who got Like a Prayer for half price.”
“It was… actually a twenty-percent discount,” you corrected, even though none of your friends cared about that information.
“Who even asks someone out on Valentine’s Day?” Eddie asked himself out loud. “We have three hundred and sixty-five days a year, why choose this nightmare of a commercialized day deliberately?”
“I think it’s cute,” Robin shrugged.
You attempted a smile, but it was nowhere near convincing. Robin and Eddie weren’t even paying attention to you anymore, discussing with each other the pros and cons of a first date on the 14th of February. You gathered the courage to look at Steve, decipher his expression. He might’ve been trying to get your attention a moment ago, but now, he was just staring in front of him, both hands firmly holding the lower part of the wheel.
“So, you’re really going to abandon me with these two idiots, huh?”
Your laugh at Steve’s rhetorical question was a mix of amusement and relief. If there was one thing that meant more than anything to you, it was the harmony between you two. You knew that as soon as you or Steve dated someone, that harmony was threatened. It had happened before. It was a fatality.
“You’ll be just fine,” you assured softly. “It’s just one night.”
Steve chuckled, finally making it to the pickup window. “Yeah, you’re right. Just one night. Easy-peasy.”
At that moment, you couldn’t have imagined that on the 14th of February, you’d find yourself knocking on Steve’s door at ten in the evening, makeup ruined by your disappointed tears, holding tight to your coat and shame in the cold evening air.
When Steve opened the door and saw you standing before him, he blinked at the unexpected sight of you sniffing and shivering.
“What are you doing here, kitten? Is everything okay?”
As soon as you heard Steve’s voice and the concern he displayed, it was out of your control – another tear rolled down your cheek.
“Oh no. Come here.”
You didn’t need to be asked twice- when Steve opened his arms at you, you dived in, letting him hug you tight, accepting his warmth and empathy.
“Dude stood you up?” Steve asked, voice muffled as his face was buried in your hair.
“Worse,” you said. “He was there.”
Steve huffed, because it could’ve been a funny anecdote if not for the dried mascara that ran under your eyes.
“So, we’re not going to the music shop again, huh?”
“I never said it was the guy from the music shop,” you pointed out.
“You never denied it either.”
You snorted and you felt Steve smile against your head. He was the first to part from your embrace, but you were under the impression he could’ve stayed like that much longer.
“What’s taking so long, dingus?” Robin shouted from the living room. “You need help with the pizzas?”
“It’s not the pizzas,” Steve retorted as you stepped inside the apartment.
Both Robin and Eddie turned around on the couch and looked equally surprised to see you there.
“Is it okay if I crash Bro-lentine’s Day?” you asked sheepishly.
“We’re not calling it that!” Eddie said in a singsong.
“You’re more than welcome to crash Bro-lentine’s Day, babes,” Robin told you while wrapping her arm around your shoulders as you sat next to her.
“I give up,” Eddie sighed before heading for the kitchen.
“What did the loser do to get you like that?” Robin inquired, touching your face where the tears had dried.
“Honestly, he wasn’t even that bad,” you explained. “He just… wasn’t what I expected. I guess I’m tired of getting my hopes up and ending up disappointed every time.” You paused, reflecting on that state of mind. “It’s stupid, I know.”
“It’s not stupid,” Robin contradicted with a sympathetic smile. “It’s Valentine’s Day, anyone would’ve expected a perfect date.”
“Hence why you don’t date on that doomed day.”
“Can’t you just let it go already, Eddie??”
You smiled softly at your friends’ innocent quarrel, and you realized in the end, there were no other people you’d rather spend the day of love and romance with.
So, you settled comfortably on the couch in Steve’s new apartment, surrounded by dozens of wrapped boxes and your closest friends with a glass of wine and a cheesy movie to watch, sharing the details of your date with them.
“Well, his loss, darling, not yours,” Eddie said in conclusion to your story.
“Definitely,” Robin nodded.
You smiled lightly and you thought maybe, just maybe, they were right.
“Why are you smiling like that, Harrington?” Eddie then asked.
“Hmm? Oh, no reason,” Steve answered casually before finding a tiny spot between you and Robin on the couch.
🎉🎉🎉
There was nothing more frustrating than being late to meet your friends and having your car’s engine make that hideous sputtering sound as you kept putting the key in the ignition without it ever starting.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you echoed in sync with the car’s noises.
“I see Gina’s being cranky today.”
You glared at Steve, sitting in the passenger seat and enjoying himself a little too much.
“It’s too hot outside, she doesn’t like it when it’s too hot,” you explained to yourself more than Steve.
“It’s the 4th of July, kitten. It’s always hot on the 4th of July.”
“Thank you so much for this enlightening forecast, Harrington, have you ever considered a career in meteorology?”
You bit your lip when you realized how harsh your comeback had sounded. You slowly turned your head to lay regretful eyes on your friend.
“Sorry,” you winced.
“You’re good. I think I know why Gina’s cranky today – she takes from her owner.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it.
The sun was starting to set in a sky adorned with pink and orange hues only summer could take credit for. The air was hot, crickets chirping and bees buzzing while the whole town was already busying itself in preparation for the incoming festivities.
For the past six years, on Independence Day, you’ve met all your friends by the lake on the outskirts of Hawkins to have a barbecue with beers and watch the fireworks. It was a tradition you all honored religiously each Fourth of July.
Except this year, Robin was celebrating with Vickie’s family, Eddie was working at the music camp, which meant you were spending the evening with Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, a group hangout that looked an awful lot like a double date, and it worked yourself up into quite a state.
“Did you get the Buds?” you asked Steve as the ignition still wouldn’t start.
“Packs in the trunk,” Steve answered straight off.
“And the blankets?”
“In the backseat.”
“The radio for the music?”
“Nance’s taking care of it.”
You fell back in your seat after failing one too many times to start the car and just closed your eyes, sighing heavily. You wiped your hands on your shorts, the summer heat getting the best of you, chest heaving and patience hanging by a thread.
“We can take my car tonight, maybe Gina needs the rest,” Steve suggested. It irritated you even more.
“We always take your car, tonight’s the one night a year we take mine,” you argued, putting the keys in the ignition again.
“We’ll take yours another time, then, it’s no big deal.”
“No,” you just said.
Without a heads-up, you got out of the vehicle. Steve followed you as you opened the hood to check the engine. You were rough in your endeavor, hair falling out on your face and hands quickly stained with oil.
“Why are you being so stubborn today?” Steve asked you, tone cutting sharp like a knife.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are! You can tell as much as I can your car’s not going anywhere tonight, mine’s parked right behind and ready to go, so why are we losing time for nothing?”
“She’s just being picky right now but I’m getting there. She needs a little boost and she’s good to go,” you insisted, wiping the back of your hand on your forehead before realizing it’d smudge the oil.
“Yeah, sure, at this rate, she’ll be good to go for Thanksgiving,” Steve said ironically.
You shut the hood close abruptly, shooting daggers at Steve as he stood in front of you with his arms crossed. He looked just as irritated as you did.
“You’re being an asshole,” you stated matter-of-factly.
Steve snickered, eyebrows raising like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.
“Oh, I’m the asshole in this situation? You’re a fine one to talk!”
“Are you seriously turning the tables on me right now?!”
“I’m not, you’re clearly in a mood today and you’re taking it out on me! Last I heard, I’m not a punching bag!”
Your face twisted into a scowl because Steve annoyed you a great deal, but mostly because he was right. You were far from being good company today, and today was meant to be fun, chill, eventful. You could blame it all on Gina, but you knew that was just the tip of the iceberg.
“I’m just saying I’m going to get the car started just fine, all I need is a few minutes to figure it out. And we’re already late anyway, they won’t hate us for the extra ten minutes,” you said as you opened the hood again.
“This is not about the car and we both know it,” Steve stated, sure of himself. Of course, he was – he knew you like the back of his hand.
You closed the hood as soon as you opened it, walking closer to Steve to face him properly.
“Maybe you should take it easy if you want her to work, you know,” Steve remarked.
“Why don’t you just say what’s on my mind, Steve? Since you apparently know it better than I do,” you hit him with your words.
“But that’s just the thing! I don’t!” Steve exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now and you won’t tell me a goddamn thing!”
“You already know what’s going on with me, I made it perfectly clear – I want my fucking car to start so we can go and meet our friends, as we do every year!”
“And I made it perfectly clear that we can take my car, so why are we still arguing about this??”
“Because it’s the way things are supposed to be!!”
The silence that followed that revelation felt intrusive. You couldn’t wait for Steve to tell you off, to argue with you some more, but instead, he didn’t say another word and just stared at you, dumbfounded. It allowed you to reflect on your behavior of the past ten minutes and you immediately dropped your eyes to look at your shoes, ashamed.
“What do you mean?” Steve asked you then, voice softer.
You sighed and looked in the distance, avoiding his gaze.
“It’s the tradition. On the 4th of July, you come to my place to help me pack everything, we take my car to pick up Eddie and Robin on the way to the lake, we meet Nance and Jonathan there, then, you and Eddie set the barbecue while Jonathan and I take care of the music, and Nance and Robin lay the blankets to make us cozy. And we eat and drink until they shoot the fireworks from downtown – it’s how the day is supposed to go.”
“Right, and it’s how it’s going to go today,” Steve assured, confused.
“No, it’s not. Rob and Eddie are not there this year, and because of Gina, we’re late and missing out on the sunset.” You paused, taking a breath. “It’s what I look forward to the most. Watching the sunset on the lake with you guys. All of you.”
Steve relaxed his shoulders and breathed out like he finally made sense of the underlying problem. He stepped closer to you and his hand cupped your face, willing you to look him in the eyes.
“Okay, I’m going to take a wild guess and assume it has something to do with Nancy and Jonathan talking about moving to Chicago next year for Nancy’s job,” Steve said. “Am I boiling or getting colder?”
The rhetorical question elicited a weak smile on your lips.
“I know Chicago’s not that far from Hawkins, but… I like the way things are right now, you know?” you explained while Steve listened, nodding. “I like that we can hang out whenever we want to, show up unannounced at each other’s place, and whatnot.”
“You can still do that if they move to Chicago. It’ll just take you more than three hours to get there,” he teased you.
Steve did it – he made you laugh. “I’m not so sure Gina would survive the trip.”
“I’ll let you borrow my car, then,” Steve whispered, and even though you were bantering, it sounded like a promise.
You chuckled, the knot in your stomach coming undone as Steve put his thumb to your forehead, stroking where you had wiped the oil stain earlier.
“You look like shit,” he told you unceremoniously.
“And you’re a shitty friend,” you bit back, making you both smile.
Friend. The denomination never felt strong enough to define what you and Steve meant to one another. Yet, it was the only one you used, the only one that brought you comfort, especially in those blurry moments that kept you wondering why that boy had always been so sweet and kind to you, even when you felt undeserving.
You jumped at the sound of a car honking from the street, bringing you back to reality as you and Steve turned your heads to see what happened. You felt amused, and somehow relieved when you saw Nancy popping her head out the passenger window of Jonathan’s car like a beautifully staged interruption.
“Oh my God, you guys are late too?” Nancy shouted at them. “I told Jonathan to go over the speed limit, and as you can imagine, he was not happy about it.”
Steve laughed, and you followed suit because it was almost ridiculous, how perfect the situation had turned out. Sure, things felt different this year, with winds of change impending, and the future of your friend group unclear. But at least, you were all on the same page.
“While we’re here, get in the car with us!” Nancy offered, gesturing for you to come closer. “Maybe we can still catch the sunset.”
You exchanged an amused look with Steve, silently agreeing that your uncooperative car and your latest conversation would remain a secret you’d share only between you. Your friends didn’t need to know the reason why you were late.
So, you and Steve hurried to put everything in Jonathan’s car, climbed in the backseat, and made it to the lake just in time to admire the remnant of sunset and put everything into place to wait for the fireworks.
And as you put a blanket over your and Nancy’s shoulders, the fire crackling in the quiet of the evening around you, you couldn’t help but search for Steve’s eyes. He was already looking at you, sitting across the fire next to Jonathan. You smiled when you realized, and he winked at you, playful, secretive.
Maybe you were lying to yourself, in the end. Maybe you didn’t mean it when you said you liked things the way they were. Maybe there was one thing you wouldn’t mind changing, you thought as you looked away from Steve to look up at the fireworks now erupting in the sky above.
🎃🎃🎃
“I’m not sure I get it, Robin – who are you dressed as?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question, Nance? Marty McFly? Don’t tell me you still haven’t watched Back to the Future!”
“I didn’t have time.”
“In five years, you didn’t have time to watch a two-hour movie?”
“I work a lot, okay?!”
You were only half-listening to Robin and Nancy’s bickering as you finished getting ready for the Halloween party that your high school classmate Tina and her best friend Vicki Carmichael threw every year.
Usually, on the 31st of October, you would just crash at Steve and Eddie’s former apartment with the group, stuffing your face with popcorn and watching horror movies. But this year, the boys didn’t live at that apartment anymore and it was the last Halloween you’d all spend together in Hawkins before Jonathan and Nancy moved to Chicago next January. You all agreed it called for a memorable celebration, hence why you were now getting ready with the girls at your place.
“So, you mean to tell me you haven’t had time to watch Back to the Future, but you had it to watch all three Star Wars movies, judging on your costume?” Robin asked while Nancy grunted in frustration.
“I told you last week, me and Jonathan are wearing couple’s costumes – he’s Han Solo and I’m Princess Leia, obviously,” she explained while pointing at her long white dress and peculiar hairstyle.
“Couple’s costumes,” Robin repeated. “Kids these days, they’re just talking nonsense.”
“It’s romantic and fun, you’re just jealous you didn’t think about it for you and Vickie,” Nancy retorted as you were starting to think you were in the middle of playground taunts.
“Oh yeah, I should’ve asked Vickie to dress as Doc, it would’ve been crazy romantic,” Robin sassed.
Once the heels were at your feet, you turned around on your chair to stare at your friends.
“You two realize how stupid your fight is, right?” you chipped in.
“We’re not fighting,” Robin and Nancy said in unison.
You rolled your eyes and turned back around to face your vanity and finish your makeup, but it was too late – you had involuntarily drawn the attention to you.
“And who are you dressing as, hot stuff?” Nancy cooed while smirking at your reflection in the mirror.
You hummed the Dirty Dancing theme song to answer her question, and she nodded approvingly, taking in your pink dress and silver heels.
“I love it,” Nancy smiled.
“Thanks,” you said as you stood up. “And you two look equally great, so stop biting each other’s heads off.”
“So, if you’re Jennifer Grey, does it mean Steve’s dressing as Patrick Swayze? I could see him pulling that off.”
Robin’s question took you aback for it came out of nowhere. You gaped at her, face warm and thoughts racing.
“Hmm, no, he’s not. That’d… be a great couple’s costume, for sure. But we’re not a couple, so…” you stammered, awfully self-conscious.
“Well, yeah, but you might as well be.”
“Robin,” Nancy reprimanded her with warning eyes.
“What??” Robin exclaimed while you watched, confused. “It’s not like she doesn’t know what I mean, it’s been going on for years, this… whatever this is. And honestly, we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see it.”
Nancy blushed, embarrassment written all over her face as she rubbed a hand over it.
“I don’t… understand,” you admitted, tugging at the hems of your dress to anchor yourself in the moment.
“There’s nothing to understand, babes,” Nancy said softly. “Robin was just joking. Right, Rob?”
Nancy was now glaring at Robin, who had no option but to concur. It felt like you were missing something there, and you didn’t like it. Were your friends talking behind your back? Were they annoyed at your relationship with Steve? Annoyed at the ambiguity, the unsaid, the attraction? Was it all that obvious as of late?
“I’m sorry, guys,” Robin said with a sigh. “I had a fight with Vickie earlier today and it messed me up a little bit.”
“Oh, babes,” Nancy softened, hugging Robin from the side.
“I know that’s no excuse for being a jerk,” Robin winced in your direction.
“You’re all right,” you said with a sympathetic smile, and both Robin and Nancy seemed relieved.
The three of you talked Robin through her problem until it was time to meet the guys outside. Nancy was the first to exit the apartment, but Robin lingered by the front door, hand hovering hesitantly above the handle. Eventually, she made up her mind and turned over to face you.
“I just want you to know that I’m really sorry for earlier,” Robin told you.
“It’s okay, Rob, I get it. You were upset about your fight with Vickie and said stuff you didn’t mean. It’s fine, it happens to all of us,” you said, wondering why Robin had felt the need to bounce back on that.
“No, but see, that’s the thing – I did mean it,” she contradicted. “I just didn’t say it like I should’ve.”
“And how should you say it?” you asked with a frown.
Robin looked uncertain now, fidgeting where she stood. You imagined that if Nancy were still in the room with you two, she’d probably give Robin an earful.
“When I said that we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see what there is between you and Steve, I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she elaborated under your undivided attention. “It’s just… We’re your friends, and you know, as friends, we want what’s best for each other, I’m sure you feel that way about us too –“
“Robin, cut to the chase, please,” you interjected before she could lose herself in her explanation.
“We just think if you two admitted what you’re both obviously feeling for each other… You could be very happy together. And the rest of us would be too because damn, we’ve watched it happen since high school and it’s about time one of you does something about it, babes.”
You stared at the door behind Robin, wishing to run away from this conversation that was too much for you to handle. It was the first time one of your friends confronted you on the matter, upfront, and you had no idea how to react.
“I’m not expecting you to say anything, don’t worry,” Robin added. “I just wanted you to know what everyone else is thinking. Do what you want with that information.”
You opened your mouth to respond but you heard the distinctive sound of Eddie’s van parking on the street, your sign that it was time to go and end this conversation for good. You rushed to the door, opening it before Robin could and hurtling down the stairs to some extent on your heels. Once you were outside, you breathed in slowly, calming down and processing what one of your best friends had just confided to you.
You and Robin met Nancy on the curb as Eddie slid the van’s side door open to let you in the backseats.
“Evening, ladies,” Eddie greeted.
“Wow, you’re Elton!” Nancy exclaimed after studying Eddie’s costume, a white ensemble with feathers and glitter that was the singer’s signature.
“You could get that but not mine?!” Robin exclaimed, almost offended.
“Move on, Rob, and let’s have fun tonight,” Nancy teased her while sitting near Jonathan, dressed in the easily identifiable Han Solo outfit.
Robin took the passenger seat next to Eddie, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to Steve at the back of the van. Of course. Almost like it had been on purpose, you thought to yourself.
You settled next to him and you were almost insecure, something you’d never felt around him. You resented Robin for not knowing best, and not keeping her mouth shut.
“Hey, kitten,” Steve welcomed you as you smoothed the edges of your dress.
“Hey, Harrington,” you said in return, attempting to smile at him.
You studied his costume as he studied yours. Aviator sunglasses on his head, green jumpsuit, sleeves rolled back under his elbows – Maverick from Top Gun. You'd gushed over the character when the movie came out, and you wondered if it happened to be a funny coincidence or if Steve had picked that costume on purpose.
“Baby,” Steve suddenly said.
“What?” you choked out with widened eyes.
Steve frowned. “Your costume,” he clarified. “Baby from Dirty Dancing, right?”
You processed the information and chuckled awkwardly, feeling stupid. You let Robin get in your head and you hated it.
“Right,” you breathed out as Eddie drove away.
Something passed in Steve’s eyes, and you were not sure what it was. Hesitation, desire, resignation… You watched and waited, fingers laced on your lap, heartbeat echoing in your ears.
“You look… very nice,” Steve told you in a hushed voice.
You knew neither Nancy nor Jonathan could’ve heard it – they were engaged in a vivid conversation with Robin and Eddie in the front of the car. It was an intimate declaration, meant for you and you only.
Your lips parted subtly, but Steve’s eyes caught it regardless. It did not soothe the rate of your beating heart.
“Thanks,” you croaked it, throat tight. “You’re not too bad yourself."
Steve smiled briefly, then did the strangest thing. He leaned in, his face awfully close to yours, and you thought; this was it. He was going to kiss you. Right then, right there, in the back of Eddie’s van dressed as the guy from Top Gun on the way to a Halloween party.
And as much as you wanted him to kiss you, it wasn’t how you wanted him to do it. Not the place, not the time. Maybe Steve realized it too because he moved away as quickly as he had gotten closer to you, clearing his throat and watching out the window like nothing happened.
The party at Tina’s villa was loud, messy, and packed with former classmates – some you were glad to run into, others you made a strong case of avoiding. You had a nice chat with your high school sweetheart, even though you could feel Steve’s eyes on you the whole time. When you couldn’t bear the weight of his yearning gaze, you took a sip of that rum punch Vicki Carmichael had made – a few times.
You fled to the bathroom around eleven to freshen up and have some alone time. You were reasonably drunk, but still conscious enough to notice someone was already in the room when you barged into it.
“Oh, so sorry, I didn’t know someone was in there –”
You cut the apology short when you recognized the person’s reflection staring at you in the mirror.
“Becky, hi,” you said, surprised.
The girl greeted you back, the sound of your name imperceptible amid the party people shouting in the hallway. Now, you were reasonably drunk and very uncomfortable.
Becky was the last girl Steve had dated. They had been together for two years and seemed happy until Becky broke up with Steve overnight. Everyone assumed she’d probably met someone else, but you always felt like that was too simple and there was another more plausible explanation.
“You okay?” Becky asked you.
“Y – yeah, I just needed to cool off,” you mumbled.
You assumed Becky would urge you to clear off and leave her be, but instead, she stepped aside to give you some space in front of the sink.
You closed the door behind you and stood in front of the mirror, silently watching Becky perfect the mascara on her lashes. You quickly gathered she was dressed as Madonna in the Material Girl music video.
“It’s… been a while,” you said to break that awful silence. “What are you up to these days?”
“Small talk, huh? I thought we were way past that.”
You chuckled, ill at ease and too drunk to have a proper conversation. Out of all the girls Steve had dated, Becky was the one who unsettled you the most. You never knew what to expect of her.
“How’s Stevie?” Becky then asked before reapplying some lipstick.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Becky's inquiry, but something turned your stomach. You always hated it when she called Steve that name. It reminded you of a jealous version of yourself you’d rather leave in the past.
“He’s good,” you said casually, no matter your inner turmoil. “You know. Same old, same old.”
Becky’s lips turned into the semblance of a smile.
“I take it you two still aren’t together.”
You felt your heart drop at that comment. What did she mean, “still”? And what was up with everyone and their insights regarding your relationship with Steve?
“It sounded a lot less petty in my head, I promise,” Becky said when you stayed silent.
“It’s not that,” you replied. “I’m just… surprised you would say that.”
Becky sighed and turned around to face you. It looked like she was about to get a lot of things off her chest, and you were not sober enough for that.
“You know why I broke up with Steve?” Becky asked you, and she obviously wasn’t waiting for an answer. “Why all the girls he dates eventually break things off with him?”
You blinked. You didn’t want Steve’s ex-girlfriend to share that information with you. You had absolutely no desire to detain such knowledge. Yet, you shook your head, permitting Becky to say what she really thought, too curious to pretend you didn’t care.
“Because it’s painfully obvious he’s in love with you and we’re just here passing time until he finally has the balls to tell you.”
In love. You had thought about it all with Steve – he thinks I’m pretty; he’s attracted to me; he likes me more than a friend. But never in your wildest dreams had you dared fantasize about these powerful little words.
He’s in love with you, Becky’s voice repeated like a broken record on a loop in your mind. Taunting, hopeful, too good to be true.
You found yourself sitting on the bathtub’s edge, both arms at your side, speechless. Becky leaned against the wall across from you and chuckled like she'd just shared the funniest story.
“Don’t tell me this is shocking news.”
“I…” you started without finishing your thought. You were at a loss for words and your head started spinning, the fateful sentence seeping into your mind faster than the liquor in your system.
“Look, obviously, it wasn’t my place to tell, but you know, despite everything, I always liked you,” Becky confessed. “You were always nice to me, even though I could tell it was not easy for you.”
You lowered your eyes, apologetic. It was true – you had always been nice to Becky. After all, it wasn’t the girl’s fault if you had feelings you’d never dare confess to your best friend.
“That’s why I’m telling you,” Becky resumed. “I’m trying to help you two out. This whole faint-hearted act was probably cute when you were sixteen, but you’re adults now. Are you waiting for him to get married and start a family with someone else to tell him how you feel?”
The mere thought made your heart ache. You didn’t want to picture Steve married to someone else. It made you nauseous.
“Sorry, that was harsh,” Becky apologized.
“Why are you doing this?” you asked her in a whisper, feeling like your head was about to explode. “Why are you telling this to me and not him?”
