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sayoneee · 10 months ago

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☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual.

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song.

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night.

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you.

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin.

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin.

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge.

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness.

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship.

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange.

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things.

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you.

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red.

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

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seonghwaddict · 5 months ago

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not just a distraction — park seonghwa

in which it’s too easy for the new literature professor to pick a favourite.

literature professor!park seonghwa x fem!reader. genre. fluff, angst. warnings. LEGAL teacher-student relationship, implies age-gap, an argument, suggestive, nickname (baby, angel, doll, princess). wc. 10.4k. rating. pg-13.

lilo’s notes. this is my comeback yessss~ anyways, this is part 1 of 2 because the next part will have some… fun activities >:) i hope you guys enjoy this, i’m sorry for being so inactive for the past month but i have lots for you guys to look forward to! excuse any errors i did not proofread this.

listening to. training wheels, melanie martinez / angel, kali uchis.

masterlist.

the first class of the new literature course at your campus garnered the attention of quite a few of the students from the arts department.

there was, of course, a literature class that existed before that one, though a few students had been unhappy with it since the introduction of more contemporary works. the classic masterpieces, they thought (including you), should not be bunched together with colleen hoover.

with enough pressure, the faculty were able to introduce a new course; classic literature. the few students unhappy with the initial course switched into this course instead, delighted by the fact they were allowed to keep their previous credits. a completely new teacher had been hired too, stirring anticipation. all you knew of him was his name, given in the description of the course when you signed up.

so you found yourself in one of the many lecture halls, around fifty others surrounding you. when you walked in, the new professor was at the long chalk board at the front, looking down at a book in his hand while the other wrote something down. you tried catching a glimpse of him, but his positioning faced him away.

but from what you could see, he was quite slender. his grey slacks, neatly ironed, were secured around his hips by a thin black leather belt. his white button up seemed a little large, though it complimented him well, tucked into his trousers with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms elegantly—his blazer, a grey matching his slacks, shucked off and placed around the back of the chair at his desk. you could also see his hair was dark, a slight waviness to it, a little longer in the back.

finding the most convenient seat, you chose to sit in the left-most seat on the second row, next to a girl you recognised but couldn’t remember the name of even if you tried.

you catch a glimpse of professor park glancing down at his watch, prompting you to do the same. nine in the morning, on the dot.

“literature,” he starts, underlining the bold word on the chalkboard before turning around. and you nearly choke at the sight of his face.

he’s handsome, almost impossibly so, and a lot younger than all your other professores. dainty glasses sit atop the bridge of his nose, carefully placed strands of his hair framining his face as he begins pacing in front of the seats, making sure to look at each students individually.

“it’s many things, but at its core, it’s all about the manipulation of language. language, simply put, is food, nourishing literature. and so, with the intricacies of the art, literature becomes one of the sweetest passions known to man. because what is it if not love and hatred and disgust and every indescribable feeling thrown into a melting pot of prose.”

his voice is captivating, making you feel just a little lightheaded as you listen to his passion intently, all precise words and confidence as he paces, his hands clasped behind his back. you’re hanging off his every word, watching as he stops by his desk to place down the chalk.

it isn’t after a few moments that you realise you were admiring his hand, how it moves to elegantly. the way his fingers gently curl around the little white stick is almost artistic in itself.

he turns around, resting his hips against the edge of the mahogany desk behind him, legs crossed at his ankles and arms crossed over his chest. his eyes scan the room as he continues speaking, occasionally locking with yours. “is it not poetic? how morphemes, for example, or adjectives or conjunctions are the morsels of literature, small parts that are put together to create meaning? of course, something may be described in one word, but there’s something quite magical about being more metaphorical, more intimate.”

he catches you leaning forward in your chair slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips at how captivated you look before he schools his expression. but his focus is quickly redirected when another student raises his hand.

“yes?” professor park pushes himself off the desk, clasping his hands behind his back.

“professor,” he begins—you recognise him as a jock that calls himself dylan, but you know it’s not his real name and he’s probably here to fulfil a requirement to keep him on the volleyball team—his tone incredulous, “don’t you think all this romanticisation of literature is a bit dramatic? we don’t need fancy words to describe everything.”

professor park arches his eyebrow, a soft huff escaping his nose as he took steps in the direction of dyland’s seat. “dramatic? perhaps,” he nodded, eyes fixed on him, “however, as a literature professor, i enjoy the romanticisation of it. my job is to introduce others to the passion that is literature, and therefore i will romanticise it all i wish… what is your name?”

“it’s, uh, dylan?”

his eyebrow quirked once more as he gave the jock a once over, evaluating him. “i see… well, dylan, have you ever felt the rush of emotion when reading something truly spectacular? have you ever read a sentence and felt it like a punch in your chest or a sudden breath of fresh air?”

dylan’s opens his mouth to respond before he is interrupted with a raise if professor park’s palm. “think before you answer, please.”

you nearly laughed at his baffled look, never having seen him so silent, pondering the question for a moment before answering. “well, yes i have.” he answers honestly, earning a nod of approval.

“describe that feeling for me. can you find the correct words to explain the way you felt in that moment?”

dylan tries to explain it the best he can, but your teacher only shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “close, but no. see, it’s difficult putting into words such strong emotions no matter how many synonyms of ‘joyful’ you use.”

he turns away from him to address the rest of the class. “and that is the beauty of literature—it can be used to describe the most indescribable feeling, stringing together individually meaningless words to create something so much more.”

you smile at that, enjoying the link he made. your eyes meet for another moment, a split second that made heat rise to your cheeks under his perceptive gaze. but you blink and his pretty brown eyes are gone.

he takes a moment’s pause, glancing over at the clock in the room before finally addressing the rest of the class again. “i want an assignment from each of you by next class that demonstrates the true beauty of the language we know. it can be anything you feel like writing. a short story, a narrative, an essay, a poem,” his eyes flick over to land on you once again, “i want to see the feeling you want to convey in this written form. and i don’t just mean the happy feelings—get raw and descriptive. write something from the heart.”

the class is dismissed and you pack up your things, heading out but not before trying to catch another glimpse of him in the moving horde of students.

though you hadn’t noticed it, throughout the lecture his eyes lingered on you as well. of course, there were so many students for him to focus on, but none of them seemed quite as captivated as you. judging by the evident fascination on your face as he spoke, he knew you understood every word he said. unlike dylan, apparently.

the next class is on friday, four days away. you take that time or write the assignment. instead of writing a story or a poem, you decide on writing an essay. something where you can really write without the constraints of sticking to a plot. when you’re not in any of your other classes, you’re at your shared house, writing. and if your roommate is being too loud, you take the short bike ride to campus, sitting in your usual corner in the library, also writing.

by the time friday comes around, it’s ready and you’re happy with it, confident in your works as you walk into the lecture hall between some other students. you follow them as they stop at his desk, placing their papers on a stack of other turned in assignments, following suit before sitting at the same seat as last time; far left, second row. this time there’s more people sat at the front, whispering and giggling as they gaze at the professor.

he’s sat at his desk, a similar suit to last like on except a beige colour. his glasses are off and placed on the wooden desk, a book partially obscuring his face as he reads and waits for it to be nine on the dot.

he can vaguely hear the students talking amongst themselves as he reads, but he doesn’t pay it too much mind. it was normal. a lot of his students found him attractive, and that was clear just by the way they talked while he was around. after a while, he glances up at the time, noting it was almost time for class to begin.

he closes his book, setting it off to the side before standing up behind the desk. his hands clasp behind his back.

he glances around the room as more students trickle in and take their seats. he notices you at the second row almost immediately, and he can’t help the small smile that crosses his face. he lets his eyes roam over you for a second before he looks away, noticing the other students chattering in their seats. he clears his throat, loud enough to make them stop and look at him.

“good morning, class.” he says loudly, glancing around once more before resuming, “i’ll be looking over your assignments after class, but for today i’d alike to talk about some literary devices. i know this is classic literature and you’re all expecting to be reading classics, but some groundwork should be set before we jump into analyses. for example, can anyone tell me what a hyperbole is? any guesses?”

he scans the room, as if challenging one of the students to answer. the students in the class are quiet, no one wanting to take the challenge. he hums after a couple minutes and walks around to the front of the desk to lean against the edge of it.

“no one? how about you,” he suddenly says, nodding to you.

you blink, taken aback by the fact he chose you in the sea of fifty-something students. after clearing your throat, you simply say, “an exaggeration, sir.”

he gives a small nod of approval, a smile accompanying it. he expected you to know it, one of the most basic terms in the subject, but could he really be blamed if he just wanted to hear your lovely voice?

“that’s correct. a hyperbole is an exaggeration. it’s also a useful tool in literature to convey specific emotions. i’m sure you’ve come across sentences such as... ‘i could kill him’ or ‘i can’t believe it. this assignment was a literal death sentence.’” he adds the last part in a joking manner, and the few students in the room who were paying attention let out a quiet bout of snickers. he gives you one last small smile before moving on.

he spends the rest of the lesson talking about all sorts of techniques used to enhance literature and the effects they have on the readers. sibilance creates a smooth flow and double entendres are often used to amuse the reader.

nearing the end of the class, he instructs everyone to start on their reading of “the picture of dorian gray” by oscar wilde while he starts going through the turned in assignments. you pull out the book, having borrowed it from the library the other day. you’ve read it before, but it was entertaining enough for you to be willing to read it again, leaning back in your seat comfortably as you flip to the first page.

professor park gets through the first couple of assignments, grading them and adding comments here and there. he finds your essay on the third assignment, and glances up to look at you sitting at your seat, reading so serenely. he takes the time to look you over for a moment before his focus turns to your paper in his hand. he can’t help the slight curiosity as to what you have written, so he begins reading.

he can tell from the quality of the writing alone what kind of writer you were. not like the others, you weren’t rushing with each sentence. no, each word was well thought out, each word placed delicately in the paragraph. it was obvious you had taken the time to write it, and it was obvious that you enjoyed writing even before he finishes reading the introduction. there is passion in the way you laid out your paragraphs. the way it seems so effortless for such words to spill onto your pages.

he finds himself rereading some of the sentences and paragraphs, just to see the way you had worded things. the way you describe how literature can make a person feel could be compared to a piece of art itself. a smile tugs at his lips as he finished reading, having become completely entranced in what you had written. he wanted more, he wanted to read even more of your writing, see more of your passion, more of you. he had expected to have to read through mindless writing but instead he had been surprised by something actually worthwhile.

at the end, he writes a decently-sized comment, a perfect grade circled in his black ink right below.

as he dismisses the class, it takes you a moment to register his words and the people filing out of the hall around you. but once you do, you fold over the corner of the page you’re on and start packing away your items.

as the class is now empty, the only person left in the room besides himself is you. he watches from behind the desk as you pack up your things, noticing the slight hesitation in your movements when you glance towards him. he takes a moment to just watch you before speaking up, his voice firm and clear.

“stay a moment, if you don’t mind.”

you glance up at him before looking around, making sure he was speaking to you before you nod, taking the steps down from the second row to the first, standing at the end of the seats expectantly.

he picks up something from his desk before making his way over to you, his long legs carrying him effortlessly.

he studies your face for a moment, holding up the stapled stack of papers that were your essay. he takes in your features as he speaks, his tone softer now that you’re alone, “you enjoy literature, i take it?”

you glance at the papers before meeting his eyes again, heat rising to your face at the realisation that his full attention was on you. that he was standing so close, just a step away, looking down at you ever so slightly. you give him a nod.

he hums softly in acknowledgement, his eyes looking at your face curiously. he can see the flush of your cheeks clearly, the way you’re keeping your gaze averted from his for the most part.

he glances down at the paper in his hand, tapping it against his fingers gently before looking back at you.

“your assignment. i read it,” he starts, flipping through the pages absentmindedly to keep him from staring at you too long, “it’s quite well written, and i can see the care you put into the language of it. i enjoyed reading it.”

he watches as your eyes queen ever so slightly, a certain sparkle that does not go unnoticed by him; can see the gears turning in your head as you take in his words, your face growing to an endearing mix of shy and embarrassed. he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what he was feeling, couldn’t describe it in any way other than a bloom of warmth in his chest, akin to familiarity.

“oh, thank you, sir.” you smile at him lightly, having been worried you were in trouble and about to be in the receiving end of his scolding.

he hums again, still looking at your face. he can’t help the slight grin that forms on his face as he hears you call him ‘sir.’ he liked the sound of it coming from you. he glances down at the paper again before speaking again, holding the stack out to you.

