#this was also expression practice. woo. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maxlarens · 6 months ago

Note

I got a lot to say so it might be long,

starting with, thank you for the Charles smau and the Lando fic <3

it took me time to choose an emoji lol but I've been doing an internship and time goes by way too quickly, but I decided to go for the strawberry one 🍓

and since you said you wanted to write for driver! reader, and that she was very intense about driving, maybe you can write something about her racing while she's sick/not feeling well but she still wins the race

woo hi again!!! literally no big deal! i hope ur internship is going well, it’s awesome that you’re doing one!! but yeah literally real life is always the priority as much as i’d also like to spend all my time on here lol. but anyway yay the strawberry is super cute 🍓🥺

and YES lol driver!reader is consuming my thoughts right now. i have other things i should be writing instead of this but i smashed this out in a few days😭 i decided not to make it a win because i have a thing brewing for driver!readers first win and i didn’t want to use up all my ideas for that. anyway!!! as usual thank u for the ask and pls enjoyyy 🤗

OP: extraordinary machine

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: you push yourself to your limits. (also sorry i simply don't know enough technical terms about racing for this to be fully accurate but i hope it works)

word count: 3.4k+

Here is a fact— you’ve got a fever of 39.4 degrees.

Here is another, indisputable fact— you’re racing in Imola today.

The fever had come on overnight after a persistent tickle in your throat all weekend. A mildly sore throat had turned rapidly to a snotty nose, full body chills and sweat pouring off you like you’d just run a marathon. You’re wearing a puffer jacket over your racing suit and it’s twenty-nine degrees out. You feel freezing, you feel delirious, and you’re eating Sour Patch Kids by the handful to keep the sugar rush going. Your race engineer, Rachel, keeps telling you that it’s okay if you can’t race. George can step in, I promise. You keep telling her I’m fine. I’m fine. I can race. But the expression on her face says she doesn’t believe you.

You’re telling practically everyone who’ll listen that you’re getting in that fucking car today. Rachel, George, your mum who keeps calling. Lewis keeps looking at you like you’re about to keel over and die and you want to scream at him you did this! Brazil 2015. You had a fever. You got on the podium. If I can’t do this and you can, what does that mean? But you don’t because that’s your 39.4-degree fever talking and this isn’t about being better than Lewis. It’s about knowing without a doubt that you can still get in that car and race your ass off.

Your phone keeps buzzing with texts from Susie that reassure you that you’d be disappointing no one at all if you had to let George take over this race. You’re not letting down women everywhere and you’re not letting down the team. I know Susie, you keep saying, but I’m still racing.

You know you’ve got to convince Toto when Rachel starts a hurried conversation with George and he starts grabbing his fireproofs like it’s a sure thing he’ll be driving in your place. Bundled up in your coat like it’s the middle of winter, you stomp over to Toto’s office and barge in.

“I’m racing,” you tell him without any preamble.

His head snaps to look at you, expression only mildly surprised— not that you would even notice if you didn’t spend so much time around him. He gives you a once over, eyes lingering pointedly on your jacket and then he raises his eyebrows, “It is twenty-nine degrees outside.”

You suck your teeth in frustration, “I know. The car will be hot. I can race.”

He frowns.

You plead, “Toto. Do not take me out of that car. I can do this.”

He shakes his head, “I can see you sweating from here. You’re not well.”

You shake your head frantically, ignoring how your vision starts spinning, “Let me race. If I fuck up you can put George in the car for Monaco. If I fuck up you can even replace me. I don’t care. Just let me drive today.”

Toto’s face pinches in the way it does when he’s considering something, you can see cogs turning in his head as he evaluates what you’ve said and decides if he should listen to it.

He sighs, “I am not putting that kind of ultimatum on you,” your heart stutters and stops in your chest, and you hold your breath, “Okay. Against my better judgement, I will let you race today.”

You let out an audible breath, it edges out into a sob that makes your aching body curl into itself. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes for a moment to suppress the urge to give in to your fever. It would be easier to give up, it would be easier to let George take your seat for the race so you could crawl into bed and cry the fever out. But none of this has ever been easy for you. You’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, you won’t forfeit a race and let people say you took the easy way out.

You look up. Toto looks concerned.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

You practically stumble onto the asphalt before the national anthem, passing your coat off to Rachel while your trainer wipes your forehead with a towel as if you’ve just finished a full-body workout. Your shoulders feel tense, you can’t stand up straight without shuddering so you’re hunched over awkwardly hoping it doesn’t come off looking too strange.

People are still milling about, setting things up while the drivers assemble. You don’t really notice on account of the fever state you’re in, but you end up standing between the McLaren boys. You must brush against Oscar because he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a line and his eyes wide like a puppy dog. You get lost in them a little— because of the fever. Definitely.

“Dude,” Oscar says to you, “You’re really hot.”

On your other side, Lando breaks into a fit of laughter. You frown, your brain trying the puzzle through the sentence. You feel foggy, your eyes feel heavy. You need more Sour Patch Kids, or a shot of espresso, or five Red Bulls. Max could swing it for you.

Oscar leans past you and swats at Lando’s shoulder, “She’s burning up, stupid.”

Lando’s laughter pauses, and he says seriously, “Oh shit.”

Suddenly, you’re being twisted around and you’re wincing at the contact on your shoulder that makes it ache even more. Lando puts a hand on your forehead and then immediately rips it away.

“Eugh. You’re sweaty.”

The back of Oscar’s hand replaces it. You twist away, brushing it off.

“You’ve got a fever,” he tells you, his voice thick with concern for you, “Have you told anyone? Does Toto know? Lewis?”

Instead of answering you press a hand over your eyes and crack your neck, trying to work through some of the stiffness in your back. You roll your shoulders and stand up as straight as possible, pushing through that aching, sickly feeling that runs through your whole body. When you finally drag your hand from your face— a thin sheen of sweat coming with it— Oscar is staring at you with a deep-set frown on his mouth. At his shoulder, Lando looks at you with a markedly less severe, but still concerned, expression.

“I’m fine, Oscar,” you insist.

You’re not. He knows you’re not. It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to seem weak. Not barely thirty minutes before the race. You can’t have either of them thinking you’d be easy for an overtake or that you’ll back out of a fight first. Off the track, fine— you’ve been vulnerable and honest with both of them at times. On the track is a different story. This is Formula One. You’re not here to make friends. They are not here to make friends.

“Mm,” Oscar hums, “Pretty sure you’re not.”

“You’re sweating bullets,” Lando adds, “Can see it from here.”

Something white-hot and pissed off flares up your spine. Oscar is not this kind of person, even on track; but the suspicion that he’s just trying to eliminate you as competition rises anyway. You think it because if the situation were flipped, you’d be weighing the pros and cons of having a sick driver on the track. Their weaknesses, what it means if they’re distracted. It doesn’t make you a good person, but you’re already pretty sure you aren’t one.

“I am fine,” you bite.

Oscar’s expression drops. Into something not quite offended… accepting, maybe? Resigned? It closes off to you, is what you mean. That’s fine, you’re trying to close yourself off to him. You’re re-drawing a line that you’ve been crossing without a thought for at least two years now. You’re not here to make googly eyes at Oscar and let him put his hand on your fever-ridden forehead and have him reprimand out-of-line, so-called professionals for you. You’re here to get in that car every Sunday and put your life on the line for a shiny trophy and fucking glory. Even if you’ve got a fever. Even if you’ve got a weird crush on Oscar Piastri.

“I’m racing,” you add in a different tone, feeling as if you’ve been a bit harsh on a well-meaning Oscar, even if you mean what you’re thinking.

Oscar nods, and says, “Okay,” in a way that really means, ‘If you say so, then it is’.

In the car, on the tarmac, sitting in your starting grid position, you’re shitting bricks.

Your cheeks are squeezed tight into your helmet, you can feel sweat, slick and soaking through your balaclava. Your arms hurt, your legs hurt, your ass hurts where it’s pressed into the seat. You’re not crying, but your mouth— hidden away by your helmet— is open like you’re about to. Set into a grimace that you breathe raggedly out of. Toto says something over the radio before the lights go out, you don’t hear it. You’re too busy regretting how earnestly you’d begged him to let you race. It would have been better if George had taken over. It might have been better if you’d passed out during the national anthem so you really had no choice but to sit it out. No one could say you weren’t committed to this sport if that had happened. They’d have plenty to say about women and their weak constitutions though.

You’re on autopilot when the lights go out. One second you’re freaking out like it’s your first time in a car, the next second everything is fading into background noise and you’re fighting a Ferrari and a McLaren for your original grid position. Twenty of you tear down the straight to turn two and you find yourself slotting easily into what you think is P4. Ferrari— not the same one— in front of you. Your mirrors reveal the McLaren behind you. It’s Oscar, you’re sure. You can tell by the way he sticks to your ass. Every nudge of the car you make he makes with you.

You press the radio button, “That Piastri behind?”

Crackle, “Yeah.”

“Knew it. He’s up my butt, Rach.”

“Okay. Go faster then. Not sure what to tell you.”

You make a face. You weren’t looking for sarky advice, you were trying to commiserate. You press the button and make a vaguely mocking neh-neh noise that gets a laugh and then radio silence because you’re supposed to be fucking concentrating. Which, okay, fair.

You press the throttle, done with trying to manage your tyres for the moment and taking Rachel’s comment as permission. You tear away from Oscar, stopping his fight to overtake you through the chicane in its tracks. You start slowly gaining on the Ferrari in front of you, its red rear wing growing closer and closer.

“Sainz in front?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” Rachel confirms before rattling off some lap times when you ask for them.

By lap thirty-something, you’re on Sainz’s ass like Oscar was on yours. You’re fighting him through every chicane, threatening him on the straights and generally behaving in a way that you know for a fact is putting him on edge. But Carlos isn’t giving up P3 without a fight.

A safety car goes out around lap forty, and you pit. Everyone ahead of you does as well. Oscar doesn’t, Oscar is lucky to have gone in earlier. Rachel tells you he’d made up four places after being forced to box for some tyre issue. You feel a strange mix of pride and jealousy swirl in your chest as you all file into a discordant line behind the safety car.

Verstappen leads the pack, as per usual. Then Oscar, Sainz and you. Leclerc is behind you, then Lando. You’re in P4, right where you started and right where you’ve been fucking sitting the entire race so far. twenty-five laps to at least make it onto the podium. Then you’ll be happy. Or not quite happy, you’d need pole for that. Content. You’d be content.

Max starts weaving. The safety car goes off and Max keeps you all ready and waiting until the exact millisecond that he decides the race can properly begin again. You hate when he does this— you know that’s exactly why. Eventually, finally, he gets going.

You have to run defence like crazy for a few laps to keep Leclerc behind you until everything is warmed up. The gap widens as you drive. At some point, you stop worrying about the Monégasque so much and focus your attention on car fifty-five like your life depends on it. The laps fly by as time ticks on. Twenty-five to go, twenty, fifteen, ten. You’re back on Sainz’s rear wheel, a gap of 0.2 to 0.3 that’s been consistent throughout this last stretch of the race. You’re watching him like a hawk, waiting for the smallest slip-up to take advantage of. Somewhere you can push, somewhere he’s weak. It’s hard— he’s covering all his bases. Not giving you an inch so you can’t take a mile.

You’re closing in on sixty-four laps— with only three to go— when he gives you that fucking inch. It’s in the first chicane. His wheel locks up, and he jerks the car slightly the wrong way, something like that. You get in his space and you push and he backs out first. You press down on the throttle and rocket past him, shouting FUCK! FUCK YES! to yourself.

P3. P3. God, you hope it’s P3.

You press the talk button, “Rach?”

“Yes, P3,” she barks, “Fucking, focus. Three laps to go.”

Those last three laps of Imola are some of the hardest of your life. Defending against Carlos is a task, of course, but it’s not even that. The sickness starts to creep back into your awareness as the adrenaline that had hit its peak during the overtake starts to subside. Two laps to go and you’re remembering the fever again. The sweat soaking your hair and streaking down the back of your neck. Your whole body is on fire and it aches everywhere. It feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to the inside of your skull. You want so badly to close your eyes and drift away to sleep, but the car is flying through the air demanding your attention with the way it thuds against the track. You’ve got one lap to go and Carlos is on you like white on rice. You can’t afford to make a mistake until you’re firmly over that finish line.

So you don’t. You grit your teeth and you refuse.

Carlos is downright reckless in the last chicane, he tries to bait you by moving to one side and pushing but you’re not going to fall for something like that even if you’re near delirious from the 39.4-degree fever. Though surely it’s higher now, the car temp can’t be helping. You hardly realise you’ve crossed the finish line because you’re thinking so hard about how lightheaded you feel. On instinct, you slow down to a safe speed as Oscar’s McLaren enters your vision, but you think your toes have pins and needles and there’s some feeling tingling up into your shoulders. You blink hard and take a long sip of water so you can make it to the pits before your head starts to spin.

Crackle, “Where are you going? That was P3.”

“Huh?” you realise you’re following the other drivers instead of heading into the pits where you’re supposed to go, “Shit. Sorry.”

You edge back as carefully as you can, avoiding other cars that pass by, lucky you’ve not overshot too far so you can turn into the pits and park your car in front of the P3 sign without going around the entire track. That would be embarrassing. Or that would be more embarrassing than how disgusting you’re going to look when you take your helmet and balaclava off.

Toto, Rachel and a few of your engineers are there to meet you at the barricade when you clamber out of the car, unsteady on your feet. Rachel’s eyebrows are furrowed as she tries her best to smile at you, trying to put on a brave face even though you can tell she’s concerned you’re going to keel over. You brace yourself with a hand against the gate and tear your helmet off, then your balaclava. You’ve never been so fast to put a cap on your head, trying to cover the sweaty mess that is your hair right now.

“That was phenomenal work,” Rachel says, reaching to put a hand on your burning hot bicep, “You look fucking terrible, though.”

You suck in a ragged breath and you nod in agreement, trying to keep the black tinging your vision from taking over completely.

“Get her something to drink,” you hear Toto bark, though it comes to your ears, muffled and staticky.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Until you’re not and your sweaty hand is slipping against the guardrail and your vision is fading into darkness and you’re falling face first into a metal railing. And, and, someone’s got their arm around your middle and you’re not on the ground with your face in the asphalt. You blink, hot tears— from what you assume is exhaustion— burning your eyelids. The arm around your middle is covered in something orange and black… Oscar. It’s Oscar who’s got you propped up, held firm into his body so your legs don’t collapse underneath you. The two of you sway and stumble for a second as you gain your footing back, your vision returning to normal, the buzzing in your ears going away.

“You’re good,” he breathes, “I’ve got you.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine, you attribute it to your current state.

You remember the cameras that are on all of you right now. You try not to look panicked as you step away from him. You try to do it calmly and not frantically like you so want to. Toto has some electrolyte drink held out right in your face and you take it, chugging half of it straight away while you swivel around to face Oscar. You nod, feeling slightly better, but gripping the guardrail tight so as not to repeat earlier.

“Thanks,” you try a smile, but it’s just turning into a grimace because you feel like shit.

Oscar shakes his head, “Don’t mention it.”

“Great driving out there.”

His eyebrow goes up, touching the curl of his hair that peeks out from his cap.

“You’re kidding?” he says, tone laced with amusement.

You frown, which is much easier, “No. You drove great.”

He makes a face like ‘yes, obviously’, but somehow does it in a humble and endearing way that you find you like a little too much. It leaves you confused as to his point.

“No,” he scoffs, “Okay, yes. What I mean is that you just got P3 with a raging fever.”

You purse your lips, countering, “You don’t know I have a fever.”

His tongue darts out to wet his top lip, hiding the small smile that threatens on his face.

He shrugs, “Bit obvious, unfortunately.”

You roll your eyes. You think what he means is it’s a bit obvious because you look like absolute death. There’s probably sweat rolling off you in buckets, your cap is jammed on your head and your hair is probably sticking out at crazy angles. There were dark circles under your eyes before you left for the track this morning, they’re probably ten times worse now. He might also mean it’s obvious from the way your skin is burning hot, like touching a radiator in the middle of winter. Or, perhaps, the way you’d passed out into his arms a few minutes earlier.

You suck your teeth, “Well. I told you I was racing today.”

Oscar nods, biting the inside of his lip, “Yeah. You did.”

There’s more that neither of you are saying. A conversation that you’re trying desperately to have with prolonged eye contact, small little smiles and breaths out through the nose. You think it might be ‘I’m proud of you’ or ‘You’re very impressive and I’m going a little bit crazy about it’. That’s how you feel at least, somewhere in between the fever chills and the urge you’re suppressing to curl into a ball on the tarmac. This is okay, you think. You don’t have to be Oscar’s sworn enemy just because you’re both chasing the win. You can let him worry about you, but make sure he understands he can’t stop you from taking the things that you want. You can say things that mean other things and Oscar can smile at you like it’s something private for just the two of you.

You can be happy with that. Or not quite happy. Content.

🏎️ song inspo (fiona apple my Beloved) -> https://open.spotify.com/track/5h9Iek7Hp9wayRt7fBp7Ab?si=9PnuH5CDSC-qTurLPGiTwg

💫 fill out this form if you want to be added to my tag list: @clowngirlsstuff @leclercsluvs @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @papayamusha @mvk1ma

#🍓anon #oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x driver!reader #oneshots:op81 #driver!reader

704 notes · View notes

azmaranadir · 11 months ago

Note

I've been searching for windbreaker headcanons/smut and I came across ur blog..I love ur writing sm!!😭. And I've also realized that there aren't that much windbreaker content (or I'm maybe looking in the wrong places). I wanted to request Jay Jo smut (I love him😂) if ur not up to it that's totally fine, thank you!

APOLOGY

NSFW 18+ WIND BREAKER, FEM READER X JAY, AGED UP (Even when I think they are like...19?), PIV, SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX, A BIT FLUFF, BEING CALLED LOVE, A BIT JEALOUSY, HEAVY SMUT, SEASON FOUR SPOILERS? JUST A BIT, NOT MUCH...DON'T READ IT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, I'M NOT SPEAKING ENGLISH FLUENTLY

You were not happy, you were angered, maybe a bit jealous, maybe even furious. Your Boyfriend had seen the girl, you very much dislike; naked. Butt naked, He saw her naked body glitter with water, saw more of her than he probably had seen from you. And that was after she was shit-talking you. Calling you a ‘Back seat Princess’ and now she was seen by your boyfriend, Naked, which was enough to make you want to beat the shit out of him and her.

You could be nice, you could sit down for a few seconds and accept the fact that neither of them intended to see the other naked, but you were childish. You want to be childish, you were allowed to be childish.

You deserve it, after all, it was his fault for looking toward Noah during dinner, with blushing cheeks. Which causes Noah to get red too. It was ridiculous, you were close to scoffing like a child, hissing ‘Look a porn if you want to get wet’. But even for that, you were too angered.

“What’s up with you two?” Dom asked, from the opposite side of you two, brow raised confused as he practically saw the tension between you and Jay. Which causes the latter to flinch and you to chew harder on your fish. You could barely contain the sharp, tight smile that you gave him, hissing through your teeth: “Why don’t you ask her.” You forced through your teeth, glaring toward Noah.

“(Y/N),” Jay whispered, probably trying to soothe your anger, however, it did little, on the other hand, it just flued more anger. “Oh, are you on her side now? Huh?” You barked, causing the table to quiet down, Noah turned her head away from you two, hiding her red cheeks with a curtain of her hair. However, it was enough for you to take notes.

“You know what? I am finished.” You cursed, pushing Jays hand away as he tries to stop you, almost running out of the room.

“Did I do something wrong?” Dom asked deadpanned, earning a deadpan expression from Shelly.

------

The door opens behind you with a swift move, causing your shoulders to tensed as you hear the pattern of his feeds against the Tatami mat. “Love?” He called you. Something you were sure he would never say to you or anyone, but you made the impossible possible. Especially when it comes to Jay Jo.

But you were in no mood to be wooed by that pet name, no, you wouldn’t acknowledge the way your shoulders relaxed when he sat down right behind you, how his knee bumped your back and made you arch your back. And especially not when you feel his breath runs down your neck, leaving you trembling.

“No…No! I am angry!” You scold him and yourself, finger pointed at his face as he sighed unsure. “I’m sorry?”

“You have to do much better than this to make me forgive you!” You growl at him, your back turned toward him again, as your fingers went back to fix your bike. It was wrecked a bit during the race against the Kazuma Crew, nothing major to ask Momoko to fix it, but it kept your mind busy, and your fingers from either killing Noah or Jay.

“I didn’t mean to see Noah naked.” Jay apologized, hand moving your hair away, placing his chin on your shoulder. “Who cares! She saw you!”

Jay stopped in his movements, raising a brow.

“Are you jealous that she saw me in only a towel?”

“100 points nerd.” You scoffed, trying to push his face away from your neck, just to be pulled closer to him, and placed on his lap. The only thing that kept you two separate was the thin fabric of those Kimonos. And they did little to stop his dick to pock your back.

“Maybe I know how to apologized probably.”

-------

“Jay—!” you mewled quietly as his hand found his way to your breast, squeezing the flesh, leaving you breathless. You felt his tip bully the your G-spot, leaving you to squeeze around his length, hoping that he could stay like that forever. “D—D—Don’t stop-mngh—!”

“Mhm?” He pressed his chest against your back, his other hand traveling to your pussy, finding the nub of pleasure to rub, leaving you almost sobbing. “Mh? Why should I stop?” He whispered against your ear, lips nibbling on it. He always did it: breast, clit, ear. Breast, clit ear. He was switching between them as if it were buttons to press in a video game. Leaving you quivering and gasping.

You whimpered his name, trying to keep some decent thought, not everyone needs to know what you and he were doing in your room. No one needs to know what kind of Apology he offers you.

The hand that used to fix your bike was now using the bike as the only thing that kept you grounded on earth. Clenching the metal so hard that it could clench. Your pussy trying to adjust to the size of his cock, his length filling you completely. He was so big, so long, he was so much. Your Walls were burning, and it was so fucking hot.

“Will you forgive me, love?” He whispers in your ear, licking and nipping on your earlobe. “Yes! Yes! I—I forgive you—! Fuck—! Just don’t stop! Please don’t stop Jay!” You begged him, as if you were the one needing to apologize, begging him to make you cum.

He pressed his lips against your wet cheek, using his fingers to roll your nipple between them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, pressing your face in the crook of his neck, trying to escape those kisses. “Don’t run away.” He huffed, his hand leaving your clit, to hold your jaw at the right angle, everything to kiss you properly. His fingers were coaxed with your juice, leaving an itchy feeling on your skin.