Becky stared at you like you’d just said the most nonsensical thing.
“Because he’s an idiot and a coward. If you’re waiting for him to make a move, you’ll wait a long time, honey.”
You spaced out for a moment, and when you returned to your senses, Becky was gone, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts in that bathroom.
Becky was right. Steve was an idiot and a coward. The inebriation clouded all your good judgments, so you got to your feet and walked out of the bathroom to look for Steve. After everything that happened tonight, you were confused, upset, and even angry.
You found him outside by the pool, joking around with some guys from his old swim team in high school. You marched to him, bold and determined, and he didn’t notice you right away, so you hooked your fingers to the fabric around his arm and dragged him behind you. You ignored the guys whistling at you both or Steve protesting and asking what had gotten into you until you walked into an empty room on the side of the villa and closed the patio door behind you.
“Okay, what the hell was that about??” Steve exclaimed, his voice loud in the quiet of the room, away from the party noises and the music. “Have you lost your shit??”
“You’re an idiot,” you told him in an accusing tone.
“Tell me about it,” Steve sassed you.
“And a coward!”
“Oh, so you have a whole list, huh?”
“That’s what Becky said.”
Steve looked at you in silence, processing what you just said.
“Of course, you talked to Becky….” he sighed. “Let me guess – she said I stole her INXS tape? She needs to let it go, she clearly lost it, she can’t keep blaming me for –“
“I don’t want you to get married, Steve,” you interrupted him, blurting out what you had been obsessing about for the last ten minutes.
Steve froze and looked at you like you were insane. And you might just be, you realized. You took a step back, dizzy and embarrassed.
“I… was not planning on getting married any time soon. Where is that coming from?” Steve asked you, stepping toward you.
You bit your tongue, holding from saying another stupidity you’d immediately regret. Suddenly, your choice to confront Steve and isolate yourselves in a bedroom didn’t look like the brilliant plan it seemed to be five minutes ago.
“Forget it, I’m drunk, and I don’t know what I’m saying,” you stammered, head low as you walked toward the door.
“Hey,” Steve brought you short by taking your hand before you had the chance to leave. His touch was tender, your hand fit perfectly in his, and you understood what Becky meant when she said "still not together".
“Talk to me,” Steve urged, lacing his fingers with yours. It was unbearable, how natural it felt. “You used to tell me everything, and now, I have no idea what’s up with you anymore.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, wishing you could go back in time and stop yourself from putting the two of you in this awful situation.
“Come on, kitten, we’re friends, you can tell me anything.”
Friends. You loathed the word that normally comforted you. You couldn’t stand to hear it.
He’s in love with you. How could he say you were friends when he was the one you called first when your car broke down, when he’d snuck out of college to comfort you after you got dumped by your ex-boyfriend, when he drove you across the country to see your sick grandfather for the last time? How did he have the audacity to minimize what you meant to each other after taking such a significant place in your heart for years and years?
“We’re not friends,” you mumbled.
You looked at him and thought you could see heartbreak in his eyes. You’d hurt him. You’d hurt him badly.
“We’re not?” he asked, his voice breaking in the inflection.
You held your breath as Steve questioned you with glistening eyes. He didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him, and it was killing you.
“You know what I mean,” you breathed out, unable to say the actual words.
He’s in love with you. It was so simple. Why couldn’t he just admit it?
You’re in love with him too, why can’t you say it? you admitted to yourself.
Because no, it wasn’t that simple. Steve wasn’t the only coward in this situation. After all these years, it was so scary to admit, even more to say out loud. How could you expect him to say it when you were terrified of doing it yourself?
Eventually, Steve let go of your hand, an almost insignificant gesture that shattered your heart into a million pieces.
“Actually… No. I don’t know what you mean,” he said, defeated, before leaving the room.
You did it. You ruined everything, you thought as you sat on the floor and cried your heartbreak away.
🎁🎁🎁
It was supposed to be the merriest day of the year, with children's laughter filling the air and countless presents to unwrap. Yet, your heart was not in it, and you had to hold back tears during dinner that night at your parents’ house.
You hadn’t talked to or heard from Steve in almost two months, and it was officially the longest you’d spent without seeing each other. The thought was excruciating. He was your best friend in the entire world, you were head over heels in love with him, and the absence of him was like gasping for air on the verge of drowning.
But today was a merry day. Today was all about spending time together, eating a nice homemade meal, and reuniting. So, you played the part – you ate dinner, played board games with your cousins, and chatted with your uncles and aunts. You did what you were expected to do, and nothing more.
When you returned to your place, to your sad and lonely apartment, you sat down on the floor, still in your red party dress, back to your couch with a glass of wine, and flipped through a photo album Nancy and Jonathan had given you for your twenty-fifth birthday.
It was a recollection of happy times Jonathan had captured with his camera throughout the years – from graduating high school to renting your first crappy apartment, taking your first trip to New York with the group, and celebrating various occasions with them.
You took the last photo from the album, holding it between your fingers to get a closer look. It was a picture of you and Steve on New Year’s Eve the year before. You were posing for the camera, smiling from ear to ear. You were looking at the lens, but Steve only had eyes for you, holding you in his arms with rosy cheeks. When you looked at it like that, in retrospect and from another’s perspective, it seemed so evident that the guy in the picture loved the girl posing next to him.
You were fully crying now, blurry eyes and stuffy nose in contradiction with the holiday spirit. You were about to put the picture away in the album when something in the back of it caught your eye.
There was a note in the handwriting you would recognize anywhere at any given time – Steve’s. Your heart skipped a beat. It had gone unnoticed the first time you’d looked through the album at your birthday party and none of your friends had mentioned a thing about it. You started to look at a handful of pictures to see if others had something hidden on the other side, but they were all blank. All except for one.
You took a deep breath, pondering. Maybe Nancy and Jonathan were unaware of it, but Steve not saying anything didn’t make sense. This note had been there, forgotten in an album gathering dust in your bookcase, for months, and it could’ve gone on for years had you not felt nostalgic on that specific day.
You wondered if you should read it or pretend you’d never seen it. It was only a few words; they were probably some meaningless inside jokes or more personal birthday wishes. But they could also be something more, much more.
You knew you couldn’t live with the uncertainty, so you gathered your courage and read.
Happy birthday, kitten! Don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I want you to know you’re my favorite person in the entire world, and I love you. Yours always, Steve PS: stop being a sourpuss just ‘cause you turned 25
It had been there. Right there, under your nose, all along. Yours always.
Before you could think it through, your coat was around your shoulders and you were behind the wheel, ready to drive to Steve’s place and tell him how you felt. Screw the stability and the uncertainty – you loved the boy too and you needed to tell him tonight.
It was past midnight, the air was cold and the streetlights reflected in the puddles on the pavement as you drove a little too fast toward Steve’s building. Your heart was racing in your chest, anticipation mingling with excitement while you rehearsed what you’d say in your head.
You were going to confess your true feelings to Steve. Nothing could scare you anymore.
Except, perhaps, the ominous sputtering sound your car made when you tried to restart at a traffic light.
“No, no, no, no, no, come on, not now!!” you begged desperately.
The ignition wouldn’t turn over, and you could’ve screamed at the sky. Was it some sort of cosmic sign preventing you from making the biggest mistake of your life?
You got out of the car to check the engine under the hood. When you opened it, it did something it’d never done before – it gave off fumes.
You coughed violently as you stepped away from the car, looking all around you and realizing you were alone on the street in the middle of the night with a kaput car and wasted opportunities.
“This is a nightmare,” you told yourself out loud. “This can’t be happening to me.”
Your eyes burned as you were about to cry again, disheartened and pathetic. Then, some headlights on the other side of the road caught your attention.
A maroon car stopped next to you and turned the ignition off. You held your breath, recognizing the vehicle instantly and wondering if the universe wouldn’t happen to be messing with you.
The driver exited the car and eyed yours up and down before chuckling.
“I had a feeling Gina wouldn’t make it through the year,” he said.
You laughed, the sound choked up in your throat at the improbability of the situation. You couldn’t believe Steve was there, rescuing you even without meaning to, always being there when you needed him to, the constant one in your life. As luck would have it, you thought.
“What are you doing here this late at night?” you asked him.
“Could ask you the same thing,” he remarked with a smile.
You returned his smile, nervously fixing your hair. The wind was rising, and the air was filled with change and expectations.
“I was… on my way to your place, actually,” you explained, somehow shyly. “I wanted to talk to you.”
A few seconds passed until Steve spoke again like he was processing the information. “That’s funny, I was on my way to your place too.”
You swallowed, unable to stop hoping. “You were?”
“Yeah… Of course, I was,” Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and I realized I never got a chance to give you your present because we weren't speaking to each other, so… Anyways, I can just give it to you now.”
“We’re literally in the middle of the road, Steve.”
He looked around at the empty and silent street for good measure. “Yeah, and it’s not like it’s rush hour right now, I think we’re good.”
You opened your mouth to retort but opted against saying anything else. It was your first interaction with him in weeks, it was out of the question to ruin it just to have the last word.
The young man got something from the backseat of his car and immediately handed it to you. You took it carefully, turning it over in your hand to try and figure out what was beneath the wrapping paper.
“I… don’t have your gift,” you admitted, crestfallen. “I mean, I did get you something, but I didn’t think to give it to you tonight.”
“It’s okay, kitten. Just open it.”
You complied, slowly unwrapping the paper with trembling fingers and shortness of breath as Steve observed quietly.
You were now looking at a book’s front cover, and it might’ve seemed unremarkable at first glance, but it was not some common paperback.
“First limited edition,” Steve explained, even though you already knew. “You talked about it at Eddie’s place a couple of months ago, that it was almost impossible to find today, and you’d love to have it. So, I went to every bookstore in town to ask if they knew where to get it, and one of them gave me their counterpart's number from England, they had to send it all the way here but… Yeah,” Steve concluded, face red and hands in his pocket. “I found it.”
You looked up from the book to lock eyes with Steve. He seemed expectant and abashed, almost anxious of your reaction.
“You went to all this trouble for me?” you asked in disbelief.
He pursed his lips and nodded as if it was that obvious.
“You’re well worth the trouble.”
All this time, you had expected blatant signs, big gestures, and declarations, when Steve had been telling you how he felt in his own way for years. It had always been there – in fleeting touches, longing stares, and understated actions.
“I read it,” you eventually confessed.
"The book?" Steve asked, puzzled.
“No," you laughed. "The note you wrote in my photo album. I read it tonight.”
You noticed the way Steve held his breath at that revelation. Suddenly, you no longer cared that you were standing in the middle of the road with your dead car by your side. Suddenly, all that mattered was the pretty boy standing before you and what you felt for him.
“It was corny, right?” Steve said with a nervous laugh. “I know you don’t like it when it’s corny but –“
“Can’t you just be serious for one minute, Harrington?” you cut him short with an amused eye roll. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel here.”
“I know,” Steve breathed out. “I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for months now, but I never find the right words.”
In the elation of the moment, your words got a mind of their own, and you heard yourself saying: “Show me, then.”
Friends. A designation you held onto for the past eight years, a status that put things into perspective whenever Steve introduced a new girlfriend to the group, a word that freed you of your guilt when getting into relationships yourself, a term that helped you when you would yearn for something more, something you thought to be unrealistic and unreachable.
That word no longer held any power over you now that you were in Steve Harrington’s arms and he leaned in to seal his lips with yours into a long-awaited and overdue kiss, the promise of a cherished and beautiful future.
You'd envisioned the scene time and time again in your mind, but none of the imaginary scenarios your fantasies created could measure up to that kiss. It was sweet, yet demanding, like you were the air he needed to breathe. He kissed you like he loved - sincerely, tenderly, and intensely. You smiled against his mouth, and your heart melted when he did it too.
When you parted from him, lips swollen and eyelashes fluttering, you felt like everything was finally right and mourned the time you wasted being scared of changes.
“So… What now?” you whispered, getting a strand of hair out of Steve’s face to look at him better.
The boy held your gaze, enamored and enraptured like you’d never seen him before. You enjoyed it while it lasted because it was a momentary bliss until reality caught up.
“Well, first, we’re going to call a tow truck," Steve said as he entwined his fingers with yours. "And then, you’ll bid farewell to Gina,” he nodded toward the car.
Your heart tightened in your chest. You’d almost forgotten about your car. It was truly ironic, how you needed to say goodbye to your oldest partner while embracing a new beginning with your best friend.
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” you asked while batting your lashes at him.
“Hey, just because we’re going to make out a lot from now on doesn’t mean you get to do that,” Steve jokingly scolded you while gesturing at your face.
“Do what?” you asked, coy and amused.
Steve laughed and put his arm around your shoulders. “Come on, kitten, I’m taking you home.”
At first, it didn’t feel like much had changed between you and Steve. You were still teasing each other, spending time with the group before Nancy and Jonathan’s departure, and arguing about what car you should buy now that Gina was in a junkyard.
But things had changed for the better, and you realized it on New Year’s Eve when Steve kissed you at midnight, as he would for many new years to come.
❤️❤️❤️
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington oneshot#stranger things#stranger things fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff
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I can kind of understand the use of the word spice or spicy because...well, when I use it, I mostly use it to mean something that's sexy or suggestive maybe but not full on sex. It's something between fluff and smut. Safe for Work but not innocent, ya know. I can also understand using it as basically a NSFW tag since it's a short sweet way of getting that across. But yeah. You can say sex on here. Honestly, it's better to use exact words so people can filter it out if need be. The biggest time we censor here is keeping hate out of the main fandom tags.
you're allowed to say "sex" on the internet. See? I just did it. Sex. Sex sex sex. You don't have to say s*x or smex or Adult Fun Times or s3x or "spice" any other variation of self-censorship on tumblr dot com you can just spell out the word SEX i am going to scream until the heat death of the universe
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something about how garak and julian both lead with their worst foot forward as the first impression.
which is why The Wire works so well for them, because it’s both of them on full display in a way that forces them both to accept they either like each other at their most infuriating or they don’t. and turns out, they do like each other, even when they’re both being incredibly aggravating to each other.
julian contends with the reality that garak has likely killed and tortured countless innocent people, will likely never be truly honest with julian about anything ever, and that he can be incredibly venomous and cruel at his worst, and julian decides he still cares about garak and will still be his friend in the aftermath.
garak gets to see how impossibly stubborn and reckless julian can be, how frustratingly dedicated to his ideals of looking after other people he is, how utterly annoying julian can be when he’s got his mind set on something… and garak absolutely walks away deciding these are also julian’s best traits, even if garak thinks they might need tempering for julian’s own good.
they don’t actively consider each other proper friends until they have been forced to look at the parts of each other they might find most off-putting, and they both see that and go “… yeah, i still like him, even more now actually.”
idk there’s something about how they find themselves endeared to each other for the exact same traits that would normally drive others away. they fall in love with the whole picture right from the start. of course, julian can joke about garak having murdered people. he knew that from the word go and decided he liked garak anyway. of course, garak falls deeper in love with julian when he demonstrates his near-suicidal levels of dedication to protecting others, that determination was what sparked garak falling in love to start with.
and they can still dislike parts of that whole, garak definitely wishes julian would be more selfish (for the sake of self-preservation, mostly), and julian doesn’t exactly *approve* of garak doing morally reprehensible things, but… they knew exactly who they were falling in love with and went all in anyway.
something about falling in love with someone from their worst parts so that every time you have to reassess your view of them, it only makes them more lovable.
#star trek#star trek ds9#garashir#julian bashir#elim garak#.is this coherent i can’t tell.#.i think it kinda circles.#.i am using worst in a very subjective way bc idk how else to phrase this.#.it’s like. the traits that would make most people walk away.#.but it just makes these two run at each other full speed instead.#.i mean also julian does clearly have some weird specific kink for garak doing awful things.#.but idk if julian knows that himself.#.like he seems like he WANTS to be put off by learning garak did terrible things and then he just isn’t.#.anyway i love them both.#.happy new year folks.
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academic rivals part 2! viktor x fem!reader
(part 1)
author’s note: this is my humble, poorly proof-read new year’s present. banter, smutty smut and all that. what is this with me and semi-public vehicle (train) sex scenes. anyways. this was highly requested so i delivered. enjoy!
word count: 5,3k~
—
His mouth arcs into a sardonic smirk under your thumb, front teeth nipping ever so sternly—all fucked-out glimpses of insolence gnawing at your composure. So much for paying homage to the proper aftermath. It’s his penchant for prideful gestures that always gets in the way—a ticklish kiss that’s more self-pleased than it’ll ever be tender, lingering below your ear in a slick little trace and basking in the rigid sequence of breaths. Sinewy hands curl around your thighs and slide a ticklish trail home—a finishing touch to your undoing by his hands. A stunt he’s allowed to pull only when you sit astride him.
“Fuck.” It comes out in a rasp—a trembling, gulping thing that you spit above his clavicle, fingers tearing at his shirt in the very same fashion he’d disposed of yours mere minutes prior. Gaze down and stubborn, even in its bleariness. “Lose the grin. I can’t stand it.”
“Am I not allowed to indulge in some self... acclaim?” Viktor holds a breath and lurches forward with a sloppy bob of his head, catching hold of your wrist just in time to brush your knuckles with the corner of his smiling lips.
“You and your redundant swank. You might as well write it on your forehead. ‘Look, I made a woman cum for once!’”
That scores you an incredulous chuckle. And it’s a sweet taunt when he leans backward, watching you crawl out of his lap through weak-kneed splendor. Dizzy and struggling to find your shirt, but neither of you mind a little voyeurism—Viktor almost looks upset when you finally swing the thing on your shoulders, popping the buttons closed—so watchfully sluggish. Dragging it out until the side of your breast is finally out of his reach. The opposite of a striptease.
“For once?” He chides with a huff.
His lean on the desk is heavy when he gets up—has you frowning as he groans, straightening his back, and your shaky, helpful hands rush to put his cane back into his palm. You definitely ought to consider doing it on softer surfaces.
And there goes your taciturn gratitude. Intermittent tenderness at its best—wrapping around his shoulders and kissing him on the mouth, swirling inside your chest in that one terrifying, anything-but-casual tingle.
Too bad you’d rather drink his promised periodic table-flavored coffee than confirm your affection verbally, though.
“Maybe twice,” you concede, but that little mercy doesn’t please him. It’s a prickly antic when he trades the lovely squeeze of your hip for a warning pinch, and you have no choice but to sigh, clinging off his frame with a defeated, “Fine. Thrice at best.”
“Try quadrupling that,” Viktor bites back, earning himself a scoff. “Although, I’m sure the received sum will noticeably deviate from the accurate amount.”
“That’s not plausible. We’re not fucking nearly long enough for you to even dream of that.”
“Ah, but you do admit that ‘thrice at best’ doesn’t do my accomplishments enough justice.”
“God, you’re so flippant. Remind me why I’m sleeping with you again?”
Truly, though, why do you keep doing it? Your rivalry is not exactly a fugitive—it was still there, jagged and swollen inside your gut, piercing through your temples whenever he dared to challenge you. And his contempt never left, either—all tense veins threatening to snap out of his neck every time he towered above you with a new complaint. An ouroboros of aching vocal cords and heated profanities—mostly on your part. Mostly during those tedious hours of assembling the exoskeleton.
Oh, but what a twist it gained.
A titillating, filthy thing that both of you couldn’t get enough of. Shamefully lucrative, too—both for the Inventor’s Competition and for your sanities—biting, bruising, binding your limbs together in whatever hate-fucking fashion he did it to you the first time. And the second one. And the third. You couldn’t exactly make out when it got diluted into something palpably softer, though.
When the need to pound you senseless just to make the cooperation bearable was replaced with a mere ‘Would you like a distraction?’ When his name—once urging you to wash your mouth with soap for every shameful time you had to call out for him—became your favorite disyllabic moan, sultry and choked up beneath or atop him (and invariably followed by a sweetly sadistic tug on his tousled hair). When there isn't a single logical reason left for you to keep it up—because the prototype finally lies before you, complete and stunning, outstripping the deadline by two days, and the presentation is already approved by your mentors. Not without a plethora of mutual insults, but that part could never be avoided. And the job was done. Flawlessly so. That’s the only thing that matters.
Except it isn’t.
Your temporary partnership was over. Sure, there’s still the main event waiting to be dealt with, but that affair is of a strictly professional nature. No twisted, romantic business allowed. Maybe you could still arrange a few superfluous recitings—more so to come up with another excuse to undress him and gently pull the device over that prominent spine, then to hastily get him out of it when one of you inevitably starts questioning the other’s intelligence (or decency). A maniacal urge to find something—anything to claim one more chaotic evening before it’s over. Before you lose every preposterous explanation for lusting after him.
How very counterproductive of you.
Even tonight. Barely any science talk, yet so much redundant touching. Nonsensical anecdotes. Laughter. Insult-framed, jagged heart-to-hearts. Anything but a decent, last-adjustments-related workshop. And there was definitely no reason to finish as late as you did.
And yet, it’s quarter to midnight when you’re finally packing up. His hand keeps slipping off the handle when he holds the door for you. And he stands there so tellingly disheveled, with his hair a mess like a screaming proof of your entanglement: he could never fight the allegation if someone were to walk in on you one of these nights. Certainly not looking like that.
Knowing, astute eyes followed your languorous tease of a walk. He failed to swallow a scoff when you attempted to run out of the lab (the audacity of you to even consider leaving without kissing him goodbye!), and that stunt cost you a graceful penalty.
Viktor’s scrawny frame found support in a quick recline on the wall. Had you squealing when something hard tugged on your waist. His cane, you realized, turning to address the bastard. But he exceeded. Weaved his arm around you and pressed your chest flush with his, grinning down when your fingers reached for his corduroy vest. And that smile—gummy and ostentatious—almost tore his mouth when you gave him a nasty glare from beneath tired lids. An oblivious passer-by would definitely mistake this for a lovely embrace in the doorway—if not for the way you pulled his tie and clashed agape mouths in a harsh nip of a kiss.
“Asshole,” you grumble, going in for another toothy collision. His laugh bounces off your tongue and rolls down your throat in a vibrating little shake—and you giggle back, awkwardly waltzing him out of that dim room, face still clinging to his in a vile attempt to distract while he fumbles with the key.
“Mmm,” Viktor hums, watching your tangled legs trip over his cane. “You should amend this obsolete dirty talk. Your semantics have become tolerably pleasant.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to endure them any more.”
He drops the keys with an awkward clang.
And it’s a first for you—to face the taciturn side of him, smug face unscathed with usual complacency as he watches you bend over to pick up the dangling bunch—sharp shoulders hunching when he reaches to take it from your hands, praying that you miss the subtle shake of his fingers.
“Any more?” He clarifies. His voice echoes through the hall, so oddly strained—and for a moment you simply stare, unsure of how to pussyfoot your way out of this calamity.
You shudder through it, sharply gnawing at your cuticle. Looking up at him with eyes full of puzzled radiance. Come what may.
How does one confess to holding a sentiment? To a semi-former rival, no less? Is he even fond of you? He has to be. His sweet, yearning-ridden eyes tell you that much—so glassy under those shabby chestnut strands. So astutely askance. Surely, you can soften them. You just have to word it right. I want to keep doing this. You can make my eyes roll. Both in bed and because you’re so awfully irritating. Well, not in bed. In… chair. On the desk. The floor, too. In fact, why don’t we move this to our bedrooms? You’ve been promoted. I’d like to date you. Are you available to discuss the details? Right this instant?
“Yes. We finished the prototype, did we not? There’s no need for us to keep working nor sleeping together.” What the fuck. No! Shove that concise shit back into your throat and choke on it. Kiss him senseless. Redeem yourself while you still can—
But Viktor nods. Swipes his tongue over his freshly wounded bottom lip (thank you very much), and averts his eyes to ponder his shoes. So that’s how it is.
“I thought…” He struggles to pronounce it. Stumbles over a digraph and hisses it in a most foreign way—and you’re sorry to have reduced him to shitty pronunciation, watching a hard gulp slowly bob down his throat. Why, just why did you have to blurt that out?
Viktor retaliates, though. Scratches his nape. Shuffles from foot to foot and coughs. A nervous tic you bear witness to for the first time, and, in a way, you gobble up his vulnerability—quiet and almost sacred, in the ambiance of this dark, long hall.
“I thought…” He tries again but trails off to sigh. “Well…We’d already established that we shouldn’t limit our arrangement to, eh… strictly professional benefits. We may not have a reason to proceed, but wouldn’t ending it altogether be a… sunk cost fallacy?”
Oh fuck. You do not take that well. In fact, it ignites a scoff—arms crossed over your chest and pressing hard enough to bruise your sternum. Heels clacking intimidation as you step closer, raising a brow.