“i should be thanking you, really. you seem to be the only one to have put some effort into it,” he gave you a soft smile before nodding towards the door, “you may go now, i’ll see you next class.”

you smile and nod, giving him a slight bow before straightening up again. “have a nice day, sir.” and with that you leave, making a beeline to leave campus since you didn’t have anything else to do for the day.

the next time you see him is on monday, in class. he teaches as usual, introducing some context for the book you’re all supposed to be reading. he doesn’t talk to you during the class, though occasionally his eyes find yours and you can’t help but think they soften ever so slightly.

soon enough, you pick up on the fact that you have a similar routine on wednesday evenings. usually, you stay in the campus library for a little longer on those days, whether it’s to read or to work. you like it then because there’s usually barely anyone there, the library big enough for the students that are there to disperse out of each other’s views.

you notice him on your way in, talking to the librarian with a stack of three or four books on the counter. but sometimes you’d see him at a table or couch, or browsing through the shelves. and each time you smile at the sight of him before making your way straight to the second floor, ducking between some bookshelves on the far end to sit in your usual seat.

this may be your favourite spot on campus, maybe the whole city. a little sofa tucked against a big window, two bookshelves—historical fiction—on either side hiding you from the prying eyes of your peers. at this time, the sunlight is just right, a copper glow feeding the two little plants on the windowsill and providing a warmth that felt like a blanket on a cold winter day. it wasn’t too bright, able to look outside without squinting your eyes, enough light to read comfortably. there’s also a little round table that you use to place your laptop on if you need to work, though often you push it aside, favouring to relax on the plush sofa against the soft pillow and get lost in the pages of whatever book you got your hands on.

he’s noticed you there before, on his way to pick up a book from the bibliography section, right next to the historical fiction section where you resided. he soon comes to notice your form among the bookshelves that he passes by, doing a double take before he forces himself to continue along his way. when he finishes the bibliography exactly a week later, he offers to bring it back to its previous spot; in reality, he just wanted to see whether or not you’d be there again.

and sure enough, you were. and he slows down in his movements, looking at the way you’re curled up comfortably in the sofa.

he finds himself watching you silently from a distance for a while, just watching you flip to the next page in your book as you lay comfortably against the pillow, to absorbed in the story to notice him. you look completely at ease there, he finds himself thinking. the sunlight from the window seems to caress your features softly, and a part of him wondered what it would be like to be the sunlight for once, to touch your skin so softly and admire the details of it.

he watches you for a while, taking in your expressions as you turn the pages, before deciding to make his presence known. he takes a step, his leather shoes clunking against the polished wooden floors, “mind if i join you?”

your eyes dart up at the sound of his voice, flinching as you were caught off guard. once his words process, you offer him a smile, nodding as you retract your feet from the sofa to make some space for him. “yeah, of course, professor.”

he smiles warmly at your reply, settling into the newly available space on the sofa. now sitting, he realizes just how small the space is. it’s a two seater, so he ends up sitting very close to you, his side pressed right up to the armrest to prevent from being pressed against you. he glances at your face, noting the small reaction you had when you weren’t expecting him to approach. cute.

he leans back a little to get comfortable on the sofa. it’s quiet between them for a moment, both of them looking outside or at their books. the silence isn’t awkward, he finds. in fact, he quite enjoyed it in such proximity to you. he turns his gaze to watch your face, studying you; the curve of your nose, your lips that are pulled into a frown ever so slightly as you concentrate. his gaze then flicks down, to your sweatpants-clad legs tucked under you on the sofa, and lower to the hand holding the book.

you sit together in silence for a while, reading your respective books. you can’t stop yourself from glancing up at him occasionally, however, just wanting to catch a glimpse of his soft hair or perfect plump lips or the slope of his neck.

but when the sun go too low and the lights too dim and you could barely keep your eyes open, you let out a soft yawn, stretching. he glances up, opening his mouth to say something before his throat suddenly feel to dry to produce any words, distracted by the arch of your back and the curves of your hips. you look so inviting.

“tired?” he manages to force out with a slight chuckle, watching you slump back into your seat. he has the urge to brush away the stray hairs that fall over your cheeks.

you glance at him, nodding as you pull yourself off the couch for one last stretch before gathering your stuff and facing him. “i should probably head home,” you mutter.

“alright,” he pushes himself off the couch, closing his book, “i’ll walk you out.”

too tired to argue and insist he didn’t have to, you just nod, turning on your heels to walk out of the shelves, waiting at the end for him. the walk is silent, holding your breath and heart thumping in your chest each time his fingers brush against the back of your hand as you walk side by side.

this became a new routine. every wednesday, you’d find him or he’d find you, sitting in the little brown leather couch. and you’d stay there together for a while, talking or laughing or working or reading. there was no longer an awkward space separating the two of you, happily resting against each other, far from worried that anyone would see.

neither of you mentioned it, but it was the elephant in the room. you didn’t know what to call it, whatever was happening between you. but it felt good, it made you want to cling to his shirt and bury your face into the warm curve of his neck and never let go. but you couldn’t, no matter how much either of you wanted to.

and as the lines between professor and student blurred, you found yourself looking forward to your wednesdays with him.

and so did he. still, he often thought about how he behaved around you, like it was a secret meant for him and you and you and him.

the way he would find himself sitting closer and closer to you. the way he’d find his gaze lingering on you for too long. the way his mind would wander on how it would feel to run his fingers through your hair, trails them along your thighs. oh, how badly he wants to feel your skin against his own. the idea of what he was doing was dangerous, foolish for someone of his position.

but it’s hard to care when you’re right there next to him, in the soft light that makes your skin glow, your face relaxed and content as you read beside him.

one particular friday evening, it’s pouring, and you’re standing outside under where the roof of the humanities building entrance protruded, protecting me from the rain. this morning you had decided to walk to school instead taking the bike, though you suppose it wouldn’t have been much better with a bike.

your shoes are already wet from the puddle you had accidentally stepped into on your way out, your clothes soaked from having walked into the rain for a minutes as you hug your messenger bag close to your chest.

he’s on his way to his car when he spots you standing by the doorway, and he frowns as he notices you, soaked from the rain that pours mercilessly. he glances around, noticing the lack of anyone nearby thanks to the weather, before making his way towards you.

he stops a few steps in front of you, opening his umbrella to block the rain above both of you. "what are you doing standing out in the rain?"

“i walked to school this morning,” you look from him to the pouring rain, just a step away, “didn’t check the weather.”

he takes you in for a moment, taking in the way your clothes are sticking to you, your hair slightly damp. a small part of him found it quite adorable to see you like this.

"you’re soaked," he says, his voice firm and concerned, "you’re going to get sick like this." as if on cue, a shiver racks through your body. he notices, his expression softening as he takes a step closer, offering his free hand. “come on, i’ll drive you home.”

“oh, you really don’t have to,” you smile at him, grateful at his offer, worried about getting his car wet with your clothes, “i can just wait here until the rain stops.”

his eyes narrow slightly, taking your wrist lightly. "don’t be ridiculous," he scolds, "you’ll freeze to death if i leave you here."

you blink at him, not used to being on the receiving end of his firm tone. his concern making the corners of your lips tug up, you sighed softly, nodding, “alright, lead the way.”

a small smirk pulls at his lips as he watches you relent, giving in to his words. he steps to your side, releasing your wrist and putting a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the parking lot.

he pulls a tissue from his pocket, unfolding it and using it to gently pat your face. you giggle softly at his attempts to dry your face, reaching one of your hands up to take the handkerchief, your fingers brushing against each other before you dry your face yourself, your other hand helping him hold the umbrella in the strong wind, hand a little lower than his on the handle.

he looks at you with a small smile as his hand rests on the umbrella’s handle, moving to cover yours. his hand is a little bigger and warmer than yours. but as he guides you further towards the parking lot, he notices you shivering again, the cold air starting to get to you.

"if you get a cold, it’s your fault." he teases slightly, pulling you closer to his side, making you stumble a little before you regain your footing.

“oh no, i won’t be able to attend your 9 am lecture on monday, whatever will i do?” you gasp dramatically, holding back a laugh as you joke around, instinctively glancing around in case anyone saw. but everyone was gone, rushing home in the midst of the downpour.

he lets out a low laugh at your dramatic response, rolling his eyes playfully at you.

"stop that," he chastises, his hand on your waist keeping you from falling. it was hard to miss the nervous looks your threw around, and he knew exactly why.

“hm?” you glance up at him as he stops in front of what you assume is his car. it’s a black mercedes, sleek and modern. you clasp your hands behind your back, tilting your head, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

he pushes open the passenger door of his car, gesturing for you to get in. he shakes his head slightly with a scoff, his gaze raking down your figure for just a moment.

“sure you don’t,” he says in a slightly teasing tone, “just get in the car, angel.”

you blush lightly at the nickname but shake your thoughts away, looking down at the leather passengers seat before looking up at him again “but i’ll get your seat wet and mess it up.”

it takes him a moment to process your words, distracted by how the flush of your cheeks makes you look even lovelier. the thought that he was able to make you blush like that because of a simple nickname makes him bite back a giddy smile.

he shakes his head. “i’ll take my chances. just get in, you’re shivering.”

you don’t move for a moment, weighing your options; get his seat a little wet, or walk in the rain. deciding the former is obviously the better choice, you thank him silently as you slip into the passenger seat, securing your seatbelt after resting your bag in your lap

he shuts the door behind you and circles the car, walking to the driver’s side. his steps are a little rushed, eager to get out of the rain and into the warmth of the car.

he gets in the car, pulling the door shut behind him before he looks over at you. you sit quietly, your head down and hands in your lap.

it’s silent for a brief moment before he speaks up. “i’m gonna need your address, you know.”

“oh, right.” you hum, leaning forward to the screen on the dashboard to type in your address. it takes some effort, your muscles mostly focused on your legs as you try not to seat my full weight in an attempt to not ruin his seat despite what he said earlier.

he says absolutely nothing, his gaze glued to the arch of your back. he swallows hard, clenching his jaw as he keeps his eyes trained on you, fighting the urge to reach a hand and touch you.

he clears his throat, “just lean back into the seat.”

before you can protest, he’s pushing down on your thigh until you’re fully seated. you give him a playful glare as you finish typing the address. it’s just over a five-minute drive, while walking in this weather would’ve taken you nearly twenty.

he looks at you with a chuckle, his hand still on your thigh, giving it a slight squeeze.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he jokes, giving your thigh a tap before pulling his hand away, turning the ignition on and pulling out of the parking space.

the drive to your place is quiet except for the sound of the rain outside. he has the heat on full blast to keep you warm. every now and then he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

the heat makes you shudder, holding your fingers up to the air to warm them up a bit.

he can’t help as his mind thinks of how cute you look, all bundled up with your bag in your lap. and the urge to touch you, god, the urge to run his fingers through your hair.

“we’re almost there, don’t worry,” he mutters as he tears his gaze away from you.

“hey, um,” you start after a few moments of silence, glancing at him, “if you want, you can come up and we could have some coffee or tea or something together. if my roommate doesn’t mind, which she probably won’t, she’s really nice so i wouldn’t worry. but you don’t have to if you don’t want to! i just, uh, wanna thank you properly… for this.”

he watches with a fond smile as you ramble, stopping at a red light. he’s about to accept the offer, tell you that he’d love to, but the realisation of your roommate being there changes things, his expression turning solemn.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea…” he mumbles, avoiding your piercing eyes.

your brows furrow ever so slightly, a frown threatening to override your features. “why not?”

he swallows, pulling over in front of the address you had typed into the gps.

“i’m your professor,” he starts, his tone firm, “it would be unprofessional if we’re caught.”

he hopes you can’t notice the way he’s gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

“that hasn’t stopped you so far, though,” you muse, chuckling lightly despite your confusion of his suddenly change in sentiments, trying to ease the tension.

“but don’t you think it’s a bit suspicious that we’ve been sitting together in the library every week, completely hidden away?” he mutters, “if someone saw us, someone who didn’t know, it would look bad. this could be worse.”

“i thought you liked being there with me…” his words get to you this time, actually frowning as you turn to look out the window instead of at him, noticing you were in front of your house.

shit.

he mentally berates himself upon noticing the slight change in your expression, realizing with a pang of guilt that his words bothered you, having come out the wrong way.

“oh, angel,” he starts, letting go of the steering wheel. his hand reaches for you, and before he can stop himself, it’s cradling your face.

“i do. i like being with you there,” he sighs, gently pulling your face to make you look at him, his thumb caressing your cheek. “you have no idea how much i enjoy it.”

his touch on your face feels warm, and his words even warmer as his directs you to look at him. you don’t say anything.

he’s not used to this, to you being quiet and still. he’s too used to your carefree self being full of jokes and laughter. he doesn’t like you like this, looking at him with disappointment written on your face.

“what i meant is,” he murmurs, the pad of his thumb moving across your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes meet his, “i’m just worried about your roommate.”

“i like spending time with you, princess,” he continues, his tone firmer this time, “i like it a lot, alright?”

your frown eases at his words, nodding as you answer in a whisper, “okay.”

he lets out a small sigh of relief, his fingers tracing down from your chin to the side of your neck, and then your collarbone. he gently caresses your skin with the lightest of touch, letting the pad of his fingertip graze your skin.

he tries to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him to tug you across the console and kiss you. he shouldn’t.

he shakes himself out of his thoughts, pulling his hand away reluctantly. glancing out the window, he sees your place right in front of him.

“we’re here,” he murmurs, looking back at you. his gaze softens when he sees the remnants of the frown still on your face, and his hand gently reaches out to give your thigh a light squeeze.

“come on,” he says quietly, “let’s go.”

you look out the window before nodding, unbuckling and stepping out, walking to your front door as he accompanies you with an umbrella. you rummage around in your bag, trying to find the keys. groaning as you realise you were in such a rush this morning you must’ve forgotten them in the bowl where you and your roommate place your keys so you don’t lose them. with a sigh, you ring the doorbell, waiting for her to answer.

but she never comes. and that’s when you realise she had the late shift at work today. you groan, frustrated as you thump your forehead against the wooden door.

great, he thinks to himself as he watches you struggle trying to get inside. and then you turn around, with a frustrated sigh, and a thump of the door.

he can’t help but feel like the world is against him. the universe wants to punish him, to test his limits.

he bites the inside of his cheek, watching you and listening to you as you mutter about your locked door.

“i don’t have my keys, my roommate isn’t home,” you explain, kicking the door light before burying your face in your hands, your voice a little muffled, “oh, i’m so sorry, hwa.”

he stands there, watching you explain your situation, and he fights back a smile at your last sentence.

hwa*.*

he likes it when you call him that. spending three months growing closer, you’ve evidently given each other little nicknames.

he glances over at the parked car behind him, before back at you. “do you need a place to stay?” he asks, trying to keep his tone neutral again.