Your cunt was a mess, your thighs were sticky from the amount of times he had made you cum. Your lips were jutting to follow his messy kisses. He was amused, something you would have noticed if your mind wasn’t so full of him. But how couldn’t you? How could you not let your mind get filled by him? When he so genuinely apologizes to you.

“I’m yours…” He whispered.

You took your lower lip between your teeth, nodding your head with your eyes wide open. Loving the way his hair stuck to his forehead, how his cheeks were so sweet pink, and his lips swollen just like yours, from all the kisses. God you love him so much.

“Mine,” you breathed out, trying to meet his thrusts, “Y—Your mine, n—not Noah! Your mine, J— Just mine,”

Jay gave a stoic hum, letting you press your ass on him and swallow his dick whole, his tip pressing against the deepest part of your body. He didn’t even need to hold your waist, he was so good at fucking you with no hands, allowing him to use his hands to pleasure you in other places that would make you lose your mind. “Yours,” slap, “Yours,” slap, “Yours—” slap, “Alone.” He grunts out.

His hand on your breast went back to your mind, as he pulled on your nipples, watching how your lips open to let a loud moan out. You fit in so perfectly in his hands, with your body arching, to search after his hands, then he felt you clenching around him even more, encouraging him to continue his abuse of your nipples.

“Come on love, you will cum for me, right?” He grunts, kissing your lips again, leaving enough spit on them to watch it roll down your jaw to your collarbone, drenching the collar of the kimono. In the heat of the moment, neither of you thought to take it off, only to push it aside. But he likes it: how the kimono barely hides something, and the only thing that kept it together was the small cloth belt that kept it bound around your waist.

Your cunt clenched, chest heaving at the greed in his gaze, his question so hard to understand with the way he filled you to the brink. You only could let out moans and whimpers.

“Right?”

Jay pulled himself away, punished you for not answering him immediately. Your pussy already clenching around nothing, trying to get him back in. Even when his size was stretching you so hard that it could break. You love this burning sensation.

You could feel your back arching, Eyes wide with tears. “Yes! Yes! So close Jay! Ju—Just don’t stop! Please you said you want to apologize! Your mine! Please make me yours too!” You whimper, ass rubbing against him, seducing him to get back in to make you cum.

“You are already mine, love,” he snickered, mouth pressed against your lips again, and swallowed your cries greedily. And with a strong thrust, he pushed back in your pussy, leaving a loud slap echo in the room.

And with this one thrust you were already gushing over him, pushed you over the edge so easily, and already forgetting why you were even angry in the first place.

you only knew that you love the way he apologized.

Jay is also my fav Character.

#windbreaker #jay jo #jay jo x reader #windbreaker smut #jayjosmut #jay x reader smut

406 notes · View notes

wonryllis · 1 year ago

Text

ENHYPEN MEETING THEIR LONG DISTANCE S/O FOR THE FIRST TIME.

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅.

( NOTES. ) enhypen as eager ducklings. fluff. fem!centered. revamp. lowercase intended. 1036wc. from my old acct. 𓈃 ๋ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ LEE HEE-SEUNG. 이희승 spends the entire time after you tell him you’re coming in writing a perfect song for you. barely gets a blink of sleep the night before, keeps tossing and turning every second quite literally. re-reads your text conversations, and looks at the photos and videos of you that you shared. at the airport he has a board with your name in case you don’t recognize him with his mask on, his doe eyes are all wide to spot you from far away. honestly has probably learned half of the whole of your language to impress you. when you reach and he sees you, boy doesn’t even wait already rushing to hug you. cries as he rocks your body side to side and on the way back home keeps looking at you.

"you mean so much to me, i don't think i can stay away from you anymore,"

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ PARK JONG-SEONG. 박종성 gets and gives himself countless peptalks on how to not have an embarrassing episode. chooses his outfit, perfume, shoes, accessories everything he will have on very very carefully. is nervous to the point of pissing his pants, but forcefully keeps on a calm composure. he just wants to look perfect for you. definitely buys a sweet gift, and has it covered in a pretty wrapper with a handwritten letter inside. looks like a model waiting for you, hands in his pocket as he stands all tall with a cold expression. but the image is gone the moment you arrive, as he melts and gives you a big long kiss. holds onto your hand- has your fingers intertwined the whole ride back home.

"having you by my side is like the greatest gift ever, i hope i always have it,"

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ SIM JAE-YUN. 심재윤 is nervous since day one after he got to know you’re coming to meet him. calls you every night to talk about what you’re gonna do when you’re here. flirts a lot saying now that you’ll be together in real life for some time, he’s going to take full advantage of it. updates you on his every action on the day of your arrival even though he knows you can’t check your phone. takes out time to learn his favorite endearment terms in your language so that he can make you feel special. also please he’s not waiting, as soon as you’re in his line of sight, he’s sprinting to you, picking you up and twirling you in a hug like in the movies. attached at the hip to you the whole entire time. gives tons & all types of kisses until the day of your return.

"you're so much prettier in person, so beautiful and all mine,"

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ PARK SUNG-HOON. 박성훈 wakes up early to stand in the line and buy your favourite food from your favorite place. has all the members gathered to help him decide what he should wear, nitpicks on every detail. practices everyday what all he wants to say to you face to face, probably changes the wordings a lot. yet forgets everything when he lays his eyes on you as you come running to him. stumbles back a little before holding you tight against him. whispers how he missed you, almost cries, eyes brimming with tears and shuttering when trying to speak. stealing glances, and looking away smiling all shy now that you’re going to be next to him for a while. cannot for the love of god make eye contact, he malfunctions.

"you have no idea how much i love this right now and how much i love you,"

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ KIM SUN-WOO. 김선우 excited from the very beginning, prepares something handmade to give you. almost everyone he knows closely, knows that you’re coming, he just can’t stop talking about it. everyone at the airport can already guess that he’s waiting for someone special. practically screams your name before you run to each other and he’s squishing you a bone tight hug. showers your entire face with kisses, while squealing and asking if this real and you’re actually here. for sure you both cry saying how much you wanted to meet and now, finally. he absolutely cannot stop giggling and smiling with his eyes the entire time of your stay. does not bother acknowledging anyone that's not you.

"your smile is so cute, i feel so lucky to be the one you smile at,"

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ YANG JUNG-WON. 양정원 spends the entire morning at the flowershop picking out the perfect bouquet to show his love for you. also buys these little couple bracelet set he came across on the way to the airport. probably has a serious talk with heeseung or jake the night before. you bet jungwon's secretly learnt your language, has a big speech prepared in it. waits at the airport terminal looking like a soft bunny, breathing calm but exploding inside. noticing your figure, excitedly walks to the other side of the barrier, calling out your name with a smile. gives you the flowers then holds both of your hands as he speaks, small tears dropping. kisses your eyes when you start crying too.

"you're beyond precious to me, it feels like i'm addicted to you,"

𝒢𝓁𝒸 ─ NISHIMURA RI-KI. 西村力 so nervous he thinks he'll pass out any moment. asks for all kind of advice from everyone he knows and notes it down on his notes app. acts out a fake scenario in his head of how he's going to jump you, hug the hell out of you, pepper you with kisses and absolutely make it so cute without crying. but the moment he sees you, poor baby starts sobbing like anything. it's so overwhelming, walks up to you in quick steps and pulls you into a tight hug. nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, apologizing for 'ruining' this but he just so happy that you're here. after he's calm down it's just a shy boy. takes you both a while to get rid of the shyness but it's all really cute honestly.

"no one has ever made me feel the way you do, you're really my special person,"

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat . .

#enhypen imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunoo imagines #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen riki #enhypen oneshots #enhypen series #enhypen angst #wonryllis

721 notes · View notes

kitasgloves · 1 year ago

Text

I'm in love with you

next track

— ♬ how haikyuu characters would tell you they're in love with you

— ♬ SFW, fluff, gn reader, no beta

— ♬ Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama was not familiar with romance, it was entirely foreign to him. He doesn't understand how people gain feelings for each other. He can't comprehend the enjoyment of having someone in your life. He thinks romance is trivial and doesn't bother associating with it. But as the typical turning point of every romance novel, someone was there to prove him otherwise.

You were in contrast to the setter. You met each other on your first day as the official manager of the SCHWEIDEN Adlers. Kageyama was curious about you. The sense of responsibility, resilience, and great humor oozed out of you that he can't help but be drawn. You were similar to a familiar orange-haired friend of his, but also different in many ways.

When he exhibited grey, you were bursting with colors. When he shines, you explode with light. When he took your kindness to heart, you brought out the best of him. After a long time of being exposed to you, Kageyama's heart can't help but beat so strongly when he's around you. It beats so strong that he fears he's going to need a second heart.

Kageyama has often thought about the beaming smile on your face, your melodious laughter, your hilarious comments, the scent of your clothes, the warmth of your skin, and the glimmer in your eyes. Kageyama concluded that he was probably going down with something, but what? The symptoms of his rapidly beating heart, his flushed face, and his antsy fingers are only present when he's around you. What the hell could this be?

"You're in love with [Name], aren't you?"

Hoshiumi teased him during their stretching after a practice match. Kageyama would've been quick to dismiss it with a logical response, but he falls silent and still. Ushijima takes notice.

"Hm, I notice the way you look at them, Kageyama"

"Yeah, you look all dazed and head over heels whenever [Name]'s around"

Their libero, Heiwajima added. Kageyama bites down an annoyed response and just shakes his head.

"I'm not in love with [Name]"

"Yes, you are"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Kageyama was about to smack Hoshiumi on the head when their captain Hirugami stepped in between them with a disappointed stare. Kageyama goes home that day, thinking about his feelings for you. He's come to accept that he has formed some sort of crush on you, but he tells himself that he doesn't want more from you. But as time progressed, these complicated feelings grew, clearly affecting Kageyama even when he was on the court. The coach had to bench him out one time because his performance wasn't up to expectations.

He had to do something about these stupid feelings because he couldn't afford to be constantly benched. Kageyama has thought about what the characters in romance novels do to confront such feelings. They express them through giving gifts and hanging out with their love interest. So, Kageyama copies them.

The setter tries to woo you by giving you small gifts during breaks, making sure he's as subtle as possible. He gains the courage to ask if you want to watch a movie with him. Kageyama thinks he's doing everything correctly when he compares your happy responses to the romance novels he read. As Kageyama grew closer and closer to you, these feelings grew as it began to stress him out.

What in the world is going on with him?

It's like he loses his athletic talents and logical thinking when you come around. It's like you've made him weak when all you did was behave the way you usually do. Kageyama frowns at the thought. What should he do next? In the romance novels, the character confesses their feelings.

Confess your feelings?

Kageyama swallowed as a bead of sweat trailed down his forehead. He thinks he should do it then maybe these feelings would go away. However, as he tries to set this plan into motion, he becomes speechless. The way you gaze at him warmly and tilt your head when he calls your name has his stomach in knots.

"Ne-nevermind"

He would say every time. Kageyama desperately wants to tell you how he feels about you but he can't fucking do it. And the frustration shows especially on the court.

"Ow! What the hell Kageyama!"

Hoshiumi complains as he fails to receive Kageyama's monstrous serve. His teammates have been murmuring how aggressive the setter was lately. They wondered what could have made Kageyama so angry. The coach blows the whistle and instructs them to take five. Kageyama sits down and aggressively wipes the sweat off his face. His eyes land on you handing the team water bottles, his leg bounces as he waits for you to come to him.

"Here you go, Tobio-hmmph!"

Everyone gawked in shock, their jaws dropping on the floor, and some dropping their water bottles. Kageyama has read somewhere in romance novels that characters sometimes confess their feelings with a kiss. So, he decides that if he can't say it, he'll show you instead.

When the setter pulls his lips away, he takes in the bewilderment in your eyes and the pink hue on your cheeks. He inhales and looks at you in the eye.

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

All of a sudden, he can finally say it to you. Everyone cheers and hollers at the confession. The pink hue on your cheeks turned into crimson. You gently peeled yourself away from the setter, trying to come up with a response.

"I-uh, what?"

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

Kageyama repeats. He sees you shield your face as you cutely shied away from him.

"You're joking"

"I am not"

"Oh my gosh"

Kageyama wasn't sure if he was getting rejected or friend-zoned. But as you regained your composure, you surprised him by pulling him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him. At this point, everyone loses it. When you both pulled away, Kageyama turned breathless as he blinked rapidly at you.

"I'm in love with you too, Tobio"

— ♬ Kuroo Tetsuro

Kuroo thinks his job at the JVA in the sports promotion division couldn't get more interesting until you rolled by. Initially, he viewed you as an adorable younger co-worker that he enjoys riling up. He couldn't help it when you gave him the most entertaining reactions. Immediately, the two of you created a bond of making the work atmosphere like a comedy show. Kuroo would purposely say something stupid to annoy you and you'll reply by scolding him or just whacking him on the head.

But under the comedic scene of your work relationship, Kuroo has taken a certain liking to you beyond the teasing remarks. He has grown to show ways in which he cares for you. When he's not being a teasing piece of shit, Kuroo checks on you like asking about your day or if you've eaten lunch. Sometimes he'd drag you to eat lunch with him, he'd even pay for the food. If the two of you were working overtime, he insisted on taking a heavy portion of the work so he could send you home early. When you'd protest, he'd make a clever deal to have you agree. Even the little things like lending you his jacket when you're cold, sharing his umbrella on rainy days when you don't have yours, and walking you home when it's late.

He wonders if you've noticed any of these things, he thinks he shouldn't care but he can't help but seek your reaction. Kuroo was in glee when he found you warming up to him and returning his gestures. You'd bring coffee for him in the morning, you'd share your lunch with him, and even invite him to one of your friends' birthdays. As time escalated, the somewhat relationship once filled with teasing was now replaced with unspoken tenderness.

Kuroo can act dumb and pretend. He can pretend he's not actively seeking you when in a crowded room, he can pretend that your smiles don't make his heart race, he can pretend that he doesn't care about your interests, and he can pretend that he's not falling for you. He would hide everything with his signature smirk and teasing comments, but secretly, he's dying to know if you would reciprocate his feelings.

So, he tries to quietly profess his love through his actions. Kuroo hints at his romantic feelings for you through the mundane things he would do at the office.

"I bought you coffee"

I'm in love with you

"Have you eaten lunch yet?"

I'm in love with you

"Here, you can borrow my jacket"

I'm in love with you

"I'll walk you home tonight"

I'm in love with you

There are times you're only treating every clue as his kindness and it's making his chest tight. Kuroo continues to do everything through his teasing.

"Your shirt looks like a clown vomited on it"

I'm in love with you

"Nice pants, [Name]. Did you steal them from your grandma?"

I'm in love with you

"You have the music taste of an edgy teenager"

I'm in love with you

"I hope no one has a crush on you yet because they're going to be disappointed"

I'm in love with you

You would always respond to his teasings with irritated sounds or physically hitting him. Kuroo was going mad at how every hint was flying over your head. He felt like he wanted to fistfight god. He was hoping, praying that you would take a hint and return his feelings because truthfully he was too scared to tell you.

"Just fucking tell them like the man you claim you are, Kuroo"

Kenma, his best friend, rolled his eyes at him when he told him everything about it. He hates how he was right. He needed to man up and tell you how he's absolutely lovestruck by you. By man up, he means getting drunk during a karaoke with all of his co-workers while singing karaoke. To be fair, the majority of the people were even more wasted than him. You were making fun of his drunken antics, filming them on your phone as blackmail later.

"You're wasted, Tetsu. Let's get you home"

"M'not drunk! Get your ass back here [Name] and dance with me!"

Kuroo pulls you against him and dances along to the sound of your co-worker's singing. You'd snort and laugh at him. He doesn't let you go even at the end of the song, he keeps dancing with you.

"Okay big guy, that's enough"

"You have nice eyes, [Name]"

He slurred and you raised a brow. You chuckled and shook your head, thinking it was just Kuroo being drunk.

"You have the prettiest smile too and the cutest laugh. I just wanna pinch your cheeks and kiss you right on the mouth"

This time you freeze and gaze at him wide-eyed. It may seem that Kuroo was beyond wasted with his drunken smiles and giggles. But you know what they say, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

"...Really?"

"Uh-huh. You put on the ugliest outfits but still look sexy anyway. You drive me crazy, [Name]"

Your heart skips a beat as heat blooms on your cheeks. While your co-workers were still partying, you took the responsibility to bring Kuroo home since he was too intoxicated. Kuroo wakes up on your couch, shirtless with a horrible hungover.

"Here drink some water and take these"

You were suddenly there to hand him some water and pills. Kuroo takes them graciously. You called him over for breakfast as he tried to recollect everything from last night. When he fails to remember what happened after drinking god knows how much alcohol, you'd laugh at him.

"I did something stupid, didn't I?"

"I got a video of it, don't worry"

"Anything else? I didn't throw up on you or something?"

"Not really but you said some interesting things"

And when you told him about everything he told you last night, Kuroo was mortified. His blood was cold but his face was hotter than summer. He watched in pure embarrassment as you sent him a teasing smirk.

"I didn't know you thought of me that way, Tetsu"

"I-I didn't me-mean it, I swear!"

"Aw, that makes me sad"

"God, [Name]"

Kuroo ran a hand up his face to his hair and tugged the roots. He swallows and sighs.

"Fine, I did mean what I said to you last night"

Suddenly, you're speechless. He leans forward, finding the courage to elaborate his feelings to you.

"You always run through my mind, I love the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, and I just..."

Kuroo pauses to catch his breath. You look like you were holding yours as you were waiting for him to finish. He offers you a sheepish smile.

"In summary, I'm in love with you"

It happened in a blink of an eye, you threw yourself unto him and crashed your lips against his. Kuroo can feel his heart go to a screeching halt. But as his eyes fluttered close and his hands found their place around your waist, he returned the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. The moment one of you pulled away, it seemed like the world had stopped.

"God, Tetsu. Here I thought I was an idiot for having a crush on you"

"Well, you still are"

You rolled your eyes and smacked him on the arm as he laughed. Kuroo kissed your cheek and smiled.

"But you're my idiot"

"Shut up and kiss me more"

— ♬ Bokuro Kotaro

Bokuto was naturally a free-spirited man who easily drew people into him and is easily drawn to people. It's mainly the reason why he has gained many friends and acquaintances. Bokuto was also easily intrigued by anything, especially if it was shrouded by mystery that aroused his curiosity. So, it was no surprise when he developed a fascination with you.

In summary, you were working as the MSBY Black Jackal's PR. You were reserved, professional, and oozing with confidence. You quickly gained the respect of both the athletes and your co-workers. Your first encounter with Bokuto wasn't anything spectacular, in fact, the spiker wished he had forgotten about it because it was embarrassing.

He has done something stupid that caused chaos on the internet and local sports outlets. It affected his image and reputation as a promising professional volleyball player, including his team. And as PR, you were tasked to handle it. It was decided that he should make an official statement to clear his and the team's name, so you created a list of do's and don'ts for the athlete's guidelines in formulating his statement and giving him the freedom to construct it.

You discussed with him the guidelines and Bokuto, eager to impress you, nods his head like an excited toddler. He knows he should've listened because all of the guidelines you told him were important yet it flew over his head. Bokuto was distracted by you the entire time you were explaining everything. He watched you like a fascinated owl, taking in your features. From the scent of your hair to your minuscule habits. He imprints your face in his head instead of the guidelines.

Fueled by the rapid beating of his passionate heart, Bokuto goes to make his statement. And it was a nightmare for you working as PR, the only thing that salvaged everything was how charmingly hilarious Bokuto was. It was a headache watching him say inappropriate and unnecessary sentences while live on television. You even considered resigning. However, after the ordeal, Bokuto comes up to you like an energized kid with shining eyes.

"How was it?"

Now, you were blunt. You made no room for sugarcoating your opinions. Yet the way Bokuto waited for your response made you bite your tongue. You sighed and merely gave him a thumbs up. He cheers.

Thinking back at it, Bokuto realizes how dumb he was. But hey, at least he still has his career and survived being canceled on the internet. Everyone was aware of how Bokuto was trying to befriend you, they didn't think much of it because the spiker always wanted to become everyone's friend. Somehow, he couldn't get close to you, or rather, you refused to let him near. It was odd considering that even Bokuto managed to be friends with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

"[Name] probably thinks you're annoying"

Sakusa said one time and it made his hair deflate. He didn't mean to come off as annoying so he tried a much tone-down approach. Bokuto would briefly form conversations with you during breaks, it was mostly about ordinary things like the weather or what you had for lunch. He thinks you're slowly warming up to him by being the first to initiate the conversations. Bokuto's heart flutters at you sharing your interests with him.

He knows things are taking a drastic turn when he finds himself sleepless at night. It was important for an athlete like him to have a good amount of sleep yet he failed to shut his eyes and fall into slumber. Bokuto's head was filled with impossible scenarios, romantic scenarios involving you and him. Bokuto would reach to brush your hair behind your ear, you'll wipe the rice off his cheek, you'll hold his hand, and he'll spin you around. Bokuto's eyes shoot open at the sound of his alarm, he checks the time and realizes he's thirty minutes late.

"Shit! I'm gonna be late for the practice match!"

He thankfully arrives just in time to stretch and play the match. While everyone was making fun of him for forgetting to put his hair up in his usual hairdo, you were giving him concerned glances. This was the fifth time he was late, and his performance on the court was less energetic, and he seemed sluggish too after practice.

"Bokuto"

You called out during the water break. Bokuto flinches but faces you with a bright smile.

"Hey hey hey [Name]! What's up?"

"...Are you okay?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem...tired. Have you gotten enough sleep?"

You watched as he let out a nervous chuckle and it was enough to answer your question. You sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You should prioritize your sleeping schedule because it's affecting your plays. I know I am not your manager in the team but it could seriously affect your image during official matches"

"Right, yeah. Sorry, I'll work on it! I don't wanna put any burden on you as our PR"

"Bokuto..."

This time you look him right in the eye and Bokuto's heart skips several beats.

"I don't care about you putting a burden on me, I have handled much worse than you"

You tilt your head towards Atsumu and Sakusa, Bokuto has to hold back a laugh at that. You suppress a smile.

"I care about your well-being and health because you're my..."

You paused, casting your gaze away. If Bokuto's hair was styled up it would start to deflate right now.

"Because you're my friend"

You finished with a hint of pink on your cheeks. Bokuto holds back the urge to clutch his chest at the rare display of cuteness from your usual stoic face. What you said both gave Bokuto a sense of hope and despair. It meant that there was a possibility you could view him as more than a friend or a friend only.

He's been overthinking about it since then, resulting in losing more sleep. Bokuto didn't want to disappoint you but damn it these feelings are getting really complicated! He figured he had to let it off his chest someday or he was just going to continue suffering by carrying these unspoken feelings.