“Ah, so that’s what you’re most concerned about? You simply regret investing time in me, is that it?”
“What?” He huffs. His words—so delectable, you just want to eat them right up, especially when they gain that slightly baffled edge, all his vowels so sweetly round and pushy. “What gave you the impression?” Oh yes. Yell at me some more. Let's fight one last time and maybe I won’t feel bad about prioritizing my pride over keeping you. Bravo. How mature.
“Sunk cost fallacy?” You deride. “Seriously?” So close—almost mouth to mouth again, and you’re sure some of your spit must’ve landed on his cheek with the way you seethed it through gritted teeth—not that he minds, of course. That much was determined a long time ago.
“Oh, since when are you so picky with your phrasings?” Viktor jeers. Pretty eyes already bleary with anger—there’s no turning back, and you know it’s a lost cause when his hand digs into his cane, twisting hard enough to strain a wrist.
Tremendous.
“I thought you wanted to keep doing this because you liked it!” You rant. Let him hover over your head (dejavu), hot breaths compounding. Scorching.
“You’re ridiculous. I never claimed not to like it!” He concedes, hitching an exhale.
“Why won’t you admit it, then?” You pry again—nose bumping against his. There goes your decorum—straight into canines and itching to bite—right at that insufferable tongue of his.
But he doesn’t retreat. Two can play that game.
“Why won’t you admit it? I haven’t heard a single verbal sign of appreciation from you, either.”
“Why would I spell it out for you?”
“Why wouldn’t you spell it out for me?”
“Because the implication is there. I don’t like stating the obvious!”
“So you don’t deem me worthy of your confessions? That’s a shame. Am I to believe I’m not as special as you paint me to be?”
“Oh, you’re special all right! A special prick, that’s what you are!”
You don’t bother with confining that insult. In fact, you hope it lands precisely where you aimed—always his ego, that enormous entity you seek to tame at all cost.
But alas. That strikes a different nerve. Viktor’s teeth gnash when he takes a step back, his nasal, disappointed exhale tickling your face at last. And you don’t get to bask in the triumph. Because seeing him scowl feels anything but good—more so when he turns around, his head wagging in disbelief, eyes rushing to avert like he’ll throw up if they linger on you any longer.
“I tried being patient with you,” he mumbles over his shoulder, “but if you prefer useless insults over admitting your feelings… I shall not waste any more time on your immature antics.”
And when he tops it off with a sad Goodnight, followed by a spiteful hiss of your last name, you don’t mutter anything back.
You let the silent hall consume you, chewing your lip off to the faint thumps of his cane. Foretasting a sleepless night full of awkward agony and an even more insufferable trip to the competition. With Viktor. Side by side. In one tiny compartment.
Come what may, huh? Well, how do you feel about that mindset now?
—
Walks of shame have enough flavours to conduct a small study. You’ve tried every single one in a span of one day—first dragging your feet as you trudged to your dorm with hunched shoulders, guilt dissolving remnants of your vigour. And then—a more potent one, crumbling you completely on your way to the lab as you mourned the sweet reminiscence in the morning—stumbling upon the things he did to you on those very surfaces, every corner marked lovely with your shared achievements. Reminding you of exactly what you’d fucked up the night before. A slap, but not on the ass.
There’s nothing left for you but to sigh, gently retrieve the prototype and see yourself out. Staying there even for a minute longer would have you tumbling head in hands. And you were already almost late for the train. Running to the station with ragged breath and bumbling over your own feet—always a hot mess no matter where you go. Nearly slipping down to the rails when you finally arrive, your skirt all hiked up. Pulling hair out of your face and mouth, hasty and inelegant. Gagging on a strand when someone (Viktor, of course) coughs behind your back and huma a reluctant greeting as you turn around, startled. Stern, ochre eyes meet spooked ones. They darken, when you ogle him—a guilty pleasure, really—and almost curse out loud, noticing his shirt (the shirt!): the thin linen thing he wore the very first night you spite-fucked him. Did he do it on purpose? Smooth enhancer. How dare he.
“You’re late,” Viktor states. Casts a quick eye on his wrist—he’s wearing a watch today, the professional bastard—and gets back to judgmental peeking, scolding you from beneath arched brows. The embodiment of a harsh peer review.
“I’m not late,” you argue, shaky arms wrapping around the exoskeleton almost possessively. “I’m just in time.”
He looks at his watch again. Clicks his tongue—a meticulous, petulant tsk—and shakes his head, hair fluffing all around him as the train approaches with a peevish screech, all windy streams hitting you in the face.
Just in time indeed.
You follow him into the cart. Trip over the last stair and all but leap inside, face bumping into his back with a harsh squeal. “Sorry,” you mutter, skittishly holding onto the prototype. Not as fierce today, are we?
“Watch your step,” Viktor warns. Not even a tactful glare. Hell, not even an over-the-shoulder one. He simply leads you to the compartment, so painfully casual. And you grudgingly tag along, staring at his nape with a choked up whine—so blatantly obvious in your pining.
Oh to brush your nose against those knotty little hairs. To taste the skin and smirk when he arches into the nip, whispering some indistinct Czech nothing. But you’re not allowed to. Not anymore. You did this to yourself, remember?
He opens the door for you, nodding to your seats. Waits for you to squeeze inside (the invention is a bit chunky, after all), leaning on his cane with a tranquil grunt. He must’ve gotten to the station by foot—you can tell by the way he’s stretching out his leg, sitting down.
You wonder if this morning would’ve turned out any different had you decided not to be a cunt last night—had you told him how you really feel, no filthy words involved (except for those he likes to drag out of you, if he felt like indulging in that to celebrate).
Would you go to his dorm or yours? Would you fight over what to have for breakfast? Would you catch a cab here together?
But the conductor helpfully ruins your bitter daydream. You awkwardly fumble inside your pocket, searching for the ticket, eyes still set on Viktor and his polite little exchanges. Good morning. Yes, of course. Here you go. Have a nice day.
But when you finally hand that lovely lady your crumpled ticket—she drops the smile and offers you a dry thank you. The hypocrisy.
The conductor retaliates, leaving you alone with Viktor’s ambiguous silence. So captivating when he sits in front of you, staring out the window, piney shadows running over his face in all kinds of prickly shapes. You join in on the pondering, but the remorse doesn’t let you admire the woods. The view simply blurs into vertigo-like heaps of green.
“Ahem.” Great. Resorting to fake coughs now. So much for getting him to talk to you. Watching the glide of his tongue behind a hollow cheek and resenting that cruel show-off. Sure, you do deserve a punishment, but the drollery is hardly necessary. Some heavy artillery is in order.
Your shoe invades his pants. Just the toe, but it’s a tight fit nonetheless—forcing its way inside the leg opening and pressing hard. Scratching him precisely above the sock and gobbling up the huff he draws out, angry pupils flaring at your audacity.
His fingers flinch down and wrap around your ankle. So belligerently erotic. More so when he forces your foot out of his pants and yanks it in its place. All gritted teeth and confused pouts. Seething intimidation and something you can’t quite make out. Has your heart dropping straight into your underwear. So the spark is still there, you note. Good to know.
“Don’t,” he alerts. “I don’t feel like indulging in another quarrel.”
“That’s not what I’m after.”
“I don’t care what you’re after. I’m fed up with your aggravating drivel.”
“It’s a good thing I’m offering you an apology, then.”
That grounds him. Tempts him treacherously enough to fail at hiding his commotion, curious mouth dropping open. But you interrupt that speechless. Leaning closer and prying his fist lax, hands twining firm through sweaty reluctance. Thumbs circling each other skittishly.
“I’m sorry.” You mean it. He knows you do—harsh decorum tumbling right that instant, no matter how convincingly he’s shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” you proceed, “for being so arrogant. I always expect vulnerability from you. But it goes both ways. Well, it should. At least I know that much. I should’ve never adhered to… whatever that was. It’s just that… I get so tongue-tied when feelings are on my agenda.”
Viktor smiles, albeit still curtly. “That outburst didn’t seem tongue-tied to me at all.”
“May I please finish before you start with all the nitpicking?” You frown, shooting him a tumultuous stare. He chortles. So insufferable. But you love him for it, don’t you?
“Back to my apology, though.” You solemnly clear your throat. “Where was I? Oh yes, vulnerability. Well, perhaps it’s already too late to address it, but I do respect you. And I do like you. In every capacity. I’m sorry for insulting you when you were clearly expecting sweetness. And if you want nothing… unprofessional to do with me after I treated you the way I did—I totally understand it. Just no more of this stonewalling bullshit, please. I want to win that damned competition and maintain a decent relationship with you afterwards. No… how did you put it? Aggravating…?”
“Drivel.”
“Right. Aggravating drivel.”
You both nod. So it’s settled, then? A flimsy truce? Just a quick, respectful split (too quick, even)—and you almost feel underwhelmed when he slowly slips away from your touch, bashfully averting his eyes at last. It’s over, you think. Or is it?
And then—a change of heart, so sudden and so demanding—crawling back into your palm and prying shaky fingers loose, pushing himself right back where he’d just left you empty. Ignoring your incredulous Oh? and staring at you from the altitude of his seat, thin mouth quivering into an arc. Still so insistent on running his tongue over the very wound your teeth sliced into his bottom lip. You allege to kiss him gently henceforth. If only he returns you this perk, that is.
“Do you truly seek a decent relationship with me? Nothing more, nothing less?” He asks carefully.
“It’s not about what I seek, Viktor. It’s about what you’re willing to give me. The decision is yours.”
“No.” He winces. “Quit it. You’re an atrocious liar. Where’s that volatile stubbornness I admire about you?”
You grin. Admire. What a revelation.
And you can show him stubborn if that’s what he wants—hands already swiftly sliding up his thighs and shackling them to the seat.
Tenacious it is, then. Hovering over his lap and tacitly asking permission to slide in. Savouring the best of answers when he pulls you towards him, long fingers curling low on your hips. Shaking just from having you on top of him again. It’s where you belong, after all.
“Is that stubborn enough for you?” You chide. He smiles up at you in the very way that always makes you weep for him. Well, not you, per se. Just the needy thing between your ribs. And between your legs. But you’re not sure if the ambiance is appropriate for those kinds of tears yet. You do have a relationship to establish, after all.
“You can do better than that,” Viktor whispers. Avid lips curl against your shoulder and fumble up, puckering a sparsely chaste kiss into your cheek. A tender overture ante-inevitable.
“Do you want me to do better?” You hitch, slurring the question. Fingers already lost in fistfuls of his hair and struggling not to pull—so unvirtuous when it comes to patience. But you’re willing to wait for him. Especially when he’s staring at you this closely, all clenched jaw and tense shoulders.
“I do,” Viktor concedes. “Of course I do. And I owe you an apology, too. I should’ve never accused you of childishness when I was hardly sophisticated myself. If anything, I should’ve told you how I feel first.”
“Mmm, are we competing in confessions now? What is this with you always trying to outstrip me?”
“Lose the prefix. I only want to strip you. But that’s besides the point. I regret my hesitation. I simply wish I’d told you sooner. All competition aside.”
Oh well.
If the man has spoken, all while looking at you so devotedly—surely you can give him what he wants? It’s not like you don’t want to hear it, either. It’s a dream come true, to have Viktor half a beat from spilling his heart out into your hands. Figuratively, literally and however else he prefers.
You finally indulge in a sneaky pull on his hair. Keeping his head thrown back when you drawl a raspy, “Lucky for you, I feel very charitable today.” But the cheekiness vanishes when you bashfully add, “You can tell me now. If the offer still stands.” Handing him the stubborn baton through a kiss so soft that he shudders beneath you, treacherous tachycardia tangible in his very temples. But it’s a necessary risk. Conversation is a relay sport, after all.
Viktor peers at the door. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your predicament, rocking sideways and adding to the delight of your giddiness—the compartment (which tininess you had to thank for pushing you back into his vicinity) was providing you barely any flimsy privacy.
Come to think of it, the lovely conductor may barge in to offer you tea any time soon. And god, the thought of her turning rouge to the sight of you gnawing at him shouldn’t excite you this much. It shouldn’t excite you, period.
And yet it does. Heartbeat rolling back into your underwear and all that. You can see Viktor's pulse follow suit. You could even cup it through his pants—if you felt like it. Both of you have half a mind to get into it right that perverse instant, but, thankfully, his share of decorum proves bigger. And so he reaches behind your back, sliding the lock shut. Sharp eyes return to your lips, seeking resumption.
You lick into him with the vigour of a farewell kiss. And a farewell it is—to whatever undefined mess you’d started in that lab two weeks ago. You’re changed people now. A tad clumsy with your gentle tongues colliding and tickling each-other’s palates unskillfully. But nothing is unmanageable to Viktor. He quickly gets the hang of it, figuring out a way around your mouth. Grinning against your tongue like a fool. And you humm, clinging to his hair with trembling fingers. Arching under his own when he crumples your shirt, finding a grabby hold of your waist. So greedy.
It’s hard to fight the force of habit. To put your teeth out of the way. His content moan only riles you up, more so when you suck at his bottom lip, tasting dried iron where he still wears your crimes of passion. You shower those little wounds in guilty kisses, smiling. He pulls away, panting through a wheezy chuckle. Tributing the next moment to an enthralled staring contest before forcing your mouth open again, one hand besetting your neck, mindful not to choke, another daring to slip under your shirt and follow a shivering path to the underside of your breast. Nimble fingers outlining an aureole while his tongue traces your lip. Beautiful contingency.
“I adore you,” he rasps. Licks up the thick saliva string connecting your mouths and marvels at you, contorted with horny desperation. Bedroom eyes glimmering under dark lashes. Bedroom. You really ought to take him there. Eventually. For now, he lovingly wrecks you on a train, bodies moulded together in a tiny seat. You laugh, pushing his tousled hair back.
“Do you?”
“I do.” He nods. Kisses your temple and presses his thumb into your nipple, fondling it hard. “You and your superfluous, unwavering pride. The nasty things you call me with such genuine fervour.”
“But you’re into that.”
“Oh yes. To a concerning extent, I might add.” And he places your hand on his crotch, knowing that you prefer physical evidence.
“Back to my adoration, though,” he proceeds. Gently nudges you off his lap, using your puzzled reverence to his advantage—legs bending as he slides to the floor, lurking between your thighs. Hunching over them to steal one more peck—it’s hard to resist, really—and pushing your knees apart, hardly even insistent.
His cunning, unmerciful fingers engulf bashful shivers when he reaches beneath your skirt and hooks his thumbs into your underwear, swiftly gliding the soaked thing down. You wish you’d chosen a fancier pair, but alas: one doesn’t exactly plan ahead to have make-up sex on a train.
“Viktor,” you whine a choked up warning. But he doesn’t just leave the lacey garment to dangle off your ankles. He folds it into his pocket with a grin so wide that it might just rip his mouth. Back to his bastard roots. No amount of gentleness could ever cure a perpetual asshole.
“What?” He huffs. Feigned innocence slumping when you push your legs further apart, arching into the seat. Filthily inviting him to have a taste. He settles on having a look for now, hitching a whistling breath as his eyes roam—every inch of you swollen and ready just for him. More so when his lips brush your skin, leaving a wet kiss above your knee. Moving up, up, up and faltering when you grab him by the nape, shoving his face where you need him most.
But he doesn’t oblige. Simply smiles at you and snakes a cruel finger between your folds, teasing the slit sloppy.
“You—ah, stole my underwear,” you moan, nails sharply stinging Viktor’s neck. His finger curls inside you, trembling when you clench at the contact, every nerve taut and ready to snap. Especially when the heel of his palm flattens your clit, dull pressure like a sweet tingle making your legs feel numb. His free hand grabs your calf and pushes it in the air, and the stretch stings so deliciously that you have to bite your fist to muffle a moan. Oh the detriments of fucking in public.
“I did,” Viktor concurs, bottoming out inside you. His thrusts are languid, as if intending to feel every crevice, that smart-mouth of his smiling wider with every dirty, sticky sound. You look away just in time to hide your embarrassment.
“Will you give it back to me?” You ask, teeth almost slicing your cheek when he bends to steal a careful taste of your clit, tongue poking you almost too gently.
“No,” he hums against you, staring up. Eyes hazy with awe at just how wet and pliant you are for him.
At how his fingers are always welcome inside you, no matter mouth or cunt. Perhaps other… orifices, too, but you’re yet to explore that. For now, he can only think of the needy task at hand.
“You expect me to attend the competition with no underwear?” You mumble, clenching your jaw, but it’s hard to be mad at him when his tongue feels so good. More so when he does that little thing you like, tending to your clit in a circling lick, all while pumping his finger deep to the knuckle. Has you tilting your head back with your hand thrown over your damp forehead, mouth stretching in an O that could’ve been so debauched if not for your reticent calamity. What a loss.
“Precisely,” he answers when you almost forget about the question, his voice a raspy vibration against your skin. “I’d like to see you deal with that inconvenience.”
“It’s rude to speak with your mouth full,” you hiss, grabbing him by the collar. And being womanhandled suits him well—he meets your eyes with playful compliance, chin proudly tilted up.
“I never claimed to be polite.” He shrugs. Smartass.
“Right. Is that why you’re putting me in that predicament or are you just a pervert?”
“Both, really. But if you want me to elaborate—“ he sighs, leaning back to admire your face, “I want to be the reason for your predicaments and undoings. I want to have you as my partner—in life, science, crime, bed or this very compartment. I want to make your eyes roll, both when you cum for me and when I say something you find ridiculous—which, I must admit, is objectively implausible because I’m hardly ever wrong, but we’ll have enough time to fight over that later.”
“Viktor—” You blush, letting go of his collar, heart stammering out of your ribs when he pulls away, promptly fixing his tie.
“For now, though,” he interrupts you, stealing a quick glance at his watch, “I’d simply like to go down on you before we have to get off this train. So if you’re still feeling scandalous,” he teases, letting you kiss your own sour taste off the corner of his mouth, “relaxing and letting me take the lead would be most helpful.”
#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor fanfic#viktor x reader smut#viktor x f!reader#arcane season 2#arcane#viktor smut#no beta we die#thats it#happy new year#i hope i made yall happier with this piece even though i dont really like it
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Care For Another Game?
Warning = smut🔞, gambling(?), destroying food, small spoilers, dubious consent
Pairing = Salesman (squid game) x fem! reader
Summary = A simple game of ddakji turns into something much more when he shows up at your door with a proposition. The stakes are higher, and this time, it’s not just about winning. Now it’s about control and desire.
Word count = 2.8k
Part 2
A/N = I'm genuinely so horny for this man please forgive me
“Excuse me, ma’am, would you like to play ddakji?”
You turned to face the voice, unsure if it was meant for you or someone else. A man stood just a few feet away, a small, polite smile on his face. You were sitting on the bench in the subway, waiting to catch the next one.
“M-me?” you muttered out.
“Yes.” he replied, very quickly. Damn, he’s so certain. How could I possibly reject it?
“Ehh? Sure I guess…” you mumbled, your words almost inaudible.
“Excellent,” he said, his smile widening just a fraction. He stepped closer, lowering himself to your level. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were, it was like he was carved out so carefully. His suit didn’t even have a single wrinkle, and his posture was impossibly composed, as if he was used to winning in life.
He then knelt on the dusty subway floor and placed two folded paper squares in front of you. “The rules are simple,” he explained. “You use your tile to flip mine. If you succeed, you win.” You started to roll your eyes as he was explaining the preface of the game… well that was until he held up the stack of cash. Oh you’re not losing now.
“And if I lose?” you asked cautiously.
“Then…” His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite name. “You owe me.”
You blinked, your unease growing. “Owe you what?”
“Let’s not worry about that just yet.” His voice was calm, almost reassuring, but it only made you more aware of the trap you might be stepping into.
Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your coat. You were unsure whether to back out now or follow through.
“Well?” he prompted, tilting his head slightly. “Which colour do you want?”
“Red please.” you responded, evoking a small smile from him.
You hesitated, then picked up one of the paper tiles. Its edges were surprisingly crisp, as though it had been folded just moments ago. Taking a deep breath, you crouched down to face him.
“Okay,” you said, steadying your hand. “Let’s do this.”
You both immediately got up and started playing. He seemed like an innocent guy from the outside but in the game, he seemed like a completely different person. The force he put into flipping the stupid tiles was so strong you swore you heard the ground shake beneath you.
Somehow, miraculously, you won most of the rounds and earned 500k won. You’d expect him to be a bit better if he was spending a bunch of time running around asking to play. You saw him a few days prior doing the same thing he did with you with other people. Though, they didn’t win much, mostly slaps to the face.
“Thank you,” you say, holding the stack of cash in both of your hands.
He still had that stupid smile plastered on his face. It never disappeared. How annoying.
“Mm. You’re welcome.” he responds, his face quickly darkening. And he walked away, without saying anything else. He also left the red paper tile with you.
With a satisfied hum, you skipped your way into the arriving subway.
—
Somehow, that didn’t end up being your last meeting with him.
A week later, you were strolling through the park, enjoying the rare peaceful silence. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves accompanied the sounds, but something disrupted the serene atmosphere. A sharp, rhythmic sound.
It was… stomping? And yelling? What the fuck?
Curious, you followed the noise, rounding a corner near the fountain. There, in the middle of an open patch of grass, stood the man from the subway—the Ddakji guy. He was dressed just as sharply as before, though his once-pristine shoes were now caked with crumbs.
You froze, watching in disbelief as he stomped repeatedly on a pile of bread scattered on the ground. It was like a massacre of carbs. He was literally stomping on it while screaming “this is your guys' fault” or some shit like that, in the middle of the park. Holy shit.
“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath while walking closer to him.
He looked up, pausing mid-stomp as if he’d heard you. His eyes locked onto yours, and that familiar polite smile spread across his face.
“Ah,” he said, straightening his posture as if he hadn’t just been waging war on baked goods. “We meet again.”
You blinked, pointing at the corpses of the bread. “What… are you doing?”
He glanced down, brushing a speck of flour off his pants. “An experiment,” he said simply.
“An experiment?” you echoed, incredulous. “In what? Angering pigeons?”
He chuckled softly, stepping away from the pile. “You wouldn’t understand. But it’s good to see you again, ma’am.”
“Okay, no.” You held up a hand, as if to stop whatever strange explanation he was about to give. “First, why are you stepping on bread? Second, why are you here, in this park, at the exact same time as me?”
His smile didn’t falter, but something in his gaze shifted. It became more calculated, as though he was about to beat you up– okay maybe not literally.
“Coincidence, perhaps,” he said, though the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. “Or maybe it’s fate.”
You took a step back, your instincts telling you that fate wasn’t the right answer. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”
“Stalking is such an ugly word.” He tilted his head, his expression almost amused. “Let’s just say… I find you interesting.”
Your stomach flipped, and not in a romantic way at all. “Right. Well, maybe don’t ‘find me’ again, okay?” you say, giving emphasis to the ‘find me’ with your two index and middle fingers on both hands.
He took a step closer, and you immediately regretted not leaving sooner. “I have a proposition,” he said smoothly, ignoring your obvious discomfort.
“Another game?” you guessed.
“Not quite.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out something that made your heart race—a single piece of folded paper. Ddakji.
“Nope, no way,” you said, backing away. “I’m not doing this again.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his smile widening. “This time, the stakes are higher.”
Then you stopped. Halted in your position. “You really wanna try again after losing? You’ve got guts. Or maybe you’re just dumb. Who knows?”
He rolled his eyes at you and pulled out the same two tiles.
“Oh! You’ve got another one,” you mentioned, reminding him of the night.
“Yea yea… let’s start,” he demanded.
To your surprise, you won again. Well, won most of the rounds. He seemed a bit frustrated at the outcome.
“What? You upset?” you tease.
“...”
He didn’t respond.
You flipped the tile in your hands again, a smug grin plastered on your face. “You know, for someone who’s so insistent on playing, you’re really not that good at this.”
His jaw tightened, but the polite smile stayed in place. “Luck doesn’t last forever, ma’am.”
“Maybe not, but it sure seems to be holding up today,” you say while stuffing your winnings into your pocket. “Thanks for the cash, by the way. It’s not everyday someone bankrolls my coffee addiction.”
He didn’t respond right away, instead adjusting his cuffs with an almost mechanical precision. You could tell he was trying not to let your teasing get to him.
“So,” you continued, leaning against a nearby tree, “is this what you do for fun? Wander around challenging strangers to games you’re bad at?”
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t say I’m bad.”
“Oh? The scoreboard says otherwise,” you shot back, gesturing to the imaginary tally in the air. “I’m up by, what, a hundred rounds?”