“i don’t wanna bother you too much,” you shake your head, running your hands over your face “please, i can just wait here for her to get back.”

he doesn’t like how you’re trying to push him away. frowning, watching you as you shake your head and run your hands over your face in defeat. he closes the distance between you, taking hold of your wrists and pulling your hand away from your face gently.

“it’s pouring,” he reminds you, “your clothes are soaking wet. and you think you can just sit here on the front porch until your roommate comes back?”

“i don’t want to inconvenience you any more,” you murmur, your hands relaxing as he pulls your wrists away from your face.

his chest tightens at your words, at how stubborn you’re being. he sighs.

“you’re not inconveniencing me,” he insists, “i’d feel better knowing you’re inside with dry clothes and a warm drink than out here soaked to the bone.”

you contemplate his offer for a moment before sighing, nodding, “okay, if you insist.”

his heart nearly skips a beat at your agreement, and it takes all his willpower not to visibly show the relief that washes over him.

he tightens his hold on your wrist for a moment, before gently guiding you back to his car. he opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you get in before he shuts the door and circles around to the driver’s side.

he starts the ignition again, the warm air blasting through the vents yet again. you hold your hands in front of the hot air again, glancing over as you hear his door open and close as he slips. “in is it a long drive?”

he lets out a scoff, looking over to you with a teasing smile. “it’s a whole two minute drive. i’ll try not to bore you too much.”

he turns back to the window, pulling out of the parking spot. the rain starts again, and the sound of it pounds against window before he turns on the wipers.

“oh dear me, i can already feel myself falling asleep,” you slump your head back and pretend to snore, back to being playful.

he turns to look at you, watching your dramatics with a fond grin. “shut up, you,” he says, reaching out to pinch your side gently.

you giggle as he pinches your side, opening your eyes again to look out the window, watching buildings and cars glide past as he drives smoothly. true to his word, just a few minutes later he’s pulling into the underground parking lot of an apartment building.

he parks in front of a spot numbered ‘407’, cutting the ignition as soon as he does.

he glances at you briefly before nodding almost to himself.

“come on,” he says with a jerk of his chin, gesturing for you to follow as he gets out of the car.

his longer strides have him walking faster than usual, and it takes him a conscious effort to slow down for you to keep up.

he presses the ‘up’ button and the elevator doors part within seconds. he steps into the elevator, holding the door open for you to enter.

it’s a silent ride up. his mind is racing, though he doesn’t show it outwardly. his hands are in his pocket, and he keeps his eyes trained on the blinking numbers signifying each floor.

the elevator dings and the doors open and he steps out without looking back to see if you’re following, striding down the hallway, making a turn to a door marked ‘407’.

he fishes for his keys in his pocket, pulling them out before unlocking and opening the door as you look around the empty hallway, your gaze lingering on the mass-produced paintings hanging on the wall that he knows can be seen on every other floor of this building.

the apartment is spacious, with plenty of open floor space for the front room. the color scheme is simple and neat, with a large armchair and a small couch that sits in front of a flat screen tv, as well as a wooden coffee table.

he steps in, taking a moment to kick his shoes off and set his stuff down. he looks over his shoulder, watching you step into the apartment as he places his umbrella in the umbrella rack and hangs up his coat.

you grimace as your shoes squelch when you step in, muttering apologies as you take them off and leave them outside of the door in the hallway instead, not wanting to mess up his flooring.

he raises an eyebrow, watching you as you leave your wet shoes in the hall. he’s about to say something when he’s interrupted by the sound of a small meow.

a ball of black fur appears at his feet, nuzzling against his ankle, and he smiles, scooping the cat into his arms without a word.

he scratches behind the cat's ears as it purrs in his arms, the sound of its soft mews filling the room. he can see a hint of confusion on your face, watching the cat with interest as he holds it, its front paws resting on his chest.

"his name is kuma," he explains, bringing the cat up to his face and letting it rub against his cheek.

you nearly melt at the sight, stepping into the house with wet socks as you coo at the cat, the front door falling shut behind you automatically. “i didn’t know you have a cat.”

he has to physically stop himself from grinning as you nearly swoon at the sight of his cat, covering up his smile with a cough. he shakes his head, lowering the cat gently to the floor. it runs over in your direction, nuzzling against your ankles much like it did to him moments ago, before disappearing down the hallway into the heart of the apartment.

"i got him a couple months back," he says, taking in the sight of your soaked clothes once more. he lets out a sigh, tilting his head toward the hall.

he glances down at your feet, eyeing your soaked socks, before looking back up to your face.

"you can shower if you'd like. I can lend you some clothes to change into," he says, pointing down the hall toward the bedroom.

“oh, yes please,” you nod, relieved that he offered instead of you having to ask.

he nods and starts down the hallway, motioning for you to follow him. as you follow, you look around. just like his car, the design of his apartment is sleek and modern, glowing in warmth as he uses a variety of floor lamps and shelf lamps to light up the interior instead of headache-inducing overhead lights. the furniture and walls are light in colour, a variety of whites and beiges.

it’s an open floor plan, the kitchen and living grouped together, separated by a counter island and some stools. the countertops of the kitchen have a glossy white finish, everything clean. a narrow hallway leads to some three doors, which you assume are his bedroom, a bathroom, and guest bedroom or office.

he stops first in front of a door, where the cat lies on the floor, tail flicking back and forth. he bends down to pet the cat briefly.

"that's the bathroom. the towels are in there. I'm just going to grab some clothes for you," he says, giving you a quick glance before striding away toward the bedroom.

your eyes follow him as he walks away, before letting out a soft yelp at the feeling of something furry wrapping around your ankle. looking down, you realise it’s kuma, giggling as you crouch down to pet him.

he returns a few moments later, taking a moment to watch as you play with his cat so nicely before clearing his throat, making you stand back up as he hands you the stack of clothes.

“feel free to use whatever you need in there,” he nods towards the bathroom door, “you can leave your clothes in the basket, i’ll put them in the laundry later.”

“thank you, hwa.” you grin at him, accepting the clothing before disappearing into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

you shower with warm water, relaxing every muscle in your body as you wash off the rain. without any other choices, you’re left to use his shampoo. it smells of him, a deep vanilla. when you finish, you dry off and change into the clothes he brought, using your own previous undergarments as he obviously didn’t have those on hand.

the clothes are quite large on you, hanging off your body as you tighten the string of the sweatpants. you pat your hair partially dry with the towel before tossing everything in the laundry basket, stepping out to go to the living room.

only to see he wasn’t there. shrugging, you figure he’ll return soon as you flop onto the couch, kuma coming to sit with you after a moment. you sprawl out a bit as you realise just how spacious the couch is, the cat padding all over your body, playing with the drawstrings of the hoodie he gave you before curling up on your stomach.

meanwhile, he’s in the shower of his bedroom’s en-suite bathroom attempting to get himself together, both physically and mentally. the water feels amazing on his skin as it beats down on him, and he tries to relax his muscles as he lathers shampoo in his hair.

but his mind keeps going back to you, and how you’re probably already in his living room.

wearing his clothes.

he sighs, leaning his head against the shower wall as he tries to push those thoughts out of his mind. he stands there for what feels like hours, letting the hot water hit his skin before shutting off the shower and stepping out. he dries himself off, quickly drying his hair enough so that it’s not dripping all over his floor before he getting in record time, pulling on an old pair of sweats and a loose black shirt.

he takes another deep breath, opening the bathroom door as he ruffles his damp hair. he starts to make his way toward the living room, hoping that you’re just as nervous as he is.

he turns the corner and enters the living room, nearly freezing in his place at the sight of you sitting on the couch with kuma. you look good. comfortable.

by the time he makes it back, you’d be kuma are no longer sitting calmly, practically rolling around on the couch as you try to get away from the playful punches of his paws. he feels his heart flutter at the sight and the sound of your laughter.

there’s just something about seeing you getting along with his cat that makes his heart nearly skip a beat. he silently watches from the hall for a moment, just gazing at the two of you playing together before clearing his throat to make his presence known.

you look up at the sound, grinning at him stupidly. you glance at his clothes, noting that he’s wearing comfortable clothes now rather than his usual suits. “oh, hey,” you say between giggles as kuma continues to jump all over you.

his heart stutters at the sight of your grins and the sound of your giggles, at the joyful look on your face. he swallows, forcing his arms to cross over his chest to keep himself from reaching out and pulling you against him.

trying to appear nonchalant even though he’s having a hard time doing so, he walks over to the couch, standing at the end of the coffee table and looking down at you.

“seems like you’re having fun together,” he remarks with a slight nod towards kuma.

“uh huh,” you nod before squealing, covering your face as kuma’s paws swat against your cheek, attacking you, your stomach hurting from laughing.

he lets out a scoff, watching kuma pawing at you and your failed attempts to shield your face from the attacks. he can’t help but let a small smile settle on his face, his heart fluttering again at the sight of you two.

“he’s playing rough,” he comments with a smile, walking to the couch and plopping down beside you.

you crawl over to his other side, hiding your face under his arms as kuma chases, “help me, hwa.”

his heart skips a beat as you hide under his arm, ducking away from the harmless kitten. he can’t help but laugh, finding the situation both endearing and adorable.

“I think you can handle kuma, doll,” he teases, grinning down at you as you continue to use him as a human shield.

“he’s a beast,” you try to sound serious, your voice muffled against his sleeve as kuma starts attacking him instead.

“he’s not that bad,” he teases, grabbing the cat by his little body and lifting him up in front of his face, “see? look at this face. he’s not even one bit menacing.”

“that’s the face of evil!” you exclaim, sitting up and placing the back of your hand on your forehead to fall into his lap dramatically, feigning death, my body draped over his thighs faced down.

he looks down at you as you go limp against him, and he can’t help but laugh at your antics.

“don’t be so dramatic,” he grins. he lets kuma go, watching as he climbs down your combined bodies to muzzle against your cheek before moving away to curl up in his usual spot in the corner of the couch. “i think he’s gonna end up liking you more than me.”

“good,” you hum, closing your eyes and relaxing in his lap, forearm under your chin so it doesn’t dig into his legs.

he rolls his eyes jokingly, resting his hand on your back and tracing down your spine, “very funny.”

you chuckle at his response, sighing softly, content where you are. in the privacy of his home, you’re not scared of being affectionate, especially not as his hand traces down to rest against the small of your back, eliciting a faint shudder.

his heart hammers in his chest as his hand trails further down to the back of your thigh, the feeling of your plump flesh beneath the fabric, under his touch igniting something in him. he has to remind himself to breathe, trying to control the rush of blood that is steadily flowing downward.

enjoying the feeling of his hand kneading the back of your thigh, you go a little silent before turning to look up at him, a question that’s been balancing on the top of my tongue for three months finally spilling out.

“hwa… what exactly are we? what is this?” you point between the two of you as you mutter the question.

his hand freezes the second he hears it. he’s been avoiding that question since the two of your really started seeing each other every wednesday months ago, but he knows he can’t anymore. not when it’s thrown straight at his face.

he takes a deep breath, avoiding your gaze for a moment. he lets the silence sit for a few more seconds as he considers his answer, then looks down at you.

“i don’t know,” he mutters, his hand moving to rest on your waist, “i’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

“well, what is this to you then?” you ask softly, sitting up to be eye level with him, kneeling beside him.

the question sounds more demanding coming from you face to face, eye to eye, and his heart is beating fast enough that he fears you can hear it. he swallows, looking into your eyes.

“a distraction,” he mutters, his gaze flitting to your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes, preparing his next words.

but before he can continue, you visibly deflate at his answer, sitting back as i nod. a distraction. “i see,” you tear your gaze away from him, getting up, making his hand drop from you, “i’m gonna go to bed, wheres the guest room?”

he feels his heart twist at the sight of you leaving his touch, a dejected look on your face.

he’s never seen you back off so quickly before. not like this. he watches you get up and stand over him, a step too far for him to reach for you agajn, his heart tightening in his chest.

“wait, doll-“ he starts, reaching out to take your hand.

“what? you said what you said.”

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, his tone firmer. he stands up from the couch, towering over you. he holds a hand out to you. “come here, please.”

“then how else could you possibly mean it,” you scoff lightly, eying his hand but not taking it.

“listen, doll,” he mutters, holding back a huff of frustration. “you can’t seriously think that I would call this a distraction,” he gestures between the two of you. “a distraction. you really think that you are just a distraction to me?”

“well is that not what you said?” you mutter, trying to prevent your lips from trembling as a lump latches itself onto your throat.

he lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. he reaches out and grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him. he can feel the tension in your body, and he hates it. he hates himself for causing it.

“you didn’t let me finish. i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, looking directly into your eyes, resting your hands in his chest. “you’re not just some random, meaningless distraction to me.”

your fingers flex slightly as he holds them up to his chest, right over his heart, “then tell me how you really feel about me if i’m not a distraction”

he looks into your eyes, holding onto your wrists firmly but gently, his thumbs rubbing against your skin, the inside of your wrists.

he’s never seen you like this before. this vulnerable and open in front of him. he can feel the tension in your body, the stiffness in your shoulders and the tightness in your jaw.

he wants to smooth out those frowning lines on your face, erase that look of uncertainty in your eyes.

“you’re more than just a distraction to me,” he mutters. “you’re an obsession. you’re all i think about, doll. i think about you constantly. i don’t know how else to describe it other than an obsession,” he continues, his voice getting softer as he speaks. “i can’t shake you. you’ve gotten in my head and you’ve been living in there rent free for months and you refuse to get out. even when i try to ignore you,” he lets out a scoff, looking into your eyes, “even when i pretend to ignore you, you’re still there. you don’t leave my mind.”

his heart races as the words spill out of his mouth, like there’s a dam bursting inside of him. the feelings that he’s been bottling up for months finally coming out, and he doesn’t want to stop, letting those words tumble out and onto you. he can see that you’re listening intently, that you’re listening intently as his grip on your wrists tightens, almost as if he’s scared that you’re going to run away from him.