Bokuto tries to ask you if you want to go out and see a movie. The first time, you decline. But he doesn't lose hope. He asks again if you want to go party with him at a club with the team, and you are quick to say no. Well, third time's a charm.

"[Name], would you like to grab dinner with me tomorrow?"

"No, I'm sorry but I have something planned for tomorrow evening already"

Ouch

Bokuto brings a fist to his chest and falls down to his knees in a dramatic display, having to be rejected for the third time. You might as well have stabbed him right in the chest. All of a sudden, you extended him a small envelope. He gives you a puzzled look. He takes it and it was an invitation to your friend's birthday party, his eyes went wide at the bold and italic instruction that one must bring a date.

"Huh?"

"See, I can't grab dinner with you tomorrow, I need a date for my friend's birthday party. I'm wondering if you're willing to be my date"

"Yes!"

The spiker grins at you and raises his fists up in victory in a ridiculous manner. You chuckled and shook your head. Bokuto literally pleaded with his friends (a.k.a. the entire team) to help him get ready for your date with him tomorrow. Bless them because they had his back from his outfit to styling his hair.

Bokuto arrived at your place to pick you up and my god did he almost fainted at how gorgeous you looked that evening. When you linked your arm with his on the way to the venue, he felt like tearing up. But he keeps it together. Everyone at the party complimented his looks, the way his hair was swept back to show his handsome face, and his tasteful choice of clothing. He thinks the night was going well. After your friend blows their candles, the party resumes.

There was lively music, and people scattered around either dancing or talking. But you and Bokuto were stuck in your own world, sipping champagne and exchanging hushed jokes. When a soft melody begins, Bokuto holds his breath and says a silent prayer.

"Would you like to dance with me, [Name]?"

He asks while extending his hand out. You take it with a nod and he feels like his body is floating. Everyone was waltzing with their partner and when Bokuto placed his hands around your waist he froze. Panic is visible on his face.

"What's wrong, Bokuto?"

"I don't know how to waltz"

"Oh, then let me teach you"

Bokuto's heart melted. There was trial and error. Bokuto keeps stepping on your foot while making an absolute fool of himself and earning a few amused giggles from other people. You only smiled patiently at him as he found the perfect rhythm.

"Holy shit, I did it!"

"Congrats, you're a quick learner"

The spiker smiled proudly at himself and you couldn't help but laugh. As the gentle music continued while you two waltzed on the dancefloor, Bokuto gulped. This was his chance! His chance to tell you how he feels. However, you opened your mouth first.

"Bokuto, do you have feelings for me?"

Crunch!!!

You winced as your face displayed pain when Bokuto stepped on your foot, rather painfully. You both pulled away. He becomes frantic as he apologizes profusely, ruining the moment between you two. Great, he fucked it up. He couldn't meet you in the eye.

"Bokuto"

He looks down at his feet, his face featuring an embarrassed flush. You sighed.

"Bokuto, look at me"

He continues to behave like an embarrassed child. You grabbed his broad shoulders and forced him to look at you.

"Kotaro"

Your eyes met his and his chest tightened at the way you finally said his first name. You were giving him a soft look, silently assuring him that everything was fine. Bokuto draws in a sharp inhale.

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

A lot of people turned their heads at the loud proclamation. Your eyes went wide and your face heats up at the sincerity of his tone.

"I've been in love with you since the day I met you. You're just so interesting and I've been thinking about you so much that I couldn't sleep properly"

Bokuto confessed. A few people gasped, it seemed like the music was fading away too. The blush on your face intensified as you watched him rigidly.

"I want to touch you, hold you, and kiss you. I want to be the one that makes you smile and laugh. I want to spend the rest of my days with you if you'll allow me"

There was a collective sound of 'aww's from the moved audience watching the spectacle. You open your mouth to say something but Bokuto keeps going.

"I want to buy a house with you, pay taxes with you, and grow old with you. I...I want to marry you!"

In a flash, Bokuto gets on one knee making everyone gasp as if he's going to pull out a tiny box with a shiny ring. You frantically wave your hands around.

"Wait, stop! This is going too fast! I'm pretty sure you don't have a ring right now, Kotaro"

"Oh, shit, you're right"

Bokuto stands back up on his feet. You quietly went over to him and grabbed his large hands. The weight of the people's anticipating eyes goes unbothered to you.

"I suppose you have beat me, I meant to confess to you first. I'm in love with you too, Kotaro"

And the crowd goes wild. Bokuto lets out a scream and picks you up in his arms spinning you around like he'd imagine. The cheering goes deaf in his ears as he focuses on the sound of your laughter. It fills him with absolute happiness as nothing could compare to the joy of knowing you're in love with him too.

Although it seemed like a win for him, it ended up being a workload for you as PR because someone filmed the entire scene and posted it on social media as it went trending. Now everyone was dying to know who was the person that Bokuto Kotaro ended up offering his heart to.

— ♬ Oikawa Tooru

Contrary to popular belief, Oikawa had no luck when it came to romance. Sure, he had gorgeous looks, a hot bod, a charming personality, and a heart of gold. But he had no one to willingly lend his heart to. He had relationships in the past, all resulting in failure. But then he didn't mind, he didn't mind if he had no one to hold or share his secrets with. The Oikawa then wouldn't have cared if he didn't have someone to kiss. However now, he's growing conscious.

Oikawa was no stranger to being a heartthrob. He was used to being surrounded by people thirsting for his attention. Sometimes he reveled in it. But he thought how nice it was to have someone in the crowd to lock eyes with and smile because they saw him as who he really was. Perhaps, he's been consuming too much romantic media lately.

The setter is a hopeless romantic who believes in true love even though he hasn't technically encountered it yet. But he wishes to. Oikawa was growing tired of the media portraying him as a cool and super-talented athlete. He's just a stupid guy who's a volleyball nerd and obsessed with astrology. He's not out at night hooking up with someone, he watches Ghibli movies and listens to popular love songs. Oikawa was just an ordinary guy who wanted to be loved for who he truly was.

When he arrived back in Japan to have a vacation and reunited with his best friend, Oikawa wasn't expecting anything to happen. He thinks this is just another long vacation and after that, he'll return to Argentina and be back to the pathetically single moron that he is. And then he met you. Iwaizumi's roommate. Previously when he returned to Japan, Iwaizumi lived alone in his apartment, so he was surprised to see you answer the door instead of his childhood best friend.

"Woah, you're not Hajime"

You said and gave him a glance from head to toe. Oikawa stood stiffly with an awkward smile, hugging all his luggage. You raised a brow.

"You friends with Hajime?"

"Yes, I'm his childhood best friend"

Judging from the way you called his best friend by his first name, he thought you two were close. You furrowed your eyebrows and suddenly snapped your fingers.

"Oh, you! Heard a lot about you from my roommate, you're Oikawa right?"

"Yep"

"Cool, come in! Hajime was out doing some errands"

You smiled and opened the door wider to let him in. The apartment was livelier compared to the last time he visited. There were plants and aesthetic decorations that filled the spaces. Oikawa settled his things down by the living room and took a seat. You were only wearing a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt as you walked to the kitchen.

"You hungry, bud?"

"Oh, no thank you"

"Good, I don't know what to feed you. Hajime does the cooking around here"

You laughed and the setter found himself chuckling. Your demeanor was welcoming and interesting. Oikawa watched you walk around the place tidying up, seemingly to make everything more presentable. Oikawa decides he wants to get to know you more.

"The last time I visited, Iwa-chan didn't have a roommate"

"Really? Well, I kind of begged him to let me stay here since my last place was shitty"

"So, how long have you known him?"

"Long enough to know he's obsessed with Godzilla"

You and Oikawa shared a laugh. You settled in the living room, plopping on the beanbag across from the setter, and chatted. Somewhat having a playful interview and getting to know each other. The way you matched Oikawa's personality impressed him greatly. Why the hell has Iwaizumi not introduced you to him yet?

You were a breath of fresh air. You talked to him without regard for his popularity, hell, he thinks you don't have a clue he's a famous athlete. Maybe you didn't give a shit, either way, he was glad. Both of you found a lot of common interests like volleyball and astrology. Oikawa for the first time felt like someone had finally glanced at his true self.

By the time Iwaizumi arrived at the apartment, you and Oikawa were blasting Taylor Swift in the speakers and talking about zodiac signs while sprawled out on the floor. There was a mixture of shock and disgust on Iwaizumi's face.

"Hi, Hajime!"

"Hi, Iwa-chan!"

You both greet him enthusiastically. Iwaizumi closed the door and crossed his arms, giving you two an odd look. He pointed at his best friend.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough for me to know all of your embarrassing high school moments"

You replied with a mischievous giggle. Oikawa copied you. Iwaizumi mumbled to himself as he entered the kitchen while rubbing his temples. Oikawa was going to stay for a week, occupying the couch to sleep on. But the two of you grew close so quickly and suddenly, that you two would lay your mattress in the living room and have some sort of slumber party every night.

Oikawa expected to catch up with Iwaizumi but instead ended up bonding with his roommate instead. How could he not when you literally matched his energy so well? It was like you were the missing piece of his soul that made him whole. Like the Yin to his Yang, the sun to his moon, or the water to his fire. It seemed like the planets aligned when he met you.

His stay in Japan was unexpectedly filled with new memories with you. The two of you were always out and about either partying or exploring. Iwaizumi witnessed how his best friend slowly carved a special place for you in his life. The man witnessed everything. When you two would get home at five in the morning wasted, later Oikawa would assist you when you're throwing up in the toilet. When you two would get into stupid arguments, mostly Oikawa would get upset and you would be the first to apologize as you two made up. When you and he would blast loud music in the speakers and have a mini concert, Iwaizumi got a complaint from the neighbors.

And most importantly, Iwaizumi witnessed how his best friend was falling in love with you. From the tender stares to the caring gestures, it was no mistaking that Oikawa had feelings for you. Iwaizumi knew the setter well, how he was a romantic but could be devasted and hurt because of it. How he desperately worked himself to the bone to become better. And how he longed to have someone who saw him past the charms.

Oikawa pouted when Iwaizumi forced him to hang out with him and Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The four of them went out for drinks and did some catching up. However, Oikawa was occupied texting on his phone, most likely chatting with you.

"Hey! Iwa-chan give that back!"

The setter whined when Iwaizumi snatched his phone and pocketed it. Matsukawa and Hanamaki laughed at him.

"Are you seriously talking to [Name] right now?"

"Huh? How did you know?"

"Iwaizumi filled us up with your unfolding romance with them"

Hanamaki replied. Oikawa glared at him and blushed, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa shared amused laughs.

"Just admit it Shittykawa, you're in love with [Name]"

"I am not!"

The way the setter immediately denied provided a great amount of proof. Oikawa loved to deny the truth, especially how painful it was. He denied how he wasn't naturally born with talent, he denied the fact he hasn't gone once to Nationals, and he denied how he was harboring strong feelings for you.

Because the truth was he was petrified. Now, that he found someone who can make his heart beat so fast, he doesn't want to fuck it up. Oikawa doesn't want to fuck up the friendship he had with you. Oikawa was sure you only saw him as a friend and only held platonic feelings for him. He thinks confessing to you would just fuck up everything, so it was better to stay as friends than ruin what he had with you.

"Just confess, you idiot"

"I can't, Mattsun!"

"Why? Are you scared?"

"...Yes"

Oikawa exhales. His friends shared a look. He was about to leave Japan tomorrow. He won't be seeing you again for god knows how long. His heart aches at the thought of being so far away from what he deemed as his soulmate. He felt so stupid for falling so easily. Curse his stupid heart and stupid feelings.

"Oi, you're not stupid for falling in love, okay?"

Iwaizumi reassured him. Oikawa gives him a grateful smile and gulps down his beer.

"I know. It's just never met someone who made me feel so complete and I would hate to ruin everything because I admitted what I feel"

"That's love, dude. You get happy and hurt at the same time"

Hanamaki said. Matsukawa gives him a pat on the back as he tries not to get teary-eyed.

"I shouldn't have returned here"

"Hey, cut that out. How else you would've met [Name]?"

"Yeah. Just tell [Name] how you feel and if all goes to shit, you'll still have us"

"No homo tho"

Everyone shared a lighthearted laugh. Oikawa has really been counting his blessings but meeting you was the greatest blessing of all. As he finishes another glass of beer, Oikawa takes a confident stand.

"Okay! I'll tell them how I feel!"

All of his friends cheered and patted him on the back. Oikawa thinks it will be fine, even if he'll inevitably end up sobbing like an ugly baby on his flight tomorrow back to Argentina. As he returns back at the apartment, he sees you scrolling on your phone. When you see him enter, a warm smile spreads on your lips and it makes his knees weak.

"Hey, Tooru"

"[Name], can I tell you something?"

"Sure! I got something to tell you too"

"Oh, you go first!"

Oikawa insisted. He was nervous as fuck, he needed spare time to prepare how to spill his feelings for you. But you shook your head and laughed.

"Nah, you can go first"

Shit

"No, I insist"

"Come on, Tooru. I don't mind"

"No, you go first"

"No"

"Yes"

"No!"

"Ugh! Fine!"

You raise a brow as he runs his hands down his face with a frustrated groan. Oikawa looks you in the eye, his eyes growing wet the longer he stares.

"I've been thinking this through and...fuck! I can't do it!"

The setter turns away and collapses on the couch. You give him a concerned look and join him on the couch.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow, [Name]"

"I know, it's making me sad as fuck, Tooru"

"I...I don't want to leave"

"But you can't"

"I don't want to leave you"

Oikawa sniffs. You frowned and grabbed his hands, he looked at you. Your gaze meant something deeper, like you were gazing directly at his soul, witnessing his flaws but seeing past them by holding his hands. Oikawa was convinced you have always seen the real him no matter how much he pretended. And he stares back at you like you're the best thing that has ever happened to him in his life. Oikawa inhales.

One, two, three...

"I-"

"I'm in love with you, Tooru"

You blurted out. Oikawa's eyes bulge out of its sockets. His mouth goes agape as his face displays sheer bewilderment. You nervously smiled.

"Sorry, I can't stand seeing you leave without telling you how I feel"

"[Name], what the fuck?"

"I understand if you don't feel the same-"

"I'm fucking in love with you too, [Name]"

Oikawa finally confesses. You gasp in response before letting out a breathless laugh. He doesn't miss the way your eyes became glassy.

"Oh my god, tell me you're kidding!"

"No! Never! [Name], I'm in love with you. I was about to tell you but I got nervous"

"We're fucking idiots"

You said as you both burst out laughing. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes both from relief and joy. As the laughter subsided, you both gazed softly at each other. This time Oikawa grabs your hands.

"[Name], you have completed me. You see me as who I am and I just want to be on your side all the time"

He goes to kiss your knuckles turning your face red. Oikawa sighs as he traces your knuckles with his thumbs.

"But I have to leave you behind, here in Japan. I wouldn't mind if you want to start a long-distance relationship"

"Oh, about that"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when I said I was going to say something to you?"

"Oh, wasn't that the confession?"

"Nope!"

You grinned and went over to your bag and pulled out your passport and a flight ticket. You showed it to Oikawa.

"I'm coming with ya to Argentina!"

"Oh my god!"

Oikawa couldn't control himself as he picked you up in his arms and spun you around the living room. You laughed as he excitedly babbled how he was excited to return back to Argentina with you. Oikawa felt like the luckiest man alive, striking the ultimate jackpot to romance. Because he gets to be with you, who made his heart whole.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #kageyama x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #Spotify

354 notes · View notes

zairene · 1 year ago

Text

AS A BOYFRIEND osamu dazai

* ˚ ✦ synopsis: how osamu dazai would be as a significant other.

* ˚ ✦ genre: headcanons !

* ˚ ✦ warnings: not spoiler free + mentions character death in anime + mentions of suicide.

* ˚ ✦ author’s note: my first BSD post !! enjoy the new content! <333 ( also, i did try to take a more canon approach to this just so i could practice characterization ! feel free to critique anything or give some feedback in general ! )

the famous osamu dazai. a young man who’s enemies shouldn’t be exactly proud that they are his enemies. a man who has too many tricks up his sleeves, and always seems to manage to get himself out of the stickiest of situations. a man with convoluted emotions that no one could ever quite understand, except for his closest late friend sakunosuke oda.

but even in the darkest of moments, dazai still has a lighthearted side to him despite the enigmatic façade he keeps all the time. due to his past, i could find it very difficult for him to fully commit to anyone exclusively.

not saying he would sleep around a lot or have a significant amount of women on his roster, but due to his job and the way he views humanity and what it means to be alive. dazai finds little to no joy in living—so why would he even try a romantic relationship?

so, in these terms, you were not an exception.

at first, he viewed you as this beautiful girl he could finally do a double suicide with. after being the third woman to join the armed detective agency, he never really attempted to hide himself from you. so you saw all of his unwillingness to live very quickly and admittedly it made you a lot less attracted to him.

yes, he may have had the looks but his personality was an entire red flag for you. he never liked talking about himself or his past. he doesn’t open up. he’s serious, but not in the way you would want him to be with you. he’s serious about his job, he’s serious about the armed detective agency, and he’s serious about the relationships he has with the people around him.

but he was never serious about himself.

he knew this and never noticed how many people cared about him. but that’s not his fault, especially since being in the port mafia has extremely distorted his morality.

and over time, you learned to accept this side of him. you learned that you could never truly understand the mind of osamu dazai unless he decides to have that conversation with you.

after a plethora of missions alongside dazai, you did notice your growing feelings for him. the charming and overly dramatic side of him paralleled with an excessive amount of wisdom that grew on you. dazai knew his way with his words, and did he maybe try to woo you here and there? of course.

dazai was no fool, he knew about your feelings for him. he found himself also feeling the same but wasn’t sure how to express them. this feeling was somewhat unfamiliar. he knew how it felt to have feelings for someone but to also want to have a romantic relationship with them? he was stuck.

he was scared. he didn’t want to get you, someone he cared about, to get wrapped up in his business. for his enemies to become yours, and for you to fall victim to their wrath. causing dazai to lose someone else that gave him a reason to keep living.

so a lot of your interactions, before getting together, consisted of you blatantly flirting with each other during work or just in general.

but when you both finally decided to give things a shot, boy did that change things for both of you and the agency in general.

you both were a secret at first. it was obvious you both had something going on but no one had gotten a confirmation so no one assumed. this was all stopped when atsushi, of all people, walked into the office hallway at the wrong time.

there were you and dazai, having the most heated makeout session ever. atsushi was for one, a little traumatized, he’s never seen dazai in this way nor did he ever predict he would. he stood in silence while the both of you were frantically trying to fix yourself as if he didn’t stumble upon the whole scene. atsushi was at a loss for words. “i’m-i’m… just gon—gonna…” he bolted out of the office after he just came to the conclusion he was not gonna be able to talk to you after seeing that.

safe to say that he looked neither of you in the eye for about a week. but best believe he did blurt it out randomly on a quiet day in the office, and that’s how news spread. y/n and dazai are officially dating!

now, onto the actual relationship and not the buildup.

fresh into it, things didn’t change. besides the fact you both had exchanged numbers by then and you could see him outside of work and at your home as well. you both still had the same dumb arguments as you had before but with a heavy amount of tension this time.

once you both get comfortable, PDA is your fucking thing. sitting on his lap while he worked or him always having his arm wrapped around your shoulder or waist. you could say he was doing all of this just to spite kunikida! he was.

dazai is romantic when he puts the effort in. some of your dates are followed with a nice candlelit dinner in an extremely fancy restaurant, or just you or him going to one another’s place just to feel each other’s presence.

there was versatility, and you liked that.

you began to see more of a vulnerable side of dazai as time went on. he started to share more of his life piece by piece to you. you were patient with him, and he appreciated that. he never goes into explicit detail about every little thing about himself, but you can tell he’s trying to change for you as his love for you blossoms into something he never thought could be possible for him.

you both still have your disagreements here and there, and arguments with him are extremely painful. they aren’t rare but they aren’t common either. most of the time it is just petty arguments, just a few minutes of bickering, and dazai is already attached to your hip smothering you with kisses just to show how sorry he is.

painful arguments consist of the both of you not talking for days on end. having to see each other at work made it even more difficult, and when you both weren’t talking, yosano is always coming up to you because it is obvious something is wrong between you too. you reassure her things will be fine and you still love him all the same.

making up with dazai is surprisingly easy. the no communication stage isn’t, but once you both have had time to calm down and think about the situation, he is more than capable of having a mature conversation with you and mending things.

osamu dazai is not the perfect boyfriend, but he isn’t a bad one either. he is someone who would come with a lot of baggage and patience—learning that he’s not someone who easily communicates his feelings and would rather keep up the mysterious act to the grave. nonetheless, dazai is trying. he’s attempting to change and seems a lot healthier these days ever since he’s been with you. things are positive overall, but this also includes your cooperation and being able to handle him as a person and not just as a boyfriend.

(📦) — BUNGOU STRAY DOGS TAGLIST // n/a . . .

(📝) — TAGLIST FORM :: sign to be apart of the taglist!

#✏️ :: — fanfiction !#bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x fem reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai fluff #osamu dazai fluff

520 notes · View notes

l1tw1ck · 1 year ago

Note

Otherwise I'd have something more simple (?) for headcanons.

Imagine Kazuha, Ayato, Kaveh and Cyno as rapists/creeps. What would their go-to methods to prey on their victim be? As in, do they just pounce on sight, stalk them for a while or manipulate them?

(Idk how that works with requesting headcanons, I randomly picked these four, but if you have ideas for another character or only one of them, I'd like to hear them too, but you can also just... Ignore this, if this is bullshit)

-⛩️

Inside the Brain of a Creeper (not a minecraft reference)

bottom: Kaveh, Cyno, Kazuha, Ayato x top!gn reader

CW: Non-Con, Stalking, Just overall dark stuff

Kaveh

tw: non-con, manipulation, drugging, stockholm syndrome

♡ He would definitely go for the manipulation route and use his charms to woo you

♡ He'd get you comfortable with him and make sure you see only the best parts of him

♡ He plans to make you only have eyes for him. And by that, he means that he wants to be the only person you ever see

♡ He'll shower you with all the love he has, which is a lot, and make you fall for him

♡ Then, he'll invite you over to his house for dinner. He did a lot of not so great things to get his own house. He couldn't pull this off with Al Haitham as his roomate

♡ Unbeknownst to you, he drugged your food

♡ Once you pass out, he'll take you down to the basement and tie you up

♡ He'll keep you drugged constantly so your brain is more susceptible to his manipulation

♡ He'll whisper sweet words into your ear as he uses your body

♡ With the way he treats you, it's impossible for you to see him as a bad person

♡ And once you finally accept him and your new life, he'll allow you access to the rest of the house. You deserve to experience it, he bought it for you after all

"I love you." Kaveh sits on your lap, peppering you with kisses. You look at him hazily. You're barely there. You don't even remember your life before all this. "I love you too.." You murmur.