His smile faltered for the shortest moment, and you felt a spark of triumph. “You’re quite the character,” he said finally, his tone more measured.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, shrugging. “Anyway, thanks for the game. I’ll be sure to tell my friends about the weird guy in the park who hands out money for getting owned at ddakji.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You won’t have to. They’ll find out for themselves.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer, instead stepping closer and plucking the tile from your hand with surprising speed. You blinked at the empty space where it had been.
“Hey! That’s mine!” you protested.
“Consider it a rematch token,” he said, tucking the tile neatly into his pocket. “When you’re ready to lose, find me.”
“Lose? You’re delusional,” you scoffed.
He gave you a slight bow, his polished demeanor back in full force. “Until next time, ma’am.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with a mix of irritation and amusement.
“Next time, I’m taking your shoes too!” you called after him.
He raised a hand in a lazy wave but didn’t look back.
You shook your head, letting out a breathy laugh. “What a weirdo.”
Still, as you walked back to your bench, you found yourself wondering if there really would be a next time. And if there was, you weren’t planning to lose.
—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three consecutive knocks at your door. You wondered who it was. You hesitated for a moment, eyeing the door warily. It was late, and you hadn’t been expecting anyone. You didn’t have many visitors… well, actually, you had no visitors, except for the occasional delivery or perhaps a neighbor. The knocks repeated again, a bit harsher this time.
"Who the hell is it?" you muttered under your breath before rising from the couch and moving cautiously towards the door. Then you peeked through the peephole, but the hallway was empty.
A chill ran down your spine, and for a moment, you considered not answering. Maybe it was just some mistake, or a knock meant for someone else. But then the thoughts of being too paranoid crept in, and you didn’t want to seem like an idiot ignoring a visitor.
You pulled the door open a bit, just enough to see who was there.
And behold, there he was—the ddakji guy. Of course. How the heck did he dodge the peephole? He’s quite tall.
His smile was as unnerving as always, that same polite grin he always wore that never failed to send a shiver through you. He was standing there, holding a small black briefcase in his right hand. His suit, crisp as always, was illuminated by the light, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about his presence wasn’t exactly… safe.
“Ah, I knew you were home,” he said, as if he’d known the entire time you were debating whether or not to open the door.
“Are you… stalking me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure despite the strange situation.
“Stalking is such a harsh word,” he said smoothly, giving his usual tilt of the head. “I still much prefer… coincidence… or fate,”
You crossed your arms, still not entirely convinced. “Fate? That sounds like a line you use on people before you scam them into some ridiculous deal.”
He chuckled lightly. “I assure you, no deals. Just a proposition.” He took a step closer, his presence suddenly more intimidating than before. “I’ve come to finish what we started.”
You frowned, the memory of your last meeting flashing through your mind. From the look on his face after you won the game, and the way he seemed so nonchalant about everything.
“I’m pretty sure I already finished it,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected. “I won. You lost. End of story.”
He didn’t seem fazed by your resistance. “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s over just yet. You see, I have another game in mind. One you might find… more interesting.”
You were about to shut the door, but then he grabbed hold of the side to stop you.
“Just wait a second,” he said, his strength much overpowering yours.
What the hell was this guy’s deal?
You frowned, the memory of your last meeting flashing through your mind. From the look on his face after you won the game, and the way he seemed so nonchalant about everything. But now... there was something in his eyes. Something darker. And it made your breath catch in your throat.
"How many times do I have to say it?I’m pretty sure I already finished it," you shot back, trying to sound as mean as possible to shoo him away, but you couldn’t silence the sound of your heart pounding loudly in your chest. "I won. You lost. End of story."
He didn’t seem fazed by your resistance. In fact, his smile only widened, an almost predatory glint in his eyes.
"Maybe. But I don’t think it’s over just yet. You see, I have another game in mind. One you might find… much more interesting."
Your breath hitched as he stepped closer. Too close. The air around you suddenly felt thick and heavy. Before you could react, he reached up, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm as he held the door open just a little wider, his grip surprisingly strong.
“Just wait a second,” he said in that low, smooth voice, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "This time, there’s no escape."
You swallowed hard, a mix of confusion and arousal swirling inside you. Why was he doing this? Why were you still standing there? Why was your body betraying you, craving something you couldn’t quite put into words?
You tried to back away, but he was already pressing himself into the doorway, the scent of his cologne filling your senses. He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering a little too long.
“I told you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough now. “I don’t lose.”
Before you could say anything, he closed the distance completely and pressed his lips into yours. It was fierce, demanding, his hands on your waist pulling you closer, the pressure of his body sending shockwaves through you. You gasped into the kiss, feeling the heat intensify as he deepened it, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.
Your hands, on instinct, found their way to his chest, but he was already guiding you back into your apartment, the door falling closed behind him with a soft thud. You barely noticed it as your body reacted to him. Instinctively, your hands were pulling him closer, your legs weak with need.
He paused only for a moment, pulling back just enough to look at you. The lust in his eyes made your pulse race. “You wanted a challenge, right?” he said, his voice husky. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go now.”
And then, with a swift motion, he pushed you back against the wall, and his hands started to explore your body, touching every part of you. You let out a breathless laugh, caught between the strange tension and the undeniable pull between you two. You felt the weight of him press against you, the tent unmistakable in his pants.
“I think you’ve already won,” you said, breathless, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. He pulled back slightly, giving you a look that sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. “Then let’s see if you’re ready to finish this game.”
His lips gradually moved to your neck, kissing and biting softly as his hands slid beneath your clothes, feeling the smoothness of your skin. Every touch made you shiver, every kiss igniting a fire within you. You gasped as his hands worked their way down, finding the heat between your legs, making you ache for him even more.
Without another word, he slowly undid your clothing, his movements deliberate and controlled, yet full of hunger. His lips trailed down your body, each touch, each caress, sending you into a spiral. By the time his hands found their way to your most sensitive spots, you were already a mess, your body aching for more.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice dark and velvety, as he hovered above you, his fingers teasing just at the edge of what you needed. You nodded, too far gone to hold back any longer.
"Then let's finish what we started," he says.
The game is much simpler now. The only rule being… the first to cum loses.
#salesman x reader#squid game#squid game salesman#squid game fanfic#gong yoo x reader#squid game spoilers#salesman smut#the salesman smut
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it’s you that i’ve been waiting for, all of my life ⟢ LN4
final part of the crazy rich asians au ⟢ part one part two
PAIRINGS: lando norris x asian!female!reader
SUMMARY: with a lot of your family and friends are either getting engaged or married, it made you think about a lot of things—well, mostly marriage.
REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.
WARNINGS: non-use of y/n, reader is asian, foul language, traditional family, asian culture & tradition, food, crazy rich asians inspired + plot, heiress reader, named characters (except reader, names are mostly taken from CRA), social status, high society, mentions of marriage, reader having a wedding fever, fluff, and minor typographical errors.
WORD COUNT: 9.6k
AUTHOR’S NOTE: finallyyyy, this is the last part of my crazy rich asians au. the rest of the updates for this series is already smaus—which will be updated sporadically. to all that read, commented, and reblogged, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. tbh, i wasn’t even sure/confident with this three part series bc it was literally my first time writing this kind of fic, so thank you so much. as always, your reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this last part! also, happy new year, guys! 🥺❤️
You and Lando had just finished settling into your hotel, when your phone buzzed with an incoming facetime call from Nick. Surprised but not entirely shocked by his timing, you answered the call and held your phone up as you sat on the edge of the bed. Nick’s face appeared on the screen, expression tense and unusually serious.
“Hey, is Rachel with you right now?” he asked without preamble, tone laced with urgency.
You frowned, confused by the question. “No, she’s not,” you replied, glancing at Lando, who was sitting on the edge of the bef watching your conversation. “Lando and I already left Singapore earlier, we’re in Malaysia right now. Why? Is everything okay?”
Nick ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily before diving into the whole explanation. He told you and Lando about how your Auntie Eleanor had hired a private investigator to dig into Rachel’s background. Your stomach sank as he laid it all out—the dossier that your Auntie Eleanor had compiled, which included several Chinese news articles and missing person reports with Rachel’s mother’s photo. All these revelations had been shared with your Ah Ma at the wedding reception, and things had escalated from there.
You can slightly hear Nick’s voice trembling as he recounted how your Ah Ma had become mad and forbid Rachel from continuing her relationship with him, declaring that Rachel’s family background poses a threat to your family’s reputation. The words made your chest tighten, and you felt a mix of anger and sadness bubbling inside of you. Then it all started to make sense now—Rachel’s disoriented state, the way she fled from the reception without looking back.
“Wait,” you interjected, still processing everything. “Ah ma was at Colin and Minty’s wedding? I didn’t even see her, she rarely goes to events like that unless her presence is absolutely necessary.”
Nick nodded, confirming your thoughts. “She was there. It wasn’t planned for her to come, but I think Mom had managed to convince her.”
You sighed. “Well, that explained a lot. No wonder Rachel was running off like that, she must’ve been completely blindsided.”
He paused before continuing. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of her, but she’s not answering my calls or texts. I just—” he trailed off, his frustration evident.
Thinking quickly, you remembered something Rachel had mentioned in passing. “Maybe she’s staying at her best friend’s house? She told me once that she has a close friend in Singapore.”
Nick’s eyes lit up slightly. “That's a possibility. I’ll try to find out where her friend lives.”
“Do you need me to come back?” you asked, words spilling out before you could second-guess them. “Lan and I can fly back to Singapore tonight if you think it’ll help.” you glanced at Lando, who nodded in silent agreement.
He shook his head quickly. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I think I can handle it for now. But if Rachel answers your texts or calls, can you let me know right away?”
“Of course,” you said firmly. “I’ll text her again and keep you updated.”
“Thanks,” Nick said with a small, grateful smile.
“But hey, listen,” you said carefully, “if you find Rachel—in which I know that you will, you have to give her some time. Don’t push her, and don’t force anything.”
Nick was quiet on the other end, so you took it as a queue to continue. “She’s been blindsided, completely blindsided by all of it. Think about it, the information that Auntie Eleanor dumped on her, how it was thrown at her, none of it was easy for her to process. She didn’t even see it coming, and honestly, no one would’ve been ready for something like that.”
“I know,” Nick murmured. “But I just want to fix it. I want her to know that none of this changes how I feel about her.”
“I know you do,” you said gently. “But right now, Rachel needs space to process everything. Imagine if you’re in her shoes—finding out things about your family’s past in such a public and humiliating way. That kind of betrayal isn’t easy to shake off, especially when it comes out of nowhere.”
You paused, choosing your words carefully. “You have to be patient with her, Nick. Let her come to you when she’s ready. If you try to force her to talk or rush through it, it might just push her further away.”
There was another silence, then a resigned sigh from Nick. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I hate it, but you’re right. I just feel so useless sitting here, doing nothing.”
“Nicky, you’re not doing nothing,” you assured him. “The best thing you can do right now is respect her boundaries and be ready when she’s ready. Let her know you’re there, but don’t overwhelm her, and Nick…” you trailed off.
You briefly hesitated before adding, “Rachel was thrown into a pit of wolves. Our family, for all its grandeur and well, admit it or not, can be really cruel. She wasn’t prepared for it, but that’s not on her—it’s completely on us, and if you love her, you’ll help her navigate through it when she finally comes around.”
Nick’s voice softened. “I do love her, more than anything.”
“This might sound very cliché, but trust the process,” you said. “She’ll come back to you when she’s ready, and when she does, you’ll be there for her.”
“Thanks again,” he said quietly. “I really needed to hear that.”
“Anytime,” you replied. “Just keep me updated, okay? Don’t lose hope.”
“I won’t,” Nick promised.
“Alright, take care.” you said before ending the call.
As the screen went dark, you tossed your phone onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling in frustration. Your call to Rachel had gone straight to voicemail, and though you had sent her a message, you couldn’t shake the knot of worry in your chest. Flopping down beside your phone, you exhaled deeply. The fact that your Auntie Eleanor had gone so far as to hiring a private investigator made your blood boil. It was not just meddling—it felt invasive and cruel.
“Why?” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “Why did she have to go that far?”
Lando glanced over you from where he was sitting, watching you silently for a moment before he laid down beside you on the bed.
“Hey,” he said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”
“It’s just…Auntie Eleanor. Why would she do something like that? Nick and Rachel were happy, and Ah Ma already liked Rachel, so why did she have to ruin it all? What does it even accomplish?” your voice wavered slightly as you spoke, your emotions bubbling to the surface.
Lando listened patiently, letting you vent. When you paused, he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I get it,” he said gently. “It’s frustrating, and it’s not fair to Rachel. But you know Nick, he’s not going to give up on her just because of this. They’ll figure it out eventually.”
You looked at him, brows furrowed. “But what if they don’t? What if this just ruins everything?”
“It won’t,” he said firmly. “They’ve come this far, haven’t they? Something like this might take time to work through, but if they’re meant to be, they’ll find their way back to each other. You’ve got to believe in that.”
His words were calming, and you found yourself nodding slowly. “You’re right,” you said, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully loosen. “I just want them to have the happy ending they deserve.”
“And they will,” Lando assured you with a small smile. “But right now, you’ve got to focus on what you can control. We’re in Malaysia, come on, let’s enjoy our time. Relax, and take a breather from all the chaos back in Singapore.”
You gave Lando a weak smile, appreciating his efforts to make everything better. “Yeah, you’re right. We should make the most of it while we’re here.” pushing yourself off the bed, you glanced towards your suitcase. “We’ve got dinner plans later, don’t we?”
Lando grinned, standing up and holding out his hand to help you. “We do. Let’s go have a great night.”
You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, and smiled at him. “Alright.”
The first day in Malaysia began early, with the rising sun casting a soft golden glow as you and Lando set off for George Town in Penang. The drive was long, roughly about four hours from Kuala Lumpur, where you’re staying, but the journey was as much a part of the adventure as the destination. Lando was behind the wheel, where one of his hands was steady on the wheel, and his other free hand was laced on your fingers. His eyes occasionally darted towards you while you admired the scenery as you passed by.
“So,” he started, glancing at you with a teasing smile, “are you going to be my personal tour guide for the day?”
You grinned, looking at him. “Of course.”
When you arrived, George Town immediately swept you off of your feet. The streets were alive with so much color and culture, with the British colonial buildings standing gracefully alongside vibrant Chinese shophouses and intricate mosques. The air smelled of spices and street food, and the chatter of locals filled the space with a sense of warmth and energy.
“Look at that one,” he said, pulling you gently toward a painting of a little boy riding a bicycle. “We have to take a photo here.”
Lando pulled out his camera and posed next to the mural, with a wide grin on his face. “Your turn, come on,” he said after snapping his photo, motioning for you to take his place. “Hold on,” he gestured for you to pose in front of the mural. You rolled your eyes playfully but obliged to his request, striking a simple pose.
“Perfect,” he said as he snapped the photo before lowering the camera. “Though the real thing’s better than the photo,” he added cheekily, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek.
“Smooth,” you teased, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless.
You wandered through the streets hand in hand, occasionally stopping every so often to admire the architecture of the small shops selling everything ranging from antiques to handmade crafts. At one point, Lando pulled you into a quiet alley where a local artist was painting a new mural. He tilted his head, examining the work.
“Think I could pull something like this off?” he joked, referring to the mural’s intricate design.
“Absolutely not,” you replied, laughing. “But I’d pay good money to watch you try.”
The day would not have been complete without food. You introduced Lando to char kway teow, a flavorful stir-fried noodle dish. He took his first bite, his expression shifting from curiosity to delight.
“Okay, this is incredible,” he said, nodding enthusiastically as he went for another bite.
“You have a good taste,” you replied, stealing a noodle from his plate.
“You mean you have a good taste,” he corrected.
The day continued like that—strolling, laughing, stealing kisses, and taking photos. Every corner of George Town seemed to hold a story, and every moment felt like it was just for the two of you.
As the sun began to set, the sky turned a warm orange, and Lando snapped one final photo. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget today,” he said softly, looking at you instead of the view.
You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Me neither.”
The second day began with the sun streaming through your window, casting a warm glow over the start of what you knew would be an unforgettable day. After breakfast, you and Lando set off for Paradise 101 in Langkawi, a private island that promised a perfect blend of adventure and relaxation, and just an hour away.
As soon as you stepped onto the island, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the salty breeze filled your senses. Lando reached out for your hand, giving it a light squeeze he looked out at the clear blue sky.
“Ready for some adventure?” he asked with a contagious smile.
“Always,” you replied, already feeling the excitement bubbling up.
The first activity on the list was parasailing, something you had always wanted to try. Strapped into the harness side by side, the instructor began counting down, and then, the boat picked up speed, lifting you and Lando off the ground, soaring above the waters. The world below looks so tiny, and the ocean stretches endlessly beneath your feet.
“This is insane!” Lando shouted over the wind.
You turned your head to look at him, his expression lit up with excitement. “Right? Look at that amazing view!” you replied, pointing towards the horizon where the ocean met the sky.
“Look something out of the painting,” then glancing at you, there was a mischievous glint in Lando’s eyes. “Though the view isn’t half as good as the one next to me.”
You laughed, swatting at him lightly. “You’re such a cheeky little shit.”
When your feet touched the sand again, Lando was already pulling you toward the ziplining station. The zipline took you across the island’s canopy, and each time you landed, Lando was there waiting, stealing quick kisses before moving to the next line.
“Race you to the bottom,” Lando challenged, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.
“Oh, you’re on,” you replied, determined.
As the two of you zipped down, the wind whipping past, the sound of your laughter had filled the air. Lando had beaten you to the bottom, of course, but he immediately pulled you into a hug when you joined him, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
The afternoon was reserved for a private yacht cruise, just the two of you. As the boat glided through the calm waters of Langkawi’s northern coast, you couldn’t help but marvel at the picturesque coastline, with the emerald-green water shimmering under the sun.
“Perfect, isn’t it?” Lando asked, leaning back beside you, his sunglasses perched on his nose.
“Perfect,” you agreed, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.
“You know,” he began, “we should bring the others here sometimes. They’d love this.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” you replied, looking at him. “Though I kind of like it being just us right now.”
“Me too,” he said, voice soft, brushing a kiss on your forehead.
You decided to give kayaking a try, but knowing Lando, it probably would be a chaotic one. “You’re paddling the wrong way, babe!” you exclaimed as Lando’s oar splashed water everywhere. “Are you sure you know how to paddle?”
“Of course I do!” he argued.
Lando was just kept on paddling in circles, the kayak even refused to cooperate—or so he claimed.
“Babe! You’re just steering us into circles. You’re doing it wrong!” you called out, grinning mischievously.
“I’m not—hold on, are you gaslighting me right now?” he accused, realizing your game.
“I would never!” you said, feigning innocence.
Lando almost toppled over the kayak trying to adjust, and you couldn’t contain your laughter. But eventually, you found your rhythm, paddling side by side through the tranquil waters.
“Okay, maybe this teamwork thing isn’t so bad after all,” he admitted, voice softer now.
“You think?” you teased, glancing at him with a smile.
The highlight of the day came with the private UNESCO Geopark mangrove cruise. You and Lando had been transferred to a small explorer boat, where you were taken through a landscape that felt almost otherworldly. Sheer limestone cliffs rose majestically from the water, their forms resembling ancient temples.
“This is incredible,” Lando murmured, voice tinged with awe as he leaned over the side of the boat.
You nodded, eyes fixed on the towering cliffs. “It feels like we’ve stepped into another world.”
The guide led you through the Tanjung Rhu River, Kisap River, and Kilim River, each stretch offering breathtaking views. At one point, you visited a fish farm and even ventured into the crocodile and bat cave, marveling at the natural formations.
When the cruise ended, the day slowly gave way to evening, and you returned to the resort. Lando had made a reservation for an outdoor dinner at the resort’s restaurant, with the table set against the backdrop of the sparkling Andaman Sea.
You were sitting right across from Lando, the soft glow of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. “Today was really perfect,” you said, voice warm.
Lando reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “Well, that’s because I spent it with you.”
“To more days like this,” you said, raising your glass with your free hand.
“To more days with you,” Lando replied, raising his glass as well.
The waves whispered against the shore as you clink your glasses together, ending the amazing fun filled day in the most serene and beautiful way imaginable.
On the third day, which is your last day in Malaysia, felt like the perfect opportunity to slow down and enjoy a more relaxed pace with Lando. After having your breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant, you decided to explore Kuala Lumpur together and do some shopping, mostly picking out Christmas gifts for family and friends. Your first stop was Cartier, where the staff immediately recognized you and Lando as you entered the boutique.
“Welcome back,” one of them greeted warmly. “Please, follow us to the VIP room.”
The room was elegant and private, with plush seating and pristine glass displays showcasing Cartier’s finest collections. You scanned the displays carefully, selecting gifts that felt personal and meaningful. From time to time, you would turn to Lando for his opinion, holding a piece to show it to him.
“What do you think of this one, love?” you asked, turning a bracelet in your hands.
Lando leaned in to get a closer look, studying it for a brief moment. “It’s nice, but maybe this design suits them better,” he suggested, pointing to another piece that has more classic finish to it.
His input was reassuring, and you found yourself smiling more with every choice you made. So piece by piece, you finalized your selections and decided to have each of it engraved with the names. While the staff began the engraving process, you took the opportunity to explore the display cases further.
Your eyes fell on the iconic Love rings, their sleek designs catching the light. The delicate design, with its understated elegance and signature screw motif had drawn you in immediately. You paused, gazing at them a little longer than you had intended. They were very stunning, and the thought of having matching ones with Lando crept into your mind.
For a moment, you let your mind wander. The thought of having matching Love rings with Lando made your heart flutter. It would be such a sweet symbol of your relationship, a quiet nod to the love you shared. But as quickly as the thought came, doubt crept in. Would he even want to wear something like that? You had only been together for a year, and while your relationship felt deep and serious, you weren’t even sure if he’d see it the same way.
“Miss?” the associate’s voice gently pulled you back to the present. “The items have been engraved and wrapped. Would you like us to send them directly to your hotel?”
You smiled, nodding. “Yes, please. That would be perfect. We still have some plans for the day.”
The associate assured you that everything would be taken care of. You thanked them again and turned to Lando, who was casually leaning against the counter, watching you with an easy smile. What you didn’t realize was that he had caught the way your gaze lingered on the Love rings earlier. But he decided not to say anything, only offering you his hand as the two of you prepared to leave.
“Ready to go?” he asked, voice gentle.
“Yes, let’s go,” you replied, sliding your hand into his.
As you both left the store hand in hand, the shopping bags destined for your hotel, Lando’s mind was already working, his thoughts drifting back to the love rings and making a mental note.
Finally, Dior was your final stop, and as you stepped into the elegantly designed VIP room, the ambiance felt as refined and luxurious as always. The staff greeted you warmly, offering refreshments and giving you a moment to settle in before showing you all of the latest collections.
You browsed through the items thoughtfully, then occasionally turning to Lando for his input, yet again, on potential gifts and personal picks. He followed you closely, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his easy demeanor adding a comfortable balance.
As you admired a pair of beautiful heels, Lando leaned in slightly, tone light but teasing. “You know your luggage is already packed to the brim, right?”
You paused mid-reach, blinking at him as his words sank in. “Wait…really?”
He nodded, trying to suppress a grin. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’d have to sit on it just to zip it up.”
With the sudden realization, you glanced back at the shelves, and you turned to the sales associate with a smile. “Do you have any luggage available in stock?”
The associate’s face lit up. “We do, actually! Let me bring it out for you.”
As the associate disappeared into the back, Lando let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Only you would come shopping for gifts and leave with luggage to carry it all.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging his arm. “Well, if you’re going to go shopping, might as well do it properly.”
The associate soon returned, rolling out a sleek Dior luggage piece in a design you hadn’t seen before that caught your attention immediately. Its understated design and impeccable craftsmanship stood out, and you took a moment to examine it closely.
“This is perfect,” you said decisively, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “I’ll take it. I don’t have one in this design yet, so it’ll be a great addition.”
Lando chuckled softly beside you as you made your way to the counter. When the associate had totaled the purchase, he casually pulled out his black card and handed it over, placing it on the counter.
“Here, I’ve got this,” he said smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small grin.
“No,” you reached into your bag without hesitation, pulling out your own black card and handing it to the associate directly. “I’m paying for this, please. It’s my shopping.”
The associate glanced between the two of you, clearly confused and trying to decide whose card to take. You were sure that the associate would take your card, so you focused briefly on a nearby display of handbags, thinking which designs might fit into your collection. While you were distracted, Lando seized the opportunity.