“you’ve got me so distracted i can barely focus on anything that doesn’t involve you,” he admits in a low voice, glancing down at your wrists. “i can’t even teach my own goddamn class without thinking about you.”

you’re speechless, even as he finishes, staring up at him with wide dumbfounded eyes, feeling his hammering heart beneath your fingertips just as how he feels yours under his as his thumbs continue to rub the inside of your wrists.

you suppose you can always rely on a literature professor for an extravagant, dramatic confession.

he continues to hold onto you. he’s never seen you this speechless and dumbfounded before, and he’s torn between how good it feels to see you like this and how bad it things could go now that his feelings were out.

he swallows, looking down at your wrists. he can feel your pulse point under his thumb. “say something, angel,” he murmurs, a pleading tone in his voice.

instead, you pull your hands out of his grip to wrap them around his neck, pulling him down, placing your lips against his urgently, your eyes falling shut.

his heart hammers in his chest as he kisses you back, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you against him, his fingers curling into your hoodie. he wants to kiss you forever, wants to make up for all those months of holding back, but his lungs are burning from the lack of air and he’s forced to pull away to breathe.

he lets out a sigh, his forehead falling to the crown of your head. his hands stay on you, still holding you against him. he can still feel your heart racing against his chest.

“that was your idea of saying something?”

“uh huh,” you hum, chuckling softly as you thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, mind full of him. seonghwa, seonghwa, seonghwa.

he closes his eyes as he feels your fingers, enjoying the feeling of your fingertips against his scalp. he still has his arms around you, unwilling to let go yet. he leans down just enough to press a kiss to your temple, his lips brushing softly against your skin.

“but seriously,” you snicker, pulling away from him a little “i am kinda tired, wheres the guest bed?”

he almost lets out a whine when you pull away from him, opening his eyes reluctantly. he looks down at you, a frown on his face.

“you’re really gonna go sleep by yourself?” he mutters, an almost petulant tone in his voice as he quirks his brow.

“is that not what i’m supposed to do?“

“you really think i’m going to let you sleep alone after… that? come on now, you’re not that dense.”

“i know, i just wanted you to say it,” you giggle after a moment, grinning up at him as you lean down to scoop up kuma from the couch.

he lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes, but he’s unable to hide the small smile of his own. he reaches out and ruffles your hair, letting out a scoff. “you’re insufferable.”

“and you just said you’re obsessed with me,” you shrug, kissing his cheek as his hand find the small of your back, leading you don’t the hallway, “where does the kitty sleep?”

he looks down at kuma, still curled up in your arms, practically purring himself to death. “baby, he’s a cat. he’ll sleep wherever he wants.”

you snort, setting him down on a little armchair in the corner of his room, next to some bookshelves stacked with books upon books, and more books. you lean down to pet him a few more times as seonghwa watches you with a fond smile.

he watches you as he sits on the bed, his heart clenching at how good you look in his bedroom. it feels almost surreal, having you here in his home. he pats the spot next to him.

“get over here, baby.”

networks. @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @wonderlandnet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl

@likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd

@coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf @okdudeiime

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez x reader #ateez #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa headcanons #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagines #ateez reactions #ateez smut #ateez fluff

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wosoragebaiter69 · 10 months ago

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you are broken on the floor

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

overview: goalkeeping means sacrificing your body, how far would you go?

A/N: i feel rlly sad so i got the discord to come up with ideas (thanks @totaly-obsessed + @alotofpockets)

TW: Blood, Severe Injury, Brutal Angst

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ever since a child, you loved the feeling of saving footballs. If any of the teams you were on needed someone in goals you'd be the first the volunteer, along the way you actually got good at it and eventually signed with Barcelona in 2021, making good friends along the way.

Along with joining Barça, it came with getting a girlfriend. Who was the best person you'd ever had in your life romantically.

Being a keeper in the best club would always mean injuries, trying to keep a clean sheet like any defensive player wants.

Sometimes though, injuries are worse. Life threatening in some cases, career ending in others. It's something no player even wishes upon their most rivalled team.

You just had to be unlucky didn't you?

Barcelona were comfortably winning against Frankfurt 3-0, when a gap in defense allows a German player to make their strike. You fall back onto the line hoping the punch the ball away.

Seems like life has other plans.

The player shoots left, you dive left and push the ball away. However with being airborne, you can’t stop. Your body crashes into the post with a loud thud.

The stadium goes quiet, your screams and cries horrific. Your body looks… wrong.

Your collarbone isn’t straight, it’s indescribable. Bones are poking out. There’s blood running down your face where your head has cracked open after hitting the post.

It’s sickening to watch.

Players immediately rush over, forming a circle around you as to not show a fellow player in such vulnerable state.

Alexia is by your side trying to comfort you, trying to keep you still. Seeing you in this much pain makes her heart ache. If she could take it all, she would.

Paramedics are by your side instantly as the circle of players back up to give them space to work, Alexia sits helplessly watching you worm in pain.

After quick testing to make sure you were still alive and conscious, they get you on the stretcher. Which includes more screaming, and more pain.

Alexia watches as you get taken off the field in a hurry, fans of both teams clap and give you a standing ovation.

“Alexia, she’s strong. Let’s finish and win this game for her yeah?” Mapi pats her best friends back, also devastated at the turn on events.

“Ye- yeah.” The captains broken voice says.

- - - - -

As the rest of the minutes in the game are being played, you’re fighting for your life in the back of an ambulance.

The pain getting unbearable, you find yourself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness. Paramedics are doing things around you, but your eyes are too glossy to really tell. Your mind is also too fuzzy to think straight.

There is one thing you want, Ale. But, with everything? You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve ruined some of your vocal cords from screaming so loud.

Soon enough, you succumb to the darkness. Letting it engulf you to a place less ridden in pain and chaos.

- - - - -

The game is over, an unspoken heaviness in the air surrounding both teams. There is little interaction with fans, whom luckily understand the pain the players must be feeling at the time.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid get in the Norwegian’s car and drive straight to the hospital where the medical team said you were going to.

When arriving, Ingrid drops Alexia and Mapi before parking, understanding they need each other. You were important to everyone, but Mapi was like your sister and Ale was obviously your girlfriend.

They rush inside, talking quickly to the nurse at reception who gives them sorry smiles, updating them all that she could. Which was that you were alive and in emergency surgery.

They don’t argue, it’s pointless. So they sit down on uncomfortable plastic chairs, playing a waiting game until you were coherent and safe.

- - - - -

4 hours and many freak out sessions later, a doctor walks over to the three girls explaining the situation you’re in.

“It’s a grade 2 concussion to her head, in cases like these there is chance for memory loss. I believe she has all her memory, we were talking about different things before I came here. It’s a high possibility that she has no memories from the accident though.” He pauses before continuing.

“She experienced a dislocated collarbone. We’ve put it back in its original place, recovery could take 1 year and she might never be to the level she was at currently again. We had to do work on surrounding ligaments which makes the recovery time longer.” The girls take in the information.

“Have you told her she won’t play for a while?” Ingrid asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“I did, she was upset in her own right. If that is all your questions, she has her own room. I believe you all know concussion protocol?” They nod.

“Ok, room 3146. If you need anything at all just shout.”

“Gracias, for everything you’ve done.” The doctor smiles at Alexia.

“No problem.”

- - - - -

When reaching the room, the 3 Barça players see your state, a gauze wrapped around your head and a large cast across your torso, restricting movement.

“Amor?” Alexia asks cautiously.

“Hi Ale.” You look at the other two. “Mapi, Ingrid, nice to see you.”

Alexia sits by the chair on the side of your bed, looking up with teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t ever do that again.” She sobs, cradling your face softly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Ale, you’ve got me. I’m right here, please don’t cry amor. Por favor.” You look over to the other two in the room, smiling softly.

She takes a couple minutes to settle down and finally talk.

“Have you heard about your recovery?”

“Sí” You watch her sigh, tracing patterns over your hand.

“Lo siento, but I’ll be with you the whole way ok? I promise.” She says without an inch of hesitation in her voice.

“Te amo mucho Ale. That means so much more than you could ever know.” She responds by leaving a lingering kiss against your hand.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Had as all worried.” Ingrid smiles lightly.

“Yeah.. I don’t remember much about what happened. I might later on but for now I’m content without the memories.” She laughs.

“Well, all of the culers and people at Barça wish you a safe and great recovery. Even if the doctor hasn’t said it, you’ll come back stronger I know it.”

“Thanks Maps, I think I stay in the hospital for a few more days then I’m clear to go home. I have to wear this for like 6 weeks then start the strengthening physio whatever.”

“Ah, can’t wait to see you on the pitch again then amiga. Well, Ingrid and I will leave you and Ale to talk on your own. If you ever need funny company instead of serious company I am always here.” You hold onto your laugh smirking.

“Alright León, keep it moving.” You joke back and watch the couple leave.

You think back to what recovery is going to be like. A very long journey. It seems your girlfriend notices your thoughts.

“Shh, you’ll be fine and as Mapi said you’ll come back better.”

“Thanks Ale.” She leans over and presses a kiss to your lips softly.

- - - - -

The next few weeks are tough, you feel as though you’re useless. Alexia has all this stuff on her plate already and you’re just another one. However she is always quick to shut those thoughts down. No matter how moody, or how angry you got at her. She stayed, just like she promised she would.

Who knows what the future holds, maybe something, maybe nothing. What does matter though? Is who you go there with. For you it’s Ale. It will always be Alexia.

—————————————————————————

PART 2 - here

also i did say i was sick now i’m feeling better.. physically (not mentally since i just wrote this fic)

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #wlw #espwnt #espwnt x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon

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echobx · 1 month ago

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Dream Job - boss!Rafe Cameron × secretary!fem!reader

summary: y/n is Rafe's secretary, and she likes to help him out at times

word count: 474

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), cockwarming (oral), clitoral stimulation, mention of penetration

author's note: not my best work by far, but it's something

kinktober masterlist

“Just like that,” Rafe pants, his large hand is at the back of your head, holding your hair as you choke on his dick. Your throat already feels a bit sore with how long you've been going at it, and for some reason, his dick won't give you what you want. You're crouching under his desk, hidden from the view of the rest of the office, or anyone who would walk inside to talk to him. When Rafe hired you, he didn't think you'd actually be as nasty as he wished for. Of course, he dreamt of a naughty secretary before, hell, it had been a reoccurring dream of his, but he wouldn't have guessed it to become his reality. You hum around his cock, slithering your tongue while bopping your head up and down his thick length, when the phone rings. “Yes? No, come up, please,” Rafe sighs before looking down at you. “Either you get up quickly, or you keep going quietly.” And your decision stands clear, you want to see if you can get away with it. The rush you get from it is indescribable. “Will be good for you, daddy,” you whisper after pulling him out of your wet mouth. “Good girl. Now, get back to work and don't make a sound,” he smiles down at you, and you nod, kissing his swollen tip and making him jump just a tiny bit.

Your throat remains wrapped around Rafe's large cock all throughout the long meeting. The men talk about things you have never heard of before or cared about, while your saliva drips down his long shaft and onto his balls and leather chair as it gets increasingly harder for him to remain composed. “Can you stop moving?” Rafe speaks up, and you don't know if he means the men or you, so you halt your slow motions. Staying quiet gets harder over the first half hour, but you manage to only whimper once when Rafe shifts in his seat and brutally hits his cock against the back of your throat. So, to avoid any more issues, you decide to just stay still and cock warm him with your mouth instead. But that doesn't mean you can't have fun. Quietly, you let your hand run down between your legs and under your skirt, playing with your clit until you can hear chairs being pushed back and two pairs of heavy steps walking off. Your own pleasure building inside you makes you tighten your throat’s grip on his dick, sucking harsher than you intended. “Now, look at this. Sucking me off gets you all wet, right, babe?” Rafe laughs nervously and pulls you up to bend you over his table, your back facing him as he lines himself up and fucks you until you bite your own hand to stay quiet.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @hoe4sunarin @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi @because-i-like-toxic-men @rafeeekam @carolinaxvz

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron blurb #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #~blurb #~kinktober24 #my writing

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wanders-in-wonderland · 1 year ago

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Electrified

Waking up naked and tied to a gynecologist chair with my feet in the stirrups and arms secured above my head. I can’t move, can’t escape, and there’s a gag in my mouth so I can’t even make a sound. There’s a tray of instruments, toys, dildos, vibrators, and more next to me and I feel myself getting wet with fear and anticipation. He walks in and doesn’t say a single word to me, just sits down between my legs and gets to work.

The first thing he does is grab a syringe filled with some kind of liquid. He ignores my whining and attempts at breaking free and injects whatever is in the syringe into my thigh. The sting fades quickly and I feel my entire body start to heat up. It’s an aphrodisiac.

My pussy is dripping wet now, clenching softly, achingly empty while my clit is pulsing in time with my heartbeat. My nipples are suddenly so hard and sensitive, even the air feels overwhelming. I’m squirming the best I can, trying to make the feelings go away but I can’t.

He grabs a blindfold from the tray and ties it around my head and I’m completely blind, no way to tell what’s coming next. All my remaining senses are heightened and I can feel my arousal dripping down my cunt.

I can hear him clattering around on the tray, grabbing different things. Suddenly, I feel his lips on my nipple as he closes his mouth around one while his fingers pluck at the other. It feels so good but at the same time not enough to satisfy the need that’s building inside of me. His mouth pulls away without warning and I feel the cold, metal teeth of a clamp come down on my nipple. I scream behind the gag as pain explodes from my nipple, but it makes my pussy drool even more. He does the same to my other nipple and I’m panting and shaking by the time he’s done.