Cyno

cw: non-con, yandere, stalking

♡ He would stalk you, learn your routines, your schedule, your likes, your dislikes, etc. He'll learn everything he needs to know before approaching you

♡ Of course he'll occasionally visit you while you're gone or asleep. He might watch you sleep, give you oral, or masturbate to the sound of your heart beating

♡ He'll convince you that you coincidentally met someone who's practically your other half, someone who likes everything you like

♡ You'll grow to like him platonically and trust him. You'd never suspect that he'd do anything to you

♡ He'll weed out anybody who he deems a threat to you or your relationship. Anyone who crushes on you will be crushed

♡ He'll even steal your phone and distance you from all your friends so the only person you talk to is him

♡ Since your friends have mysteriously started to ghost you, you decided to spend more time with Cyno

♡ It's hard for him to keep his composure when he's around you. It's just so nice to be in your presence, to feel your warmth and smell you.

♡ After a while, everyone turned against the two of you. It became you and Cyno against the world, at least that's what he says

♡ You ended up falling for him. He's the only person who sees you for you and with the increased amount of closeness between you two, it was inevitable

♡ Once you confess, Cyno can't hold back anymore. He kisses you and strips you without even asking for permission. he doesn't listen to a word you say, he doesn't care if you want it or not. He's waited so long and now that you love him, there's nothing stopping him from doing this

"I love you too." Cyno grins. His expression gives you chills. You feel like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. He spent a long time watching you and he's finally taking his meal. He's so much stronger than you, you can't escape. You just have to let it happen.

Ayato

cw: non-con, oral, asphyxiation, abuse

♡ He fell for you at first sight and knew he had to have you. He was willing to do anything to get you

♡ He ruined your life. He fired you from your job and prevented you from getting any work. You had no one to turn to and he took advantage of that

♡ He offered you a job and you were so desperate that you agreed without question

♡ You thought everything would get better for you from then on. He allowed you to move into the estate since you lost your apartment and the pay was amazing

♡ He tricked you into thinking you were going to be his personal assistant. Little did you know, you wouldn't be assisting him with work

♡ He'd force you to eat him out and prevent you from moving away. You'd have to make him come twice in order to breathe again

♡ You'd become his stress reliever. His little toy to use as he pleases. Whatever he wants, you give it to him

♡ He loves having power over you and gets off on it.

♡ He likes to hurt you both physically and mentally. He'll slowly break your spirit and make you completely submissive

♡ He loves seeing the look of fear in your eyes when you do something he doesn't like. The expressions you make are almost enough to stop him from punishing you. Almost

Ayato tightens his grip around your throat. You slap his wrists desperately, rapidly losing air. "Beg for it." He grins. "Ple- please-" You struggle to speak with your throat constricted. "Ayato- stop, please- please-" Tears fall down your cheeks. He lets go of your throat, allowing you to breathe again. "What do you say?"

"Thank you- thank you so much.."

Kazuha

cw: yandere, murder

♡ He likes to stalk you. He enjoys just watching you live your life from a distance and likes to borrow a few things of yours from time to time

♡ He used to be content with just "watching over you" but then you decided to start looking for a partner

♡ He couldn't handle the idea of you loving, touching, and especially fucking someone other than him. He can't let anyone take you away from him

♡ He managed to steal your phone and figure out the password you use for your dating app. Whenever you plan to meet up with someone, they end up dead before the date

♡ You thought you kept getting stood up or ghosted and eventually gave up on it all

♡ After that, Kazuha decided he needed to claim you

♡ He'd sneak into your room while you're fast asleep and very slowly remove your clothes. He'd take a moment to admire you first since he's never seen you naked up close

♡ Then he'd finally do it. He'd kiss you and finally learn how the inside of your mouth feels. He could probably get off just by tongue kissing you

♡ And once he's semi satisfied with kissing you, he'd get naked as well and finally have sex with the love of his life

♡ On an inconsistent schedule, Kazuha would come and try out all the things he wanted to do with you. Of course some things require your consent but he'll get that to happen eventually

♡ You'd never be able to identify him and no matter how hard you try to prevent him from seeing you again, he'd always find a way to break in

♡ At some point you just gave in and let it happen. It felt good and it's not like he was going to hurt you anyway

♡ The look on Kazuha's face was almost creepy when you finally stopped fighting him

♡ A few nights after that, he decided to sleepover instead of leave like he always does. He hugged you as the two of you fell asleep and you even let him make you breakfast

♡ You're not sure why, but there's something stopping you from reporting him to the police

♡ You don't really know how it all happened but you ended up dating and Kazuha moved in with you

You wake up to Kazuha masturbating on top of your previously sleeping body. The look on his face sends chills down your spine. Even despite all you've been through with him, you're still scared of him. At least to a degree. It's clear he'd never hurt you but god the things he does are terrifying

#wicks🕯shorts #genshin x reader #dark content #tw noncon #tw stalking #kazuha x reader #kazuha x gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #yandere #ayato smut #ayato x reader #kazuha smut #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #cyno x reader #cyno smut

547 notes · View notes

dookiecurly · 2 months ago

Note

this is gonna be specific just hear me out okay this came to me in a vision +good for writing motivation or practice or whatever

imagine reader is some famous celebrity singer actor whatever and they go on the ship for whatever reason..maybe they really like space or something idk

how would they all act towards them?? would the way theyre treated get changed from their popularity?? 😳😳😳…?i cant imagine jimmy or curly acting too different towards them but daisuke maybe?? hes a fan idk im just thinking…

I'd imagine reader got on the ship because they wanted to experience space.... And because they paid lots for it.

Both before and after crash hc >∆<

Reader death not specified

Yes there's Jimmy, he's the tw

Curly

Before-Crash:

- Confused why Pony Express gave this.. celebrity.. permission to get on a cargo spaceship.

- Tries to be nice. He doesn't act like those ppl that are super excited to meet a popular person. To him, you're just another human.

- But of course, if you make a mistake on the ship he'll go a little easy on you. He assumes you probably didn't get much.. training.

- You're his responsibility as well now! But he also is probably too busy to give you a tour of the ship, he'll ask one of the others. ( Definitely not Jimmy or Swansea. )

- If he's interested in you..... I guess, small flirts when he's off the clock. He takes responsibility!

- Compliments your work if he's a fan.

After-Crash:

- Curly feels embarrassed, and even more embarrassed if he's interested in you.

- At some point, thinks you'll come back to earth and tell everyone what happened and how bad he is at being a captain. Plus, destroying Pony Express's name that MIGHT land a lawsuit.

- During all the........ Deaths, he felt bad that a person that shouldn't even be connected to all this is paying the untold price of going on the ship with them

- Probably wanted to kill himself when he was brought to the table and saw all those corpses!!

Swansea

Before-Crash:

- Doesn't give a shit

- Probably treats you JUST like Daisuke but is a little less aggressive..

- Actually, I think he thinks you're a liability and dislikes you because you're just a rich piece of shit that thinks they can do wtv they want

- Might MIGHT complain and say that you're a liability when something bad happens

- If he's interested in you, you probably remind him of his wife by appearance LMFAO, I'm just kidding I'm not funny.

- If he's interested in you, he'll treat you a little nicer.

- I don't think he'll be a fan..... Unless you're like, Shelly Duval or Frank Sinatra or something. (RIP SHELLY DUVAL AND FRANK SINTRA I LOVE YALL)

- Won't say he's a fan though.

After-Crash:

- I have a gut feeling that he'll act like those drunk adults that go like, “Isn't this how you teenagers do it? WOO!" But like in a "Aint this how you people do it in Hollywood?”

- Says you should get less food because you dont do work around the ship. Won't say this if... He's interested, or only if he's drunk and mad or mad.

- If you die before him, he'll feel a little guilty like he does with Daisuke. I don't know if it's a lot of guilt, but enough guilt.

Daisuke

Before-Crash:

- FUCKING ECSTATIC.

- Wants a picture, and a signature. Treats you special because you're a celebrity.

- Uses his free time to be your friend. If he's interested in you, hes gonna try to impress you with his intern task (Swansea fucking hates it).

- Brings you to fuck around in the ship because I'll assume that you're about the same age, or you at least have the same age mentality.

- If he's a fan, he's way worse/better. Your decision.

After-Crash:

- Once again, if hes interested in you, he tries to be your big prince charming. When they start rationing the food, he gives you more

- I don't know if he'll prioritise you because you're a celebrity, but he tries.

- Tries to cheer you up when things get bad

- If you die before him, he kinda just............ Guilt. Yeah, thats all. Kinda feels like he didn't help enough.

Jimmy

Before-Crash:

- Thinks you're a liability 2.0

- Doesn't respect you

- Thinks you're a bitch because your life is better than his on Earth

- Probably.... JUST PROBABLY, daydreams about doing things to you so he can 'humble' you. Likes the thought of such a loved and respected person gets humiliated.

- If he's interested in you.... He'll have worse thoughts.

- Probably complains about you, in front of you.

- Not a fan, doesn't like the internet.

After-Crash:

- Now thinks youre... Still the biggest liability of the ship. In fact, you're the worst of the worst.

- Says you should get less food because you don't do any work 2.0

- If you die before him... Awesome! Doesn't care. Won't spare you even if hes interested, but cares.

- Gets married to your corpse, AGAIN I'M KIDDING. Doesn't strike me as a person who'd get married unless it benefits him, actually nevermind, go read Jambalaya Enthusiast's fic about Reader in the film industry in Jambalaya Enthusiast's Masterlist.

Anya

Before-Crash:

- Might be curious?

- She'll be nice >u<

- Yeah, she's probably the one giving you a tour!

- Anya will be a little concerned that a person like you is on the ship. In a way that she's concerned that a person who doesn't have any training is on the ship.

- She'll be glad to help you with anything, like motion sickness.

- If she's interested, she'll try to do little gestures for you. I think her love language is acts of something something, I forgot.

After-Crash:

- Anya doesn't really want you to come into the medbay and look at Curly.

- She gets super nauseous, so she doesn't want you to get super nauseous in an unfamiliar and stressing environment.

- Perhaps will give you a little of her food with you. I feel like Jimmy has engraved into her brain that she's not a good enough nurse, so she thinks she doesn't deserve the food she eats ( because Swansea and Jimmy say you don't deserve the food. )

- Comfort her, she's dying in her thoughts and wants to go to the medicine supply.......

- If you die before her, she will actually start spiralling.

#jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya x reader mouthwashing #curly x reader mouthwashing #captain curly #daisuke x reader mouthwashing #jimmy x reader mouthwashing

116 notes · View notes

scribbleseas · 2 months ago

Text

Straight Laced, Chapter X: To Be A Hidden Treasure…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: mentions of suicide, detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, body shaming, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

REMINDER: This is a heavier chapter that hits MOST of those warnings and your safety and comfort comes before everything! Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you would like clarification about this chapter’s subject matter.

Author’s Note: Hi Everyone! Thank you so much for reading Straight Laced, I'm so happy I can finally show you the last chapter of this exhilarating story. Including this chapter, you will have read 70,249 words of my writing, and I'm so, so grateful for your time. I have more to say about this fic all the way at the bottom of this post, so I'll keep this brief and leave you with one helpful hint: the part of the grand pas that Y/n is talking about can be found at 2:56 in the video I linked. With that, I hope this chapter is everything you've all been so patiently waiting for. And more.

Happy Reading!!

Dan <3

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER |

MASTERLIST

Postlude

February, 1889

The Imperial Ballet School, Russia

The frosty draft of St. Petersburg’s unforgiving winter slipped underneath The Imperial Ballet School’s multitude of long windows, sending a chill through the air. A thick layer of frost shrouded the dance studio’s large windows, both shielding the expansive room from both the outside, and the outside from seeing inside.

The soft piano played the beginning notes of Giselle’s Act I scene where she realizes that the young man who had been courting her had been lying about his identity. The Duke Albrecht had been posing as a peasant to woo the beautiful village girl, but now, one of the woman’s competing suitors exposed his lie. With the truth exposed, Giselle fell into heartbroken panic.

The first ballerina of two in consideration for the role started to arrange her body into the beginning steps into Giselle’s pained rendition of her previous pas de deux with the disguised duke. The dance, once loving and serene, was now supposed to be frantic and wrecked with pain, as displayed by the ballerina’s stricken expression.

Seconds before she could begin, the ballet master knocked her cane into the floor, halting all—the ballerina, the music, any onlookers. When the cane came crashing down, nobody breathed.

“Anastasia Gusev. How many hours did you rehearse this week?” Irina Abramova demanded, scrutiny weighing heavily on her drawn eyebrows and pursed lips.

Without waiting for Natasha’s response, the ballet master continued in Russian, shaking her head, red-rouged lips pursed. “Whatever it was, it is far from enough. The combination has not even started yet, and I can already see you are doing it wrong. In fact, if I made you step outside naked and beg for change, holding a sign that says ‘I cannot dance,’ you would not feel anywhere close to the amount of shame I feel at this moment for considering you,” the retired prima ballerina noted. “I may even hate myself now. Because of you.”

No matter the chill of the gelid weather that the winter sighed into the room, nothing was more biting than Irina’s commentary. Still, in the face of her heart shattering, Natasha held her chin high and rolled her shoulders back, biting down on the fact that she’d put in over 50 hours of work in that past week. She’d skipped most meals, most full nights of sleep, with the specific intent to secure Giselle.

Now? The young ballerina felt her eyes sting with tears that threatened to fall. Fury squeezed at her chest.

Clearing her throat, Irina addressed the rest of the class. Her gnarled hands tapped her cane against the smooth floor, her onyx gaze alight with determination. Per usual, the ballet master kept her wiry gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, reminiscent of the ballerina bun she wore in her prime.

“Does Anastasia here resemble our Giselle, right now? Does she portray a woman descending into madness after her lover has betrayed her? I want to see a heartbroken tour de force. I want to be rendered speechless from the sheer depth of emotion on your face.”

Giving Natasha another bored once over, Irina looked disinterested. She addressed the class once more. “Honestly! Is anyone rendered speechless? I certainly am not.”

As Natasha expected, the rest of the company betrayed her, mumbling their doubts, shaking their heads, weakly suppressing their snide smiles. They never failed to disappoint her. Natasha bit her tongue, swallowing down her desire to challenge them to portray Act One’s infamous Mad Scene better than she. No one else wanted this role like she did.

The wrinkles marring Irina’s face creased with her satisfied expression, watching Natasha’s face redden. She was well-aware of the young ballerina’s hatred of her first name, her hatred of her company members. This humiliation was more effective than anything—more than the feeling of Irina’s cane digging itself into Natasha’s lower back to correct her posture, or dodging a swing at her lowering leg. Irina swung at lowering legs to inspire dancers to hold arabesques more firmly.

The young dancer could withstand any pain, save for this public humiliation.

“Anastasia, show yourself to the barre. I am growing tired of your mediocrity—your intent to waste our time. Faina Nikotinova, you will be my Giselle. Anastasia, do try to improve. Before I send you outside to freeze some talent into you,” her eyes flashed meaningfully, insinuating that her earlier words were not just a threat. They were a promise If Natasha couldn’t improve her dancing.

But she had. Irina was simply refusing to allow her to perform.

“You did not let me start,” Natasha snapped, raising her blue eyes to meet Irina’s. Her hands curled into fists, her manicured nails digging into her palms. Faina wasn’t half the dancer she was—her jumps were lazy, she was too chubby to last much longer. Irina had said it herself, and that was the most offensive aspect of this.

“There was no need to. Now, go away. Better yet, leave my school. I do not tolerate this attitude in my company and I have no desire to see you again,” Irina replied coolly, motioning for Faina to take the center of the floor. She tapped her cane against the floor to cue the piano back.

Hot, angry tears brimmed in Natasha’s eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Fine. Fine. If Irina wished for Duck Butt to lead the company as Giselle, she was more than welcome to choose her and watch the company sink under her mediocrity.

The force Natasha slammed the door with caused the walls to tremble. The muffled laughter from behind her sparked molten rage to flow through her veins. Surely she’d go mad if she was made to face such a stunning defeat again.

May, 1890

The Royal Opera House

No one could compare to Natasha Gusev‘s Aurora in The Royal Opera House’s first and breathtaking run of Sleeping Beauty, the product of sleepless nights spent slaving at the barre. Spent rehearsing her expressions in a mirror, forcing herself to learn to tear up on command, envisioning the very moment that Faina stole her opportunity.

Anastasia died in Petrograd. Natasha would never allow herself to be humiliated in such a way again. She’d sooner die.

Natasha practiced until she passed out, until her feet bled and swelled, and her legs cramped. She worked herself harder than Irina could ever dream of, drilling the same moves and sequences into her body until she could dance them in her sleep.

The ballerina had fought for this, brandished her soul for it, pushed herself through classes that were taught in a language she couldn’t understand. The only language Natasha shared with Londoners was the French terminology used in ballet. She could hardly decipher the rest: not the abuse, not the praise. It took much longer for her to master English than it did for her to secure this coveted role.

And Natasha’s reward was thundering applause, night after night. Each adoring yell louder than the last. They had come to watch her, in spite of the lies that cursed school poisoned her mind with. She made this company the best in London—if not, Europe. She had no idea what came of Faina and The Imperial Ballet’s run of Giselle, but it didn’t matter.

Nonetheless, it didn’t take long for Natasha’s star to capture more attention than she had initially bargained for, either. Alongside the unabashed adoration for her dancing came competition for her. That was how she found herself at the center of William Wood’s attention—his gray eyes lingered on her, no matter where she found herself.

They would narrow each time she met with a new subscriber, they’d scan her with consideration each time he pulled up a chair and watched the company rehearse. William liked to claim that he was merely interested in the artistic integrity of the show, but from the way he’d bite his lip and adjust his trousers, everyone knew better. Everyone understood that he was the heir to the business supporting the Opera House—everything would belong to him in a decade or so.

Natasha was the center of her own world. She had her patrons to satisfy, the stage to alight with her talent. The ballerina made a careful effort to rebuff William without ever needing to speak with him.

That was, until he outsmarted her one dawn. He’d waited in the Opera House’s main rehearsal room—Natasha’s favorite because of the tall mirrors that lined the walls.

“Hello, there,” William said, flashing his most winning smile at her. He couldn’t have been much older than Natasha. “You’re the principal dancer, aren’t you?” The young man had been poised on his usual chair from the side of the studio, but he stood to meet her.

“Yes,” Natasha’s words were clipped because she could see through his disposition. He knew who she was—he was pretending not to. “If you would excuse me—” she immediately took a step back, preferring to rehearse in private. Or anywhere William was not. The prima ballerina shouldered her bag and turned to leave, only to freeze at the sound of her full name.

“Anastasia is a powerful name. Did you know it means resurrection?” William asked, chancing several steps closer. He caught her wrist, but maintained a lax grip. She could pull away if she wished to.

“My name is Natasha,” she corrected crisply, her blank expression unchanged.

“I’m William Wood,” he ignored her, gently guiding her closer. Now, she could see a kaleidoscope of different gray shades, ranging from near-white to intense storm clouds. “Did you know my name means desire?”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed, unimpressed with his onomastics lesson. “How lovely,” she answered flatly, extricating her hand. Now, his sterling gaze landed on her thin lips, wanting to kiss her, presumably. “I really should be going. I have to rehearse—if you know that I am the prima ballerina, then…” leave me be, she wanted to conclude.

Instead, Natasha let her words hang in the air, allowing William to put them together on his own.

“Look—wait, all I mean is…” William paused, moistening his lips. Clearly, he was unused to the prospect of no. “You’re flawless. And I would simply like the chance to…”

“To what?” Natasha asked indignantly, allowing the offense she took to show on her face. Normally, she wasn’t quite so harsh against these advances—she had a tendency to simply allow herself to enjoy the attention she received from such men—but William? Now? The sun hardly had a chance to start the day, and this man had put all of this time and planning into seducing her?

“I like you. I would like the chance to get to know you. Beyond the dancing because there’s clearly so much more to get to know,” he clarified, softening his expression into something more intimate. “Please, Natasha.”

The ballerina was unsure if she relented because of William’s honeyed words, the way his steel gaze reminded her of a singular spotlight focused on her, or because he was the heir to the Opera House, but she felt her resolve crumble. After all, there were plenty of other ballerinas who glowed with envy of her in the first place. Natasha loved to imagine how their hatred of her would intensify with William Wood courting her. That thought would feel better than any seduction tactic he could try on her.

It took weeks of flowers, lavish gifts, and fiery touches stolen between rehearsals before Natasha agreed to marry him. They were in William’s Southampton home, entangled with one another in his bed, unclothed. Sweaty after a round of passionate sex because it made William tired and affectionate. The perfect combination for an agreeable mood in a man.

“Marry me. Be my wife,” the man practically begged, kissing Natasha’s knuckles. It wasn’t the first time he asked, his father John having pressured him into proposing ever since the rumors of their sneaking around began. It was indecent behavior of William—not unexpected, but embarrassing to the Woods, their eldest son messing around with a foreign dancer. “Please. You’re all I want, Nat,” he sighed, burying his face into the crook of her neck, kissing the clammy skin there as well.

No one in the company could claim that Natasha was the principal dancer because she was sleeping with William, either. Her talent more than spoke for itself, illuminating the stage just as much as the spotlights did. The ballerina was addicted to this pining of his, the fortune she’d come into by taking his name. He was a puppy of a man that would be at her side, hanging onto her every word, touch, and glance so long as she could maintain her perfection. It just so happened that he had direct access to generations of wealth and influence.

“All right, Will. We can get married,” she relented, only for the man to pull her into an intense kiss, his fingers running through her unruly brown curls.

For months, her life was blissful.

Natasha maintained her position as prima ballerina, and they were married, which also ended her responsibilities at the dance foyer. Being married to William gave Natasha the right to all of the Opera House’s paperwork, granting her information on each of her company members, the ballet’s revenue—noting the spike in sales with delight, considering it had come in tandem with her publicity. Having a run of the same show continue for so long was unprecedented, but Natasha’s performances sold out each night. The company was only beginning its considerations for the next ballet’s lead.

Accordingly, Natasha would dance almost day and night. She ate once a day, if she remembered to, more intent on maintaining the lean body that kept jealous suitors leering. The more they looked, the more William spent for her, the more he doted on her. All the more fulfilled the young dancer felt, the more she desired.