“Swipe it on mine,” he said quietly, giving the associate a quick, reassuring nod.
By the time you turned your attention back, the transaction was already complete, and the staff were carefully packing the luggage and other items into Dior’s signature paper bags.
“What just happened?” you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly as Lando smiles cheekily at you.
“Nothing, babe,” he replied, tone far too innocent to be convincing. “Just making sure you’re not overworking your card today.”
You sighed, half-exasperated but mostly amused. “You’re impossible.”
“Just making sure your new luggage is properly christened,” he teased.
Shaking your head with a small smile, you turned back to the associate and asked, “would it be possible to have everything be delivered to our hotel? We’ve got a dinner reservation coming up, and it would be easier if we didn’t have to carry all this.”
“Of course, Miss,” they replied, nodding. “We’ll ensure everything is delivered promptly.”
“Thank you,” you said warmly before turning back to Lando. “Ready to go?”
Lando placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards the exit. “Let’s go.”
By the time you stepped out of Dior, the soft glow of dusk had already begun to settle over the city, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The streets were alive with the hum of evening traffic, but your thoughts were focused on the dinner reservation at Akar Dining.
The drive to the restaurant was peaceful, with Lando’s hand resting on your thigh as the car navigated the streets. You arrived just in time, the warm ambiance of the restaurant immediately wrapping around you as you stepped inside, the host greeted you and guided you to your table. Lando, ever the gentleman, pulled out your chair, his hand lingering briefly on the back of it as you sat down.
“Thank you,” you murmured with a small smile, adjusting the hem of your dress as you settled in.
Lando took his seat across from you just as a waiter approached your table with the menus. The dimly lit atmosphere, paired with the sophisticated decor had made the evening feel intimate and special. As you scanned the menu, your eyes immediately caught a few dishes you knew you would enjoy, while Lando appeared slightly less certain.
“So, what are you thinking of getting?” you asked, glancing up from your menu to find him frowning slightly.
“Honestly?” he set the menu down for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “Most of these seafood dishes aren’t really my thing.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “It’s fine, just pick something else. You don’t have to love everything on the menu.”
Eventually, he decided on the braised aged duck, and you ordered a seafood dish that intrigued you. As you waited for the food, you took a sip of your water, your gaze lingering on Lando. The memory of what happened at Dior earlier was still fresh in your mind, and you decided to address it.
“By the way,” you began, setting your glass down. “Thank you for paying earlier at Dior, but you really didn’t have to, Lan.”
Lando shrugged casually, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Of course I did. You shouldn’t have to pay for something when I’m right here.”
You sighed lightly, tilting your head at him. “Lan, I can pay for my own things. I don’t want to rely on you all the time, especially when it’s my shopping.”
“I know you can,” he replied, tone soft but firm. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to. It’s not about whether you can afford it—it’s about me wanting to take care of you.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a playful grin. “And before you argue, I’m not budging on this.”
“Well, if you’re so insistent on paying for everything,” you said, leaning forward slightly, “then at least let me pay for dinner tonight.”
“Not happening, love,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair with an air of finality.
“Lando,” you started, but the waiter returned just then with your food, momentarily halting the conversation.
As you both began to eat, you couldn’t help but glance at him occasionally, trying to come up with a way to outmaneuver him when the bill comes. Lando seemed thoroughly engrossed in his braised aged duck, nodding approvingly after the first few bites.
“This is actually really good,” he remarked, gesturing to his plate with his fork.
“It was worth the try,” you said with a satisfied smile, enjoying your own meal.
When the plates were cleared, the waiter had returned with the bill, and you reached for it instinctively, smiling as you’re about to get a hand on it, but to your dismay, Lando was faster. He snatched it from the waiter’s hand with a smoothness that left you momentarily stunned, his card already out and ready. Without a word, he placed it on the bill and handed it back to the waiter before you could even blink.
“Lando Norris!” you hissed, voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “I told you I was paying for dinner.”
“And I told you that you’re not,” he replied, tone calm and unbothered.
You stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t keep doing this. I have my own money, you know. I don’t need you to pay for everything, my love.”
“I know you don’t,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “But I wanted to. A gentleman never let his woman pay. End of story.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he interrupted gently, gaze soft but resolute. “I know that you’re independent, and I love that about you. But letting me take care of you every now and then doesn’t make you any less independent.”
You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “At some point, you have to let me pay too. I don’t want to feel like I’m relying on you for everything.”
“I get that. But tonight isn’t the point,” he said, as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “Letting me take care of you once in a while doesn’t mean you’re relying on me. It just means that I love you.”
Your heart softened at his words, the sincerity in his voice melting away your objections. “Fine,” you murmured, though a playful edge crept into your tone. “But one day, you’re letting me pay for something. Mark my words.”
Lando chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a wide grin. “We’ll see about that.”
After an amazing dinner, you were finally back in your hotel. The moment you stepped inside the room, the exhaustion from the day’s adventures hit you like a wave. You slipped off your sandals with a sigh of relief, placed your bag on the vanity, and immediately collapsed onto the plush bed, letting the softness swallow you whole. Lando was not far behind, shutting the door with a soft click before walking over to where you lay sprawled out. He chuckled as he kicked off his sneakers, tossing them aside without any care.
“You look absolutely done,” he teased, voice laced with affection.
Without another word, he climbed onto the bed beside you, his arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you close. You didn’t protest, in fact, you just melted into his embrace—his warmth and familiar scent of his cologne instantly soothing your tired muscles.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” you murmured lazily, though you made no effort to move. “We still need to pack for tomorrow. I need to arrange the things we bought today inside the new luggage.”
Lando nuzzled his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Mhmm…packing can wait.” he said as he kissed your collarbone. “I just want to stay like this for a bit. It’s been such a good trip.”
You smiled faintly, tilting your head slightly to rest against his. “It really has. I think this was exactly what we needed, huh? Just us, no distractions.”
“Uh huh. No meetings, no interruptions…” Lando added with a sigh, tightening his hold on you. “I wish we could stay longer. Feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface here.”
You laughed softly. “You’re the one who extended our stay by an extra day. If we keep this up, we might not even make it to the UK in time for Christmas.”
He groaned dramatically, pulling you even closer. “Fine, you win. We’ll leave tomorrow, but I’m telling you, we’re coming back here next year.”
“Alright,” you replied, voice muffle as you buried your face in his chest.
For a few moments, neither of you spoke, content to lie tangled in each other’s arms as the city lights outside cast a faint glow into the hotel room.
“Okay, okay,” you finally said, breaking the peaceful silence. “We really need to pack, babe. I’m not about to start throwing things into a suitcase at five in the morning.”
He groaned again but rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How about I do the packing, and you stay here looking all pretty?”
“Absolutely not,” you replied, swatting his arm lightly. “If you pack, I’ll end up with half my things missing and thrown with wrinkles.”
Lando laughed, sitting up and pulling you up with him. “Alright, fine. Let’s get it over with, but you owe me cuddles afterwards.”
You rolled your eyes playfully as you slid off of the bed. “Deal. Now, let’s get moving before you start whining again.”
He grinned, grabbing his suitcase and tossing it onto the bed with enthusiasm. “You know me so very well.”
As you were neatly folding a dress and placing it neatly in your suitcase, your phone rang, cutting through the quiet hum of activity in the hotel room. You glanced at the screen and saw Nick’s caller ID flashing. Your eyes immediately widened, and your stomach sank slightly—you had completely pushed aside the chaos from earlier in Singapore.
“Nicky,” you murmured, picking up the phone and quickly answering. Lando glanced up from his own packing, curious.
The moment the call connected, Nick’s face filled your screen, grinning from ear to ear. Before you could say anything, he shouted out, “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”
Your jaw dropped, and your heart leapt. “WHAT?!” you screamed, startling Lando, who immediately moved closer to check. “Oh my god! Nicky, are you serious?!”
Nick nodded excitedly, his smile growing wider. “Yes! I proposed to Rachel earlier, and she said yes! We’re getting married!”
A loud scream of happiness escaped you, and grabbed both Lando’s hands and jumped up and down, causing Lando to follow your lead, with you chanting ‘Nick and Rachel are getting married’ a couple of times. Both of you jumping like you’re in a cult, chanting to summon something.
“Nicky, this is amazing news! I’m so happy for you and Rachel! Oh my god, I’m going to cry!” you said, nearly dropping your phone in the process.
Lando laughed and leaned into the frame, resting a hand on your waist. “Congratulations, mate! That’s incredible news!”
“Thanks, man!” Nick said, grinning even wider. He turned back to you, clearly eager to share more details. “Mom finally came around, and she gave me the emerald ring to propose with. I actually chased Rachel to the airport, it turns out she was about to leave, already inside the plane and I just dropped on one knee and proposed to her. You should’ve seen Rachel’s face when I pulled out the ring, she was so shocked.”
You clutched your chest dramatically. “Nick, that’s so beautiful. I’m so, so happy for you both.”
Nick chuckled, his excitement very evident. “But wait, there’s more. I’m throwing a surprise engagement party for Rachel tomorrow night, and I need you both there. Please say you can come.”
You glanced over at Lando, your eyes silently asking if he was okay with changing plans. Lando, ever the supportive boyfriend that he is, nodded without any hesitation.
“We’re both in,” you said to Nick. “We’ll fly back to Singapore tomorrow.”
Nick let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you! I can’t wait to see you both, and don’t worry, it won’t be a massive party, just a small gathering of close friends and family.”
“We will not miss it,” you assured him. “But just so you know, we’ll have to leave right after the party. We’re expected in the UK before Christmas.”
“Fair enough,” Nick said, still beaming. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow then, and thank you, both of you, for being there for us.”
“Of course,” you replied, voice soft with emotion. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
After ending the call, you turned to Lando, who was smiling at your obvious joy. “Looks like we’re making another detour,” you said with a laugh.
“Well, wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lando replied, pulling you into a quick hug before returning to his packing.
The flight from Malaysia to Singapore passed quickly, only an hour long. You and Lando had decided to leave in the afternoon to allow yourselves some extra time to relax before the engagement party. By the time the private jet touched down at a private tarmac in Changi Airport, the sky had shifted to a warm, dusky hue.
You were already dressed for the event, adjusting the hem of your dress as you prepared to disembark. Your outfit for tonight complimented Lando’s outfit perfectly, a choice you both had coordinated without much effort. Deciding not to take your belongings off of the jet since you would be leaving Singapore immediately after the party. Taking one final glance at the jet’s sleek interior, you then stepped out.
Lando walked beside you, his hand firmly holding yours as he guided you down the steps of the jet. The heels you wore, though elegant, weren’t exactly forgiving, and his grip gave you the balance you needed. Once you reached the car waiting on the tarmac, he moved ahead, opening the door for you.
“Careful, love,” he murmured, holding out a hand to help you inside.
You gave Lando a small smile as you slid into the seat, careful not to wrinkle your dress. He followed right after, shutting the car door behind him. The soft hum of the car engine filled up the space as the vehicle pulled away, heading towards Marina Bay Sands. You then leaned into Lando slightly.
“You know,” Lando began with a playful smirk, “I think we’ve spent more time in Singapore lately than in Monaco.”
You laughed softly. “Tell me about it. It looks like we’ll be back here again sooner rather than later for Nick and Rachel’s wedding.”
He tilted his head in mock resignation. “I guess I’d better get used to the humidity then.”
“Oh come on,” you gave him a teasing nudge. “You’ve survived it so far. Besides, you look so good here, very tropical chic.”
Lando chuckled, resting his hand on yours. “Thanks, love. But seriously, it feels like everyone’s getting married or engaged all of a sudden. What’s with the December air.”
You sighed dramatically. “Tell me about it. First Colin and Minty, now Nick and Rachel, also don’t forget about my friend from Parsons! She’s getting married in Moscow next year and has already sent in the invitation.”
“Moscow, huh?” he mused. “Another flight for us?”
You glanced at him with a small smile. “If you want to come with me, that is. I don’t want to pressure you into attending all these weddings, I know that it can be really tiring.”
Lando tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Moscow, a wedding, and a chance to see you again in another dress? Sounds like a total dream, so it’s a yes for me.”
You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging his arm. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love every bit of it,” he quipped, grinning.
As the car drove on, your thoughts began to drift. Weddings, engagements, proposals—it seemed like everyone around you was taking those big steps. You didn’t want to admit it, but that idea of marriage had been creeping into your mind more and more lately. It was not something you wanted to bring up, not yet, but still, it is a topic that had been occupying your mind.
You shook off the feeling, focusing instead on the city lights beginning to twinkle outside the car window. “Yeah, and I think that we’re going to need a bigger calendar,” you joked.
Lando laughed, resting a hand on your knee. “As long as you’re on it, I don’t mind.”
The car rolled to a smooth stop at the grand entrance of Marina Bay Sands, with the city lights reflecting off the sleek glass facade. The chauffeur had exited first, circling around to open your door, and before you could step out, Lando was already at your side, extending a hand to help you out of the car.
“I’ll be here at the agreed time to take you back to the airport, ma’am.” the chauffeur said as he tipped his hat.
“Thank you,” you replied with a polite smile.
Lando intertwined your hands, and you both began walking towards the entrance. The evening air was warm, and the energy surrounding the iconic building was palpable. A few people by the lobby immediately recognized Lando, and their eyes widened when they noticed you by his side.
“Excuse me,” a young woman asked hesitantly, clutching her phone. “Would it be alright if I can get a quick photo with you both?”
Lando exchanged glances with you and nodded warmly. “Of course, just a quick one.”
You stepped aside with him, pausing for a few photos, each person thanking you both profusely afterwards. Once the small crowd dispersed, you and Lando resumed your walk, making your way to the elevators that would take you to the sky deck. The elevator ride was smooth and swift, and when the doors opened, the familiar faces of your family, Nick’s closest friends, and your cousins scattered throughout the beautifully decorated space.
As your eyes scanned the crowd, you spotted your mother first. She stood near one of the seating areas, speaking animatedly with one of your aunts. You guided Lando over, and her expression shifted to surprise the moment she saw you both.
“Darling!” your mother exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“Hi, Mom,” you greeted, smiling warmly before stepping aside so Lando could greet her.
Your mother opened her arms invitingly. “Lando, come here.”
Lando hugged her briefly but warmly, a soft laugh escaping him. “Hello, Auntie. It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” your mother replied, taking a step back to look at you both. “I thought you’d already be in the UK by now.” she said, raising an eyebrow at you.
“We were supposed to leave after the day after the wedding,” you explained, “but we decided to make a quick stop in Malaysia for a few days. Then Nicky called last night and asked us to come, so here we are.”
She smiled knowingly. “Always the supportive cousin. But you’re leaving tonight?”
“Yes, the jet is on standby at the airport,” you confirmed. “We’ll head straight there after the party.”
Your mother nodded in satisfaction, and gave Lando a pat on the shoulder. “Well, you enjoy yourselves tonight. It’s a rare sight to see you two so relaxed.”
You and Lando exchanged a small smile before moving on to greet Colin and Araminta, who were just chatting near the champagne table.
“Hey!” Colin greeted, giving you both a hug. “I didn’t think we’d see you two again so soon.”
“Neither did we,” you replied with a laugh. “But here we are.”
You turned to Araminta, who hugged you warmly, then stepped back, smiling brightly. “It’s so good to see you again, and Lando, of course! You’re becoming quite the fixture at family events!”
Lando grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Colin smirked. “At this rate, uncle’s going to give him the talk soon, if he hasn’t already. Then we all know whose wedding we’ll be attending soon after Nick and Rachel’s.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Too late, Dad already gave him the talk, and even Ah Ma had given her blessing.”
Lando grinned, playing along. “Proud to say that I’ve passed all the tests by now.”
Araminta gasped dramatically, nudging Colin. “See? It’s official now. We’ll start saving the date!”
The four of you exchanged pleasantries and some laughs for a few moments before your attention was drawn to a surprising sight. Standing by the bar were none other than Bernard and Kitty, a pair you had not expected to see here at all. You caught Lando’s eye, and he gave you a subtle shrug, clearly just as a surprise.
Shaking it off, you turned your focus back, making your way toward your aunts. Auntie Alix, Auntie Eleanor, and Auntie Jacqueline, who were all chatting in a tight circle. You approached with Lando by your side, greeting each of them in turn with a polite kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.
“Ah, you’re here!” your Auntie Alix smiled. “I thought you were in the UK already.”
“Nick called,” you explained with a smile, “so here we are.”
“Well, we’re glad you made it,” your Auntie Jacqueline chimed in, “and you’re glowing tonight.” she added, her gaze flitting between you and Lando.
“Must be the Malaysian sun,” Lando jokes, earning a soft laugh from the group.
Your Auntie Eleanor gave Lando a sharp but playful look. “You’re certainly making yourself comfortable with this family, aren’t you?”
Lando smiled politely. “I’m just trying to keep up,” satisfied with his answer, your Auntie Eleanor waved you off with a chuckle.
Nick and Rachel hadn’t arrived yet, so you and Lando decided to take the opportunity to mingle with other guests. The evening was lively, with laughter and champagne flowing freely.
Several guests had approached you and Lando for photos, and you obliged, posing with ease. Lando kept a hand on your lower back, guiding you smoothly through the crowd as you moved from one group to another.
From across the room, you noticed your cousin Oliver weaving his way through the crowd, a bright smile on his face as he head towards you. As he approached, you and Lando turned to greet him.
“Oliver!” you said warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.
“Hey you two,” he said, giving you both a smile before continuing. “I want to introduce you to Rachel’s best friend. She’s dying to meet you.”
Curious, you exchanged a glance with Lando before agreeing. “Of course! Lead the way.”
Following Oliver, you navigated through the elegantly dressed guests until you stopped in front of a small group of people.
“Here we are,” Oliver said, motioning toward a striking woman with a vibrant smile. “This is Rachel’s best friend, Goh Peik Lin.”
You extended your hand toward her. “Peik Lin, it’s so nice to meet you!”
Peik Lin shook your hand warmly. “And it’s so nice to meet you as well!”
Your gaze traveled briefly over her outfit, a beautifully tailored dress that exuded elegance and sophistication. “I have to say, your outfit is incredible. You have such impeccable taste.”
Her smile widened, excitement evident. “Oh stop, you’re going to make me blush! But thank you, it means a lot coming from someone as stylish as you.”
Oliver then turned to the older couple standing beside Peik Lin. “And these are Peik Lin’s parents, Goh Wye Mun and Goh Nenna.”
You offered a polite smile as you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Goh.”
Nenna’s eyes sparkled as she took your hand. “Just call us Auntie Nenna and Uncle Wye Mun! And my goodness, you’re even more gorgeous in person! I’ve seen photos of you, and they don’t do you justice! You’re very stunning, my dear!”
You laugh softly, feeling a light warmth rise to your cheeks. “You’re too kind, Auntie Nenna. Thank you so much.”
Then you turned to Wye Mun, whose expression shifted slightly as recognition dawned on him. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.
“You’re one of Harrison Sr. and Elizabeth Young’s children, aren’t you? Their only daughter,” he said, tone a mixture of surprise and admiration.
You nodded, smiling. “That’s right. I’ve heard of your family before as well. If my memory serves me right, you’re the owner of Goh Developments, correct? One of Singapore’s most successful real estate companies?”
Wye Mun chuckled, clearly pleased. “Yes, that’s about right. I’m flattered you know about us.”
“Of course!” you said. “Your company’s work is extraordinary. Some of your developments are architectural masterpieces.”
The brief exchange shifted naturally into a short discussion about real estate, with Wye Mun enthusiastically sharing tidbits about recent projects. Peik Lin listened intently, Oliver and Lando conversing with each other, while Nenna just watched the whole conversation with a smile.
You then gestured towards Lando afterwards, who had been standing quietly beside you. “Allow me to introduce to you my boyfriend, Lando.”
Lando extended his hand towards Wye Mun, who shook it firmly. Wye Mun’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, Lando Norris! I watched you win the Singapore GP last September. Quite an incredible race, I must say. You’ve got some serious talent.”
“Thank you so much,” Lando said with a polite smile. “It was an unforgettable race for sure.”
“And I didn’t know that you were dating the darling of the Singaporean social elite!” Wye Mun added with a playful tone, eyes twinkling.
“Oh Wye Mun, look at them!” Nenna interjected, her gaze moving between you and Lando. “They look so good together, a very beautiful couple. Perfect match!”
Wye Mun nodded in agreement, tone light. “Quite the power couple, I’d say.”
You couldn’t help but smile at their comment, glancing at Lando, who was already looking at you with a soft expression. “Thank you,” you replied simply.
The conversation continued easily, with the group exchanging stories and laughs. The atmosphere was warm, and you felt genuinely pleased to meet Rachel’s best friend and their family.
As the buzz of conversation faded into hushed whispers, Araminta stepped forward with a smile and announced, “Nick and Rachel are on their way up now! Everyone, take your positions.”
You and Lando stood slightly off to the side, his hand on your waist, caressing it softly and tracing shapes. The elegant lighting of the sky deck reflected off the cityscape, casting a soft glow over the gathered guests.
Lando leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You know,” he whispered, tone teasing, “it was so hot watching you talk business with Wye Mun earlier. You looked so serious and confident.”
You glanced at him, barely suppressing a smile, and gave his chest a soft slap. “Stop being cheeky right now, Norris,” you muttered, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing any attention.
But it looks like Lando was not done yet. He grinned at you mischievously, his voice dipping lower. “I mean it, baby. The way you talked about developments and projects? Very impressive, very attractive.”
You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “Lando,” you whispered warningly, “behave. This is not the time.”
He bit back a chuckle, amusement evident. “Fine, fine. But you should know, I can’t help it when you’re like that.”
You shushed him quietly, your finger briefly brushing his lips. “Quiet now,” you insisted softly, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention.
As you returned your focus to the party, your thoughts flicked back to your earlier conversation with Wye Mun. Real estate development has always intrigued you—the intricacies, potential, and stories behind every project. It was not just a polite conversation, it was a chance to learn and build connections.
“Besides,” you murmured to Lando, keeping your tone casual, “it’s always good to broaden your network. Even if I already have so many, there’s no harm in widening the circle.”
Lando nodded, his expression now a mix of curiosity and pride. “Well, you’ve got a point,” he said softly.
You let your eyes wander across the crowd, noting a few familiar faces mingling among the guests. “This place is full of businesspeople—major players in the industry, tonight,” you whispered to him. “I can recognize a few who could even be potential sponsors for McLaren.” Lando raised a brow at you, intrigued.
You turned to him, giving him a playful wink. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll help you land a deal or two.”
Lando smirked, leaning in closer to you again. “Now that,” he said, tone low and teasing, “is a kind of teamwork I can get behind.”
The sky deck fell in a hush as everyone stood in their positions, waiting for Nick and Rachel’s arrival. The atmosphere was buzzing, a mix of excitement and happiness among the crowd. The distant hum of the elevator announced their approach, and then, with a soft chime, doors slid open.
Nick stepped out first, his hands gently covering Rachel’s eyes as he carefully guided her forward into the middle of the crowd. Rachel, her posture both curious and expectant, laughed lightly, clearly amused by the surprise. The whole crowd held its collective breath, watching as Nick finally removed his hands from Rachel’s eyes.
The second her eyes opened, the silence of the crowd was replaced with an eruption of cheers and applause. Screams of happiness echoed across the sky deck, led enthusiastically by Colin and Araminta. Rachel’s expression had transformed into one of pure, radiant happiness as she took sight of everyone gathered for her. Overwhelmed with emotion, she raised her hand, showing off the stunning emerald ring that sparkled under the lights, then pointing to it with a grin.
People surged forward, surrounding Nick and Rachel with hugs and congratulations. You and Lando joined in with the crowd, your laughter blending with everyone else’s as you approached the newly engaged couple.
“Congratulations!” you said, beaming as you hugged Rachel tightly. “I’m so happy for you both.”
Nick grinned, pulling you into a quick hug as well. “Thank you for being here. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
Lando shook Nick’s hand before giving Rachel a warm hug. “You two are perfect for each other.”
Nick, ever the joker, glanced between you and Lando, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know,” he began, tone playful, “I have a strong feeling you two might be the next one.”
Rachel, catching on, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely! We’ll have to start planning your engagement party real soon.”
You and Lando exchanged amused looks, chuckling. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you replied, though your heart skipped a beat at the thought.
As much as you adored Nick and Rachel, you did not need them adding more fuel to the fire—you were already simmering with wedding fever.