He pulls away and I’m left aching and throbbing. I feel his fingers trail along my stomach, down towards between my legs. He gently rakes a finger over my clit and I buck and scream, the feeling amplified a hundred-fold by the drug he’d injected earlier. I feel his tongue press gently against my clit and with no other warning, he dives in, eating me out like a man starved.

It feels unbelievable, the pleasure coursing through me, everything so sensitive and so good. He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks hard and I scream in response. He slides two fingers into my clenching pussy, curling up to hit my g-spot, making me see stars. The throbbing in my nipples seems to add to the pleasure, the pain mixing with all the other feelings to create an indescribable inferno.

I feel myself barreling towards an orgasm, every cell in my body filling with pleasure when without warning, he snaps a clamp onto my clit. I wail, the pain mixing with the built-up pleasure exploding in a horrible, ruined orgasm that leaves me gasping and crying. Every feeling is narrowed to my clit where the clamp is digging into my swollen button. I shake my head, begging him to take the clamp off behind my gag. My tears have soaked through the blindfold and I’m overwhelmed by every feeling.

I barely notice him pulling away from me, all I can think about is the clamp on my clit. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain dancing on my nipples, like I’ve been shocked. The feeling hits a second time and I lurch upwards, moaning and thrashing, trying to dislodge the clamps. I whimper softly as he zaps my nipples a third time, this time with a much lower intensity. Every feeling compounds and every prickle of pain seems to make my cunt drip even more. The aphrodisiac running through my veins makes every feeling more intense, and pain blends into pleasure.

I feel the slightest buzz on my clit and my blood runs cold. I wail behind the gag, begging him to stop, begging for him to leave my clit alone but he ignores me without a care. A harsh zap hits my clit and I see white. The pain is excruciating but exquisite as every part of my body clenches in response.

The next zap hits my clit and nipples at the same time and I explode. He maintains the electricity, forcing my body to endure the continuous pain and pleasure as I cum in agony. The clamps don’t let up, even after I’ve cum and I feel myself climbing higher and higher as my pussy clenches around nothing over and over again. All of the pleasure seems to combine into a single moment of pure torture as he increases the intensity of the electricity. And I wail in response, feeling my next orgasm rip out of me, my cunt squirting my release out. My thighs are trembling, my whole body shaking, and the air in my lungs is coming out in harsh sobs. Finally, he lets up and I feel the electricity fizzle out.

I’m half unconscious when he pulls the clamps off my nipples and clit, ignoring my whimpers of pain when the blood comes rushing back. He pulls the blindfold off my eyes and the gag away from my mouth and I watch him lean in close to me with a dangerous smile, “Oh honey, we’re not even close to being done.”

He leans in and captures my lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue dominating my mouth. I whimper into him, arching up to get as close as possible to him. One of his hands comes up and wraps around my throat, applying just enough pressure to hold me down without cutting off my air. He ravages my mouth and pulls away, smiling down at me with dark promises in his eyes.

I smile up at him, knowing he has much more planned for me. “Thank you, Sir.”

#cnc k!nk #cnc overstim #overstim kink #cnc drugging #aphrodisiac #electrostimulation #cl!t torture #nsft concept #dark fantasy #medfet

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loulovingho · 5 months ago

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once a year tommy goes to this little cafe outside of LA and sits at the same table and orders the same meal. he's done it since he got back from the army. no one knows about it except for the owner of the cafe, steve, who's been there since day one. he didn't always go alone. when he was young he would go with his mom. it was a yearly tradition when they'd go back-to-school shopping. they went right before he was shipped off to afghanistan too, just because they'd miss their usual date. when tommy was away, his mom died of a sudden heart attack. he didn't even find out about it for a few weeks.

he didn't go for a couple of years after that. the anniversary of their annual cafe date was somehow worse than the anniversary of her death. but one year, something inside him screamed for him to go back. go have that meal that they loved so much. sit at that table. do it for her. maybe you'll even feel her there? so he goes. and steve remembers him. how could he ever forget tommy? he'd watched that kid grow up!

the first year he went back was hard. he barely ate the food, felt indescribably lonely, and once he got back to his car he sobbed for nearly half an hour before he could even drive away.

then he came back the next year, and the next, and the next. he kept coming back, always alone. even when he had people in his life, he'd come alone.

then one year steve looked over at the table, knowing tommy should be arriving soon, and saw two men sitting there. he went over to tell them they'd have to move- the table was reserved, but halfway over he stopped. it was tommy... with someone this time. the other guy was looking around, then leaning in close to tommy. it looked like he was asking questions. he reached over the table and took tommy's hand and squeezed it and tommy... smiled. he smiled a real smile that reached his eyes. steve hadn't seen that smile since the last time he came with his mom.

so steve walks over to the table to say hello, like always. to ask him about his life and what he's been up to this last year. he'd always say "not much, really. nothing new." but this time he kept his smile, motioned toward the man across from him and introduced him as, "My boyfriend, Evan Buckley, or Buck. Evan, this is Steve."

and this boy, Buck, he stands and shakes steve's hand, asks to pull up another chair, says, "i heard you knew tommy's mom?"

steve nods. "i did." because while tommy only came once a year, his mom came more often. it was her little safe haven away from home.

"i've heard a lot about her from tommy," this buck said, a bright smile on his face. "but i'd like to know more. what was she like?"

so steve sat, and talked and talked, and the boys listened- Buck listened.

tommy never came to the cafe alone again.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 #tevan #kinley #idk what this is guys im feeling emotional about my dad and wrote this out #we went to this certain restaurant a few times a year #and i really miss going #and we had this thing where we'd go vote then go to breakfast #and voting time is coming up soon and its my first time going without him #its gonna suck #anyway here's whatever this is

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reverie-verse · 7 months ago

Note

Can u do eris x reader with previous az x reader(but he is an ass he just used her for sex to get over mor). So basically eris and yn are mates and they have sex and he discovered she never had aftercare before and yn is so overwhelmed with the love and care she receives that she cried and eris was mad with az and next time he saw him he stabbed him and left.but pls give the aftercare the biggest part in this thanksss

Eris x Reader: My Enemy Didn’t Deserve You.

A/N: I’m trying something new as you can see, I’m creating boards now haha I had so much fun doing this sooooo, I think imma do it more often!😊 I definitely tweaked a few things, this is my second time writing Eris, and I see him as a talker more than full on fist fighter. And again Lestat is how I picture him, I can’t explain it I’m sorry but that’s how I see him😭.

My requests are open! So please do not be afraid to ask meeeee anything! I hope you enjoy it! Also this is kinda long and im sorry 😭

——————————-

You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying on this cushion of a lounge chair, your arm hung over the armrest, some of your hair joining it. You were completely bare, Eris rested between your legs, his lips devouring your sex. You were reading earlier, your book thrown somewhere in the midst of all your clothes. Your moans grow louder by each lick and nip. Eris lets go of your bundle of nerves with a pop, he rests his cheek against your thigh, his long slender fingers already pumping at a delicious pace. Your eyes are screwed shut, your mouth hangs open. Your other hand lifts to grasp at his hair, Eris hums, reaching to grab the hand that held him down.

He tsks. “ Ah-Ah, Y/N you know better”

“ Fuck-Eris-“ You could feel the pressure building in your tummy, you clench around his fingers as he opens you. Prepping you.

“ I haven’t buried my cock in you yet-“

You sucked in a breath “Mother!-” You felt another orgasm edged out of you, your body shook, as the release caused you to become soaked and glistening. You could’ve sworn your saw stars.

“No mother here, only me” He says as he maneuvers himself to his knees, he pushes your legs wider, he lines himself with your entrance. He leaned down briefly, capturing your lips with his. His tongue slips into your mouth stroking against yours. Your hand moved from the armrest, moving between your bodies as you take some of your slick placing it onto him, you grip him pumping him at a decent pace. He groans into your mouth, you greedily take it, swallowing his gorgeous sounds. “ Y/N” he growls, as he pulls back to nip at your lips, his own trailing down to your neck.

“Eris” You whine but not before Eris moves to capture your lips again, it was then that you helped him glide through your folds, slowly, and towards your leaking hole. Eris releases your lips again, your eyes moved to look downward watching him slowly enter you.“ Fuck-“ You whispered, Eris rested his forehead against yours watching your movements not caring how impatient you’re being. You were so open, inviting, your hips wiggling to get closer. You needed him.

“ Needy girl taking what she wants” Once he was about half way in, he took control pushing further in till he bottoms out, the two of you moaning in unison. His hips roll, you hum in an encouraging response. When it came to the bond, it was indescribable, the two of you connected in every way, sometimes it was overwhelming and sometimes it still felt as if it wasn’t enough. You placed your fingers on his neck, some of them intertwining with his hair, you brought his lips back to yours. This allowed Eris to take advantage, he rolled his hips, again, his thrust increasing in pace, drawing out your beautiful noises. He took them with no remorse, relishing in the sound.

He was relentless, his tip hitting each of your sensitive spots, your cervice, your g- spot in every part of you, he could possibly reach. Your skin hot, sweaty, his skin, practically on fire, you swore you saw steam leave him. Eris chuckles out loud at your thought. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. Eris used a free hand that was not gripping the armrest, to cup one of your breasts. He kneads it with fever, rolling it the sensitive budds occasionally. He pounded into you at a delicious pace, your mouth opened to release a moan, Eris was quick to catch it, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip every now and then. His groans at the feeling of how slick and wet your gummy walls were, the fluttering around his cock, squeezing him. It drove him mad, in fact it only encouraged him to thrust faster, chasing that high he so desperately wanted you to reach.

The squelching had only made you wetter by the second, you craved Eris who was thrusting with all of his might, his hips starting to sputter and become sloppy, Eris removed his lips from yours, his forehead resting against yours. Eris slid his hand from the breast that he cupped, down to your sweet plush of nerves. His fingers worked quickly, bringing you near another orgasm. The two of you watched your own bodies react to one another, molded into each other. Your breaths intermingle, the both of you fight for air but not exactly caring if you had any, the pleasure was intoxicating.

“ Fuck-“ He swears.

“ Eris!-Oh!-fuck! “You gasp out, your breathing gaining speed, your moans increasing, your head Lullying back again, your body begins to convulse. You released faster than you expected, your orgasm shooting out of you, squirting onto him, it was enough to make Eris release himself. The sight of you so gorgeous and beautiful, he needed to keep a mental image, as he thrusted himself back into, chasing after his own high. As he rocked himself to complete, he eased the soreness, you continued humming, running your hand down his chest. His own climax following suit, your touch was all he needed to push him over the edge. A loud moan leaves his lips, you smile sweetly at the sound.

Eris breathes, his chest and heart working to slow down its pace, he leans back on his knees, unsheathing himself from you, you let out a whimper. Eris looks down at the apex of your thighs, you have completely soaked the material of the lounge chair, your release mixed with his seed. He takes two of his slender fingers gathering the combined orgasms, shoving his fingers into your mouth. You sucked diligently on his slender digits, your hands holding his wrists, you hummed at the feeling and the taste. The two of you connected in almost every way possible.. In the midst of it, he conjures a wet towel, as he wipes your sex clean from the sticky mess. His finger slipped from your mouth, you shuddered at the feeling of the cold material. You hiss, weren’t used to this sensation, and it wasn’t something you experienced before.

“ Eris?” You questioned as you propped yourself up, your eyes watching his movements, his touch delicate, gentle, he took his time. You were confused, your heart already on overdrive, Eris didn’t help the situation by caressing you through the bond. A feeling of love and loyalty. He swore in his mind that you will always be his, no one else. Your eyebrows furrowed as he continued his ministrations and his loving confessions.

“ Hmm?” He replies, he tosses the towel to the side after he finishes, he gives your thighs a reassuring comforting squeeze.

“ Why did you do that?” You asked, his amber eyes meet your own, he watches you closely. He didn’t need the bond to know that you had never had this before, he could see it in the way your body tensed. You were so lax and comfortable until he cleaned you. He wasn’t sure if you liked that he had done so. Over the centuries he had learned from his past lovers that they enjoyed after care, the feeling, the connection, the moment, the time when nothing else existed outside of the room they occupied. Had you not had past lovers who took care of you in this way?

“I supposed I did it because I love you, and this is my way of showing you that I do, that I care for you-“Eris shot another wave of love through the bond, you were struck hard, your chest swelled, your heart pounded at the feeling. Overcome with love and appreciation, with the notion of willingness to be with you. You couldn’t detect a single negative thought or emotion. Didn’t feel disregarded and you didn’t feel like a used object either. Not in the way you had experienced in the past. “-Did you not like that I had? Would you prefer it if I didn’t?” He asks you with the most sincere voice.

“ I-“ Your heart couldn’t take it, tears welled in your eyes, you weren’t sure how to respond. How do you tell the love of your life, the light of your soul, the torment you went through. How do you tell him, that you did enjoy it, that you were taken by surprise is all..but that surprise unlocked a door that you had closed long ago. Old wounds reopened only for him to heal them. Eris pulled you into his arms, it was there, when you felt his comfort, his warmth, his strength and his peace. You felt safe, you felt protected. Your tears left you no sooner, a gentle stream down your cheeks, they rolled off your skin splattered against Eris’s shoulder. He held you tighter as you cried.

His own heart shattering, what had you gone through enough to make you feel this way? Who did this to you? Why did they do this to you? Eris felt that you had been deprived of a sweetest most intimate form of affection, of love and devotion. No one had the right to take that from you. It made Eris’s blood boil at the thought of it all, to be used simply as a means of release repulsed him. Sure everyone once in a blue moon, a male or a female may seek comfort from others, but by the looks of this, it was someone you knew who did this to you often. You must’ve sought out for comfort and were rejected each time.