Another starring role, more lovers, more press coverage. More rehearsal time.

Natasha etched the hard work into her bones... until it broke her.

She remembered searing pain in her hip, crashing to the floor. And she found herself undone against the rehearsal room’s floor, the clammy wood cold against her cheek. Yelling out for William, lips pursed with pain she refused to allow to surface past. She would never allow herself to cry.

The doctors had given her a prescription for morphine powder for the pain. They suggested she stop dancing for the next year or two, but the morphine had done plenty for her discomfort. Enough for Natasha to refuse giving her position to a ballerina who couldn’t have put a quarter of sacrifice into earning her role.

No—anyone else interested would need to pry it out of her cold, dead grip.

Each day, Natasha’s extensive routine only grew harder to sustain: rehearsing for the company’s future run of Mlada and perfecting any movement she might have mishandled as Aurora from the evening before. She would mix the morphine powder into her tea between rehearsals, between acts, before she met her husband each night.

Stopping now would be a death sentence with early casting for Mlada so close…there was no doubt the director would care to cast Natasha in the lead if she seemed unreliable.

Anyone who wanted it enough would see themselves through, Natasha reminded herself. In time, my body will learn to keep up.

Smile through it. Hold back your tears. Smile through it.

Natasha held her life together through the painkiller and sheer force of will, but it was only a matter of time before the injury became unbearable. Overly stiff, Natasha’s hips began to lock, ruining her range of motion. She could no longer hold her arabesques.

The pain had spread down to her groin and her backside, those joints as good as rusting door hinges, stiffening with each movement.

Weeks after her initial fall, Natasha collapsed on the rehearsal floor. Again. Only this time, she couldn’t hold her tears at bay, an incredibly dark (and realistic) part of the young woman knowing fully well that it had been her last day in pointe shoes.

“You need a break. Be reasonable, Nat.” William ordered bluntly, shoving the cane in her hands days after. Weary of her and the same tedious argument. “Would you prefer to need a full-time wheelchair before 25?”

Natasha held the ivory cane in her hands, testing its weight. She frowned at the medical accessory, feeling her life slip away each second she held the cursed thing. Her husband, as typical of him, didn’t understand. Ballet had been her purpose—she’d been put on the Earth to capture the breath of an audience. And now?

She was a disturbing failure. How could she look at herself in the mirror?

“Will…” Natasha fixed her hard gaze on her husband, reading his mounting frustration with her like a book.

“Shut. Up.” She all but threw the cane back at her husband and the offending doctor who brought it into their home. She slammed the door behind her in an attempt to charge back to their shared bedroom. Though unsurprisingly, she only accomplished a few short paces before her hip locked, failing Natasha’s next step and sending her to the ground again.

The former ballerina couldn’t hold back her tears, this time. They fell in droves, in pained sobs. The grievous sound of an ingénue knowing her life was over.

“Come on, Nat,” William said in the same tired voice, attempting to help lift her off the floor.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Natasha waved him off haphazardly, hiding her face. She heard William's heavy, retreating steps.

Nearly a year into Natasha’s injury, she’d become proficient with her walking cane. Technically, she could hobble clumsily without the assistance, but watching the rest of the company’s pitying gaze at the sight of her ungainliness became overwhelming. If she was to be the Opera House’s new ballet master and director, no one could pity her.

There was no room in ballet for pity. Only perfection.

So, she preferred to test the dancers around her. Break the weak ones—the ones who turned to dancing out of desperation, failing to understand that it was an elusive skill that required years of nurturing. She liked to push them until they fractured like a mirror, leaving the company on their own accord or giving Natasha a valid reason to excuse them. Particularly the ones her husband was bedding behind her back and mortifying her with.

“I’m so sorry, Natasha, I didn’t even– I don’t even want him!” Norah Vincent cried out, “please just listen to me, please!”

The young ballerina chased her director up the cement stairs leading from the Opera House’s lowest floor—where the largest rehearsal room was located—to the first floor. It was late at night, and there wasn’t a soul on the property, save for them. Natasha had reserved the pleasure of informing Norah that she knew fully well of the liberties she’d taken with William until they were alone, more interested in watching the young woman’s composure implode as a private show. To ensure such an outcome, Natasha waited until the end of their private rehearsal to inform Norah of her termination. The ballerina didn’t even have the chance to unlace her pointe shoes.

“No. You will make yourself scarce from my company. I like Analisse better for Mlada, so you were bound to be let go soon, anyhow,” Natasha answered indifferently, keeping her face impassive. She knew that the aloofness in her statement would make Norah feel just as worthless as she was as a dancer.

“I don’t understand, please. I need this work. Please. Just allow me one more chance,” Norah continued, struggling to keep pace with Natasha.

“You sleep with my husband, and even worse, you continue to curse my stage with your mediocrity, and you have the audacity to ask me for another chance? After all of the chances I’ve already given you?” The ballet master plunged her cane against the top of the final stair for leverage to reach the top. “I told you that if I gave you Mlada, you would need to work on your stamina and flexibility night and day. I see no change.”

Natasha finally turned around to face the weeping ballerina, watching her trudge up the remaining stairs. Crying was so ugly.

“I swear I practice every day, I-I-I…” Norah couldn’t even decide which claim to refute first. “I only…I just,” she wiped her face. “I love this company, and dancing, and…” she begged. “I do my very best each and every day, I practice, I stretch, I observe, I listen. Don’t you see?”

Norah still had a functioning body. Her health and mobility. All the time in the world. There was no excuse. Natasha practically gift wrapped and handed Norah her career.

The director’s head pounded, frustrated tears begging to fall from her eyes. What was there to not understand? Norah simply didn’t want the success enough or she would give every spare moment to cultivating her skills.

“Stop. Blubbering.” Natasha ordered sharply, turning on her heel to continue to her office. Norah had just stepped up to the level floor, the expansive staircase behind her.

“N-No! I need you to hear me! Haven’t you ever made a mistake? You know, I don’t understand why you always have to demand perfection! From everyone! No matter how hard we try or how hard we–”

“That’s enough!”

Without another thought, Natasha found herself turning around. Her cane fell to the floor as she put all of her strength into shoving Norah down the stairwell. Of course, it hadn’t been her plan to dispose of the ballerina in such a way. Really, it should have been horrifying, but Natasha couldn’t force herself to feel any bit of remorse. Her squealing had given her quite a headache.

In fact, when Natasha failed to find a pulse from the young woman’s lifeless body, she felt the first sense of true gratification she’d felt in months. As her shoulders had been relieved of a burden as heavy as the world.

And each time afterwards, it only grew easier. Each time, Natasha planned a bit more intricately. She could only win: if the Yard took notice, all signs would point to her power-drunk husband, leaving Natasha to his assets. Revenge.

It became a game of strategy: who, when, where, how.

Louise, Georgina, and Mabel were a blur over the course of the next few weeks. They disappeared, Natasha explained they couldn’t handle the burdens from the company and resigned, no one questioned her. Most ballerinas didn’t have family, the profession often a last resort for income. The public deemed them prostitutes: unworthy of care.

Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse had moved to new companies, but that didn’t stop her. Natasha knew who her husband had seen. Who betrayed her. They wore their guilt on their sleeves. It didn’t matter if they transferred to new companies—how could they be allowed to live after betraying their mentor? They were mediocre ballerinas, anyhow, merely ensemble members that Natasha stuck in the back of formation.

The Yard was never finding them.

Eliza had a host of lethal allergies. All it took was a well-timed cross-contamination—it was only a matter of time.

Janet was weak. Natasha probably could have asked the girl to jump off of the Tower Bridge and she would have done it, surely.

Amelié never noticed that her perfume bottle was tampered with. Dimethylmercury was a life-changing discovery on Natasha’s part. Honestly, Natasha wished she’d used it with all of the nuisances that came before her… and after.

The new success should have satisfied Natasha. Until Maisie—her first mistake. As if marrying some fraud was a feat to be proud of. Maisie thought it appropriate to inform Natasha that she was leaving the Opera House company for a new opportunity, an unseemly topic at her husband’s gallery reveal. Somehow, Terrance had offered to co-found his ballet company with Maisie as the star. And this came a week after the Yard fell for the trap Natasha had set, having followed her carefully planned trail of breadcrumbs that implicated her dear, cheating husband for murdering his company members. She simply had to make an appearance at the event to save face for the Wood family—setting the narrative straight before the press could.

Natasha would have been able to successfully send William to prison in her stead, had she not lost her temper the night of that bloody gala. She;d only gone to safe face after William’s arrest, after all. To manage the poor publicity his infidelity would poison Natasha’s hard work with.

“My husband is renovating the Pavillion Theatre. You know what that means? It means that I don’t need you pestering me anymore! You’re practically an old maid, a bloody relic now, you know that?” Maisie grinned, euphoric with the ability to finally speak freely. She’d asked Natasha to step out from the museum with her, and the ballet master had suspected it was to discuss something unseemly when there was a lack of witnesses around.

“You have no idea how much we all hate you, Natasha.”

Those were Maisie’s last words. Because Natasha had pulled out William’s Flintlock Pocket Pistol and shot her. She hardly had any time to ensure Maisie was dead before fleeing the scene, tucking her walking cane under her arm. Best of luck with your new company, Blondie.

After that blunder, Natasha had a choice. Herself, or Y/n Y/l/n, a French girl who happened upon the wrong man and his misguided investigation at the wrong time. In Natasha’s haste, she’d also lost control again, landing her at a criminal sentencing at London’s City Hall.

Y/n was willing to destroy her opponents to succeed. Y/n had been the first ballerina Natasha had finally considered to be somewhere near the eminence of her own former glory, and had ended her, handing her a crushing defeat.

Natasha should have put the dimethylmercury in Y/n’s make-up much sooner, arsenic in that wine she self-soothed with. By the time Natasha had offered Y/n that toast, there was no chance that she would have accepted a drink from her. Waiting had sealed Natasha’s fate to this wretched courtroom.

Thundering applause and scarce cheering pulled Natasha from her thoughts. She must have missed her sentencing, lost in her ruminating, judging by the immediate lift in the courtroom’s somber atmosphere.

This entire audience wanted her punished for her choices. Why? She felt the magnitude of her decisions spoke for themselves.

The former prima ballerina stared back into the prima ballerina’s vacant gaze from the defendant’s table, attempting to dissect the poison Y/n regarded her with.

For the first time since St. Petersburg, Natasha could confidently say what Giselle was supposed to look like.

November 25, 1895

London City Hall

“Anastasia Natalia Gusev-Wood, this court sentences you to lifelong service in the Reading Gaol Correctional Facility with no chance of appeal,” the judge announced.

The room— the press, sparse onlookers including the few bereaved family members of victims, cheered, but the woman only stared at you. She didn’t react to her sentencing or the relief that erupted from the room. All she fixated on was you, her face illegible.

You refused to give the killer the satisfaction of analyzing your mood, the opportunity to insert herself in your head. Violent narcissists like her craved attention like flies to fruit. Instead, you released your captive breath and sent a tired look to Ciel to signal your readiness to leave. This woman was nobody to you: the result of a vain monster picking and choosing which lessons to take from ballet.

It was an art form before it was a competition. And certainly, no competition should ever lead to bloodshed.

That was why you failed to feel any semblance of relief, even as you watched the officers escort Natasha away in handcuffs. You had still failed so many of your kin: eleven dead, their stories stolen and suppressed. The killer had painted them as weak after their deaths, dishonoring them, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. You couldn’t have been more wrong to ignore each and every one.

You hardly remembered the sound of Norah Vincent’s voice. The color of her hair. In fact, save for Amelié, you didn’t know any of these victims on a personal level—you remembered how tall Mabel was because you were envious; Louise had trouble with her stamina because she was newer to the company; Georgina always had a smile on her face, she let you borrow her scissors to break in a new pair of shoes. That was all you could recall. Other than these minute instances, you hadn’t bothered to concern yourself with anyone besides yourself, and failed to notice these disappearances happening right under your nose. The Yard couldn’t even find the bodies of Norah, Mabel, Louise, Georgina, Sophia, Harriet, and Analisse, severely limiting the investigation you and Ciel could accomplish for them.

Even worse, you failed to piece together the evidence pointing to Natasha and refused to listen to Ciel’s concerns. You had allowed your personal feelings to erode your judgment, delaying the investigation.

How could you feel a sense of victory, when so much had been lost?

The only way you could proceed was honoring them in death, especially now that their true killer was brought to justice.

“Ciel, I want to bring the flowers over before it becomes too dark” You requested, referring to the bouquets you asked Sebastian to arrange. Given that most of the victims did not have any next of kin— or were the sole earners for their destitute relatives— Ciel personally took on their burial expenses. Apparently, he had a personal contact working in the burial industry. An Undertaker.

Additionally, you wished to always honor their memorials with fresh florals.

“Certainly. Our work is complete here, for now,” Ciel answered, ending the officer he’d been talking to away with a nod.

Later

The Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park

The sun started to descend below the treeline, casting a shadow over the graves lined in front of you and Ciel. Norah Vincent, Louise Crowley, Georgina Dawson, Mabel Hughes, Sophia Ludwig, Harriet White, Analisse Sterling, Eliza O’Malley, Janet Fischer, and Amelié Langston. All of the victims, save for Maisie Stannard. Distraught, her husband opted to bury her with his family.

“Do you think this really makes a difference?” You asked Ciel, standing from your kneeling position. You dirtied the front of your plain dress from kneeling in the dirt to arrange the flowers around the headstones. It was too cold to plant them, but they did make a lovely display of white and baby blue among the warm autumnal foliage.

The wind made the bare tree branches rustle and their fallen leaves dance, but thankfully, it left the white flowers you placed unmussed. You placed a combination of daisies, blue irises, and calla lilies around them, hoping their serene beauty might bring some peace to the souls around. Though most of these graves were missing bodies, you still hoped their spirits would resonate with the resting place. Body and mind were separate entities, no?

“I believe it does.” Ciel answered, dusting off his knees. He righted himself after you, having helped you arrange the flowers. You were clear that the flowers were a project you were set on seeing through with your own two hands, and apparently, that resonated with the Earl. Enough for him to accompany you and even help. You vowed that you would visit these graves as often as you needed to keep the flowers fresh.

Remembrance was the least you could do, given that you hardly remembered most of the ballerinas in life.

Stepping back to admire the full picture of your work, you lit a cigar. You always kept a small humidor box in your deep coat pocket, along with a small knife to cut the cap and cedar spills to light it.

“My aunt adored the color red,” Ciel recalled, nostalgia softening his stoic face. “Sebastian and I filled the church with red rose petals, and I brought her favorite scarlet gown—she would have thought that white gown they had her in the most plain thing she’d ever seen. I believe she rested easier, knowing that she was being honored.”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, looking up from your igniting cigar to properly look at Ciel. He’d gone through those extra lengths just to make his aunt’s soul feel better at rest, despite never being able to know if the efforts made a difference. And yet, he liked to act like the most selfish man to walk the Earth. But he wasn’t. Far from it. Instead, he pulled at your heart and tugged at your stomach. “She must have enjoyed that. I’m sorry to hear you lost her.”

“I believe she did,” Ciel said, addressing your apology with a miniscule smile. It was barely there, no more evident than the corners of his lips pulling upward. He watched you take a long drag of your cigar in slow, deliberate puffs, as always. “And I think these women know that you brought their killer to justice, above all. Surely that matters a great deal to them.”

Watching smoke from your lips dissipate into the atmosphere, you chuckled sadly. You shook your head, rejecting the notion that you brought Natasha to justice. “You would have caught onto her sooner without me—you mistrusted Natasha from the start. You warned me last week, and I’m confident she tried to poison me that night.”

“She did a masterful job of framing her husband. I would have arrested him regardless, and I wouldn’t have access to investigating either of them without you. I’ve told you once, I shall repeat it a thousand times, if I have to: you were instrumental to our investigation,” Ciel took a short pull from your cigar. The days where he would admonish you for the habit felt like decades past.

Our investigation. You could have sworn your traitorous heart skipped a beat. Your palms felt clammy. After you confronted Natasha and her subsequent arrest last week, you and Ciel had been, for the most part, cautious around one another. The two of you were unsure of the boundaries that mutual forgiveness meant without a proper conversation. There simply hadn’t been any time, given the legal chaos that erupted between convicting a wife and husband for separate, yet related, crimes.

“A thousand times, you say? I may have to consider that request,” you said, smiling to denote your joke. Your cheeks felt traitorously warm, your smile unfortunately bashful. The Earl did this to you without trying.

Because you still loved him. The first man to notice anything about you beyond your looks and your dancing. The first man to care for your wellbeing, and take the time to unlearn the bitter beliefs that his class instilled into him. He fought for you, even when you had demanded he didn’t. But that didn’t mean he didn’t reject you the morning after you gave yourself to him. It certainly didn’t erase the fact that he’d danced with another woman in front of you.

The misunderstanding between you may as well have been a chasm at the time. But now, you were each gradually bridging that gap in equal strides.

Was that fair? You supposed not— Ciel was made to dance with another woman, just as fiercely as her duchess bullied her way into afternoon tea with him. And she had lied to you. Ironically, given the way she’d considered you vulgar. Was it not vulgar to lie in British polite society? Or was it only acceptable because she was lying to a commoner?

“So long as you don’t overdo it, I shall oblige,” the Earl relented, meeting your eyes in the longest bout of eye contact you shared in two weeks. You almost forgot the sheer depths of sea Ciel’s eye held, and the intelligence those sapphire leagues captured. Mesmerizing—it was a shame that the fire damaged his other eye so severely. He, like you, was alone. Save for his staff.

You accepted your cigar back, enjoying the taste of it on your tongue, the heat in your lungs a burning constant. You closed your eyes for a moment, appreciating the crisp air. Less than a month away from winter, you relished in this weather. Chilly, but not freezing. The best weather for a cigar.

“I…” you started, your face red. “Thank you, Ciel,” you said, a touch more earnestly than you had meant to. But honesty was the only way to move forward, you felt.

“Ballet…the aesthetic differs from all other professions. We have to hide all of our pain and discomfort behind a smile— make an illusion for our audiences.” There was no retreating, now that you’ve started. Ciel had already seen behind your facade—there was no meaning in reinforcing capitulated defenses. “Growing up in it from a young age, I suppose… I started to hide too much. I stopped trying to be close with others, and I-I thought you didn’t care for me anymore…” you admitted.

You thought about the way all of your ballet instructors reminded you to maintain a pleasant face during rehearsals and performances, even though all of the contortions were unnatural to the human body. The best ballerina in the world was worthless if she couldn’t shroud her pain behind her character.

No matter how you felt, you had to maintain a pleasant face for the audience, the ballet patrons that paid your school (and later, the Opera House) for the right to your body. All to allow you to make a salary that kept you just above the poverty line. You had never dropped your pleasant face until you realized how false it was, the product of habit and sheer necessity. Everything had to appear effortless, even when it was excruciating. That was the industry.

You couldn’t help but chuckle; not even two weeks ago, you would’ve defended these sacrifices.

“I can see that now,” Ciel admitted, taking a guilty pull from your cigar. You both watched the smoke escape into the atmosphere. The light of dusk made the sky look pink. “I must have been a classist fool to assume that all aspects of this profession happened at dancer’s volition.”

“You were certainly a classist fool,” you affirmed with a playful smile. After taking a final hit from the cigar, you extinguished it beneath your boot heel.

“I am aware, thank you,” Ciel answered pointedly, making the corners of your lips form a smile.

“Though unfortunately, most everyone still thinks that way,” he took your hand in his. The Earl ran his thumb over the top of your hand. You both wore gloves now, a measure against the cold especially now that autumn was in full swing with winter just on the horizon.

You hummed in response, knowing fully well the social abuse you’d take for having Ciel at your side. For daring to love a man this privileged society deemed above your stature. Gwen, that miserable woman, was only the beginning. But you were no stranger to critique—nothing could possibly sting as much as some of the commentary you’ve suffered in ballet school and in your professional career. You were strong.

“But it is not a tradition I will allow to continue,” Ciel said resolutely, meeting your eyes again. “I brought accounts of the prostitution and power imbalances to Her Majesty, and she has decided to purchase the Opera House. She will also be instituting a series of Theatre Company Reform Acts to ensure it ends here—Swan Laws, they want to refer to them.”

The meaning wasn’t lost on you.

You didn’t know how to start thanking him. Instead, you threw your arms around him, your gloves curling into his thick coat. Hot tears slid down your cheeks, they had been slightly chilled from the soft wind, the cold chapping your lips somewhat as well.

“I do not know where to begin,” you mumbled, settling into the way the Earl’s stiff posture relaxed to accommodate you. His coat was soft against your cheek, his arms came around your back to embrace you. You let your eyes flutter closed for a moment, appreciating the safety and strength he offered you.

Ciel held you close, his hand rubbing your back languidly as you sniffled, your appreciative tears rolled down your cheeks. “I will always be endlessly fascinated and enamored by you. It would be a privilege if you could reconsider being with me, after the confusion I caused you. I… tend to push the wrong people away. But you? I never could have asked for a better partner for this investigation, and otherwise.”

A new warmth spread in your cheeks. Your heartbeat thumped with hope, light from Ciel’s confession. How could you reject that? He saved you. He listened to you. He seemed sure.

You wiped away any tears left on your face. Words were never a strength of yours, you had always thought.

“Ciel, I want to be with you,” you declared confidently, your smile glowing as you looked up at the Earl’s thoughtful expression. The worry he tried to hide from you. Your eyes fluttered closed again as you kissed him, his familiar lips immediately responding to yours. A gentle hand held the left side of your jaw, lightly brushing strands of your hair out of your face.

“That is an honor I do not and will never take lightly again,” Ciel promised, his pensive gaze inspecting your face. He was the most exacting perfectionist you’d ever met; you could never decide what he was thinking when he regarded you so closely.

“I’m not sure you could if you tried,” you affirmed, a shiver running down your back. The wind picked up, causing the trees around you to rustle and whisper.

“I’ll have Sebastian bring the carriage around. It’s getting rather dark out here, now,” Ciel mumbled against your lips, pressing on one more innocent kiss before he retreated, keeping your hand in his as he guided you out of the cemetery.

December 13, 1895

The Royal Opera House

From your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra begin to play The Nutcracker’s overture, a jovial melody on strings. The chatter of the live audience was palpable through the thin walls, you could hear the theatre fill with attendees. The run of this show was delayed an extra two weeks as your company appointed new interim leadership to run the performances—- she was one of the ballet teachers who worked under the Woods. She used to teach the classes for the newest ballerinas, the most patient of the staff.