After the flood of congratulations, Nick took Rachel’s hand and gently guided her attention towards the infinity pool, where a group of synchronized swimmers began an elegant performance, their movements perfectly timed to the music. Rachel gasped softly, her eyes lighting up with wonder as she watched.
Then, from the corner of our eye, you noticed Rachel spotting your Auntie Eleanor standing a little way off. For a brief moment, the noise and excitement seemed to face as the two women exchanged a look, one of understanding and newfound respect. The warmth in Rachel’s smile and the subtle nod from your Auntie Eleanor spoke volumes. It filled your heart with joy to see that your aunt had finally come around, embracing Rachel in the way she deserved.
Nick then pulled Rachel into a tender kiss, earning a round of applause and cheers again from the crowd. Lando stepped behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, holding you close. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel his warmth radiating through you.
The sound of fireworks exploding above pulled everyone’s attention upward. Bright colors lit up the sky, reflecting off the glass and water, painting the moment in vibrant hues. The cheers grew louder, people pointing and marveling at the display. You stayed like that, wrapped in Lando’s arms, watching the sky.
With fireworks still illuminating the sky and Lando’s arms wrapped securely around you, a quiet realization settled in your heart. It was not something sudden, it was something that had been building over time, piece by piece, moment by moment. The depth of love that you feel for Lando was staggering, overwhelming even, and yet it felt so natural.
You had dated before, countless boys who had seemed charming or interesting at the time, but none of them had ever come close to Lando. They never understood you the way Lando did. With him, there was no guessing, pretending, or effort to mold yourself into someone else’s idea of what love should look like. Lando saw you, truly saw you, in a way that no one else ever had. To be seen was to be loved.
This was what set Lando apart. With him, you never had to explain your silences, quirks, or the way your mind wandered to far-off places. He did not just tolerate those things, in fact, he cherished them. He loved them. With Lando, you felt understood in a way that words could never fully capture.
You thought back to the other relationships before Lando, the boys who had come before. They had their moments, but they always felt…incomplete. There had been a disconnect, a lingering sense that you were only partly there, only partly understood. They never have you the feeling that Lando did—feeling of being wholly, entirely loved. Lando was the man that you had been praying for, and for once, God had led Lando to you.
Sure, the way he loved you was not perfect, but it was honest. It was raw and real, and it made you feel more like yourself than you ever thought possible. Lando had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world, like his entire focus was only on you and no one else. That was the truth of it, wasn’t it? You had never felt this way with anyone else, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one else could make you feel the way he did. Lando was not just someone you loved—he was the person you wanted to spend your forever with.
The thought settled deeply in your chest, filling every corner of your heart with an indescribable warmth. It was not just that you loved him—it was that he was home.
“I love you,” you looked up at him, smiling.
Lando looked at you, smiling. He then whispered, “I love you too, so fucking much.”
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like clockwork / c.sb
soobin x reader
summary: in a world where love is given an expiration date, you find your forever home in an unexpected place.
word count: 10.1k
tags: soulmate!au, best friends to lovers, mostly romance + fluff, fake dating if you squint, reader is afab w/ gender neutral pronouns + fem terms (noona) used
author's note: finally got around to finishing this... it's been a long while coming and i couldn't get myself to write for various reasons and i'm so happy it's all done and out there! (also for any black mirror fans out there, yes this is loosely based on the 'hang the dj' episode but way more lighthearted and with a dash of soulmate brainrot) hope you enjoy and wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season <3
For as long as Soobin can remember, he’s been counting down the days.
To summer vacation, to the end of his shift at his part time job, to the start of a long awaited trip, to anything. But there’s something else that counts down on his behalf, something that he doesn’t particularly want to count.
That something is inlaid in a nondescript watch wrapped around his wrist. Everyone gets one once they turn 18, and as far as he’s concerned, its only purpose is to ruin relationships. The cruel hands of time assign a “best by” date to each romantic encounter, flashing on the screen from the first meeting, with each failure promising to lead the user closer and closer to their fated lover. If you ask Soobin, it’s all bullshit. How would a stupid watch know anything about fate, anyways?
It’s a typical Thursday night, and Soobin’s mindlessly scrolling through Time to Love, the government mandated dating app that all phones come with, as per usual when he can’t decide on something to watch. He has yet to meet the weekly two date quota, having only gone on one on Tuesday (important to note that he’s already forgotten his name), and he’s running out of time, and he really can’t afford to pay that 100,000 won fine this week. Well, he can’t afford to pay it at any point in time, but this week’s been especially rough on him, and he doesn’t want to shell out any more of his meager savings just because he couldn’t get a date, of all things.
The names and faces on his phone screen are a blur as his thumb swipes left aimlessly– he doesn’t really give that much of a shit who he ends up with, because at the end of the day, he’ll say “No” when the app asks him if he’d liked them and give them a terrible review saying they were incompatible, because frankly, the algorithm seems to always be wrong when it comes to his matches. Either that, or it’s because he cares so little that he doesn’t bother properly vetting his matches.
He’s resigned himself to his fate anyways; he’ll fill up his progress bar with a bunch of shitty matches until the algorithm decides it’s time for him to settle down, then when he finds his “soulmate” (if you could even call it that), he’ll just be doomed to a loveless arranged marriage set in place by a computer and die unhappy. He can’t envision happiness ever coming out of something so lifeless, so cold, so that’s just how it has to be. At least it gives him something to do instead of rewatching the same three anime series over and over again.
Whatever– he’ll just swipe right on the next person and go on yet another unmemorable date tomorrow. Lee Saerom, the profile reads. She’s exceptionally pretty, he has to admit, and she’s an artist, (and she’s older, but don’t ask him about that) so he’ll just ask her about her work and let her ramble for the allotted two hours while he smiles and nods.
He swipes right, and a bright pink heart pattern fills his screen, signifying a successful match. Obnoxious. It’s replaced with a time and a place, and he lets out a groan. Congratulations! Your date is scheduled for 6pm, at the Coffee Shop. He was supposed to meet you at 7 tomorrow for your usual Friday night updates.
Fuck. What if the date goes on longer than an hour?
He’s never been late for your weekly meetups, but he figures you’ll understand, since it’s completely out of his control.
Surely you won’t kill him, right?
Just in case, he recites a prayer to himself before he tucks in for the night.
You’re already nursing your third vodka soda of the night and Soobin is still nowhere to be found, which is unusual. He’s never been the most punctual person, but standing you up for an hour after your usual meeting time isn’t like him, either. He said he’d be late, but he didn’t specify how late… you’ll grill him later when he explains himself, and you’ll make him buy you a drink or two as compensation. With the comfort of a free drink in mind, you’re about to order your fourth round when Soobin finally stumbles in through the door of the bar, eyes scanning each booth until his gaze lands on you, and with an apologetic smile, he’s sliding into the seat across from you.
He gestures to your glass, brow curled upwards, which you know means he’s teasing you. “What number is this one, noona? You always polish these things off like they’re nothing.”
“This is number three, with number four on the way, and that’s because they are. You owe me at least two for taking so long to get here, asshole.” You let out an indignant huff as you slurp the last of the cocktail through your straw, lips jutting in a comical pout.
“Okay, okay. Next one’s on me.” Soobin relents with an endeared laugh, waving down the waitstaff and ordering a beer for himself, along with another vodka soda for you.
“Okay, now spill.”
“What? Am I supposed to have some hot gossip for you? Don’t make me guess about what drama I’ve somehow found myself in on accident.” He’s visibly confused, brows knitted together, and you roll your eyes at him.
“Obviously the only reason you would ever skip out on your dear noona was if TTL scheduled you for a date during our usual time, so spill. How bad was this one?”
His lips part in understanding, (you can practically see the figurative lightbulb flickering on) head bobbing in an exaggerated nod before pulling his phone out, hand outstretched to show you his date’s profile. “I mean, she was okay, I guess. Pretty girl, and she was older, but she spent the entirety of our time slot babbling about her latest art project and how it’s supposedly going to blow away the industry. Which is fine, I guess, because you know I hate talking on these dates, but if she said “brush technique” and “negative space” one more time I think I would’ve tried to drown myself in my caffe mocha. The app thought so too, I guess, because when we checked our expiration date, it was exactly an hour from the start time, so it’s not like I missed out on my forever soulmate or whatever.”
Each TTL date is scheduled for an arbitrary amount of time, depending on your expiration date, which is determined from the first moment you meet– sometimes it’s just a few minutes, an hour or two, and anything longer than 24 hours is given a two hour time slot maximum. There’s supposedly an extremely rare case where you aren’t given an expiration date from the get go, regardless of your progress, meaning that you’ve found your soulmate by sheer luck, but it’s almost unheard of– most people don’t find their soulmates until they’ve completely filled up their bars, something about needing ample data to calculate optimal compatibility.
You ogle at his phone screen for a bit– she really was stunning– then guffaw at the thought of Soobin nodding halfheartedly, listening to a pretty girl talk his ear off, when most men would probably kill to be in his position. “Damn, if even an older woman that pretty can’t hold your attention, and the app confirms that, you know it’s bad… So, where does that put your progress at? Weren’t you at like, 80% last week?”
Soobin’s face practically scrunches in on itself at your remark, tapping the app once more to check his updated progress bar. “I’m going to ignore that. I’m at… 88% after I reviewed Saerom and that guy from earlier in the week. Guess it wasn’t a total waste if I got 8% closer to completion. What are you at now?”
You lift your phone to open TTL, your progress bar only having inched 2% closer to completion after your date yesterday. “75% now. I think the algorithm is personally fucking me over, or something. My last few matches have been nice enough, but I cannot keep up with their energy. It’s wringing me dry. I must be the only person in the entire world who doesn’t want a golden retriever for a partner. My date yesterday just about knocked me out for good, he was that energetic.”
“Tell me about it,” Soobin commiserates. “I’ve very clearly expressed my distaste for bubbly and talkative people who probably peaked in high school, but that’s all they’re spitting out in my for you page. No offense to them, I don’t think I’ve met any straight up assholes since that one girl from last year, but it’s like the app is purposely recommending the most incompatible people to me– wait, yesterday? And I didn’t hear about this?”
You give him a pointed look, silently conveying that he also didn’t inform you of his date today until ten minutes ago. He gets the message and holds his hands up in defeat, then gestures for you to speak, dimples peeking out as he purses his lips. You sigh, rubbing your temples as you recall the most chaotic two hours of the week, maybe even your life.
“Okay, look… for the record, he was very nice to me, a perfect gentleman, but my god, could that guy talk. He was practically falling at his knees trying to impress me, which would’ve earned him a few points in my book, but his mouth was moving maybe five miles a minute at all times without a moment of rest. It was like watching a child hopped up on sugar, to be honest. He talked for forty whole minutes nonstop about pizza. Don’t even get me started on how passionate he was about his workout routine.”
Your drinks finally come around, and Soobin hands you your frosted glass, which you gratefully take a long sip out of before continuing. “And before you say anything, no, he was nothing like Kai. Also, Kai is literally like my child, and just because I babysat him all those years does not mean I want to date someone like him.”
Soobin parts his lips to respond, then scrunches his nose in distaste as you take the words right of his mouth, opting to down his drink instead. “You’re no fun.”
“But that’s why you love me, right?”
“Sure, noona, sure.”
“That’s it, asshole, you owe me another drink.”
Sunday rolls around, which means you’ve got to start scoping out this week’s dates– you hate leaving anything to the last minute, and you like to leave the end of your week as free as possible (no one is prying your precious rest time from you, not even a beautiful person with the world’s best personality).
Which means you’re mindlessly swiping through a sea of profiles, hoping you find someone that’s at least remotely interesting. You’re prepared for a long night of doom scrolling, but you stop cold in your tracks as you come across a familiar name and face, and a lump forms in your throat.
Choi Soobin.
The algorithm is really fucking with you now. It has to be. You’ve never once even considered your best friend as a potential suitor, not because he isn’t insanely attractive and charming (and funny, and easy to talk to, and…), but because he’s your best friend. You’ve known him for so long, you’ve seen him cry when he couldn’t get the Pokemon card he wanted when he was young enough to need allowance to buy it, and he’s seen you for long enough to know you threw the nastiest toddler tantrums over being denied an ice cream purchase– the point is that you know him a little too well, and you know from experience that that’s not always ideal in romance.
But you have been having terrible luck with your matches for so long, and two hours of Soobin’s undivided attention doesn’t seem so bad, and it would be a good time, at least…
You kick yourself mentally for even thinking of it. He’s your best friend, for god’s sake.
Yet your thumb continues to hover over his profile, quivering as you make the motion to swipe right on him without touching the screen. The guilt and the risk of maybe ruining your friendship forever clearly isn’t enough to stop you from considering him.
The gentle, familiar smile that he’s sporting in his profile picture pierces your heart, and you’re not sure why. Maybe you’ve always had a thing for him unconsciously, maybe you just want someone who actually gets you, maybe you’re just running out of options. Or maybe you’re just tired of chasing after something you know is futile, and you want to take a chance on something, on someone, that might actually be good for you. On someone that you know would be good to you, and for you.
And so, with bated breath, you swipe right.
[Time to Love: Y/N has liked you! Open the app for more details.]
To say Soobin is struck with disbelief would be an understatement. He’s practically gaping at his phone, and he knows you’d be laughing your ass off and making fun of him if you could see him. But it’s precisely that typical flippant attitude of yours that’s got him perplexed about this development.
He’d be lying if he said he’s never once thought of you that way– he’s always thought you were pretty and kind hearted, despite your temper, and you’ve always been there for him, through thick and thin, even when he was being kind of a dick. That definitely counts for something. But he’s never thought about crossing that boundary, because 1) he’s not allowed to pursue anyone he doesn’t match with through the app anyways, and 2) matching with you could make or break your bond forever (he’s leaning towards break, though, because like he said, the watch is bullshit). In short, he’s a fucking coward and a little too cynical for his own good.
But here it is, an opportunity for a date with you, in all its glory, and initiated by you, no less. He should be celebrating, or at least hyped up, because maybe it’ll all work out, maybe this is the solution to all his lukewarm matches over the last few months, but instead he’s downright terrified. There’s absolutely no way that you both come out of this unscathed. There’s no such thing as a perfect forever if it’s decided by a computer. There can’t possibly be a happy ending at the end of this road.
He shakes his head, as if it would clear his head of the panicked thoughts. You’re still his best friend, at the end of the day, he tells himself, and he’s sure that you’ll fight just as hard as he will to keep him in your life. So he holds onto the tiniest sliver of hope that somehow your relationship doesn’t crash and burn spectacularly, opens the app, and swipes right on you.
Congratulations! Your date is scheduled for 3pm, at the Aquarium.
A new notification pops up. Soobin’s heart stirs.
y/n noona: see you tomorrow ♥️
He feels guilty as a wave of excitement washes over him. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. You’re his best friend. His dear noona. He may as well be signing away your friendship for good. But it’d be worse if he didn’t match your enthusiasm.
soob: yup, see you tomorrow noona :]
It’s only 5 minutes past the scheduled meeting time, and already Soobin’s panicking that you’ve changed your mind and cancelled on him, writing this off as a mistake. He’s trying his very best to remain nonchalant, it’s just a date with his best friend, who he might have a sapling of a crush on, no big deal, right? Or maybe it is for the best if you cancel, then he’d have one less crippling fear to worry about.
He’s rethinking his outfit for the umpteenth time– he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, not in front of you because you’d probably think it was silly, but he also doesn’t want you thinking he shows up to dates looking like a slob. (For the record, he thinks he’s got a decent sense of fashion. He’s better than Kai, at least, though that isn’t saying much.) He’s internally debating if he should’ve gone with the navy polo shirt instead of the grey cardigan draped over his shoulders, or if he should’ve gone with the black slacks instead of the light wash jeans, but his jumbled thoughts dissipate as you tap on his shoulder, shit-eating grin and all.
“What’s with you, Soob? You look like the fate of the universe depends on you, and you only have 5 minutes to save all of humanity.” You tease, nudging your shoulder against his. Oh, if only you knew what was really weighing on him.
He has half a mind to swat your shoulder, but he’s a little too aware that the two of you are supposed to be on a date, so instead he shoves his hands into his pockets. To his surprise, you’re more dressed up than usual, (he’s used to seeing you exclusively in oversized hoodies) and– wait, you two are practically matching, from the grey cardigan, light wash jeans, all the way down to the white sneakers. The only difference is that you’ve buttoned up your cardigan so that it functions more as a blouse, but you two clearly have definitely mastered the art of accidental couple looks.
“Okay, awkward… one of us has to change.” He teases in an attempt to ease his own racing mind, dimples peeking out as he stifles a laugh. You let out an indignant huff, pushing his massive frame with no success. He doesn’t even budge.
“Not my fault that you’re trying to steal my look. I wore it better, by the way,” You retort, but truth be told, you’re reeling at the sight of him. You’ve only ever seen him in his stuffy work attire and the worn-out, faded shirts he refuses to throw out, and seeing him in a comparably softer, more preppy look is making you see him with new eyes.
You shake your head, as if doing so will reset your perspective to factory settings and make you see him as just your best friend again. (spoiler alert: it doesn’t. Soobin is still handsome and he looks very cute, and you’re still very much affected by it.) “Okay, so. First things first. Should we check our apps? To see if, like, we’re compatible, or I don’t know.” Your voice is stiff, like you’re buffering, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this awkward around Soobin, at least not since the day you met.
Soobin turns up his nose in disagreement and covers his watch screen and yours. “Nah, that’s bullshit. It’s already all decided, isn’t it? It’s been decided from the second we stepped into the aquarium. No point in checking now, we should decide for ourselves if this is something we want to pursue, instead of letting some computer dictate that. When it’s over, it’s over, and we can just go back to being friends, right?”
“Well, I think it’s probably better to know when to give this a rest, instead of constantly wondering if my best friend is set to be my long-term romantic partner, or whatever.” You had a point. But a part of Soobin didn’t feel ready to face the fact that you might not want to see him again like this. A much smaller part of him is still fearful that you two might not be able to turn back from this.
“Okay, okay, fine. We can check it–but not now. If we make it to a third date, then we can check how long we have. But you have to be honest and not touch it whatsoever.” Soobin doesn’t make any move to mention that he isn’t interested in seeing you again, but you don’t want to just assume that he’s into you, so you test the waters.
“Okay, I promise to be honest. But why the third date? Are you really that keen on seeing me?” You’re trying to be teasing, but you feel more desperate than anything.
Soobin doesn’t answer for a moment, and you think that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to apologize, he replies, “If we make it to a third date… then I’ll know whether we’re actually giving this a proper shot and not just for shits and giggles or as an escape from our other failed connections.”
His sincerity both surprises and flatters you, and you can’t tell if you’re supposed to be frozen in shock or hugging him, or a secret third thing, so you just stay still, absently fiddling with your fingers.
When you look up again, Soobin’s holding out his hand, and you look at him with obvious confusion. Rolling his eyes, he takes your hand in his, lips pursed into a thin line. You want to make some clever jab at him, but his hands are warm and soft and they practically swallow up your much smaller ones, and you’re filled with a wash of emotions so intense that you can’t muster up the strength to retort.
Soobin notices that you’re still visibly perplexed, and he mutters. “We’re on a date, you know. We’ve got to act the part.” It’s a half truth at best; he does want to give this date a proper chance, but selfishly, he really just wants to hold your hand for two hours. If you catch onto his white lie, you don’t show it, but he doesn’t miss the rosy hue that colors your cheeks as you nod.
He’s right, you think– it is a date, and you’re the one who swiped on him first, so the least you can do is treat him like a possible suitor and not just your best friend. He deserves that much, at least, and you need to know whether this bundle of butterflies in your stomach is a passing feeling or a dull ache you’ve forgotten about, so you let him lead you into the dimly lit array of fish tanks.
You’re noticing a lot of things about Soobin.
You notice that Soobin’s eyes practically twinkle when he gets excited. It’s never been something you’ve taken note of, but you can’t help but notice it now, every time he points out a species of fish he recognizes. It’s cute. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to find your best friend cute, but you do.
You notice how his comically long fingers slot in between yours, and you’re really starting to like how it feels, though you’d die of embarrassment if you admitted as much.
Not to mention he’s an absolutely perfect gentleman. He’s constantly asking you if you want something to eat, if you’re tired, if you’re cold, and you let him know that you’re fine each time. When you accidentally pull apart your shoelaces, he’s quick to kneel down and tie them up for you. When he stops to grab himself a bottle of juice, he offers one to you, too.
Had Soobin always been this pretty? So cute? And so sweet? How had you never taken notice of him like this all these years? (You know the answer to that, but you’re still surprised at what you’re noticing nonetheless.)
Soobin catches you staring at him while you’re both supposed to be looking at a school of clownfish, and you expect him to make some egotistical joke at your expense, but instead he gives you a warm smile, eyes crinkling into crescents, and god dammit to hell, you melt.
The two hours pass by like nothing, and unlike your past few dates, you’re dreading the end of it, and you wish that the beep signifying it’s over would never come. To your disappointment, he releases your hand as you approach the entrance, and your hand is already missing his warmth. You turn to face him; well, not really, because you can’t bear to make eye contact with him, not when you spent the better part of two hours shamelessly ogling at him.
His voice cuts in between the thoughts rattling around in your head, and he sounds so apprehensive that it worries you. “Can I ask you something? No, wait, can you promise me something?”
You know how seriously Soobin takes his promises, so you’re a little scared for what he’s going to say next, but you nod anyway.
“Promise me that if this doesn’t work out, we’ll still be friends. Please.” The last word is so quiet that you almost miss it, and when you finally muster the courage to meet his gaze, he’s giving you a pleading look so earnestly that it breaks your heart a little.
“I promise– no, I pinky promise. We’ll be friends, no matter what.”
Since he was younger, Soobin’s held the belief that pinky promises are binding, and he knows that you know this, so you hold out your pinky, hoping that this can ease whatever worries he has on his mind.
You pinky promised. Soobin knows that it’s your unspoken way of assuring him (you’ve never been the most verbally affectionate, anyways), a quiet way of letting him know that he means just as much to you as you do to him. He links pinkies with you to seal the promise, feeling just a little bit lighter as you both make your way to the subway station together, shoulders bumping all the while.
Soobin just really, really hopes that you’ll be able to keep that promise.
[How would you rate your date?]
[★★★★★]
Congratulations! Your next date is scheduled for 8pm tonight, at the Night Market.
You shouldn’t be surprised that your next date with Soobin comes so soon– you still have your weekly quotas to meet, and the app always schedules dates within 24 hours of matching or a positive rating, but truth be told, your surprise is solely because you just don’t know how to face him. You two had made that pinky promise to stay friends regardless of the circumstances, but you’d also resolved to treat him like a potential suitor while you two are seeing each other, so where does that leave you?
Well, it leaves you in front of the closet with no idea what to wear. You want to look good (for Soobin, but you’re in denial at the moment), but it’s just a night market, and you know you’ll never hear the end of it if Soobin catches on that you went through lengths just to impress him.
Speaking of the devil, your phone flickers on to reveal a text from him, and you scoff as you scan its contents.
soob: so i hear you enjoyed our date
y/n noona: ignoring that. anyways
y/n noona: what’s the deal for tonight
y/n noona: i need to know asap
soob: aw, noona, do you want to see me again that badly? i’m excited, see you later tonight ♥️
y/n noona: shut up, you clearly want to see me again too. don’t be late or i’m stealing your wallet later
y/n noona: i'm asking what’s the dress code, are we matching again :p
soob: i mean, if you insist… 🙄 i knew you wanted me
y/n noona: nvm you’re getting me in a hoodie and my raggedy sweats with the hole in the knee, fuck you
soob: no no i take it back i’m sorry
y/n noona: ok fine you get spared just this once
y/n noona: [IMG_3687.jpg]
y/n noona: final outfit check. if we’re going to be matching it will be your decision so choose wisely
soob: wait that’s not fair
soob: noona come back
soob: DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS
[y/n noona has “Liked” your message]
soob: you are so mean to me
You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding when Soobin arrives, clad in a blue flannel that’s nearly identical to yours, black tee, beige cargos, and a black shoulder bag. You’d been hoping he would follow through, and there’s a small surge of pride at how you’ll be walking around the market, hand in hand, in matching outfits, but there’s something you hadn’t been counting on.
He’s wearing his glasses.
You’ve always known that Soobin doesn’t have the best eyesight (he’s constantly squinting to see things, but so do you), but now that you’re seeing him in a new light, his usual black frames are suddenly the most attractive thing in the world, and you may as well be holding a neon sign that blares “I HEART NERDS” for him to see.