Eris didn’t mean to growl out loud, but he did, you pulled yourself from the crook of his neck and shoulder to look at him. You placed a hand on his cheek, you could see the frustration, the anger on his face, you could feel him through the bond, it made your skin feel hot, inside and out. “ I-I love you too, I’m sorry that I’m crying, I just- no one has ever done this before..I-I Iike it..” you admitted it quietly.

“ You don’t deserve to be treated with such little care. You deserve more than that, you deserve to have all of the sweetest moments intimacy has to offer. Never apologize for that, no male should’ve taken advantage of you the way that they did-” He lefts a hand, his thumbs swipes at the salty tears that roll down your cheeks, he wipes the pain away, he places a soft but firm kiss on your forehead. You shut your eyes letting his reassurance wash of you, calming you down, easing your pains and worries. The way your body melted, sinking into him. Eris’s jaw tenses. “ Who did this to you?” He whispered against your skin.

“I’m not sure I should tell you..”, you move to pull yourself completely from his arms, you pull underwear on, you grab his tunic and throw it on. Eris was quick to follow you, throwing on his own underwear and trousers.

“ Why not?” His interest peaked, you had finally wiped the last of your tears away, you made your way back to your shared bedroom, you looked for your bathroom, needing to pee. Eris of course was hot on your heels.

“ I don’t know..I’m kinda nervous” You give a small shrug, you enter your bathroom, Eris stays by the door, he heaves a frustrated sigh. A soft smile stretches across your lips. Your heart is swelling again, at the feeling of your mate caring for you. Wishing to know who and what haunted you, to heal you and start over. Appreciate warming your chest.

“ You don’t need to be nervous, I’d rather you tell me now than to find out later, involuntarily.” He speaks out as he leans against the threshold. His eyes scanning your space, the room in which the two of you called your own. A sweet dream, a safe space, a comfort.

“ Alright you won me over with your charm-” the sound of flushing could be heard, followed by washing your hand in the sink. Eris looked at you through the mirror. Your eyes connected “ If I tell you, you must promise me that you will remain calm, and they are still my friends even though they hate me-“ You turned back to look at him.

“They don’t hate you- they are simply mad that the cauldron had paired you up with someone who they think is a monster-it doesn’t matter, I don’t care what they think but if that’s what you wish, then I will do my best”

“ Thank you..” You bowed your head in a nod” Umm-how do I-…Before I met you, before the bond-I was with Azriel. Really it was sort of a-a bedroom relationship..at the time I was in love with him, and he was in love with Mor, he was trying to get over her.. so we slept together..“

“-If he wanted someone for sex he should’ve gone out to a brothel or a club. I’m sure he could’ve picked anyone off the street-“ He growled at the thought of Azriel using you, of all the males in Prythian. It had his bones searing on the inside. His blood already boiled, his skin practically on fire. Rage as one might call it reflects in his eyes. His hands warmed in sensation, fire licking at his fingertips.

“ Eris, hey, It was a long time ago, it was his fault as much as it was mine too, I was madly in love with him, I would’ve done anything back then. It was naive and stupid, I know that now-“ You were by his side holding his face in your hands. Your eyes flickered between his, you reached a finger up to sooth the angry lines that formed on his beautiful face. His body still rigided but relaxes under your touch.

“ He had no right, even if you were in love with him, he had taken you for granted. He knew you loved him, he knew you cared for him. He knew that if he had you, you wouldn’t leave him. The depths he went to, you must’ve laid there afterwards waiting for him to console you, speak with you, laugh with, and nothing-“ Your lips crashed into Eris’s. He didn’t resist or stop you, instead he let go of the words that wished to run out. Your body pressed against him so tightly, he let you guide the kiss, which was unusual but he needed it. Eris turned his head allowing for the kiss to deepen, your tongue massages the roof of his mouth. You let out a soft moan as Eris’s hands curve around your hips, kneading your body as he reaches to cup your ass.

When your lungs could no longer resist air, the two of you pulled back with only an between you.“ I’m not sure I can keep my promise” He says breathlessly, his forehead pressed to yours.

“ Eris” You shake your head.

“ I won’t kill him, I suppose I’ll have to resort to other things” He tells you as he bumps his nose with yours, the urge to kiss you was strong. His thought’s intermingled with pleasure. All the dirty things he could do to you, in various positions, in various rooms, anywhere, you wanted. To think that Azriel was stupid enough to let you go to neglect a gorgeous female such as yourself, it drove him mad.

“You can’t poison him either or use your magic or anything. You’ve always been the one to use your words-“ Eris pulled you into the space of the bedroom, his hands couldn’t stay off of you, he wanted you right then and there, he wanted you to scream out his name like a prayer as one might do in a temple.

“I am a man of my word, I won’t kill him, but I wouldn’t mind breaking a bone or two, if he decides to cross my path or comes near you-“ His eyes grow darker with lust, the smell of his arousal prominent. You allow him to toss you onto the bed.

“ Eris, that’s a bit much, no?” Eris climbed above you, his hands resting on either side of your head.

“ No, not when it comes to you.”

“ Then let me give you a piece of advice.”

“ Y/N”

“Don’t let him win”

____

Autumn solstice was today, guests had already arrived and mingled with one another. Music filled the room, guests danced with one another, smiles adorned their faces. The aroma of the food floated outwards catching the guests who were hungry, friends laughed together as they ate and drank. Everyone seemed to have been enjoying themselves, the atmosphere vibrant and enjoyable. Upon the arrival of the inner circle, this was what they least expected from Autumn. They were truly surprised, they had no intention of coming but with the alliance between the two courts, a visit was required..not to mention they missed you more they imagined. Your absence was truly felt.

Feyre missed you dearly, you were the one female here that helped her transition from Spring, to Night, to Spring back to Night, you helped her ease into her fae body. She was forever grateful. Nesta couldn’t describe the pain she felt when Rhys had sent you off. She hadn’t spoken to him for months, you were the one person that understood her the best. You were patient with her. Cassian missed the way you so easily understood his sense of humor, oftentimes you added to it, which made irritating the inner circle that much more sweeter. He wished he had spent more time with you, his best friend. Rhys on the other hand missed your presence, you were a resilient soul, your strength was something to admire. He often looked to you for the true console just everyone else had.

Azriel struggled with your absence the most, the withdrawal of not having you near took a toll on him in more ways than one. He missed you as a dear friend, just as the others, but there was a deeper rooted feeling. Not too long ago you were attached to his hip. You were there every beck and call he had, every wish and thought he expressed, you filled the void. You there when Mor couldn’t have been. You were there when Elain first emerged in his life, again you tended to every need. Azriel made no move to return the gestures of what you felt back to you, he had never felt romantically attracted to you. You were a means of sexual escape, away to let out all his frustration, his anger, his pain, into. All the females he had craved gave him nothing in return except you. Even with his rejections, you continuously had given him everything, all the love he ever needed, but it was never enough..

The inner circle's eyes scanned the area, they searched for you, their dearest friend, and when their eyes found you, they each held their breath in awe. You stood in the middle of the crowded room, you were radiant, glowing, your hair in an elegantly loose but not too tight style, creating a perfect balance. Your skin adorned simple jewelry, but as simple as they were, each piece crafted in amber. Your dress was unique, the color of Phtalo green, silky material cascaded down your body, the hem barely touched the floor, when you moved, it was like watching a gentle stream of water. You flowed with such calmness it was enchanting, the little gems that were delicately sown on, shimmered as if the sun's light kissed it. You looked as though you lived and breathed autumn, the heart of the court…

“She’s exquisite isn't she?”Eris tenses at the sound of the familiar voice. The male he despised with everything he had in him.

“She is“ Eris replies his heart squeezing with love, his eyes following you as you stop in your tracks, Nesta, Feyre, Rhys, Cassian approaches you. You practically beamed with excitement as they all crashed into you. You had been speaking with Lucien, who also shared the same excitement. It was a sweet moment to witness something he’ll enjoy hearing you gush about later.

Azriel stood next to Eris watching his family closely. As Azriel sees you he can’t help but think- maybe in another lifetime, one where he might’ve returned what you felt. Choosing to have a life of happiness with you rather than to wait for someone else to return his love. That you might be as happy as you are now. But in the end he just couldn’t feel the same way about you- this thought he carried was one that was just-a dream-a wish-but not true to his emotions and his reality. “How is she adjusting?” He asks, no matter what happened, no matter how little he felt about you, he still cared enough to ask as a friend.

“She’s adjusting well.” Eris wasn’t as forthcoming with your information, Azriel figured as much. Eris refused to give him any sort of insight on how your life might be. It was truly none of his business.

“ Do you mind if I speak with her?” Azriel takes a brief look at Eris, who just so happened to already have set eyes on him.

“Feeling regretful are we?” He turns his gaze back to you, you must’ve told a humorous story, the laughter that erupted out of everyone was loud. You were filled with such joy, it practically buzzed through the bond, Eris lips tilted upward slightly. None of them showed you distan or hatred. But Azriel the shadow themselves fringed upon your beautiful soul. Eris sighed.

“ Regretful no, but curious yes. She left the night court to be with you, I can’t imagine it being a pleasant experience” He says simply as if you meant nothing, and only jab at Eris was his goal.

“ You speak of experiences but if I remember correctly her experience with you was just that, unpleasant” Eris retorted, forcing Azriel to remember who the true villain was.

“ You know nothing of what happened between us” Azriel glares at the crowd, he shouldn’t be as frustrated as he is, he was the one who started the argument.

“I don’t?” Eris questions sarcastically, fine let the games begin.

“Yes” He says through his teeth.

” Look at you, upset because I spoke the truth. I thought your court was known for the truth.” Eris tsks as he shakes his head, as if scolding a child.

“I am not Mor, there is a difference between her and I” he replied his jaw tense and tight.

”Is there? Then again wasn’t she sleeping with others to avoid you.” Eris shrugs knowing that this would strike a cord in Azriel. A tit for a tat, he came after you, the least he could was target him the same way.

“ Shut your mouth!” He snaps, the two now facing one another.

“Did I hit a soft spot?” Eris challenges.

” Don’t you ever speak of Mor in that manner-“Azriel growls.

” Yet that’s exactly what you had done to Y/N? No? Did you forget already? Did you take one too many hits to that bat brain of yours-“Azriel shoves Eris forcing him back causing him to bare his teeth “- You made her feel as though she were only good to keep your bed warm, you left her unsatisfied, craving more than just sex, a companionship! -”

“ -She asked to be with me! She asked to be a means of release! She hated seeing me pawn over someone else! So I let her be as in love with me as she was.-” Azriel continues on shoving back Eris, who was waiting for a moment of violence to come.

” -You let her believe you were going to give her more!-“The conversation becomes more heated by the second.

” -I had too!” Azriel argues as if his words really mattered as if manipulation was the only option left for him to pick. The crowd in the room starts to murmur, the music abrupting to a halt, all eyes were on the pair. You and Rhys made eye contact for a brief moment before the two of you moved into action. The Lady of the court, Eris’s mother, encourages everyone to keep dancing, to let the music keep playing. A distraction.

“ No you didn’t, you could’ve told her how you felt instead of leading her down a path that you weren’t going to follow. If I were you Shadowsinger I’d save the manipulation tactics for the battlefield not for the bedroom, at least there we know you can get the job done” He bites back bis fists clenched ready to strike. Azriel clenched his jaw and his hand curled in a tight hold, waiting to see who’d throw the first punch. You were faster, you placed yourself between Eris and Azriel. You placed a hand on Eris’s chest and one outward to Azriel. Rhys and Cassian were right behind you moving to Azriel’s sides. They too also held their hands up trying to stop Azriel from making a mistake.

“ Az” Cassian warns.

“Go back home to Velaris, take the others with you. I have to fix the mess you made.” Rhys orders. He nods his head at Cassian who with the help of Nesta drag him out of the room.

“ I’m so sorry” Feyre apologizes.

You offer her a reassuring sad smile. “ It’s okay, I thank you all for coming. I appreciate it” She nods at you returning your expression, her eyes shooting to Rhys who gave her a sweet smile, telling her in his own way to go back with their family. Your heart shatters a little at the sight of your friends leaving. You wished you had spent more time with them. And you wished that there wasn’t so much hatred between the two groups, even with the alliance.

“ This will not happen again, I can assure both of you. I do hope that you can forgive my spymaster” Rhys says as Lucien pulls Eris away from you, giving him the opportunity to cool down.

“ I hope it doesn’t happen again..as for my mate he can be protective and I’m sure you understand what that’s like” you replied.

“ I do and for that I apologize. I’d hate it if this was to be the reason we lose our greatest ally.” Rhys, ever the politician.

“ I’m glad we can agree on the same point. We need each other more now than ever. This cannot be our downfall”

“ Of course.” Rhys bows slightly, offering you that comforting smile you missed so much. You turned to look over at your mate and his brother. Eris smacked Lucien’s hands away who only glared at him. You sighed deeply, one of ease and relief. You looked at your mate crossing your arms.

“Don't-.” Eris says as fixed his cufflinks after he had shoved Lucien away from him, who now found himself at the food table.

“-I was only going to say thank you.” You gave him a reassuring smile, Eris lifted his eyes to yours. He honestly expected you to rip him a new one. He was surprised, caught off guard, and he felt better. You uncrossed your arms wrapping them around his neck. Eris immediately wound his arms around your hips, pulling you as close as possible.

“He had no right to speak about you the way that he had. He came here searching for a fight, I cannot allow such disrespect in my home and to my mate. You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything to protect you.” His eyes flickering between yours.