Without the previous director and the short hiatus between the end of Swan Lake and this premiere, the entire company was revitalized. You could hear it in the music. You could see it in everyone’s faces. Rehearsal the past week was magnetic: you were all ready for this evening.

You beamed at yourself in your vanity mirror, enamored with your matching pink corset and tutu combination. Humming the intense melody of the Act II pas de deux with the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier, you started to pin your tiara to the top of your head, careful not to ruin your sleek bun. You were made of pure anticipation and energy, a sense of certainty that you had never known in your life. Once you secured the accessory, you dabbled extra lip rouge and blush to your face in hope. Stage lights always washed out performers’ complexions.

“You look brilliant,” Ciel told you, rising from the loveseat to the side of your vanity. He closed his copy of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King and left it on the small table to the side of the chair. The ballet adaptation of the story was fairly recent in comparison, having premiered three years ago in St. Petersburg. Your production was one of the first to happen in England. Despite having significant plotting differences from the novella, the Earl insisted on reading the source material prior to watching your opening performance.

“How do you feel? Will you be alright if I join the rest?” he asked you, understanding that the overture signaled the audience to find their seats.

You couldn’t have smiled more, your wide, childish grin was unbreakable. For the first time, it was starting to strain your cheeks. You had everything and more than you could’ve possibly asked for: the greatest love you’d ever felt, your stomach was full, your costume sparkled. All of this on the heels of a short performance hiatus that left you more rested than ever, each day supplemented with dance class and rehearsal to keep your body in shape during the break. You’d never had so much strength going into a performance. Ever.

“I am indestructible, Ciel,” you answered, rolling onto the platforms of your pointe shoes for added height. Kissing the Earl left his lips a bright shade of pink, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I shall take my leave for the time being then, mon trésor,” Ciel said, employing that endearing name you loved so much. His treasure. “If you might need me, you know where to look. And I will meet you back here afterwards.”

Ciel made a sizable donation to the theater to ensure that the box on to the right of the stage was exclusive to him. Although Her Majesty took ownership of the property, she could not dedicate state funding without the Parliament; the Opera House would have needed to function without two week’s worth of performance revenue, had Ciel not intervened. He’d been watching from the box during your final dress rehearsal yesterday, and watching you rehearse your arrangements hours earlier. When Ciel could steal time away from his executive work for his company, he managed to immerse himself in your career, playing the piano when you rehearsed at home, and now, publicly supporting your debut as The Sugar Plum Fairy.

“Thank you. Watch closely—I will be dancing for you,” you sent the Earl a playful wink as he left your dressing room. He left a parting kiss on your knuckles so as not to ruin your makeup.

While you were heavily featured in most of the scenes of Swan Lake, now your appearance as Sugar Plum was concentrated into short, intense scenes back to back in the second act. That made your stamina all the more important as you needed to be regal and in control, detail-oriented with almost no breaks.

That required every ounce of strength in your lower legs particularly, but you were prepared, when it came time. You were strong and fortified, learning to accept that as your vehicle, your body was beholden to better care. This full grand pas de deux consisted of a duet between you and Antoine, who played the Sugar Plum Fairy’s Cavalier—her romantic interest, followed by the Cavalier’s solo variation, your solo variation after, and finally, you both danced together again in the coda, or the finale.

You were all but a firecracker. Knowing you had someone in the audience who mattered to you, feeling your body sufficiently rested and fed, were frankly magical sensations. For the past two weeks, Sebastian had you on an incredibly balanced food regiment— he suggested you eliminate the word diet from your vocabulary in a broader effort to reframe your thoughts around food— and you prioritized a full night of rest. The butler even had you dipping your feet in iced water after long rehearsals to reduce swelling and inflammation. You had no idea.

Hard work was not equivalent to dragging your body through abuse each day and night. Skipping meals and sleep did not make you a better prima ballerina—it only made you vulnerable to injury.

In fact, with all of this care reinforcing your natural talent, you could have fought an army. You had already proven yourself a valiant soldier, maybe even more than you were a perfect heroine. You embodied many roles rather well.

Now, your characters danced for Clara’s honor in Act II, signifying their gratefulness for her and the Nutcracker’s victory against the Mouse King in Act I’s battle scene. This grand pas came at the end of the celebration after numerous ensemble characters— Arabian princesses, Russian Cossacks, Spanish chocolate, as well as Dewdrop and her Flowers.

You were serene yet playful, encapsulating the magnanimous fairy. You were one with both your partner and the music, the perfect unit. The Sugar Plum Fairy knew who she was quite well, independent of her Cavalier. Still, they moved together, perfectly in tune as the music built to its climax. You stopped on the exact same stage marks, your arms reached into the same space, even your legs mirrored one another. The Sugar Plum’s Cavalier lifted her confidently—there was no hesitation in the escort’s hold— he never once dropped her.

Even as he lifted his significant other atop his shoulder, Cavalier was unwavering. This strength was the physical manifestation of his love for his dear fairy: supporting her, reliably catching her in one of your favorite moments of the show. Running from stage right, you leapt into Antoine’s grip in the center of the stage. Your fingertips nearly touched above your head in the standard fifth position.

At your high perch, you could only think to peer at the box where you knew the love of your life was watching you. While you couldn’t see any distinctive faces from the stage, all you cared to know was that Ciel was there. For you.

You’d never been in such a partnership before, the object of someone’s genuine care and interest. Sure, you’d been a plaything, a temporary trophy to trifle with and discard when your novelty subsided. But no one had ever deemed you a treasure. Someone always worthy of an apology, protection, someone worthy of love—the sacrifice and hard work that came with it. All that value seemed to be hidden away, like precious gems.

Catching you by the waist, Antoine tilted the upper half of your body towards the floor for a moment. Moving quickly to maintain momentum, he used the leverage to face the audience and place you back steadily on the platforms of your pointe shoes. You danced in tandem with one another, flawlessly showcasing the secure love between your characters: the adoring way the Cavalier cared for the Sugar Plum, and her own adoring trust in him as she jumped into his arms once again. He lifted her high, and she held him close.

The Earl supported you, and you trusted him implicitly.

On your pointe shoes, you let yourself tip backwards, knowing Antoine would catch you with the same certainty Ciel would kick down a door. For you. The Cavalier caught Sugar Plum by her waist and her extended leg, lifting slightly only to resettle her at his side. The characters were a couple in love.

At the end of your second premiere as prima ballerina, you didn’t linger to further absorb the applause in front of you. Instead, you hurried back to your dressing room because you knew the most important person was waiting for you behind the curtains.

Epilogue

“Ciel!” Your Earl had been awaiting you in the backstage wings, paces away from where you exited the stage. He’d opted to wear a black evening suit for this occasion, the raven suit making his deep hair and ultramarine eye all the more conspicuous. Much like the night you met him, it was a number composed entirely of neutral shades. Apparently, a tailored suit on the man came as natural as leotards and restrictive pointe shoes came to you.

With the same intensity as the Sugar Plum Fairy had, you bounded towards your lover and held him close to you, in spite of the heat your body carried and the sweat that slicked your skin. You couldn’t help but snap to his side like an opposing magnet, your face burying into the side of his neck when you lifted yourself en pointe. He caught you just as Sugar Plum's Cavalier would have.

“You put on quite a show,” Ciel told you, pride palpable in his warm tone. “That was masterful. You always are.” An arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand flat against your bare back. His leather glove felt cold against your skin, a welcome change from the blazing stage lights. You swore that one day, they would cause you sunburn.

You were exhausted. Your heart pounded, droplets of sweat fell down your neck tracing the side of your spine. Your breaths came in hard bursts, your lungs working to their limit. The muscles in your legs and feet were molton. But you smiled in spite of this pain, and not out of necessity for once. It was because of the sheer love you had for this man. Your heart beat for him—the slightest quirk of his lips as he watched you, the unsuppressed chuckle in his chest from your question.

“No flowers for me?” You smarted playfully, pulling away before you could damage your costume from the embrace. Not to mention, you weren’t anxious to allow the rest of the company free access to your private relationship with Ciel. You knew that The Queen’s Guard Dog had an infinite supply of enemies and British society had countless newspapers cautiously watching you. They were waiting for you to fail, but you would never give them the satisfaction.

“I like to think I have something a little better in store for you than flowers,” your Earl’s arm remained around your waist, helping support your worn body between the bustling backstage to your dressing room. The moment the door locked behind the both of you, asked Ciel to unclip your corset, overwhelmed with the need to get out of your suffocating costume. As much as you adored its shining accents and the pink, it grew burdensome after expending every last bit of your energy.

“What for? I mean, what could be better than flowers?” you quirked an eyebrow, your smile lopsided. Ciel never failed to bring you a bouquet, even when your courtship had been a ruse. You adored them every time, the least materialistic person.

You hurriedly unlaced your pointe shoes, stepped out of your tutu and stockings, and clipped on a simple navy blue gown.

“I suppose, they will just wither and die, eventually. I want to commemorate this night perhaps more…intentionally,” he explained as he hooked your costume onto a hanger.

This night? More intentionally?

“Of course,” you turned towards your vanity mirror, wiping at your face with cold cream. The next day was December 14, after all. His birthday. Could that be what he was mentioning? While you knew a share of the trauma he felt from that day—-losing his family in the fire— you also hoped to give Ciel some lingering sense of celebration with a waiting wine bottle you purchased for the makings of a relaxed night in. You’d been rehearsing a short self-choreographed piece for him, knowing his adoration for your dancing, and his lack of interest in making a spectacle out of his day.

There was a short silence that followed as you finished cleaning off your face. You were checking your reflection for any leftover face makeup when Ciel spoke again. You watched him approach you from the mirror, turning to face him properly as he stopped at your side. Still sitting in your vanity chair, you looked up at him, a curious smile on your face as you analyzed his serious expression.

“As you recall, I first met you here,” Ciel started, his hand toying with something square in his jacket pocket. “So, each time I’ve thought about how I wanted to approach this, I couldn’t imagine being somewhere else. This was the only right way.”

You snickered, thinking back to the best aspects of that night—an evening you never thought you’d come to look back at with fond nostalgia. That night, you would have told anyone who asked that you disliked Ciel Phantomhive. You thought he was classist and misogynistic, cold. Condescending. You never would have thought he would come to be the most intelligent, thoughtful, empathetic, and determined person you’d ever get to know. Loving not outright, but in his own way: re-considering his belief system, playing the piano, constructing a dance studio on his estate. For you.

“You wore some red gown. I thought…you were breathtaking. I had to ask you to put on more clothes in order to let myself focus,” Ciel admitted, his face flushing to the tips of his ears from the admission.

“To let yourself focus? I thought it was because–” you started to assert that he told you to cover up because he was a noble clinging to traditionalism, but your Earl interrupted you with a lovingly stern expression, fixating his gaze on you. He titled his head to suggest mild exasperation with your never-ending need to chime in.

You obeyed, silencing yourself with another dazzling grin at Ciel. As he…sank down on one knee in front of you and retrieved a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a ring.

“Veux-tu m'épouser?” Ciel asked. You blinked, swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat. Tears immediately formed in your eyes, causing you to blink rapidly to keep them from blurring your vision.

Because that meant…

Will you marry me?

You felt as if someone knocked the wind out of you. A scarlet blush spread across your face with the intensity of a wildfire. Goosebumps littered your arms, despite your gown’s sleeves. He wanted to marry you. He truly wanted you as his Countess. He was legitimizing your claim to his heart with this ring. To all.

“I couldn’t imagine my life without you, Y/n. You have broadened my worldview in so many ways. I never dreamed myself capable of accepting love from anyone, much less someone as breathtaking as you. You shine both on a stage and off, challenging me to better myself each day, inspiring me with your passion for ballet and that stunning intellect of yours. I would be incredibly fortunate to be enlightened by you each and every day, for as long as I may live. If you would do me the honor,” Ciel said. He always held such a noticeable degree of reverence for you, regarding you as some precious being.

“Absolutely, I will,” you beamed as Ciel held your hand, gently siding the engagement down your ring finger. The band was gold, its diamond cut into a square. Two smaller diamonds sat on either side of the largest diamond. Still on his knees, Ciel was still tall enough for you to kiss by leaning down to meet his face.

Lingering close to your Earl’s face, your smile grew sly. You blinked guilelessly. “Though are you certain you do not wish to discuss how we will allow our courtship to slowly burn out over the next month to avoid public suspicion? Would that suffice? That would allow you to resume your real search for a—”

He didn’t even let you finish your sentence, pulling you back in for another intense kiss.

“There will never be a need for that. I put an end to that search ages ago, for all intents and purposes,” he admonished you with no real weight to his words.

Before you could verbalize your next quip, your new fiancé interrupted you once more. “Yes, I am certain. Y/n… you are all I could possibly want,” his hand was gentle as it cupped the side of your face. His thumb caressed your jawline, a touch that was barely there against your electrified skin.

“I cannot wait to see what our life looks like, together, my Lord,” you kissed Ciel, taking his hands in yours. As you rose from your seat, you guided Ciel to stand properly on his feet, clinging to him the moment he righted himself.

“That’s Ciel, to you, mon trésor.”

You welcomed your incoming new role, the future Countess of Phantomhive, with your widest possible port de bras.

Acknowledgements:

First thing’s first, I want to thank you. Thank you so much for reading and interacting in any capacity with me!! I appreciate every second you put into checking out my writing, and I hope it really touched you! This story is meant to show copious amounts of growth in a person and the importance of empathy and compassion. I’ve loved Ciel since middle school and I like to think this love has matured with me, lol!

This is also my first mystery storyline!! I put so much thought into every detail, and I don’t think I could have gotten to this point without you all being here and so so so supportive and patient at every turn.

Thank you especially to my amazing friends here on Tumblr, @mylostleftfootsock and @earls-wife, and my amazing best friend IRL @readfreak03. (She literally made a Tumblr account to read my updates, I'm crying). Thank you all so much for being so inspiring and supportive of me—especially for hearing me and my chaotic ideas out. Without your endless support for both my writing (and my personal life endeavors) and your detailed feedback and ideas, there wouldn’t have been this.

I want to thank everyone who reaches out to me in comments, asks, dms, mentions, and reblogs, everyone on my tag list, and all of my amazing anons.

I want to shout out @katherine101, @endlesslovesick, @suniika, @goby10, @lavendervogh, @eunisyia, @luckyladylottie, @soleil-lei, @lottiehasadvice, and my lovely Random & Sweet anons: I always, always look forward to reading what you have to say!! It’s so much fun to chat, and your feedback is so amazing. I really do appreciate each comment you leave for me! You’re all so kind, it’s endlessly motivating for me. I read every single comment, ask, and reblog multiple times.

I genuinely had so much fun writing this fic. I’ve wanted to write a ballerina!reader x Ciel for so long—probably since I was in the middle of writing The Indignant Pawn. I was developing this story as I was writing! Ever since I stumbled on a History.com article about prostitution in vintage ballet, I was hooked. I knew I needed a fire-brand reader experiencing this in real time, and a Black Butler-level scandal to draw Ciel into the fold. Their polar-opposite personalities essentially wrote themselves. Their natural chemistry, the arguments, the sweeter moments just flowed.

To make this story as accurate as I could, I read countless interviews with real prima ballerinas regarding their interpretations of their characters—their hardships, their advice, their day-to-day lives. I watched so many TikToks (special thanks to @/lifeof.lori!) and tutorial videos, too. I really came into this knowing nothing about ballet besides having an excited curiosity, and now I can confidently say that I understand it a whole lot better and I definitely have a newfound respect for real ballerinas. What they do is incredible.

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. I can’t believe this is my second complete fic ever! I’m so excited to show you what I have in the works. When I finished The Indignant Pawn, I gave you a hint about this story, my next full body of work, because I was a little mean with the way I ended my first story. Literally it was the tallest of cliffs I could leave you hanging from. This time, I was nice, so I think I’ll leave you guessing :)

Stay Tuned,

Dannnn

#anime fanfiction #black butler fanfic #historical fiction #ciel phantomhive x reader #ciel x reader #historical romance #sebastian michaelis #black butler #black butler x reader #black butler ciel #black butler fanfiction #real ciel #ciel #ciel phantomhive #our ciel #kuroshitsuji #best believe I already have two outlines I’m developing into drafts #this is just the beginning lol

64 notes · View notes

criticallyacclaimedstranger · 9 months ago

Text

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #my fic

156 notes · View notes

infictionalwonderland · 1 year ago

Note

okay- so jeremy gilbert x reader, where jeremy is a bit of a player, and has played y/n in the past, when they were in middle/high school, but he realizes that he messed up because he had true feelings for y/n but y/n has moved on and is happier without him, and maybe during his vampire hunter era ? thanks in advance !!

i gotchu girl x

There was a time you would’ve done anything for him, Jeremy knew.

There was a time when a hint of pleading in his voice and a flash of a roguish grin would’ve gotten him anything he wanted from you. Sweet, charming you. The two of you used to be close—when you moved to mystic falls and joined their high school, he’d been the first person to befriend you (you thought he was just about the most lovely boy you’d ever met; he only approached you cause he thought you were a knockout)

Boys and girls alike continued to befriend you and attempt to woo you through the first weeks of your time at Mystic Falls High, and while you responded to the friendships (not the wooing, expect one girl whose smile almost made you collapse) very enthusiastically and amiably, no one could seemed to beat that Jeremy Gilbert, the sweet as sugar boy who made you actually enjoy coming to school.

But too much sugar causes cavities, in time.

Jeremy was apparently a known player although you’d always wave off that notion with a scoff, you’d never so much as seen him with a girl! What rubbish. Whenever you were around, he was always on your arm, making you smile and laugh as bright at the beaming sun in the sky. Making your heart stutter and flutter with each boyish grin and the raspy depth of his voice, and like a fool, you fell right into his awaiting arms.

Before Jeremy, you had kissed people just not necessarily with such passion or meaning—both of which he pulled from you with practised ease. He was your first everything (pretty much) and he assured you that you were also his firsts—fucking scumbag.

One by one he plucked away of those experiences and you were more than happy to let him to so, a glance at him was all it took and you were beyond gone. But you had thought you were both gone, his soft lips that you’d familiarised yourself immensely with were always pulled into that smile that you knew your own face mirrored, and in his shockingly muscular arms, rested upon his chest, you’d felt nothing but security and bliss.

Until you didn’t.

There was no explanation to his actions, one moment he was spending his time with you in your home—affectionately greeting your family and in that sweet sweet routine you both had which you adored with your whole heart.

And then. . well. He stopped messaging you. He never showed up (he’s probably just busy, Mom said—he did have a summer job, you had tried to reason). So you went to the grill, where his summer job was and there Jeremy, your Jeremy, was. Standing behind the bar, the uniform clinging to his muscled body with a shark like grin on his face, looking at the trio of girls in front of him like they were his prey. Long gone was that sweet smile that curved up on his lips beautifully, that expression so sugary, when you kissed his skin you practically taste the sweetness—the hidden message, drawn into the mass of sugar and honey and all things saccharine.

He glanced your way from a few seconds, evidently catching sight of you, and just have you a too short nod with that same predatory grin; no tells of fondness, of the memories that you were sure were embedded so deeply into your own skull (and heart) they would never fade.

There was a time were you would’ve done anything for him, Jeremy knew that—he was so aware of the fact it haunted him almost every day.

Haunted him through the careless glances you gave him in the halls of your shared school or pathways of your town. Haunted him through the unabashed tune of your laughter, a sound which he used to be able to cause all the time. Haunted him through the deep and genuine grins you were wore, unaffected by him and his lack of presence in your life.

He had fucked up.

So so so bad.

But now his life was even more fucked up, original vampires killing you his family members every other week, his sister being one of those vampires—and—and now, he wanted to kill them all, kill his own sister because for some godforsaken reason the universe thought that he, Jeremy Gilbert, should be a vampire hunter.

What a joke.

And now. . all he wanted was for you to hug him, to kiss him, to comfort him through all of this. To tell him you loved him, tell him everything would be okay, tell him you’d keep him safe, cherish him.

He craved those things so much his heart ached his chest—but it was his fault.

It’s not as though you’d chose to leave because you longer wanted to tell him those things, to hold him against your chest, to have him in your life. . he had left you, of his own accord, and now he was paying the price.

He watched you now, from behind the bar at the grill, messily and carelessly wiping down the surface; it was karaoke night and your friend was up on the stage singing some song he couldn’t recognise but you—you were smiling so brightly from your seat in your booth he was blinded and yet also unable to look away, you and your other friends were unabashedly singing along with her and laughing throughout, dancing faintly in your seat.

You looked so fucking happy, he felt his heart pound and break at the same time.

“You messed up, man.” Matt said bluntly as he noticed where his gaze had gone to.

Yes.

He very much fucking had..

#jeremy gilbert #jermey gilbert imagine #the vampire diaries #jeremy gilbert x reader #jermey x reader #jeremy x you #jeremy gilbert x y/n #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x you #the originals imagine

639 notes · View notes

altxrrmelancholy · 5 months ago

Text

Tags: fluff, reader is just aggressive all the time, protective and possessive reader, san is soft for reader .

•••

Even as they sat in the drive through, San could still practically see the gears turning in his girlfriend's mind. Your arms were crossed as your head was turned the other way looking through the window. He didn't know the expression you had on your face but he knew you were mad. At him? Who knows.

San fiddled with his fingers beneath the stearing wheel, resisting the urge to gulp as he was afraid he would make a sound and alert you of his presence. It wasn't that he was afraid of you, you were just a bit... Um...

Ping. Your phone.

Messages from Wooyoung.

"This bitch!" You suddenly yelled, startling San out of his thoughts.

Yup. Maybe he was afraid of you a little.

"W-what. What happened." He asked quietly, but maybe he shouldn't have asked because you turned your head towards him slowly, almost comically. You had a blank look on your face that San didn't know how to decifer.

"Shut up, San. This wouldn't have happened if you would have just told me!"

You see, your relationship with San, was supposed to be a secret. This was all due to Wooyoung, his closest friend who didn't like you. He thought you were a bad influence to San. Too aggressive. Too loud as opposed to San's quiet nature. You got around before you decided to settle with San, and his friend didn't like it. He thought you would ruin San, whatever that means. Yunho had found out that San was dating you, and his fidgety ass had gone ahead and told Wooyoung.

If Yunho doesn't hide, you would kill him.

You swear you would.

Your sweet boyfriend couldn't keep his mouth shut, and had somehow told Yunho you were dating.

Woo...?😮‍💨 : what is actually wrong with u???

Woo...?😮‍💨 : san is not a game didn't I tell u to leave him alone????

You sighed after finally reading the message. You wish you could see where Wooyoung was coming from, but San was a grown up who could make his own decisions.