You make a painfully pathetic attempt to mask your delight by waving at him with a grin, and thankfully Soobin doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t make any show of it, and instead he simply salutes at you with two fingers and cracks a grin. As he sidles up to you, his large hand slips into yours with a little too much ease, fingers immediately interlocking with yours, and it sends your head into a frenzy all over again. As if he’s aware that your mind is going haywire, Soobin leans down towards you, and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you.
You’re frantically trying to make some motion to stop him, it’s so sudden and your cheeks are way too hot now, and he’s way too close, and your damn arms won’t budge–
“I hope you came ready to eat. I came armed with a fuck load of cash because I am going to stuff myself silly with food, and I am not getting turned away by the ‘cash only’ booths.” There’s a fire of determination in Soobin’s eyes, paired with a wide grin, and you don’t know whether to be concerned for him or for yourself, but nonetheless, you’re a little relieved that you completely misread the situation. Before you can say anything in response, though, he’s dragging you towards the sweeping lines of booths, already making a beeline for some takoyaki.
The tray full of octopus balls in Soobin’s hands is steaming and they smell absolutely mouthwatering, and, in true Soobin fashion, he gets over excited and tries to pop the entire thing in his mouth in one go. He immediately regrets it, of course, because immediately he’s whining over the fact that his tongue is now most definitely burnt and numb from the piping hot orb of batter he’d just tried to scarf down. You might be finding him insanely attractive now, but he’s still as clumsy as ever, and you can’t stifle the laughter that bubbles in your throat at the sight.
“Dumbass… you should know damn well that you shouldn’t put a whole takoyaki in your mouth like that.” You tease, snickering as he fans his tongue once he swallows.
“Shut up! I couldn’t help myself!” He lets out a childish huff, stuffing another ball into his mouth with a comically exaggerated pout, and consequently huffing and puffing at the heat that blooms in his mouth once more. The whole display is undeniably adorable, and it takes all of the willpower you have to resist the burning desire to squish his cheeks.
The tray of takoyaki is polished off in no time, and a bowl of bingsu, a cup of fish cake soup, two sticks of tanghulu, a plate of sweet rice cakes, an ice cream cone, and a million other things you lost track of follow suit into the bottomless pit that seems to be Soobin’s stomach. He wasn’t kidding when he said he came ready to eat– he’s plowing through the booths like it’s his last meal on Earth. He’s gracious enough to offer you half of his portions, at least, so it’s not like he’s leaving you to starve. (you’d kill him if he did, though.) Once he’s had his fill, his lips curl up into a mischievous grin as he jabs his thumb in the direction of a different section of the market, one filled with countless games: target shooting, beanbag toss, darts– the row of booths seems to stretch on forever.
“Oh, you’re on, Soob. Don’t think I’m going easy on you because we’re on a date.”
“Yeah? Don’t think I’m going easy on you because you’re older.”
Contrary to both of your words, Soobin is absolutely fucking terrible at the beanbag toss, despite his long arms definitely giving him an advantage, and you’re no good at shooting or throwing and aiming at anything, really, so the two of you leave each booth with empty hands, though you’re laughing as if you’ve hit the jackpot.
Even though you two fail spectacularly at every single game they have available, you’re suddenly aware of how much your cheeks hurt. From smiling. From laughing. When was the last time that happened on a date? Or ever, even?
Soobin ventures off on his own while you’re lost in thought, and he returns from his little solo adventure with yet another serving of tanghulu (the third one of the night: strawberry for him, tangerine for you this time). You’re reaching out to grab the sweet from his outstretched hand, when suddenly you jump as loud popping sounds blare overhead. There’s a beat of silence before a flurry of colorful lights blooms in the sky, and your shoulders relax once you realize it’s just fireworks.
You’re admiring the colors and shapes of the fireworks display as you crunch on your tanghulu, and you’re so enraptured you almost miss the feeling of someone’s gaze on you. Almost.
When you turn to confirm your suspicions, you’re right, it’s Soobin who’s staring at you, but he’s staring at you so intently, with such intensity, that you immediately grow flustered– he’s never looked at you like that before– and you’re immensely thankful that the flashes of light in the sky mask the rosy hue that’s surely staining your cheeks. Just when you’re about to swing your head away to focus your attention on the fireworks once more, his hand flies out to cradle your chin in his palm, keeping your gaze fixated on him.
Then he’s closing the distance, slowly but surely, fixated on you all the while to gauge your reaction, and even though you’re frozen in shock, you don’t think you would’ve moved, anyways. Your eyes flutter shut at the last minute, nerves getting the better of you, until his lips brush against yours tentatively, as if he’s hesitating, holding back.
You meet his gaze once more, and neither of you say a word, you just nod in response to the pleading look in his eyes, as if asking your permission. He breaks out into the most beautiful smile, one that you wish you could snap a mental photo of and tuck away in a safe place in your mind, and then he’s kissing you. Actually kissing you.
He kisses you with such fervor, as if he’s been wanting to do this his whole life, and you can’t help the way you practically melt in his hold, pressing yourself against his broad figure. The fireworks display is all but forgotten, the only thing on either of your minds being the way your lips meld into each other, and the way your hands clasp together.
Soobin’s in a daze when you two finally break away for a much-needed breath, and you’re sure you look like you’re in an equally hazy state. For a moment, you two are dead silent, staring at each other, with only the sound of your soft pants and the popping of fireworks in the background to fill the silence.
Soobin is the one who breaks the silence first, smiling sheepishly as he rubs the nape of his neck. “To be honest, I’ve… I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
Your eyes are as wide as saucers, and you can feel your jaw go slack in shock. Soobin had been wanting to kiss you. Soobin has thought about kissing you. Your best friend Soobin wanted to kiss you.
“Why didn’t you?” You reply without thinking, but really, you know very well exactly why he’s never done it. He’s your best friend, always has been, and he’d be doing much more than fucking up your friendship by kissing you before you two matched. Naturally, Soobin leaves that question unanswered, posing a question of his own instead.
“What made you match with me?”
“Well…” You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to rattle off a list of qualities that make him desirable– you’re already feeling flustered enough after he kissed you like that, and you’re not looking to inflate his stupid ego or risk being the butt of his teasing. But you want to be honest with him. You don’t want him thinking his suppressed desire has been one-sided all this time.
“I guess I’ve always wondered what it would be like to go on a date with you. We wouldn’t be bored, we would know how to keep each other happy, and understand each other, that kind of thing… and I was a little tired of seeing you go through all those people you didn’t click with, who didn’t get you, especially not the way I did. You know I’ve never liked the people you were seeing, and I was always annoyed by the idiots you dated in high school, and all your stupid matches… I always thought everyone took you for granted, and no one seemed to care about actually getting to know you. I thought I was just looking out for you, caring about you, as your best friend, but maybe I was actually just jealous.”
“Jealous? Really?” He looks so incredulous it embarrasses you that you have to clarify further.
“Yes, jealous… I especially hated what’s-her-name, Hyeji? That one student council girl who dumped you in front of the whole school.”
Soobin grimaces at the mention of her name, and you can’t help the relief you feel at his response. “Ugh, her. Led me on for months because she thought I was cute and then when we started dating she nitpicked every single thing I did, all because I wasn’t the suave drama lead of her dreams and then dumped me because she couldn’t change me. You know she threw away a whole pack of my Pokemon cards because she thought it was ‘too nerdy’?”
“See? This is what I mean. None of your romantic partners actually seem to appreciate you as you are. And so I don’t know, something came over me, and I wanted to see if I could do a good job because I know I appreciate you for who you are and now I’m confused, and I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship forever, and–”
To your relief, Soobin doesn’t laugh– instead he cuts your rambling off with a quick kiss, and it flusters you into silence. “Shh. We promised, remember?”
“I mean, we also promised each other when we were in high school that we’d settle down and raise ten dogs on a farm together.”
Soobin laughs this time. “Yeah, I remember that. But this is a pinky promise, isn’t it? It’s different.”
“You’re right… but it’s scary, you know? Coming to this realization about you, and thinking about you this way, and enjoying it, but also worrying about how we’re going to get out of this after our relationship expires... I don’t want to get too carried away and change our dynamic forever.” You’re chewing the skin off your lower lip nervously (you never did break that habit, so now your lip is bleeding), and, while Soobin’s voice is gentle, you know him well enough to detect the subtle tremor as he speaks.
“I know. But we’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. I won’t let anything remove you from my life for good. Especially not the watch.” His voice is so low, so quiet, you’d miss it if you weren’t fixated on him, as if he’s trying to convince himself, and you squeeze his hand in what you hope is an admirable attempt at reassuring him. “The app hasn’t told us our connection’s expired yet, so I just really, really want to give this a chance. A proper chance, so I can say I did it before I get matched with my ‘real’ soulmate, or whatever. I don’t want to think about what could have been, especially not with you. I think that’d be worse for us.”
You know exactly what he means. Harboring dormant feelings for your best friend never bodes well, at least not in the movies and the books, so you may as well get this pining out of your system, and let it become a distant memory as soon as possible, if it’s not meant to be. It’s only fair, for both of your futures, and for your friendship. (and though neither of you want to admit it, the thought of not being each other’s soulmates is depressing.)
“Look, Soob… I really want to give this a chance, too. I want to see where it takes us while we’re allowed to. I want to try. It’s scary, it’s fucking terrifying, but you’re my best friend, Soob. I promise you won’t lose me because of some stupid watch. Pinky promise.” You try to keep your voice upbeat as you hold out your pinky towards him, offering a tender smile. He links his pinky with yours, and you can see his frame visibly relax once he does.
You rest your head on his shoulder, pinkies still linked, and silently hope that you’ll be able to uphold your promise to him. You’ve never been any good with breakups. Soobin knows that.
But you’ll be okay with him, right?
He’s your best friend, after all.
[How would you rate your date?]
[★★★★★]
…
Congratulations! Your next date is scheduled for 2pm tomorrow, at the Botanical Gardens.
Soobin decided on his own that he’s picking you up for the third date, and he let you know as much. After last night’s events though, this means that you’re turning your entire closet upside down trying to find the sweet spot for your look today, because your head is jumbled with far too many thoughts, all of them about Soobin. Every outfit you think up is either too dressy, or too casual, or too out there, or too bland, and you have half a mind to reschedule with your mind in the state that it is. Unfortunately for you, Soobin is already on his way, and you’re not the type of asshole to tell him to head back home and forget the whole date, so you just stare at your pile of clothes on the floor, hoping that somehow you’ll be enlightened with the perfect outfit idea and get yourself looking presentable before he comes knocking.
The universe is clearly not on your side, though, because your doorbell rings not even a minute later, and all you’ve picked out is your jeans and you’re still very much topless. You shoot a message to Soobin, thumbs flying frantically as you let him know you’re not quite ready yet– he might be your best friend in the entire world, but you’re not ready for him to see you under your clothes just yet, especially now that you’re properly seeing each other.
You’re still not sure what to wear, but you figure a beige knit sweater should be safe– you won’t look like you’re trying too hard, but you also won’t look like you’re not trying at all. When you swing the door open to finally greet Soobin, your breath quite literally gets taken away, because he trips and almost knocks you over with his lanky frame, but also, he’s breathtaking.
He’s clearly put a lot of thought into his outfit, which is very cute, and he looks absolutely stunning. A sleek black cardigan with white striped accents on the sleeve, a white dress shirt that clearly looks freshly pressed– hell, he’s even wearing a tie– and those godforsaken glasses that have you in a chokehold somehow. You don’t even bother hiding your delight– he’s so beautiful, and you know he needs a little validation after he probably spent hours putting his look together.
He catches you staring wordlessly, and he flushes with embarrassment.“What? Too much? I knew I should have skipped on the tie–” He grumbles, making a move to loosen it, but he’s stopped by your hand over his.
“No. You look great, Soob. Seriously.” You’re not used to being verbally affectionate, especially not with him, but when he looks that sad, like a kicked puppy, you know better than to tease him when he’s unsure of himself. Despite that, you’re still shy as you reassure him. “You look beautiful.”
The way he brightens when he hears your words is almost cartoonish, and this time, you can’t hold back your laughter, which earns a pout from him, which in turn only fuels your laughter further. You appease him by lacing your fingers with his (he’s apparently a lot easier to please than you remember, but maybe that’s your imagination), and he responds by placing a kiss to the back of your hand. The gesture is tender and sweet, and you think about what it’d be like to have Soobin do that to you every day.
“Well, shall we?” He bows exaggeratedly with his free arm, giving you a blinding smile.
You mirror his smile, and playfully curtsy in return. “We shall.”
When you two arrive at the botanical gardens, it’s jam-packed with people (a worker explains that their tulips are in full bloom, so everyone’s vying for their social media moment), and Soobin is visibly startled, though he recovers quickly as he turns to you.
“You okay? There’s so many people... I think this is twice, maybe even thrice as many people as there were at the night market.” You don’t do well with crowds, the crowd at the night market was probably the most you could handle, but you know that you don’t have a choice– you have to follow through with the date as scheduled, or risk a fine that neither of you can afford, so you just nod, your grip on his hand tightening.
Soobin somehow finds a slightly less crowded area of the tulip fields for you two to stroll in after doing a quick sweep (thank god for his height, and that he uses it to his advantage), but you still feel tense as you walk hand in hand. There’s still a decent amount of people, with more spilling in excitedly, phone cameras in hand, and you have a bad feeling the crowd will only grow in size as the day drags on. You just hope you’re as convincing an actress as you think you are, and that Soobin won’t notice as he reads the identification cards for each flower.
You’re caught off guard when he gently pushes you down onto a nearby bench, and crouches in front of you, clasping your other hand in his so that both of them are occupied. The concerned expression on his face tells you that you’re nowhere near an Oscar for your performance, and that he’s most definitely caught on to your discomfort. Normally you’d be embarrassed at the display– you hate making a scene in public, but your anxiety is getting the better of you, and it’s nice to know that he still knows you as well as you thought.
“Noona… look. I know you don’t like crowds, especially excitable and hectic ones like these. If you really, really feel like this is too much for you, we can cancel the date and go home. I want you to have a good time, and I know it’s hard for you when there’s so many people.”
You’re chewing at your lower lip again, and Soobin lets go of one of your hands to thumb at your lip to stop you before you tear it open with your teeth. “But Soob, we came all this way. And you dressed so nicely for me, for this date, and I spent all this time wanting to look good for you, and spend time with you…” You trail off when your breath catches in your throat, your chin trembling as your eyes well up. “It’d be such a waste to cancel after all our time and effort.”
Once again Soobin’s thumb is gently swiping over your cheeks when the tears finally spill over, hushing you with the soft sincerity that he’s prone to when he’s not teasing you.
“Hey, hey… we can reschedule for another day, can’t we? We don’t have to do this, noona. There’s always next time. It won’t be a waste, I promise.” You feel so apologetic you could die. Soobin’s being so patient and sweet and understanding with you and here you are, kicking up a fuss. The least you could do is power through and follow through with your scheduled date, and you’d hate to miss out on this time with him that you’ve been looking forward to. You were excited for this date, and you want him to know that.
“I think I’d feel worse if we cancelled after we went through all this trouble, and especially if it was all because of me… just give me a moment to calm myself down.” Soobin nods in response, cradling your cheek in his palm, and you sigh appreciatively at the tender gesture. He doesn’t say anything as you wipe away the remnants of your tears and blow your nose�� he just holds your hand, letting you gather yourself, and you think for a moment that this must be the benefit of falling for your best friend.
Once the tears have finally subsided, and you’ve had a moment to calm your nerves, you meet Soobin’s eyes, which are searching yours, as if scanning for any lingering signs of discomfort. When he can’t find any, and you give him a reassuring look and a grateful smile, he seizes the opportunity to steal a peck from your lips, grinning cheekily with his tongue between his teeth when he pulls away.
“H-hey! What was that for?!” Your shock and surprise is real, but your indignance certainly isn’t, if your rosy cheeks are any indication. Your discomfort is forgotten, at least temporarily, so you’re glad for that.
“Oh… just because. You liked it, though.” He’s so smug, that stupid asshole, but he’s right, so you pull him in for another quick kiss before you try to make a run for it. Unfortunately for your escape plan, you’ve forgotten that your hand is still very much interlocked with his, and he’s significantly stronger than you, so he easily pulls you back into his embrace. You can’t say you mind, though– he’s warm and he smells good, like jasmine and sandalwood and the faint scent of vanilla, and if you weren’t already so flustered you’d bury your face in his broad chest.
“Feeling better now?” The words fall from Soobin’s lips with a teasing lilt, but you know it’s his way of genuinely checking in on you, so you answer sincerely.
“Much better. Though I’d still like to avoid the crowds and find somewhere else to have our date… if you don’t mind? The tulips are pretty, and as much as I would like to admire them too, there’s just so many people fighting for a good photo…”
“Of course, I get it. I saw a sign pointing to a field of azaleas over there that is probably getting a lot less foot traffic than the tulips, so we could head over there?” He gestures in the opposite direction of the tulip field, and you’re more than happy to oblige, letting him tug you along.
Thankfully Soobin’s guess is correct, because there’s only a handful of people at the azalea field when you two arrive, and the tension in your shoulders finally lets up. The dainty red and pink flowers have their own quaint charm, and they’re vibrant and eye-catching. You crouch down to get a closer look, taking hold of a delicate petal in between the pads of your fingers to admire them.
“Did you know red and pink azaleas represent love and romance? Roses aren’t the only flower of love like everyone seems to think.” Soobin’s deep voice rings in your ear and you startle a little, partially because he’s way closer to you than you expected (it’s going to be a while before you get used to maintaining close proximity with him) and partially because you had no idea Soobin was just casually carrying the knowledge of flower meanings in that pretty head of his.
“They’re so pretty… they’d make a much more unique gift than roses for special occasions, too. Not that there’s anything wrong with roses, but they’re kind of done to death, don’t you think?”
Instead of answering, Soobin looks both ways, then plucks a flower, and you hiss in disapproval at him. “Hey–! What are you doing? The sign says that we can’t pick the flowers!” Luckily, none of the staff has taken notice of his mischievous little act, but even if they did, you can’t help but wonder if they’d even care, when he could charm his way into anything.
Soobin tucks the flower behind your ear, seemingly ignoring your disapproval as he hums a tune under his breath. “A gift for our special occasion, and a little commemoration of our budding romance, or something. And look, noona, you’re so pretty. Just like a flower.” He punctuates his statement with the sound of his phone camera flashing, followed by four more, until you’re blushing profusely with embarrassment.
“Soobin, that’s enough–” Your cheeks are beet red– you can feel it from the sheer amount of blood running into them– and though you really like that Soobin’s taking pictures of you for him to keep, you’re extremely camera shy, and he knows that, which is probably why he’s so insistent.
“Actually, the issue is that I didn’t take enough. Now smile for the camera!” You have to practically wrestle your way away from the camera, but not before he snaps a few more of you smiling bashfully at him. He catches up to you with ease (damn those long legs of his), arms secure around your frame as you squeal, though you’re secretly pleased that you’re in his hold.
The time once again ticks by like nothing as you walk side by side, admiring the blooms around you and snapping photos of each other (“For wallpaper usage purposes,” Soobin says, and you blush again), and before you know it, your watches are beeping to signify that your two hours are up. Soobin sobers up almost immediately, expression unreadable, and though he doesn’t say anything as he takes your hand, you know what’s on his mind, because the same thing is on yours.
There’s a palpable tension hanging in the air once the two of you reach the entrance of the gardens– it’s the third date, after all, and you promised you’d find out your expiration date if you made it this far. You’re relieved that your watches haven’t blared just yet, signifying the end of your connection, but you’re still struck with the nervousness of finding out how long you’ll last. You think you’ll never get over it if you only get a few months– or worse, a few days with him– after all this secret pining and yearning.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Soobin was somehow eerily calm about the whole thing. But you do know better, and you know that he’s just trying to put on a brave face for you, and for himself. The two of you open Time to Love in silence, hands still interlocked, swiping to the ‘Love Countdown’ tab with your free hands, and brace yourselves. Soobin gives you a reassuring nod, and you respond back with what you hope is an equally reassuring smile, and that your expression doesn’t betray the fear bubbling deep within you.
Soobin takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Okay, on the count of three,”
“One…” “Two…”
“Three!”
When both of you tap the in-app tab, there isn’t an array of numbers indicating an expiration date with a ticking countdown, as you expected and had grown accustomed to on your previous dates– in fact, there isn’t a single number on the screen– and instead there’s an infinity sign.
You two don’t have an expiration date.
You and Soobin look at each other, then at your watches, then at each other again.
“Wait, we don’t have an expiration date–”
Then the realization dawns on both of you, and it hits you like a truck.
“Wait, we’re soulmates?!”
Both of you are sporting the same bewildered expression, and you both go to check your progress bars, just to be sure– they’re full, just as you’d expect after being matched with your soulmate. So that’s why your watch alarms haven’t gone off. You two were the one in a million. Once the shock finally wears off, it’s replaced with pure, unbridled joy, and when Soobin sweeps you off your feet to gather you in his arms, there’s an emotion bubbling in you that’s equal parts unfamiliar and yet welcome.
You’d thought all this time, all these years, that there was no way you should feel this way about your best friend, of all people. That you shouldn’t fuck this up, because Soobin has always been there for you, and you’ve always been there for him. As his friend. As your friend.
But here is the universe, telling you that you’re fated to love him, and that he’s fated to love you in return.
And love him you do. You love Soobin. And when you look at him, and see the way he’s looking at you, with fondness practically dripping from his gaze, you know he loves you too.
Maybe the watch really is bullshit. Maybe it is statistically impossible to decide someone’s life partner based on an algorithm.
But maybe it’s onto something, because it seems silly to have ever thought of being with anyone except Soobin. You never would’ve thought to look for your forever right next to you, and yet, here he is, in the flesh. Was it a coincidence that he made it onto your recommended matches that fateful night? Was it a coincidence that he felt the same way you did?
Soobin’s lips capture yours in a searing kiss, and you melt in his heat, kissing him back with a fierce fervor, as if desperately communicating the depth of the feelings you’ve let build up silently after all these years. You decide that there’s no such thing as coincidences– he’s always known what’s best for you, and you’ve always wanted what’s best for him. You just didn’t know that the answer to both of those things was each other.
“I love you, noona.” He whispers with a bashful, dimpled smile, and your heart swells.
“I love you too, Soob.”
Soobin has always been counting down to something.
To the end of another grueling workday, the next League of Legends patch update, to anything, so he always has something to look forward to. But he’s never looked forward to this.
The love countdown has always been something he despised and dreaded– he’s always wanted to be the master of his own fate, without the shackles of the app tying him down with each new connection. He’d always thought that his soulmate would be some poorly matched individual who he’d have a mediocre life with, but all that seems to be proven wrong as he looks at you.
He hates being wrong. But when he sees the way you smile, the way you regard him with the utmost love and affection in your gaze, the way you hold his hand as if you’ll lose him if you let go– he thinks he’s willing to concede defeat, at least this time.
Maybe that stupid watch does know a thing or two about love. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe this is all just pure coincidence. But despite it all, Soobin is thankful that this is where he ends up. That both of you had been counting down all this time to each other.
Because if there's anyone he can count on in this world, it's you.
#soobin x y/n#soobin x reader#soobin x you#soobin fanfic#soobin fluff#soobin fic#txt fic#choi soobin#tomorrow x together#txt fluff#txt imagines#soobin imagines
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Thanos smut hcs? LOL TYYY🩷
— THANOS SMUT HCS
◜ featuring ... thanos (choi su-bong / player 230)
𔗨 author's note — mmmh first male x fem reader on my blog. probably the most lewd ive written so far AND -!!!! i just realized that my anonymous asks werent on until someone pointed it out, so theres that.. i turned it on!! [lowercase intended]
warning: smut & slight angst [it's thanos, expect the worst]
- bondage..... whew starting off strong !!
- literally doesnt give two shits. he would use zip ties to tie your wrists for all he cares.
- his apartment is nasty as fuck
- dont even get me started on the fucked up couch he has in his apartment with disgusting stains that are probably permanent at this point
- spits in your mouth mid fucking
- would sometimes spit the ecstasy pill from his mouth to yours
- cigarettes after sex? nah, cigarettes during sex.
- and to you, it makes the experience even better
- the thing is, when you're high, you won't give a fuck about anything that's happening around you
- public sex !! he's the type to shamelessly fuck inside clubs
- would blow the smoke directly onto your face as you cough
- loooves to cum on your face. not on your stomach, not inside, not anywhere else but your face.
- he loves it messy and dirty. he feels pride just from seeing you in front of him kneeled down and face covered with his cum
- degrading.