“He walked out of here unscathed, untouched. He had to be dragged back home. But you-you spoke with such strength and courage. You dared him to cross paths with you. You didn’t need to fight him, your words were sharper. You didn’t let him win” Eris’s heart warmed at your words. His chest swelling with love, with respect and with passion. He couldn’t have imagined anyone else by his side other than you. He tilts his head down slightly, capturing your lips with his, he kisses you with such intensity as if to thank you for thanking him. For loving him, for accepting him and for understanding him.

The two of you pull away briefly, your foreheads touching, he whispers to you“ Quite the high lady you’re becoming” the two of you giggle.

“ You’re becoming quite the hero” You replied, Eris shook his head, both of your shoulders shaking slightly as the two of you continued your giggling. Eris loved you more than you could’ve ever imagined. He was quick to defend you, he'd come to your aid you if you needed it. He was there every step of the way. He cared for you deeply, he wasn’t ever okay with anyone hurting you. He hated what Azriel did to you. You looked up at him with so much adoration and love, he cherished it, held it close to his heart. Eris presses a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered closed, Eris’s mother could be seen making her way over to you both. Now that was someone he knew would never hear the end of it.

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freakyformula · 2 months ago

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Special celebration

Summary: Mercedes wins and Toto wants a special celebration.

A/N: This one is short, sorry

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, CNC, praise kink, size kink, creampie

Word count: 1k

You cry out as you feel Toto's thick cock enter your small cunt with force, feeling like you're about to split in two. Usually he'd be gentle and take his time, but not today... Today he was determined to ruin you.

But hey, let's rewind.

You were sat on your high chair at the Mercedes garage, guiding Lewis through the last couple of laps as his race engineer, tapping your pen on the table nervously.

Then feeling of Lewis crossing the finish line in P1 was indescribable.

"That was absolutely phenomenal, Lewis, great job!" You yell through the headphones.

You pull your headphones off as he drivers into the pit lane, running with the team to get a glimpse the winner.

As you're standing below the podium, listening to god save our gracious queen again with tears in your eyes, you feel Toto's, (you know it's his) hand on your hip, pulling you closer to his warmth.

"My office, 10 minutes. Special celebration." He leans down and whispers. You shudder at his words and nod approvingly, crossing your legs in order to avoid your wet patch growing in your panties from soaking through your tight jeans.

Special celebration was the phrase you and Toto used when either of you wanted to do consensual non concent, you had other phrases for other activities too. You found it effective and safe, knowing that Toto wouldn't do anything unless you gave him permission.

You walk up the stairs to his office, and take a few deep breaths, bracing yourself for what's to come.

As you walk up to his office, you knock. No answer. Another knock. You look around, confusion evident on your face. You pull on the door handle and the door slides open. Slowly, you walk into the room with light steps, looking around for signs of Toto.

Suddenly, a hand is wrapped around your mouth, leaving you at the mercy of the unknown person. You hear the man kicking the door shut and fidgeting with the lock. When you get a whiff of his cologne, you recognize it as Toto's, and you instantly relax in his grasp. You definitely felt safe with the man, having set boundaries early on in your relationship.

He picks you up with one arm and throws the pens and papers on his desk to the floor, placing you down instead. He quickly pulls his already unbuttoned shirt off and ties it around your wrists, leaving you at his mercy. He makes quick work of your jeans, pulling them down your slender legs, and accidentally rips your shirt open, having no time to unbutton it.

He moves his gaze and fingers down between your legs and feels your wetness through your panties. He lets out a low grunt at the feeling, knowing that he did this to you, he had this effect on you and your sopping pussy.

Then he turns you around, with your back to him leaving your ass exposed. He starts caressing your ass cheeks, parting them, taking a look at your asshole and pussy from this perspective. The feeling is ecstatic and you buck your hips in order to relieve the desperation you're feeling. You stop immediately when you feel a nasty slap on your left buttcheek.

"Stop that immediately." He growls in your ear, and slaps your right cheek to make it even.

You hear the clinging of his belt and you swear you could cum then and there.

"What are you doing to me?" You ask with a innocent face.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, hmmm? I need you to just take it."

As you feel his rock hard member between your lips, you shudder, knowing that you're gonna be in pain in a minute. He slides it up and down a couple of times, collecting your slick and teasingly pressing his tip into your small hole.

You cry out brokenly, sobbing in pain. Toto gives you no time to adjust to his size and starts pumping you without mercy.

"Toto... Hurts-" You manage to get out from your wide open gape.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and take my cock?" He asks, making sure you're okay with it at the same time.

"I'm going to be a good girl, Toto." You confirm. His pace is unforgiving and you can't help flinching away from him in pain. "Please Toto, stop, it hurts!" You try to make him stop.

He pulls out, taking you by surprise. Afraid that he'd taken your words literally, you look back at him. He looks back at you and tuts as he pulls your black lace panties down your legs. When his cock finds its way inside you again you let out an audible grunt. Toto stuffs your panties into your mouth, using it as a gag, as he's tired of hearing your pleads.

He's just here to take what's his, and he will get it. His pace quickens when he feels your pussy tightening, which only means that you're getting close to that sweet release.

"Cum for me, schatzi. Be a good girl for me." He pleads, out of breath.

His words push you over the edge and you feel Toto's hands around your neck and mouth, doing his best to silence you. Toto enjoyed the challenge of fucking in his office, knowing that his employees were walking by right outside. And honestly, you enjoyed it too, even if you never thought you would.

And just like that, his impending orgasm was triggered by your tightening walls around his pulsating cock and he filled your cunt up with his white cream. He pressed all of him inside of you, wanting his cum to reach as far inside as possible.

You collapsed on his desk together, tired from the days events. Toto let's out a sigh of content. "I hope I didn't hurt you?"

You giggle. "I won't be able to walk for days!"

"That's okay... I can carry you." He softly kisses your temple.

#fan fic #fic writing #f1 fic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula one #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #lewis hamilton #toto wolff #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff smut #toto wolff fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1

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estrellami-1 · 5 months ago

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Steddie Week 2024

July 1st Prompt: Secret Relationship

Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

@steddie-week

Part of what drew Steve to Eddie was his dramatics. His charisma, his hands flying everywhere, his bright, happy smiles and dark, narrowed eyes. His penchant for pulling a strand of hair in front of his face when he was embarrassed.

Eventually Steve learned he also pulled out that little trick when he’s turned on at an inopportune time.

They’re halfway through a movie in his trailer when he pulls a strand across his face, practically chewing on it as his gaze stays on the screen.

Steve snickers, breaking his concentration. “Really, babe?”

Eddie sends him a startled look, blinking a few times. “What?��

“What about this has you turned on?”

Eddie turns the color of a fire truck. Steve can’t look away. “It’s not- I didn’t- it’s not really that,” he mutters, looking down and shifting in his seat. “My brain ran off again.”

Steve puts a couple fingertips on Eddie’s jaw, gently guides his head up and over to look at Steve. He kisses him, hums when Eddie falls into it like he knew he would. “Tell me,” he murmurs, voice low.

Eddie swallows. “Um,” he says. “Okay, so it is kinda that? I was just thinkin’, like, how- how protective you are? And how you’d willingly do that? And how you kinda already do. For me. Because you think…” his throat clicks. “Because you think I’m worthy of it.” He shifts again, blush coming back full force. “And, uh, I was kinda remembering last time someone said something to me, and how you handled it, and fuck, Stevie, I was scared at the time so I didn’t really, like, process? But that was hot as hell, sweetheart-”

Steve pulls him into a kiss, laughing into it a little. “So if I were to say you’re not subtle in the least, and I already knew you like when I get like that, and if I maybe play it up a little for you-”

“Get your pants off,” Eddie says seriously, grabbing at the hem of Steve’s shirt. “Stevie, baby, I’m so serious, help me out here-”

They’re halfway through shedding clothes when the trailer door opens to reveal Wayne. He blinks, surprised, then turns around to shut and lock the door. “If I could see neither of you naked, that’d be ideal.” He sighs again as they scramble to put their clothes back on. “How long has this been happening?”

Eddie’s voice is small when he answers. “Um. Seven months?”

Wayne does the math. “Since you woke up.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Y’all decent?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turns to face them, raising a brow at the way Steve seated in front of Eddie, protectively. He watches the way Eddie tugs his hand, the way Steve turns to pay attention to him while keeping his eyes on what he deems the threat—Wayne. “He’s not gonna do anything,” Eddie murmurs.

“Like hell I’m not,” Wayne grumbles. “Imma get a beer. I’ve been waitin’ for the two o’ ya to get your heads outta your asses an’ you’re tellin’ me it’s been done for months already?” He shakes a teasing finger at Eddie. “You gotta tell me these things, boy, I ain’t no mind reader.” He grabs the beer, collapses onto his chair with a sigh. “Long as you don’t have sex anywhere I got reason to be, I don’t much care what you do,” he says, popping the can open. “‘M happy for you,” he says finally, softly. “I know why you didn’t tell me, folks can be stupid and blind when it comes t’this. Long as y’know y’got me on your side.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers, looking close to tears. Steve reaches for his hand, watching Wayne with an indescribable look on his face.

Wayne nods at him. “Y’love my boy?”

He watches as Steve takes a breath, centers himself. “Yessir.”

“Wayne. Sir was my fucko of a father.” He tilts his head at Steve. “I reckon y’know what that’s like.”

Steve nods. “I do… Wayne.”

Wayne nods back. “Good. So y’love him. I can tell from your eyes I ain’t gotta tell you what’s gonna happen if he breaks your heart.”

Steve shakes his head. “Whatever I end up doing to myself will be much worse than anything you can throw at me.”

Wayne nods. “Welcome to the family. In this house, sex happens in Eddie’s room or not at all.”

“Or the shower,” Eddie mutters, and Wayne rolls his eyes.

“Theodore Wayne-”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, but his grin says he’s not very sorry. Damn boy’s gonna be the end of him one day, he’s sure of it.

“An’ y’all know how t’be careful,” he surmises, “seein’ as how you been seein’ each other for the better part of a year an’ I’m jus’ now findin’ out about it.” He nods, thinks through the points he want to bring up. “I reckon if you can keep it down, it can happen while I’m home, but seein’ as the walls are made of damn cardboard, we’ll have to see ‘bout that one. Might hafta get earplugs or somethin’.”

That’s it, he thinks, so he turns to Steve. “Y’catch the game on Sunday?”

Steve’s eyes light up even as Eddie groans and tries to get his boyfriend up from the couch. “Okay, Wayne, thanks for not hating us, but we were kinda in the middle of something-”

“You can wait,” Steve says dismissively, pulling him back down on the couch. Wayne would say something, but he can see the way Eddie’s pupils dilate, even from way over here, and he takes a drink of beer instead. Some things don’t need to be voiced.

He thinks through everything they’ve said, everything their body language has said even when their mouths haven’t. “You haven’t told any of your friends yet.”

Steve and Eddie exchange a look. “Robin knows,” Steve admits. “Pretty much the moment it started. But no one else does.”

Wayne hums, takes another sip. “And what’s that Mayfield girl think about your car bein’ here at all hours of the day an’ night?”

Steve and Eddie exchange a look. “We… don’t know, actually.”

“Well, I suggest you tell her somethin’ soon.”

Steve nods, biting his lip. Eddie’s still lost in thought. “We will,” he says, shifting. “Um. Thank you for being so… understanding.”

“Well, considerin’ I don’t gotta get my hands dirty tryin’a get you two together, I’d say it worked out rather well, all things considered.”

Steve snickers. “I agree.”

Wayne nods to the TV. “What’re you watchin’?”

Steve blinks, like he’d just realized the TV was even on, and chuckles. “I have no idea,” he says honestly.

Wayne nods. “Grab a beer,” he suggests. “I’ll turn on baseball.”

Eddie groans. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Bring your campaign binder out here.”

“Fuck off!” Eddie calls from his room.

Steve snickers. “He was already planning on doing that.” He cracks open his beer. “Who’s on?”

#steddieweek2024 #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #secret relationship #starambles

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trulyhblue · 11 months ago

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Baby England

Lionesses x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x reader (platonic).

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, coarse language, school, young reader.

A/N — still can't get over Sam's ACL. Like I woke up just to cry? No, thank you.

Masterlist

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The Games Room was quiet for what seemed to be the first time ever. The team was sprawled throughout the room, some of them on their phones, others by mountains of pillows. Georgia and Keira were in the indoor pitch juggling with one another. Alex was having a soft conversation with Hempo, laughing at something one of them had said.

The serenity of the room was something you didn't catch often. Usually, the hustle of the team would echo across the walls, loud pints of laughter and screaming coming from one corner of the room to the other. Lucy was often yelling at Mario Kart, and Ellie was always strutting around Table Tennis in triumph, while everyone else grumbled on about how she was too good.

But for now, it was silent, save for the low conversations from the different groups. Even Lessi and Tooney were keeping in check, sharing a rocking chair with mounds of blankets hauled over the top of them.

For anyone else in the room, it would've been extremely relaxing.

For you, it was anything but.

You wanted to snap your pen in half, feeling the fatigue of yesterday's game daunting on your muscles. The words on your laptop were dancing behind the blur of your eyes. You struggled to stay concentrated as Leah sat next to you, taking her eyes off her phone every once while to make sure you were actually doing your homework.

The Euros were speeding by quicker than any of you could imagine. The outcome of your results, and the number of fans that had started to compile over the weeks, was indescribable. This was your debut camp for the Lionesses, and while you spent most of your time on the bench, making late appearances in the 70th minutes of games, you wouldn't change it for the world.

However, with all the excitement and privilege that came with representing your country in such a prestigious competition at Sixteen, you were faced with the challenge of keeping up with school.