San sat up and took your phone gently from your hand. You passed him a glare that San ignored. He read the messages and also sighed himself, leaning back on his seat.

"I'll talk to him." You turned to him, still annoyed.

"What?"

"I'll talk to him." He passes you your phone. "He should understand that I'm not a child anymore. I can do whatever I want and right now I want to be with you." He turned to you and smiled. "I really like you, y/n. Woo doesn't have to understand. I'll tell him to leave you alone. How does that sound?"

Due to San's inability to stand up for himself sometimes, you didn't expect him to say that. You were stunned to say the least. But you could sense the seriousness in his voice. That was enough for you at the moment.

"Really? You'll talk to him." You uttered softly for the first time.

"I will."

"Aw, San." You suddenly lunged at him, your arms around his neck. He gently held you and rocked you a little, all with a slight smile on his face. He really did like you. Wooyoung would have to deal with that. He was now glad you were calm.

His phone dinged.

"Okay, that's probably Woo. Let's hear what he has to say."

Your arms were leaving your boyfriend's form as he pulled out his phone. You coped a glance.

A girl's name.

"Who the fuck is Hanuel?"

"What? That's just my sister's name, y/n."

"You save your sister's name with hearts?! Do you think I'm dumb?!"

Sigh.

#ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez #choi san #san x reader #san imagines #san drabble #ateez x reader

74 notes · View notes

nameless-ken · 9 months ago

Note

Aight, so I don't know if this makes a lick of sense, but I'm trying.

Basically, can you do a piece where Billy and Reader are at the gas station at the same time (not that they really realize it). And Reader is trying to start up her car just as Billy is leaving the store, and her car won't start and she has run out of quarters for the pay phone (or something, not important). Billy watches this go down and they bicker a bit until he is just like "So you want to freeze in a dead car?" Or "Do you want my help or not." (Something like that) IDK how you want it to end, I have no preference.

Not necessarily romance, more like they know of each other but haven't really interacted, and Billy is either just trying to be a better person or is helping because he thinks reader is hot and slightly expected her to be easier to woo.

Feel free to change anything. I'm just a sucker for bickering really.

It's usually hard for me to not write romance lol so this kind of friendly behavior was fun to write! Thanks for the request, hope you like it <3

Check out my masterlist for more!

Roadside Assistance

You're standing by your car, frustration mounting as the engine refuses to cooperate. It's the worst possible time for a breakdown—at a gas station, of all places. You've tried everything, but the stubborn machine won't even sputter to life. You glance around, hoping for a miracle or at least a pay phone to call for help.

Meanwhile, Billy exits the gas station store, a bag of chips and a bottle of whiskey in hand. He's about to hop into his own car when he notices your predicament. There's a moment of recognition that crosses his face as he remembers you from high school.

"What's the problem?" Billy asks, not unkindly but also not so friendly, as he approaches your car.

You shoot him a frustrated look, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation at being caught in this situation. "My car won't start," you reply curtly, patience running thin.

Billy eyes the car for a moment before glancing back at you, an amused glint in his eyes. "Looks like you're having a rough day," he observes, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone.

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of defensiveness. "Thanks for the observation," you retort, your tone laced with sarcasm of your own.

He quirks an eyebrow, not backing down. "Need a hand?" he offers, his expression unreadable.

You hesitate, weighing your options. Pride wars with practicality, but ultimately, the cold air and the sinking realization that you're stranded win out. "Fine," you relent, admitting defeat. "But don't think I owe you anything."

Billy chuckles, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Wouldn't dream of it," he teases.

You roll your eyes, begrudgingly grateful for the lifeline he's offering. With that, cooperation takes precedence over bickering, at least for the moment.

Billy steps forward with a confident stride, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's the spirit," he says, leaning across you with a smirk as he pops the hood, his movements surprisingly deft. He walks back around, propping it open.

He seems to know his way around an engine, which surprises you. Maybe there's more to Billy than meets the eye.

"So, what's the diagnosis?" you quip, joining him.

He shoots you a playful stare before turning his attention back to the engine. "Looks like your battery's dead," he replies, his tone matter-of-fact.

You groan inwardly, cursing your luck. Of course, it would be something as simple as a dead battery. "Great," you mutter, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Billy shoots you a sympathetic look. "Lucky for you, I come prepared," he says, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance.

You watch as he strides over to his car parked a few spots away, starting it up and maneuvering it in front of yours. He returns by your side triumphantly with a set of jumper cables held high. Despite your embarrassment at having to rely on him, a sense of gratitude wells within you. "Thanks," you mutter, feeling the weight of the situation lift slightly.

Billy shrugs off your discomfort with ease. "No problem," he replies casually, connecting the cables to his battery.

"Try again," he instructs, gesturing toward your car as you climb back inside. With a sense of hope, you insert the key once more, willing the engine to start.

As the engine roars to life, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe Billy isn't so bad after all. You shoot him a small smile of gratitude, silently acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, you misjudged him.

Billy returns the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he meets your gaze. "See? That wasn't so hard," he says, a hint of smugness in his tone. You roll your eyes, but there's a small flicker of amusement in your chest.

Billy steps back, a satisfied grin on his face as he watches your car come back to life. "Glad I could be of service.”

"Yeah, thanks again," you reply, genuine appreciation coloring your words. He waves off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand. "Anytime," he says, his voice surprisingly warm.

Maybe this chance encounter was exactly what you needed—a reminder that sometimes, unexpected allies can come from the most unlikely of places.

With a final nod of gratitude, you climb into your car, ready to get home for the night. As you drive off, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this won't be the last time you cross paths with Billy.

#namelessken requests #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove stranger things #billy stranger things #stranger things billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff

116 notes · View notes

miumura · 1 year ago

Text

💭 — ZHANGHAO AS YOUR BOYFRIEND !

〰 how it’s like if zhanghao is your boyfriend !

*️pairing bf!zhanghao x gn!reader genre just fluff

*️warnings mentions of kisses and that’s all i think

note woo another bf zb1 headcanon finished! tysm for requesting !! i hope you enjoy this <3

— takes pictures of you ALL THE TIME. like he would honestly snap pics of you whenever he finds you cute (which is whenever you’re surprised / happy abt smth). def has you as his lock screen <3

— like you guys would end up having a competition on who wakes up earlier bc of his habit of taking pics of you when you’re practically drooling in your sleep…whoever wakes up first gets the pics , easy as that 🤗 and let’s say, you’d probably win more often…unless 🤨

— teases you whenever he gets a chance to..which is like everyday.. he just thinks its so funny seeing you being annoyed at him 😭

— despite him being a teaser, he really does love you! he’s super caring and honestly is head over heels for you. anything you do, he watches you with loving eyes. anything you want, he gets it for you.

— so he would be good at taking care of you when you need it. you’re hungry? he’s getting a meal or snack for you. you’re sick? don’t even ask, he’s already going out to buy medicine.

— not that great with / big on giving affirmations but i think he would express his love through acts of service and physical touch!!

— loves physical intimacy !! like he would be smiling when he flops onto you and stays on your chest. he’s definitely the type to unconsciously play with your hands.

— neck kisses. can you vision it. like him wrapping his arms around your waist and sneaking a few pecks on your neck…hi zhanghao one chance pls

— hao being the smartie he is, if you’re like a student, he’s honored to try to teach you anything you might not understand! he’d be a great teacher definitely. i also imagine him secretly helping you with an assignment if you’re dozing off :’) !!! i want him

— super long facetime calls when you two are apart! he’d call you at random times though…like it could be 5am for you and he’d forget…he swears he remembers your timezone though..he will remember for you

— i think zhanghao gets jealous often and quite easily. like he’d pretend everything is okay and tries to hide it…but it gets to a point where it’s pretty obv that he’s giving a side eye or glare 😭. so yes, hao would be kind of a possessive partner ??

— he’s always with you that even you can’t believe he has time for you to hang out. little did you know he tries clearing his schedule as much as possible just to see you even for a little bit <//3

💭 — hao is he so perfect … do you get it 😂 hao ? how ?! 😜 (im sorry.)

PERM ZB1 TAGLIST (OPEN) — @dwcljh @ilovewonyo @jiawji @tzyuki @kpoprhia @flamiricky @misokei @lluvjjun @zzzhoonie

319 notes · View notes

fivestar-outlaw · 1 year ago

Text

New Horizons (Park Seonghwa) (Ch. 4)

Chapter 4: Dreaming [Final Chapter]

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Words: 16.5K+ (OOPS)

Warning(s): Discussion of insecurities, some swearing, Ateez is a menace (lovingly) to reader and Hwa.

SMUT (18+) WARNINGS: Multiple orgasms, oral (M/F receiving), a hint of cockwarming, condoms and birthcontrol are used (not sure if this is needed here, but i know some people enjoy reading characters hitting it raw), PiV penetration, cumshot??? (i dont know if thats the correct term for what happens LMAO). I think thats it here.

A/N: FINALLY CHAPTER 4 IS HERE. Life kept throwing curveballs but I came through!! I. Love. This. Chapter. SM. A lot went into it and its just fluffy, silly fun time with some spice. I originally was going to write a smut scene for the epilogue but it just works here. also apologies if it isnt good, im a lil rusty with smut writing. ANYWAYS enjoy! <3

Reader is implied to be living in the US bc uh TIMEZONES ARE FUCKY and i didnt realize how reliant i was on mine (PST) when looking up KST

Summary: Attempting an all-nighter while playing Animal Crossing alongside your bias, you didn't expect your turnip prices to be such a high amount... nor did you expect Park Seonghwa to actually accept your offer to sell his turnips on your island.

Series Masterlist | Navigation

"Can you stop pacing?" Jongho sighed, watching Seonghwa going back and forth in the living space of the MinSanHwa dorm. Everyone in Ateez were currently residing there, waiting for your arrival in this somewhat warm afternoon.

He felt confident with you coming over. He was excited and ready to start laying down hints about his feelings and hopefully catch any signs from you. But the second they got the text from their manager and you that you'd been picked up from the airport, Seonghwa was up on his feet nervously spot cleaning and pacing. He felt confident at the start of the day, but now? He was on edge.

"What if she suddenly doesn't want to see me?" The eldest asked out loud, feeling anxiety creeping up his spine. "What if she'll not want to stay with me then?"

"Well, she'll still want to see me and stay with me then." Wooyoung teased. Seonghwa shot him a glare.

"Not helping, Woo." Mingi hissed to the younger male. "What happened to the confidence you had earlier?"

"I don't know why I am freaking out this bad." The eldest groaned and started pacing quicker.

"Hwa, you should sit down. Pacing isn't going to help your nerves." San suggested, getting up from his spot on the couch. He gently grasped Seonghwa's arms and pulled him over to take the spot he once inhabited. The younger male made him sit and gave him a reassuring squeeze to one of his arms.

"(Y/N) is just as excited and probably just as nervous to meet you too." Hongjoong attempt to reassure. The eldest nodded, taking a deep breath, as a smile grew on his face.

"Thank you, guys. I am feeling a little less stressed now."

"And if you two need San and I gone, just give us a heads up and we will bunk with the others." Mingi cheekily grinned. Wooyoung bursted out laughing, with San and Yuhno chuckling. Honjoong, Yeosang, and Jongho had a scandalized look before they too laughed along.

"Why would we- Oh my god." Seonghwa groaned loudly. Everyone smiled at flustered expression on their oldest friends face all while Mingi looked proud.

A series of rhythmic knocks had the room go silent.

All of Ateez looked at Seonghwa, who simply stared at the front door with wide eyes. No one moved a muscle. Wooyoung, who was sitting next the eldest male, practically pushed Seonghwa to his feet. He gulped and approached the door. Taking in a deep breath, he turned the several locks and opened the door.

There you were, with a half drank beverage in one hand and your phone in the other. Your suitcase rested just behind you and your carry on hung over your left shoulder. You wore clothes comfortable for travel yet still looked as good as ever. Neither of you spoke. You both just stared at each other.

"(Y/N)!" Hongjoong's voice snapped the two of you out of your trances. He walked through the threshold and grabbed your suitcase with a grin. "Come inside."

"Hey everyone!" You smiled walking into the dorm, waving. All of Ateez stood up from their spots with wide smiles. Wooyoung was bouncing in his spot; San, Mingi, and Yuhno excitedly waved; Yeosang and Jongho looked calm, though one could easily discern some nervousness in their glances; and Hongjoong went and set aside your luggage so it was out of the way for now.

"(Y/N)..." Seonghwa's soft voice stole your attention. Before you could speak he pulled you into a tight embrace. You easily melted into him, the smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body invading your senses. You immediately wrap your arms around him just as tight and you could hardly hear the faint awws from the others.

"It's good to see you in person, Hwa." You whisper.

"Likewise." He slowly moved away, though kept his hands resting on your shoulders.

"Stop hogging her, hyung!" Wooyoung was almost instantly right by your side with a pout on his face. He removed Seonghwa's hands from your shoulders like a child and once they were off you, a big grin broke out on Woo's face. "We are so happy you're here!" He placed his hands on your cheeks, squishing your face, before pulling you into a hug.

Soon enough, everyone was around you. Each member took turns greeting you and pulling you into a hug. Seonghwa couldn't help but smile at the friendliness between you and the others. Even Jongho gave you a very brief hug with a gummy grin on his face.

"It's almost surreal being here with you guys." You admitted, wide eyed, looking at each one. Although, your gaze lingered on Seonghwa's form more so than the others. "It feels like just yesterday I invited Hwa to sell turnips on my island."

"Yeah, and now he won't ever stop talking about you." Yeosang teased with an almost deadpan expression, which soon melted into a smile.

"You all live to embarrass me." Hwa rolled his eyes while fighting the urge to smile himself.

"Not to further embarrass you, or you (Y/N), but we should probably settle sleeping arrangements. I assume your staying in our dorm." San inquired.

"You can always stay with me." Wooyoung suggested, leaning against you.

"I figured I would be taking the couch." You shrug.

"No, you can have my bed. I'll stay on the couch." Seonghwa asserts.

"Hwa, it's your bed."

"(Y/N), your our guest." Hongjoong interjected. "You should sleep on the bed."

"He is the idol. He should be well rested and the best shape, especially if you guys are practicing and learning new choreography and he can't do that if he isn't able to sleep comfortably."

"Ah, well, you aren't wrong there."

"Joong." Hwa gave him an incredulous look.

"You guys could always take turns." Yuhno suggested with a quiet chuckle.

"You both could always just share the bed." Mingi interjects with a cheeky look on his face. That resulted in a light smack to the back of his head from Hongjoong. Mingi yelped and glared at Joong.

"Seonghwa and I can figure it out when we get there. I have a feeling we will be here all day." You say, feigning slight exasperation. "We talked briefly about ideas of what to do, but now that we are here..."

"Well, we would love to bring you to the dance studio while you stay." Yuhno smiled.

"And I asked my vocal coach, he said it was alright for you to listen in on a practice if you still want to." Jongho beamed.

"We can also take you places for sight-seeing and to grab food. We will have to be careful and go in small groups after practice but it should be fun. We have a photoshoot Thursday, which you're welcome to join us for." Hongjoong added. "There are limits as to what we can do outside the dorms and the KQ building, but overall we want to spend time with you."

"We all have Switch's too, so don't think about playing only Animal Crossing with him." Woo playfully glared at you and Seonghwa. This had the others wanting to already play games like Mario Kart or Smash Bros with you.

After a day of playing different party games, laughing at how competitive each of the guys were, and having delicious takeout from one of their favorite places, the nine of you were crowded around the tv in the MinSanHwa dorm. You decided on what movie to watch via rock, paper, scissors; the winner got to pick the movie and sat out from the rest of the game.

You won the first pick. You decided on a movie you enjoyed that you have been meaning to rewatch. San won next and he picked out a film no had seen before. Yeosang was after him and decided on a classic Korean film that you hadn't watched. Now Yuhno's choice was playing, which was Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse.

You were practically forced to sit on the couch, right in between Seonghwa and San, while the others occupied desk chairs brought out from either San, Mingi, or Seonghwa's rooms or the floor. They insisted it was because you were the guest, but Ateez really wanted to make sure you and Seonghwa were seated next to each other for movie time.

After all, operation 'Hwa+Y/N' (Wooyoung's idea) was officially set in motion the second you knocked on the door. It was their way of helping you and Seonghwa to hopefully confessing to one another.

It was midway through the film when you started feeling like you were about to fall asleep. Lingering drowsiness had been present since Yeosang's movie but you were able to keep it at bay. Now, it felt like you were struggling hard to keep your eyes open. Travel exhaustion and your sleep schedule now being thrown off further must have finally caught up. You felt your breathing start to slow as you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer.

Seonghwa's eyes widened when felt weight on his shoulder. Craning his head, his face softened and his heart fluttered at the sight of your head resting on his shoulder. He couldn't help the large smile on his face as he stared, not paying any attention to the movie.

"Aww." Wooyoung cooed softly. He held up his phone and leaned away from you and Hwa to snap a few pictures.

"Send me those." The eldest murmured. Wooyoung nodded and made sure to send them to Hwa. He also sent them to the group chat he created without you or the oldest male he lovingly named the ship name he and Yuhno coined for you and Hwa.

"Here, I'll pause it-" Yuhno lifted the remote to pause the movie but Seonghwa cut him off.

"Let her sleep through the rest of it." He kept his voice low as to not wake you.

"You just don't want her off you, hyung." Jongho teased. Hwa simply rolled his eyes and focused his eyes on the screen. He would be lying, though, if he were to say the rest of his attention was focused in on you. He wanted nothing more than to place a chaste kiss to your hairline and interlock his fingers with yours, and he almost would have if he wasn't keenly aware of his friends not-so-subtly watching him.

When the credits for the movie started playing the tv was shut off. Everyone awake except Seonghwa got up from their spots and stretched, a few yawned in tandem. San and Mingi started moving their desk chairs back into their rooms. Seonghwa blinked back the sleepiness creeping up on him as he ever-so-slightly shifted, reaching over with his free hand. He gently tapped and shook you as he called out your name.

"Hmmm?" You mumbled, your eyes slowly opening. You lazily raise your head from his shoulder but shift your body closer to his. If you weren't half-awake you would have caught how flushed his ears were becoming. "Damn. Did I sleep through the movie?"

"Just half way through."

"All the excitement and traveling must of finally caught up to me." You gingerly move away from Hwa, much to his disappointment, and lift your arms about your head. Your stretched them and your spine as a big yawn escaped your mouth. "We never did figure out sleeping arrangements."

"Seonghwa-hyung, you can have my bed and (Y/N), you can have his for the stay." San smiled as he came back into the living area. "I'll stay with one of the others."

"San-"

"You guys can't argue against me on this." He held up his hand, effectively cutting you and Seonghwa off, and eyed the rest of the group. "Who am I bunking with first?"

"You can stay in my bed tonight, Sannie. I have some work to do anyways." Hongjoong offered. "Oh, by the way, we are going to be heading out early tomorrow for practice, (Y/N)."

"Sounds good. I can't wait. Thanks for," Your own yawn interrupted you, making the others faintly chuckle, "the heads up."

You slowly stand up from the couch alongside Hwa and start to make your way to your bags, but the more awake Seonghwa beat you to it. He lifted your carry-on over one of his shoulders and already started moving the suitcase towards his room. You simply roll your eyes and smile before bidding the others goodnight.

"As you know I got the smallest room but its still nice." Hwa said as he set your things down near the end of his bed. "All I ask is just make the bed each morning and be careful around those." He gestured to his display cases of his Lego figures, which he had lovingly showed you many times over video calls. "You seem like you're about to pass out. Do you need anything before you sleep?"

"I think I am good for now, thank you Hwa." You smile. He gives you a soft smile and turns to leave but you stop him. "Wait, can I... can I have another hug before bed?"

"You don't have to ask, you know." Hwa gingerly wrapped his arms around you. One of his hands rested on your upper back while the other found purchase on the back of your head. You took a deep breath and held him close. It was a warm hug that lasted for a good moment. You both slowly pulled away.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He exited his room, closing the door.

You exhale and quickly got changed. You quickly exit the room to the bathroom to brush your teeth. When finished you promptly went back to Hwa's room and pulled back his covers, slipping into the soft bedding. The mattress was extremely comfortable and as you nuzzled your face into the pillow, you smiled and drifted off to sleep.

---

It has been a couple of days since you had arrived and its been a joy. You've gotten to try different foods and snacks with Ateez and got to have a tour of the KQ building. You even got to meet some of BBTrippin briefly which was amazing.

You mostly were with Ateez when you went to the building, just like now. You were currently sitting on the floor of one of the dance rooms, sipping on a drink you and Wooyoung went to get in the canteen area. The boys were all dancing to older choreography before they started working on their newer songs.

You could feel the floor shake when they danced Hala Hala, which made you quietly giggle.

It was something else seeing them dance in person. Your eyes wandered to each person. You admired how each person moved and danced as if they were on stage performing for thousands. Your eyes stayed on Hwa's form the most. Everyone was extremely skilled in Ateez, but something about his presence while performing drew you in.

When Hala Hala finished, the boys decided to take a five minute break right as the choreographer walked in. Wooyoung and San decided to collapse by you while the others talked to their choreographer.

"What did you think?" Woo asked, practically draping his sweaty self over you.

You grimace, "I think your getting me all sweaty."

"You probably stink too." San teased, poking the younger males arm.

"I do not stink!" Woo gasped while pretending to be offended. His lips formed a pout as he laid down on the floor, resting his head on your lap, his face was towards your stomach. He glanced up to your face. "I don't stink, right (Y/N)?"

"No, you smell like your cologne." You patted his head and chuckled at his behavior. He shifted his head a bit so he could glance at San, letting out a small 'hmph' before returning to his previous position.

San moved himself closer to you and leaned in to talk to you both quietly. "How are you holding up with the whole crush thing?"

"Shh!" You hissed, glancing over to Seonghwa. He was still conversing with the choreographer. San had asked if you had a crush on Hwa when you both went and got snacks together during your first time at KQ. He knew the answer since that phone call Woo had in front of everyone but needed to set it up like he figured it out on his own. You tried to deny it but the knowing smile on his face told you he already knew the answer.

"Have you thought about confessing?" Wooyoung asked.

"I...I thought about doing it sometime over this stay but being in person has made it a bit more intimidating."

"How so?"

"I don't know. I think it makes it feel more real?" Your brows furrowed as you tried explaining the feeling you have been experiencing. "It felt real through our chats and video calls, but now that I am here in person... I feel like it'll hurt more if he-"

"Don't be negative." San gently reprimanded. "Just follow your heart, okay? The right moment will appear so don't ignore it."