- you will NEVER hear even a single praise come out from this man's mouth. even after you give him the best head he's ever had
- angry sex, mostly caused by you getting hit on by someone else and just thanos being possessive
- its no biggie though, he's just giving you a small reminder who you belong to <33
- man's a sadist. he would just laugh at you for crying because of overstimulation
- your safe word won't work on him the first time you say it. second time, he'll act deaf and will continue pounding into you. although when he sees that you're clearly in distress, he'll make considerations and will pull out and make you suck him off instead
- if you're being too hard headed and bratty during sex, 100% he'll slap you across the face hard so you'd finally get your shit together
- doesn't care whether you get yourself off or not. all that matters to him is that he gets to cum and thats it.
- im sorry but he knows nothing about aftercare
- he would just stub his cigarette, throw it somewhere, and fall straight to sleep
- you'd stare at his sleeping figure blankly with no thoughts inside your head
- but you felt empty and lonely. not realizing yet that such a small pill can change someone's way of acting.
- you truly deserve better.
thanos' breathing slowed, deepening into his sleep. you lay beside him, body still tingling from the overwhelming sensations he gave you just earlier. silence swallows you, leaving you staring blankly at his peaceful face.
it's strange—the way your chest feels so hollow, an ache you couldn't quite place, like you'd expect for something that was never going to come. he'd been so alive just moments ago, what the hell happened? now he is gone, lost into unconsciousness, leaving you alone in the weight of aftermath.
@misayani
#squid game#squid game x reader#squid game season 2#choi su-bong x reader#squid game smut#player 230#୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ misa writes ...
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heyy everyone, i just wanted to come on here and say a few things regarding a lot of plagiarism that’s been going on, along with some other points that i feel inclined to speak out about. before i start this post, i just want to preface this by saying that i am in no way speaking about anyone in particular, this just applies to the general community, and i think it’s important to not be so divided, especially amongst each other. so many writers in this community are so incredibly talented that unfortunately, copying and stealing of work has become a regular occurrence. below are some topics that i believe needs to talked about and acknowledged in some way.
stealing of au’s and concepts + the claim on concepts and au’s that already exist:
there is a huge difference between creating an au and introducing something completely new that has never been done before in a fandom, or ever for that matter, vs. introducing a concept that has already been around and existed outside of a fandom and bringing popularity to it/making it more well known, thus, kind of lighting a fire and inspiring others to write for it as well. this goes for plot lines, !readers, different versions of !rafe (example: frat!rafe, dealer!rafe, etc..), prompts, and the list can go on. there’s so many original au’s and concepts out there, but there’s also a lot of stuff that’s already been done before that isn’t considered ‘original’, which means it would’t call for the need to be credited for in the first place.
the difference between being ‘inspired’ by someone else’s work vs. publishing a remake and often times NOT crediting the original writer:
no matter what the instance is; being inspired by someone’s work, or publishing your own version of the same original concept by someone else, YOU SHOULD ALWAYS ASK THE ORIGINAL WRITER FOR PERMISSION FIRST. if they tell you yes, CREDIT them, if they tell you no, COME UP WITH SOMETHING ELSE. if you’re ‘inspired’ by someone, your work should not be similar to theirs in a way that the plot, !reader, !rafe, prompt, etc.. is being used in the exact same way as their original work. you could only be ‘inspired’ so much before you’re just paraphrasing a fic, it truly gets to a point.
DIRECT communication:
this would fix most, if not all, of the problems in this fandom. feel like someone is copying you? (using exact, word for word, lines from your writing pieces?) DIRECTLY confront them. feel uncomfortable with the similarities between your work, or works, and another writer’s? DIRECTLY express your concerns with your valid proof. feel as if your layout is being copied and you’re not being given credit? DIRECTLY, kindly, ask for someone to start doing so. politely messaging someone will never make you confrontational or problematic, INDIRECTLY making rant posts that are throwing disses at someone without messaging them about the situation first is what does that. INDIRECTLY speaking out about someone hoping they’ll see it and know they’re the one being talked about doesn’t make the matter any easier when it really all could be resolved with a single message. PLEASE JUST TALK!! we are all (mostly) adults..
note: i say this with only one exception in mind; if you see anything like this and you make the active decision not to make shady posts, acknowledge the situation, confront a person, or simply just put your energy into something like that, and instead you just block the person and move on with your day, that is 100% your choice, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation for anything.
debunking the whole ‘this fandom isn’t welcoming to newcomers’ accusation:
this is not true in the slightest. if you’re a new writer in this fandom, and you’re not starting off by coming up with your own fics and ideas, but instead piggy backing off of others, stealing and not crediting, copying, etc.. you truly can’t expect others to want to interact with you if you don’t have the common decency to not do certain things. this is not just for this fandom, but any fandom that you may write in. think about it like this; if people and other writers are supporting a writer that you’re ripping off of, why on earth would they interact with you if they are already reading similar, if not the same, content from someone else? it’s not possible to establish yourself anywhere if you build your blog off of copying, that’s just the truth!
#𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ misc#in the clerb we’re all supposed to be fam#outer banks#obx#rafe obx#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#drew starkey
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hiii can u write a fic about you and jude being friends and he unexpectedly kisses you on nye?? super fluff thank youuuu
this isn’t as long but i still hope you enjoy!! 🙂↕️🙂↕️
“jude! you’re here!” you yelled excitedly, throwing yourself into his embrace where you heard him laugh. “wouldn’t miss it for the world! thank you for inviting me,” he said during your hug, rubbing your back.
you pulled away, fixing your hair as you lead the way where everyone was. the party was mostly your family and family friends as well, there was gold and black decorations that covered the wall, and a photo booth that everyone was seeming to enjoy.
“i didn’t expect to you show up,” you admitted, jude raised his brow in a “really” manner. “how come? i said i would you know,” jude said, taking a sip of the drink you had made, your signature cocktail. “well you did say that, but i had seen you were out with other friends and it’s almost midnight so-”
“you had lost hope…”
“yes,” you whisper shyly, looking away and around the back yard. but you felt jude’s eyes glaze you through the moment. “but you’re here and i’m happy because it’s all that matters! you met most of our friends and family,” you continued.
“most of it looks like there a hundred people here!” jude exclaimed with a huge grin on his face. “i come from a big family! imagine if my dads side had flew in? yeah we wouldn’t fit,” you joked.
the two of you continued chatting for the remaining of the hour before midnight. you laughed as you played a game of cards, paying attention to a story your aunt was telling, jude playing a small game of footy with your brother, and even had a time to play dj, where jude had finally had the chance to play his old school playlist.
now it was just you two, by a small corner in the back yard, where one would sit awaiting for the grilling to be done. it was just you and jude alone, maybe he couldn’t sense it but there was a small tension growing every minute. you had just laughed at a story he was telling, looking down and fidgeting with your rings to control the sudden nerves.
“y/n?” jude said, placing his drink to the side and walked closer to you, where you were against a wall by the grill. the cool marble underneath your back sending chills down your spine. jude was centimeters close, you were able to see the mole on his cheek and the tiniest scar on his brow.
“yes jude?”
“look at me…”
you nervously looked into his eyes, where even though it was dark you still saw his brown specs glimmering. jude’s heart beat out his chest, the leather jacket he wore was now making him hot despite it being freezing. jude came closer to you, your chests almost touching. he noticed your unraged breathing, the small exhale you let out as he wrapped an arm around your waist.
he leaned down and captured your lips with his. his hand coming up and settling it just below your jaw, his head moving to the side when you began to kiss him back equally with passion. he couldn’t stop, not now or never. your lips moved slowly with his, enjoying the soft pecks and the sounds of clicks as you melted within each other.
jude was sure ge would’ve passed out, you tasted sweet like cherries and the hint of tequila from the cocktail. his scent was strong and manly which made your knees weak. having to hold onto his jacket so you wouldn’t collapse. his heavy breathing increased with yours, the soft kisses now turning more and more intense.
“jude…” you whimpered, pulling back and tried catching your breath, your hand settling on your plump lips. “why did you kiss me?”
jude looked at your eyes and then down to your lips again, where the lipgloss you had on was now slightly smudged. “because i want you y/n all of you… i needed to show you how i felt, how i feel for you… it’s been so hard, and i just couldn’t find the words to tell you how much i like you darling…” jude admitted, making the tiniest gasp escape from your lips.
“since when?” the bubble of cheeriness built in you, his confession now making you hopeful that it wasn’t just you he began to fall deeply for jude. “since i met you? at trents party? when you came to my games? i haven’t been able to stop thinking of you… i just want you y/n…” jude came closer his hand now coming back up to your cheek.
“please tell me i’m not the only one…” he almost begged, nervously gulping.
“no you’re not… i’ve felt the same way for a while now too. this giddy feeling at any mention, thought of you jude… im falling for you too,” you grazed nervously, looking up at his eyes where all you could see was the love and desire he had. in the faint background you heard the countdown behind.
“5…4…3…2…1!”
jude didn’t waste any longer, leaning down and crashing his lips with yours once again. your back slightly hit the wall, and now all the two of you felt was the awaiting passion from the unexpected kiss growing by the second, unable to pull away from each other and now completely ruined for anyone else who wanted to come in between. finally just you and jude…
“happy new year y/n…”
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peppermint mocha | lena oberdorf
synopsis any excuse to get your girlfriend to kiss you was a good one
warnings literally just fluffy fluff
words 1737
notes this was supposed to go up on christmas but then i got sick so you get it on new years instead :) also shoutout to @alphaniner1415 - this is kind of part two <3
It was cold. Way too fucking cold. The hand you had wrapped around your paper coffee cup was at least a little warm from the contents inside, but the one holding onto the mistletoe felt like it was about to fall off at any second. On top of that it had started drizzling a couple of minutes ago, because it was cold but apparently not cold enough for snow, the wind was blowing your hair in every direction and your jacket felt too tight with the big sweater you were wearing underneath. So shortly- you were overstimulated, tired from a long day of work and just really fucking cold.
But in that second you rounded the corner and Lenas apartment came into view, the sight so familiar it made you ache. The past year had been good. Incredible even. Getting to really know Lena, not only as a friend but as a girlfriend had been the best journey you've ever got on. You loved going to her games and hearing her rant about plays and games for hours. You hated when she had to leave for games and tournaments or when she came home, defeated in every sense of the word. You enjoyed the quiet nights in her apartment and the loud ones when her teammates and friends joined. You despised the first argument you had that simply boiled down to you being scared of being too much and Lena wanting as much of you as she could get. You took pleasure in her showing up at the cafe just to spend time with you and have a cappuccino and you almost lost your mind when Lena crumbled on the field after literally budding heads with another player. You were delighted to meet her family and getting to know her parents, sibling, aunts, uncles and most importantly her dog. And above everything else you were so comfortable in this little bubble that Lena had wrapped around the both of you. You had never been so in love nor felt so loved by somebody. Lena wasn't shy of straight up telling you how she felt. Never. But she also showed you. When she took off her scarf to wrap it around you, when she planned a picnic on her balcony because she thought you would like it, when she brought you flowers and when she mapped out your whole body with her hands and her mouth, determined to touch every inch of you.
You felt yourself heat up at the thought as you finally reached the front door. You fumbled with the pocket of your jacket, not wanting to put down the cup, nor the branch in order to get your key out. Lena had given it to you only two months after the first night spent together. It had been quiet but bold, like everything she did. She had just slipped the lonely key over the table during breakfast, a big smile spreading across her face. Your reaction had been a lot less quiet and had included a lot more body contact. You had not officially moved in, but measured by the time you spend in her apartment, you might as well have. But that was a conversation for a different day. You finally managed to get your key out and unlocked the door. You quickly made your way up the stairs - rushed by your plans for tonight and the cold that was still creeping up your fingers. You finally unlocked the second door, moaning at the warm air of the apartment. Around six months of dating you realized that Lena's place had really started to feel like home. More and more of your things had slowly made their way into the apartment. It started mostly with clothes and toiletries, quickly moving to mugs, books, games and literally anything else. Then you started buying stuff for her place. Decor and pans and what else you could think of. Your apartment had turned into more of an office space and you were silently waiting for Lena to ask you to move in. You put down your cup on the shoe cupboard and carefully laid the mistletoe branch on the ground. You could now finally get rid of the too tight jacket, your hat and scarf and finally your shoes, putting everything where it belonged before picking up your cup and the branch again.
The plan had come to you kind of randomly. A week ago you had walked past a little Christmas market booth that was selling mistletoe. The tradition of having to kiss underneath one had always been a little weird to you, but any excuse to get your girlfriend to kiss you and to be a little cheesy was a good one. You'd also purchased some fairy lights, candles and you've brought home some of Lena's favorite foods from the cafe and the Munich Christmas market. So you got to work.
You spread out all the food on the couch table, putting candles in between the plates and in various other places in the apartment. You wrapped fairy lights around one of your windows and the doorway leading into the open living space. That's also where you hang the mistletoe. Your phone chimed just as you were done hanging the branch, lighting up with a message from Lena.
"Just finished training. Gonna be home soon. Love u."
Your face spread into a smile. You finished the rest of your coffee that had gone cold by now and slowly started lighting all the candles. Once you were done with that you plugged in the fairy lights and turned off the rest of the normal lights. The room looked like Christmas had just thrown up in it. It was perfect. But now you didn't really know what to do with yourself. You were too excited to just sit down and wait so you made your way over to the kitchen to clean some pans and other stuff lying around. You tried hard to occupy yourself until you finally heard the key turn in the lock. You very quickly made your way to the doorway, positioning yourself right underneath the mistletoe.
The door opened and Lena stopped in the doorway looking at you surprised and slightly confused. She was cuddled up in her big winter jacket, beanie on her head, big workout bag in her hand and her comfy joggers on. Her mouth was slightly agape, her eyes tracing your body before finally moving up to the mistletoe above you. The confused look on her face quickly changed into a still surprised but happier smirk. "Hello to you too." She smiled and finally stepped in, closing the door behind her. "Hi my love." You just grinned back waiting more or less patiently for her to take off her jacket and put down her bag. You were rocking back and forth on your feet, watching her every move.
She had finally put her shoes away and took a couple of steps towards you before stopping right in front of you, her face spreading in fake surprise. "Oh would you look at that." Her right pointer finger came up to your chin, gently pushing it upwards so you could look at the mistletoe. "A mistletoe, what a lovely coincidence." Your own smile spread as well and you moved your eyes from the greenery back to her. Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief and you soaked up every second of it. So far you had loved all the versions you had seen of Lena. But her silly and teasing side was definitely in your top five. "Oh no." She now almost whispered dramatically, her face coming even closer to yours until she could gently nudge your nose with hers. "Guess I have to kiss you now." You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you before she pressed her mouth onto yours. You hummed, satisfied, into the kiss, enjoying the warm press of her lips on yours. She licked your lips, gently coaxing you to open your mouth. You buried your hands in her sweater around her hips while hers went up to cradle your chin, her thumb drawing small circles into your jaw.
She gently broke the kiss, still holding you close. "We should leave the mistletoe here I think." You said after you managed to catch your breath. "Lena just smiled and nodded before she started smacking her lips. "You taste good. What is that?" You giggled and pressed another short peck onto her lips. "Peppermint mocha. I ordered some new syrups and they came in the mail today." You barely had time to catch the mischievous glint in Lena's eyes before she suddenly tipped you back, making you squeak and clawing your hands deeper into her sweater. She had moved one hand to your back and the other to the back of your head holding you almost horizontal. She pressed her mouth back onto yours, her tongue finding yours immediately. You couldn't help but giggle into her mouth as she slowly pulled you back up again. You separated, just smiling at each other for a minute. Lena removed the hand from the back of your head and gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you for the surprise babe." She smiled. "Mhm well that's not all of it." You smiled back, taking a couple of steps back and taking her with you. You watched Lena's face as she took in the room. Her eyes wandered from the candles to the fairy lights and then to the food before making their way back to you. "Oh baby that's beautiful." Her arms now wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush to hers before burying her head in the crook of your neck pressing a kiss into the soft skin. "Thank you my love." You just hummed in acknowledgement while also wrapping your arms tighter around her waist. You stayed like this for a while before Lena raised her head again and captured your lips in another slow but intense kiss. The world tuned out around you and the only thing left was Lena.
"You really do taste good." Lena pressed yet another kiss onto your lips, stealing your breath. "You're gonna have to make me one of those peppermint mochas soon my love."
#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso#lena oberdorf one shot#lena oberdorf imagine#lena oberdorf#lena oberdorf x reader#fc bayern frauen
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hi hi there! Newcomer to your blog here, and I just wanna say that I love love love your writing sm, it makes me warm and happy and I wanna consume it like good soup. I saw that you’re looking for Spencer requests (my beautiful beloved baby) and I was wondering if I could just request a classic friends to lovers where the reader is a member of the team, and gets hurt on a case and that’s what makes Spencer realize? Any format you’d like. This might be a bit tmi but I just got broken up with and honestly fictional men are the only thing getting me through this rn, and seeing you were taking requests was just straight up happiness. Thank you!
this is so sweet what if i cry :,) i hope this helps you at least a little bit (especially since this has been sitting in my drafts for a MINUTE) <3 you will get through this my love (spencer thinks so too!) | 0.7k words!! my first spencer fic so bare with me 😅 tw mention of a knife and a small injury !
You’re no stranger to taking risks. Nobody at the BAU is. It’s practically written into your job descriptions. Split-second decisions, no room for mistakes.
Only, usually they seem to pay off. Mostly. This time, you aren’t so lucky.
After three days of profiling and trying to catch this unsub, of new victims and suspects and secrets uncovered by Garcia, you’ve finally found him. Apprehending an unsub seems to either be the easiest or toughest part of a case.
This time around, it’s the latter. He’s stubborn, and smarter than you’d like to admit, and when you think you’ve got an opening, the upper hand, that one wrong move proves you wrong.
It’s so quick, the way he grabs your wrist and twists your arm behind your back harshly, a pained groan escaping your mouth before you can suppress it. The way the team all springs into action quickly, talking to him calmly, Hotch at the forefront.
And the look on Spencer’s face. The pleading in his eyes that he can’t seem to control.
He’s who you look to first. Who you keep looking at, because you think if anyone could keep you calm in this moment, if anyone could make you believe you’ll be okay, it’s him.
There’s a knife held to your neck, a cruel grip on your arm, and still, you look at Spencer.
“I won’t cut her if you let me go,” the unsub says. You squeeze your eyes shut before blinking them back open.
You know Hotch has a plan, and if he doesn’t, then Emily does, and so on. They’re all incredible, and there’s not a part of you that thinks they won’t get you out of this, but your heart still pounds, your stomach still twists in fear.
“Go ahead,” Hotch says.
“Hotch-” Spencer’s voice is quiet but sharp. He trusts Aaron, he always has, but you aren’t something he wants to gamble.
“You won’t get far,” Hotch continues.
You find Spencer’s eye and nod at him, so slight that he’d be the only one to pick up on it, since he’s paying such close attention to you. Under different circumstances, you might feel your heart flutter from it.
Sure enough, Aaron does have a plan, and before you can really process what he’s said or done to get through to him, the unsub lets you go with a harsh push, and the first place you go is into Spencer’s waiting arms.
“Take her outside, Reid, we’ve got this,” Morgan says quickly. Spencer doesn’t fight him on it.
He walks you out with one arm tight around your waist and the other stabilizing your wrist. His hands are far kinder than the ones that had been on you moments ago, and you let him hold some of your weight until you’re settled sitting in the back of one of the ambulances on scene.
Spencer watches them wrap your wrist with a tensor bandage, watches them assure you that it’s just a sprain, that you’re otherwise injury-free. He holds your good hand the entire time. Maybe too tightly.
You both wait until the paramedics are done and have walked away to help somebody else before speaking.
“Well, that was fun,” you say. Your instincts are always to play things down, to hide behind jokes. Still, you let yourself lean your head against Spencer’s shoulder.
“No, it wasn’t,” he says. The hand that isn’t holding yours covers your bouncing knee. “I know a lot about odds, and they weren’t in our favor back there.”
“It was mostly my fault, probably. I let him get too close.”
“We arrived seconds later than we should have. That car slowed us down in the intersection on the way, and then the rest was off.” He tells you. Comforting you the way he knows how; with the facts. “Time is what went wrong. Not you. Never you.”
You pick your head up and turn your head to look at him, his hair falling around his ears, his eyes still worried but soft. “Never, huh? I’m gonna remember that.”
Reid squeezes your good hand, his pinky running across your wrist to find your pulse, like he’s making sure you’re really okay. “I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so afraid on the job.”
“Not even when you’re the one being held like that?” you ask.
“No,” he tells you. “Not even then.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid blurbs#spencer blurbs#spencer reid request#spencer reid requests#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid imagines#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#reid criminal minds#dr reid#dr spencer reid#criminal minds x reader
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dayum that Red Riding Hood reply was so good Mera like fr got me hungry for wolf Jade and hunter Floyd yummyyy but what if the roles were opposite like Jade being the Hunter and Floyd the Big Bad Wolf? mmmm crumbs of malicious Furoido
BIG, BAD WOLF FLOYD………. 😵💫 malicious wolf who was perhaps moments from slaughtering your poor grandmother, but you managed to arrive just in time. Whacking him over the head with your basket or maybe you’ve even got a weapon and are ready to use it to drive this intruder off!! Floyd who immediately loses interest in eating your grandmother and sets his sights on you, the cute human who’s now triggered his prey drive after you’ve dared him to come and get you. Not a very smart move, Little Red. >:) no one can outrun a wolf, especially one that’s starving.
Floyd’s impressed you even managed to get as far as you did; you even managed to catch his cheek with your blade, if only because he got too close when he tackled you to the ground. But now you’re without your weapon, wrists pinned above your head, and even though you’re struggling beneath him, kicking out desperately, it doesn’t deter the wolf. >_< squeezing your eyes shut when he leans in, bracing yourself for the tear of his teeth as he rips into you with reckless abandon. Poor Little Red, shaking and whimpering in fear,,, you’ve even turned your head away, baring your neck for him. Did defeat turn you all mushy and hopeless already? That’s boring. :/
You feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, prickling it with unease, but the teeth and the pain never come. Instead, that wicked grin of his shifts and, rather than chewing you out like a squeak toy, he presses a soft kiss to your neck. Your eyes flick open, dragging over his face to assess his intentions. You’d do anything to avoid death and escape, so if this wolf wants what you think he does…
Dub-con where you hope to satisfy the wolf (and maybe tire him out enough) so that you can escape. Filthy, sloppy sex on the forest floor, getting all tacky and gross in the grass. >:) maybe he’s even a little sweet, cradling your cheek in a big hand or moving your arms so that you can cling to him and mark his back up with scratches. <3 allowing him to drill into you until you’re sobbing from the pleasure, struggling with your words in between shivery breaths. This wolf who is so enamored with all of you… how soft you are when you’re laid mostly bare on your pretty, red cloak, how sweet you taste on his tongue, how fragile you are when he hits that spot deep inside you that has you crying and begging him to slow down or else he’ll break you.
You’re waiting for your moment to run, but is that ever going to come? You honestly can’t think he’s that stupid, right? Floyd sees through you and suddenly the missionary sex isn’t so soft anymore. Flipping you over so he can fuck into you doggy style, forcing you onto your hands as his brutal pace leaves you knock-kneed and scrabbling for purchase amongst the wildflowers and berry bushes. Dub-con shifts into non-con when you realize he isn’t going to give you that chance, not when his knot is insistently pressing against your pussy so forcefully. You beg him to stop because surely that will never fit, but you choke on the rest of that plea when it finally pops inside you and he muffles his grunt in your shoulder, his razored teeth having sunk into the soft flesh……. orz orz it’s the warm trail of blood trickling down your arm that keeps you grounded, and if it weren’t for his iron grip on your hips, claws digging into your skin and leaving marks, you’d have collapsed by now. Filled to the brim with cum, connected for far too long, and you think this might be worse than being eaten.
Once his knot has gone down and he slides out, he’ll carry you back to his den and keep you safe from that pesky hunter who likes to get in the way of his work. :D then you can live happily ever after together! You, Floyd, and a litter of pups!!!! >w<
Of course, not if hunter Jade has anything to say about it. :) he mounts all of his kills, viciously proud, and his aim is immaculate. Once he has you in his sights, you’re as good as dead. Only maybe this job is a little more complicated because who knew his brother was the one who knocked up the village sweetheart he’s been eyeing!!! The beast everyone wants him to bring down. Unfortunately, Floyd isn’t much of a monster. The real monster lies in wait in the middle of the village, inside a quaint cottage, always wearing that kind smile of his. :)
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