When you first signed with the Lionesses, your parents were determined to keep you in school. Your education was very important, and if football ever ended badly for you, they wanted you to have something to fall back on. Growing up through the youth groups, and developing skills in the Arsenal Academy, you were used to the physical and emotional demands of a professional football career. Your parents were incredibly supportive of your dream to play, but their underlying worry when you were called up to the National Team was daunted on them.

So, to make everyone happy, you decided to take on the complicated challenge of juggling both football and school. This meant that in your spare time, all you did was study for exams, take the exams, and then study for the next one. It was an endless cycle of school and work, but you knew that it would be all worth it in the end.

The worst thing about it was that none of the girls were your age. Some of them had Uni work to do, but you were still mastering high school subjects. The workload wasn't nearly as draining, and they seemed to have it all sorted out in a few short hours while you were spending all of your extra time peeling away your useless worksheets, essays and papers.

Lots of the girls were lenient. None of them liked the idea of you cooped up in front of a screen. Hempo would buy you some crisps from down the road. Mary would make TikToks with you, Beth would scoop you up for cuddles and a movie. LJ would pull you away for Mario Kart. All the girls believed that you needed a break, especially in such a stressful time.

But Leah was the exact opposite.

You had known Leah since you were seven. You had met her during one of your Arsenal Youth games, immediately looking up to her as an older sister and role model. Even as a teenager, Leah holds a protective arm around you. She was always ready to defend you on the pitch, not only as a Captain, but as a friend. She wasn't afraid to put you in line — she was the only one who could send you running laps if you were too cheeky. She was strict, especially when you parents weren't there to boss you around, and everyone knew that her authority over you was nothing to debate.

You were training with the Arsenal Women's Team while you were still at the Academy. You're not quite sure why you were chosen in the squad, as you struggled to believe you made the cut at such a young age, but the England Captain didn't hesitate to make you put in the work.

She was a bit like your agent, always persuading you to do something when you weren't sure what to do yourself. You still weren't signed with a WSL team, but as the Euros progressed, teams from everywhere were banking up to sign you as soon as possible. You tried hard not to delve too deeply into it. You knew Arsenal was a main contender, and that's where you most wanted to go, but your focus right now was the Euros... and the essay in front of you.

"C'mon, get it done," Leah ordered, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, her hand carrying the weight on her head against the desk. You had been sitting there for over an hour, a total of one paragraph typed out on your screen. Outside, you could see Beth and Lotte playing Basketball. You threw your head backwards, groaning in respite. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing.

"No use whining about it." She spoke, still not looking at you. "'Might as well smash it out now so it's done."

"'Dunno what to write about." You grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets. You managed to slip a glance towards Esme, feeling your hopes lift up when she gave you a knowing nod.

But of course, Leah caught the interaction. "Hempo, no." She snapped, sending the Forward back to her seat. "You don't get crisps when you've done nothing to deserve it."

"Leah-"

"-Get on with it."

You slouched back into your chair, making sure your Huff was loud and overly obnoxious. Leah had no reaction, leaning back in her chair, and continuing to scroll on her phone.

"Y/N." She murmured in warning.

When you made no effort to keep going, she finally looked at you.

You could tell she was over it. She wasn't obliged to sit with you, but it was an unspoken rule that she did, otherwise, you would never get it finished. The older woman secretly felt bad for making you do it. If it was her choice, you wouldn't be doing school during the tournament. She understood your reluctance, but both of you could guess the consequences of your actions if you weren't handing it in.

"You've got half an hour." She snapped, her glare darkening. If she wasn't strict now, it'd end badly. "If it's not done, I'll bench you."

From the corner of your eye, you could see Lauren stop her Lego abruptly. Esme was no longer looking at her phone, instead tilting her head away from the tension rising in an attempt to not get involved.

Leah didn't have the power to bench anyone, the older girls knew that. But to your virtue, you thought that Leah was capable of anything. An abuse of power, maybe, but it worked all the same.

You begrudgingly tapped at your keyboard, making a point to roll you eyes when Leah set an alarm for half an hour. You were determined to keep your spot as a preferred sub, refusing to let Leah feel all smug at the fact that you couldn't finish the stupid essay.

Lauren continued on with her Lego. Esme was starting a new bracelet. Beth and Lotte's giggles were drowned out by the determination written all over your face. Without your knowledge, more and more people began to cram into the Game Room. First, Lucy, then Kei and Gee. A few minutes later, Alessia and Ella were doing a TikTok, their voices growing louder as the minutes went by. LJ walked past with confusion written across her features. She leaned over your shoulder, eyes slightly widening at the page full of words. She glanced to Leah's phone and the timer, then at Leah, who was staring off into the distance.

By five minutes left, you had written nearly two whole pages. Your hands were cramping, and your feet couldn't keep still. Chloe and Katie were surrounding you behind LJ, waiting for you to snap out of your trance and notice the crowd that had complied.

You were reading over your final sentences when the door crashed open, revealing Millie and Rach running in frantically with a cameraman hot on their trail. Their presence was so boisterous that everyone stopped to see who it was, watching in curiosity when the two women started searching the room.

"We need the Baby!" Millie screamed, scrambling onto the floor to check underneath the lounge. "We need the baby!"

Rachel was running to the bean bags, dashing past Lucy, Keira and Georgia playing Mario Kart. Everyone laughed in amusement at the cameraman struggling to keep up with the two of them.

"Where is she?!" Rach screeched at Esme and Lauren, ignoring the fits of giggle the pair were in. "Where's the baby?"

"Over here, idiots," Zelem stated, causing both their heads to dart in your direction. The girls surrounding you were quick to scatter, knowing the wrath of the two women was not something easily escapeable. Millie was about to yank you from under your shoulders when Leah moved in front of you, her prior amusement halting, replaced with her usual sternness.

You were closing your laptop at the sight of the camera, beaming at the thought of freeing yourself.

"Not now, Bright," Leah uttered, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair. "She's got school."

Instead of leaving you be, the duo closed in on you, beckoning the camera over to your work sprawled across the table.

Both of them held tiny mics, holding them up to their mouths as they spoke.

"Here we've got the Arsenal Protege in her natural habitat. Born and raised in red, she seems to be researching ways to leave."

"Both Arsenal and Leah."

Leah's face contorted into deep offence. "Hey!"

"Yes, it appears she is." Rachel nodded vigorously, picking up your book, pretending to read it. "She has written down Aston Villa as her top contender. Not only is she fast, but smart too."

Millie hugged you from behind. "But we all know what side of London she's thinking of, isn't that right? Smart, little, blue she'll be, am I right, Williamson?"

The camera panned to Leah, who was not looking at all amused. The thought of you being at any other club felt absolutely gut-wrenching to her. Like her, you had grown up bleeding in North London. She wouldn't trade any other player twice as good as you if that meant you'd stay. But while she'd never admit it, Leah wasn't worried about you leaving Arsenal. She was more worried that you'd leave her.

"Over my dead body." She snapped, wrenching the Chelsea woman's arms away from you, swerving your chair back to face your laptop. "Now, off you go, she needs to get this done."

"I've finished it, Lee." You muttered, feeling embarrassed at the fact that fans would prune over the way you were bossed around. When it came to your figure in the media, it was mainly regarding your blamelessness in comparison to your more experienced teammates. You were often babied by the girls, and fans adored the interactions you would have with them, especially with Leah.

Your Captain looked at you, crossing her arms. "You promise me you're done?"

"Promise." Your cheeks heated as the snickers fell from Daly's lips. You nodded, slowly inching off your seat. "Please, Lee, I've been stuck here for hours."

"Yeah, c'mon, Williamson, let her come to the dark side." Millie barked, causing Leah to grumble at the notion.

It took her a few moments to decide whether or not to let you go, huffing in defeat when she turned off her phone. "Fine. But no Chelsea or Villa talk, swear to Go—"

You were off before she could finish her lecture. Millie had picked you up, lifting you over her shoulders as Rach followed behind. The three of you ran into the indoor training pitch, with the poor cameraman following after you hopelessly.

When Millie plopped you down, you engulfed the warmth of someone's lap. You craned your head back to find Jordan looking back at you, her beady, toothy grin beaming back at you. The Arsenal midfielder wrapped her arms around you as you made the effort to snuggle into her body. Jordan was like your second mother when you were away from home. She was an ongoing support that wore her heart on her sleeve. She was different from Leah's opposing relentless, being more of a calm before the storm, less sentimental but effusive nonetheless.

You were supposed to be Jordan's substitute during your time at the Euros, but her knee injury had ruled her out. Therefore, the woman was only there when the squad wasn't training.

You noticed the multiple cameras surrounding the couch you were all squeezed on, but the attention felt a little less daunting with the comfort of the girls around you.

"We've got some questions for you," Millie spoke, revealing some palm cards from God knows where.

You nodded, keeping your head on Jord's chest. "Ask away."

"Who is your favourite teammate?"

You thought to yourself for a second before shrugging. "Jordan."

Rach scoffed. "Boring."

"Yeah, next!" Millie rolled her eyes. "Who would win in a fight, me or Daly?"

"Why am I answering these?!" You laughed, shaking your head. "You could've asked anyone."

"Those aren't the real questions." Jordan prodded, leading the two women to laugh their heads off at their supposed humour. You looked around at everyone, extremely confused about what you were here for. There were a few PR Managers behind the media setup, all with clipboards in their hands. You managed to catch Jordan eyeing Bright and Daly, squeezing your body a little tighter.

"Yeah, yeah, we're just having a laugh." Mils chortled, straightening up before continuing. "We're to announce that Baby England here has been asked to answer a few questions on behalf of the team."

You watched the centre-back intently. "Why me?"

"Dunno." Rach shrugged, followed shortly by Mil's voice. "Just 'cause."

"Alright, then, by who?"

"God, you'd think with all that schoolwork you'd be a bit brighter."

Jordan huffed from behind you. "Hurry up!"

"Alright, alright." Rachel scoffed, taking out the same cards as Millie had, the England Lioness logo plastered on the back. "So, seriously now, how do you think the Lionesses have worked throughout the Euros?"

You were never the one to be faced with serious questions in interviews. In fact, you had only ever attended one or two. At Arsenal, you were in the Academy, meaning the media surrounding you and your team was very scarce. As a representative of your National Team, the two interviews you had been a part of were your induction and your Player of the Match award at the end of one of the games. You weren't used to being in the spotlight like your England teammates, but you were not opposed to being overshadowed by them either. You knew you had a lot to learn, you were happy to play alongside them.

“Erm, I'm not quite sure.” You posed, blushing at the laughter that followed. “I'm very proud to be a part of it… this is a big opportunity for me, and I'm grateful for having the chance to represent my country.”

“True English,” Mils said fondly, finding the camera with her eyes. “Modest as always.”

Jordan hugged you tighter. “Let her finish, Millie.”

“But I think all of the girls think that, even to a bigger scale than me.” You continued, fidgeting with your hands. “It's a home Euros so… we all want to bring it home. I think that's one of the main contributors — the pressure, but also the idea of winning. We all want our families and country to be proud. So, yeah, and because we all love football. That's a given.”

“That was a bloody good answer, Baby England,” Rach commented. Her hand was rubbing your shoulder, her legs crossed over each other on the lounge. The Defender behind her was smiling, propping herself into a more comfortable position before she spoke.

“Speaking of,” She smirked. “Are you bothered by your nickname ‘Baby England?’ Do you feel a bit bugged by it?”

You giggled into Jordan, your cheeks inevitably heating up. “Erm, yes and no. I mean, I know I'm the youngest but I’ll go back to training and the girls will be teasing me for it.”

“Do you want to stay in the Academy?” Rach asked. “What’s your plans after the Euros?”

“Not sure.” You shrugged. “Hopefully we finish with Gold, that's the hope, obviously. But, I’ll just have to see.”

Both women looked at each other, then the camera, hiding their smiles concurrently. Jordan and you watched in confusion.

“Should we start the list of offers you've got right now?” Daly chortled. “I can think of five on the top of my head.”

“Who’s your top five?” Millie continued, leaning in and mouthing her club Chelsea.

“Leah would kill me!” You laughed, shaking off the question. “I was talking to Lessi and Lotte about the States, cause my parents still want me to have an education. But to be fair, my agent hasn't told me any offers. I don't think she will until the Euros are over.”

“Well, you heard it hear first.” Rachel beamed. “Baby England to Villa!”

The Cameraman was about to end the video when a booming fury echoed from across the room.

All heads turned to an enraged Leah storming over. “I said no Villa talk!”

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yourusername (pretend it's you and Leah)

yourusername — sorry @ rachdaly, no Villa talk

Comments

milliebright — u say nothing about Chelsea, right?

^ leahwilliamson — don't even go there.

lionesses — football’s coming home 🫶🏼

racheldaly — I’ll find a way

^ leahwilliamson — no you won't.

user1 — Leah fighting for Y/N’s spot at Arsenal more than Arsenal themselves LMAO

^ user2 — she really said North London Forever

lottewubbenmoy — Baby England 🫶🏼

alessiarusso99 — beautiful girls

*liked by yourusername, leahwilliamson

User3 — is this an Aston Villa denial confirmation?

^ user4 — I think shes just referencing the YouTube video or Her, Jordan, Mils, and Rach.

^ user5 — shes got all these offers, who knows

^ user3 — she practically confirmed she was going to North Carolina in that video tho

^ user4 — 🤷‍♀️ you could say that is is an Arsenal Confirmation since Leah’s in it. Fr tho idk.

Leahwilliamson — my 🌟 girl

^ user6 — their friendship is so cute

User7 — All these clubs want her, WHERE WILL SHE GO

^ yourusername — 👀

^ user7 — STOP DO NOT DO THIS TO ME

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