"Okay, your right." You exhaled and were about to say more when Hongjoong and the choreographer called everyone to start practicing the new dance. Wooyoung got up with a groan but a big smile on his face. San followed suit and you gave them playful taps to their calves as they walked to the middle of the room.

You look to the mirror wall and you suddenly lock eyes with Seonghwa in the mirror. He gave you a sheepish smile, his ears and cheeks blushing faintly from being caught staring. You give him a reassuring smile and thumbs up, mouthing the word 'fighting'. He bowed his head with a bashful smile before returning eye contact with you, repeating that same word.

The choreographer began teaching them the next steps to Ateez. You watched intently, following the instructors moves and then looking at Ateez mimic him. You noticed Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yuhno were quick in picking up the new dance. Though, you were aware of how much the choreographer was correcting Hwa today as well. You could see him deflate more and more which would cause him to make more mistakes. You could feel your heart clench when you saw his dejected look.

Two and a half hours of teaching passed. An extended break was called by the instructor for the guys to refill their energy. You got up from the floor and stretched, wincing at how numb and achy you butt and lower back felt. You were about to head out with the others who were going to get snacks and food, but stayed still when you saw Seonghwa wasn't joining. He seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at the hardwood floor.

You took tentative steps towards him. Your chest tightened as you got closer. You slowly reach out and place hand on his bicep. Your touched snapped him out of his stupor. His blinked rapidly before he glanced towards your face.

"Are you okay, Hwa?" You asked softly.

"Yeah... I am." His tone and a smile were anything but convincing. You didn't want to push him but you wanted to make sure he was alright.

"You don't have to tell me what's bugging you. And yes I can tell something is." You smile. "I just wanted to let you know I am here for you. Hwa."

"Thank you." His smile this time was genuine. Although, that smile quickly turned into a frown. "I am just angry with myself for how much I am messing up. I was doing fine yesterday and the day before but today... It's like I can't get the steps or the timing down like the others. I know I can do it but for some reason I am just not getting it."

"I see..." You took a moment to think when an idea came to mind. "Why do you teach me the new stuff yourself? Maybe speaking out loud will help the process and you can catch where you've been having trouble."

"Do you think that will really help?"

"Can't say for certain, Hwa, but it helps me when I get stuck writing essays or doing homework."

"Then lets try it."

You felt sweat drip down your face as you danced the first section of the new choreography with Seonghwa. Your advice did indeed help him. As he went over the steps with you, you saw how his eyebrows would raise on certain steps. His face would brighten each time he taught the counts and steps. He was patient with you, especially since Ateez dances were very intense. When he gave you the counts you noticed him catch an error he had been making beforehand and would proceed to explain it the right way.

Now, he smiled proudly at himself in the mirror at the end of the small practice session while you tried keeping your labored breathing to a minimum. The build up of sweat at your brow made you want to swipe it off with the back of your hand but you resisted. Though you did you feel your heart flutter when you saw how proud Hwa looked about himself.

Seonghwa looked at you and his eyes widened. "Let me get you some water and a towel." He hurriedly went to the edge of the studio and picked up a clean towel from the bench and then the half drank bottle of water he'd been drinking from. He made his way back to you, handing off the water. You expected him to give you the towel.

Instead, his free hand rested on your shoulder while the other gently dabbed your face. You tried your best to mask your shocked expression and hoped he couldn't discern the heat from your face was from his actions and not from the dancing. Seonghwa's touches were gentle as he cleaned your face. You felt your breath hitch when he dragged the towel around your neck.

You couldn't help but stare at him, his face concentrated on dabbing your skin. He eyes flickered to yours which caused his movements to halt. You swore you saw his attention briefly moved to your lips before they were back on your eyes. You both ever-so-slightly move closer to each other and again, his eyes wandered to your lips and neck.

He leaned in, eyes hooded, and you couldn't help but follow along-

"(Y/N)! Hwa!" Wooyoungs loud voice deeply cut through the moment. Instinctively you both moved away from each other and looked to see the younger male carrying in two paper bags. "We brought you guys lunch since you weren't there."

"(Y/N) was helping me out with the new dance. I think I got a good grasp on it now." Hwa quickly went to join his members while you followed along, your throat dry. Both of you missed the pointed glares Yuhno, San, and Jongho sent Wooyoung as they pulled out their phones.

'We told you to wait Woo. They were clearly having a moment!' Yuhno messaged their (Y/N)/Hwa-less group chat. Jongho and San quickly followed up his message with angry cat emotes.

---

It was the day of the photoshoot. Apparently, it was for a big magazine that would come out during promotions for the new album.

You were hustled into the building with the stylists while Ateez went in elsewhere. Tiredness lingered on you while you still adjusted to the time zone difference but you didn't let that stop the excitement. You hardly caught a glimpse of the boys when their manager had you sit in the back corner of the shooting room. He gave you a smiled, handing you a badge that shows your allowed to be there, and placed a chair next you for himself before going off to the dressing room.

You waited for a while until you heard the people working the photoshoot call for the boys. Your eyes widened when you saw them walk out of the room. Every single one of them almost too handsome to be human.

Your attention, though of course, stayed on Seonghwa. He wore a loose, knitted grey sweater that was purposely distressed in some areas. The sleeves were long and reached past his hands but the hem was short, exposing just enough of his stomach. If he were to raise his arms, more of his midriff would be shown. His hair was styled down and loose and his charcoal grey top was matched with a dark belt and blue jeans.

You couldn't stop staring. Seonghwa always looked handsome to you, but this look? It was as if the stylist wanted you to keel over. The whole look made your heart race as you scanned over his figure again. 'Is he aware how hot he looks right now?'

You didn't even realize Seonghwa was watching at you. Your face immediately heated up. You gave him a sheepish smile and look away, an embarrassed warmth spreading through your being at being caught obviously checking him out. You focused on one of the studio lights. 'What a neat brand...' You glance back at him in the corner of your eye and immediately looked back at the light when you saw he was still looking your way.

A small, shy smile grew on Seonghwa's face. There was a mix of feelings within him. He felt bashful his crush was eyeing and admiring him so openly, but he also a sense of pride. His heart beat fast against chest.

Seonghwa always brushed off any thought he had of you loving him back. He never could tell over video calls you were ever admiring him in the way he wanted you to, and despite the small glances he had caught you stealing, he tried not to over think it... which actually was him overthinking it. His past insecurities coming up to tell him he was wrong. That little voice in his head always downplayed it. A part of him believed you wanted to kiss him back in the dance studio. However his internal voice dismissed it.

But now? Now he feels almost certain. This had to be one of those signs the others were telling him. There was no denying the expression you wore... how your eyes trailed over his figure... the way your barely sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth... or the embarrassed look as you put your focus elsewhere when he caught you. His smile turned into a faint smirk.

"What's up with you, hyung?" Wooyoung asked with a raised brow.

"I apologize." Seonghwa said in a low voice, that small smirk still present.

"For what?"

"For always doubting you about (Y/N)'s feelings towards me."

"What finallygave it away?"

"She was checking me out." Seonghwa looked to his friend while crossing his arms over his chest, the bashfulness starting to kick in at what he was about to say. "We also may have almost kissed the other day-"

"What?!" Woo shouted, making a silence wash over the room. He sheepishly smiled and apologized. The two waited until the photoshoot crew was talking again as they got the final lights ready. The rest of Ateez huddled around them with curious gazes. Wooyoung made sure to fill them in quickly before signaling for the eldest to continue.

"Listen. I wasn't sure whathappened then. I just... moved on my own and she leaned in too before you guys came back in." Hwa raised a brow when both Yuhno and San smacked Woo. "But I just watched her blatantly check me out."

"You two havebeen affectionate with each other since she got here." Yeosang notes, soft hums of agreement were heard from the others. "Whether each of you recognize it or not."

Seonghwa nodded slowly to that. His mind recalling all the light touches between you both, the nightly hugs before bed,

"Haven't we been telling you she is into you for how long?" Mingi said while crossing his arms.

"I know. I feel foolish now. I know that feeling of doubt may come back up- and I hope it doesn't because I feel really happy right now- but I do feel sure about it now." The elder sighed.

"What will you do now?" Hongjoong asked

"I haven't thought that far." Seonghwa looked away from his friend.

"Leave it to me, hyung." Woo winked.

"Jung Wooyoung-" Hwa started to protest but the photographer called him up for a few solo shots. The eldest gave Wooyoung a pointed look before making his way to start the shoot. Woo grinned and immediately went over the wait by you. The others followed, both curious and excited to see things finally progressing forward.

You were watching Seonghwa get into position for the first picture they wanted when you saw in the corner of tour eye the rest of Ateez joining you. Wooyoung sat in the managers unoccupied chair and gently bumped you. The rest of the boys were able to grab chairs of their own to join you.

"Oh hey guys." You smile. "You all look great. Thanks for inviting me."

"We appreciate you coming." Jongho smiled.

"I caught you checking out Seonghwa~" Wooyoung said in a sing-song voice, cutting straight to the chase. You were unaware of the lie.

"Woo!" Your eyes widened and you looked to the others.

"(Y/N), you haven't been exactly subtle. Well, at least to us. Hwa is oblivious." Yuhno told you, slightly relieved you never figured out Wooyoung told them back in February.

"And don't take this as the rest of us teasing you like Wooyoung, okay? Because we aren't." San added.

"So not only Seonghwa saw me, but you all did too." You groaned and tilted your head back, closing your eyes as you felt the familiar feeling of embarrassment creep up in your system.

"If it makes you feel any better, he didn't seem to mind it." Woo shrugged. "Anyways that's not the only reason why I came here. I wanted to do a dinner party tonight."

"Dinner party?"

"Yes. After the shoot I want to cook everyone a meal, share some soju, and have fun. I plan on keeping my makeup on a dressing up, and I'll make sure the others will be dressed up as well. You should too."

"Sounds like it would be fun, as long as I get to help."

"You are our guest..." Yeosang tried to argue but it trailed off at the look you gave him.

"I want to help. I think it would be fun to learn from Wooyoung."

Your eyes wandered back to the shoot as the others discussed the dinner plans and who all would go shopping for ingredients.

Your eyes widened when you watched Seonghwa raise he hands up and place them behind his head. The hem of the grey sweater indeed raised up enough to show off more of his waist and stomach.

"Close your mouth, (Y/N)." Woo nudged you, but your eyes stayed on Hwa posing. "You'll catch flies."

---

"Wash the rice and vegetables, hyung." Wooyoung gestured to Hwa, his voice firm. However, he switched to an overly sweet tone when addressing you."(Y/N), my dear, can you start cutting up vegetables when he is done."

You laugh and grab the cutting board. You moved to stand next to Seonghwa so you could easily get ahold of what needs to be chopped. You eyed the overly cutesy apron Woo made him wear. You glanced down at your own, it was simple with a cute cat printed on it. Seonghwa gently leaned over and bumped you with a smile before setting down a bell pepper for you start cutting.

Hongjoong, Yeosang, and Mingi were in the living area working on different things on their laptops while Jongho, Yuhno, and San say on the barstools at the kitchen island. Mingi also offered to help but Wooyoung said three people in the kitchen was enough.

The close proximity with Seonghwa in this moment had you recalling your stay with them thus far. Small moments of affection from Hwa were really becoming obvious to you.

Thinking back to when he got done with his solo shots, he practically pulled Woo out of the chair next to you and sat down, much to the younger male's and their manager's (who got the chair for himself) dismay. His arm stayed against yours until he had to get up again for the group pictures. When he came back from the dressing room after getting changed into a new outfit and hairstyle, he stood behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders until he was called again.

When you all left the photo studio and were crammed into the large van, Seonghwa had you both in the very backseats with San. You were sat in the middle, away from windows, but he kept himself close to you. He was showing different things on his phone all while leaning against you. This wasn't the first time either. Sitting next to each other while playing Animal Crossing, during a movie, or simply sitting next to each other for mundane things... he'd lean against you whether or not he was aware of it.

Then there were the times you'd be coming back to the dorms. You and Ateez would get back from KQ, he would rest his hand on your upper back whenever everyone loaded into the small elevator up to the dorm floor. He would keep himself close to you, which you assumed at first was due to limited space. However, even when it was just the two of you, he'd stay close with his hand between your your shoulder blades.

And then the dance studio moment. If the others hadn't of came in, you almost swore he would have kissed you and you would have definitely kissed him back. Your mind at first tried playing it off as your imagination but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed likely.

And you were ecstatic.

You had to keep yourself calm as you helped out in the kitchen but the blooming smile on your face gave you away.

"What has you all happy, hmm?" Woo asked quietly. You glance over your shoulder and saw Hwa was conversing with the others at the island.

"Just thinking how much I was a fool."

A smug look came over his face. "Explain."

"Woo..." You whined.

"You have to be specific because I don't know what you mean." He simply shrugged and focused on stirring one of the sauces.

"You were right, I think, about Hwa... I think he likes me."

"You think?" Woo gave you a deadpan look. You smacked his arm, which made him yelp and laugh.

"What's happening over there?" San laughed and grinned at the two of you. Seonghwa sent you both a curious look.

"Nothing, Wooyoung is just being Wooyoung." You sent the younger male a glare to signal he should keep quiet. Thankfully he didn't say anything further but he still held that smug look.

There came a point where Wooyoung didn't need any help further so he shooed you and Hwa out the kitchen. You decided to head back to Hwa's dorm to change into a nicer outfit and to freshen up your appearance. It didn't take you long and you went to the bathroom to go over your appearance in the mirror. You heard the front door close and heard Hwa's door close as well. You couldn't help but smile when you thought of him.

You felt your heart beat quicken as you thought about your feelings and confessing to Hwa. You were sure now he returned your feelings, but now taking that next step seemed daunting. You were also not fond of confessing in front of the others, if you had the courage to confess at all.

You smoothed out your clothes and left the bathroom, only to run right into Seonghwa, who had his hand up as if he were about to knock on the door.

"Oh sorry."

"My bad." You both laughed.

"Wooyoung sent me to get you and grab the soju we have here." Hwa lifted up the bottle of the yogurt flavored soju from the fridge. "You look good."

"You do too." You noticed he also changed his top. You gulped when you saw it was very similar to the grey top he wore at the photoshoot. It was black, not a knitted looking top with a purposely distressed look. The hem wasn't as short and the sleeves weren't as long as the photoshoot top, but it still looked good. His hair was worn down now and his face was bare, having took a quick shower when everyone got back from the photoshoot.

There was awkward silence as you both stared at each other. You felt your phone buzz, which you were sure was one of the guys telling you dinner was ready.

"We should probably get back." Hwa spoke in a soft voice, his eyes never leaving yours as a small smile appeared on his face.

"Y-yeah, we should." You nod. You both quickly left and re-entered Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and Jongho's dorm. You saw the others were already sitting at the table. It looked cramped but there was enough room for everyone and most of the food in the middle. There were two spots open next to one another.

You both took your spots, Yeosang was next to you while Hongjoong was by Seonghwa. Once you both joined, everyone started putting food onto their plates. You felt giddiness for some reason whenever Seonghwa would get food for you when he got his serving. The soju bottles started getting passed around for those that wanted to drink. You decided to partake, hoping it would calm your nerves.

Your very belated revelation had you feeling more at edge around Seonghwa than ever before.

You hadn't realized you were tapping your fingers against your thigh until you felt Hwa's hand clasped around yours. You tensed but relaxed when he gave your hand a light squeeze.

"Are you okay? You seem on edge." He asked as quietly as he could. Everyone else chatted and some were loud, but he wanted to make sure you had some privacy. You appreciated that.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just really happy to be here." You smile and lean against him for a few moments. He unfortunately let go of your hand so you both could eat with ease, but he shifted in his seat so his thigh stayed pressed against yours.

It was getting later in the night now.

You stopped drinking alcohol when you felt a nice buzz. While drinking with your friends sounded fun, you also didn't want to potentially embarrass yourself in front of them. Besides those who weren't as drunk as Hongjoong, San, Mingi, and Wooyoung, who were all flushed in the face and neck, needed to keep an eye on them.

"Sannie isn't that strong of a drinker." Hwa chuckled next to you as you both watched him and Mingi sing loudly to some ballads.

"Hyung you have no room to talk." Yeosang rolled his eyes as he sat next to you. He crossed his arms and rested his head on your shoulder.

"Hwa's a lightweight?" You ask with a smirk, looking to the man in question.

"He gets as bad as Sannie." Yeosang wore a faux pout. "At least San doesn't scream in your face."

"Hey, we were playing a game. Don't make it sound worse to (Y/N)." The eldest grumbled and followed the younger in resting against you. You simply chuckled at their antics.

You nearly busted out laughing when Wooyoung and Hongjoong loudly joined San and Mingi's singing. Their voices were very loud and their singing was slightly slurred. You watched as Wooyoung climbed onto the wooden coffee table, singing his heart out to the room.

"Woo get down before you hurt yourself." Yuhno sighed, approaching the scene.

"Let him perform!" Mingi and San said at the same time.

"I don't want to hear it from the two that got us a jumping ban." Yuhno struggled to get Wooyoung off the coffee table but managed to do so despite the younger one's squirming.

"Ah, he is such a handful even when he is drunk." You heard Jongho say from behind you.

"Glad I stopped when I stopped drinking when I did." You chuckled. "I probably would have been up there with him."

"Oh that would be fun to see." Hwa acted like he was about to get up off the couch. "Should we get more to drink ?"

"I don't want to be yelled at." You scrunch your nose at him teasingly.

"I would never." He places his hand on his chest and faked offense.

"Although I wouldn't mind one more shot from that bottle with the purple cap. That stuff is delicious."

Yeosang decided to get off the couch and grabbed the bottle and three of the shot glasses. He poured you each a glass, the bottle now empty. You tilted back the small cup and down the smooth liquid easily.

Yeosang chose to sit back at the table, leaving just you and the eldest on the couch. You moved in your spot so you could rest your head on Seonghwa's shoulder now. You started to feel tired, likely from the alcohol in your system, but you felt at peace. Well, for the most part. When four men were loudly singing ballads right in front of you, it was hard to actually fall asleep.

"You should get some rest, (Y/N)." Jongho spoke softly. He was resting his arms on the back of the couch where Yeosang was once residing.

"I don't want leave you alone with dealing with the drunks though."

"Don't worry about us. We got this handled." Yuhno grinned. His arms were still around Wooyoung as they swayed to the song playing.

"Alright. I'm heading back over then." You pat Hwa's leg and got up from the couch. You stretch your limbs and start the head over to the door when you noticed Seonghwa got up and was following you.

"I'm tired too." He had a light blush on his cheeks.

You both told everyone goodnight as you went back to the MinSanHwa dorm. You didn't catch how the rest of sober Ateez gave Hwa a thumbs up before the door closed.

"Ugh, I don't want to take off my makeup." You groan as you both walk through the front door. Seonghwa chuckled from behind you as he closed the door.

"Why don't you sit on the couch. I'll be back out." You gave him a questioning look but he was already heading into his room. You sit down on the couch and take in a deep breath. You felt a little more buzzed now that your last shot had been in your system for a bit.

A few minutes pass when Seonghwa came back out from his room. He appeared to have changed into nightwear. In his hand was a bottle of makeup remover and two clean towels. He sat next to you on the couch, his legs crossed as he faced you.

"Hwa, what are you doing?" You ask with a slight chuckle.

"Turn and face me. I'll take off your makeup." You gave him a puzzled look but did as he asked.

"Why do you want to take off my makeup? I have two hands, you know?" Your tone was playful, but there was genuine curiosity there. "You're always taking care of me."

"Is it an issue?"

"No, it isn't."

He uncapped the makeup remover and dabbed it onto one of the face towels. He gestures for you to close your eyes and you do.

"I am about to touch you." He murmured and just a moment later you felt the expected cloth on your face. You felt him start to clean off your forehead first. His fingers of his free hand gently held your jaw as he moved your head when he needed to. His touch was electrifying. "Let me know if I am too rough."

You mumble a response. Both of you sat in silence as he slowly and carefully cleaned your face. Your mind was taken back to that day in the dance studio when he cleaned your face then. It made your heart flutter.

"I like taking care of you." His voice cut through the silence between you two. He carefully started removing your eye makeup. "That's why I wanted to take off your makeup right now."

"Oh." Was all you could say. Your mind swam with different thoughts and feelings, all clouded by your buzz. You gulped and took a deep breath. "Why?"

"You can open your eyes now." You did so and saw he was smiling at you. With his free hand, he tilted your head back, making sure to clean under your jaw and your neck for any left over makeup. His motions were careful, his free hand stayed at the base of your neck. "I like taking care of you because I carefor you. I like seeing you happy. Hongjoong told me it's my love language for those I am close with."

Seonghwa finished cleaning off every part of your face and neck. He set the towel down on the coffee table and placed both his hands on the sides of your head, guiding you to face him. His hands lingered for a second longer before he moved them to rest on his legs.

Hwa gave you a look full of fondness and sincerity. His smile was warm and you felt safe under his gaze. You smile back and scoot closer to him. You caught his dark brown eyes staring at your lips, and this time it was blatant. Your breath was caught in your throat and your face felt on fire. And yet, your mind, while racing, wasn't telling you to overthink. It wasn't downplaying the situation like it would do before. Everything in the moment, you and Hwa alone having a sweet moment, felt right.

This has to be the right moment, like San told you.

"May I?" His voice was almost a whisper but you heard him loud and clear.

"Yes, before someone interrupts again." Seonghwa let out an amused 'hmph' sound. He scooted himself closer to you, one of his legs now was angled off the couch. As if you were made of glass, Seonghwa gently placed both his hands on your jawline. His thumbs softly petted the skin of your cheeks while his eyes roamed over your face. Your hands found their spot on his waist and you smile.

He gave you a look, asking for permission again. And when you slowly nodded once his soft lips were pressed against yours. You smiled against him, your heart raced and beat rapidly against your ribcage. You could feel the corner of his lips curl up words. The kiss was almost fleeting, a quick moment between you two.

Seonghwa pulled away, only to rest his forehead against yours. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes were still closed.

"I've wanted to do that for a while now." He let out an airy laugh.

"Me too, Hwa." You chuckle, your voice trembling ever-so-slightly.

"Can I...?"

"You don't have to ask, you know." You repeated that phrase he told you your first night there.

Seonghwa kissed you again. This time it wasn't short. It didn't have a tentative feel to it. He kissed you passionately and you returned the feeling. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, making your lips part slightly. His tongue slowly slipped inside your mouth. You both move to be closer to one another.

You could feel him press himself more against you. Hwa briefly broke the kiss to place softer kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jawline. He pulled his face away from you, his warm smile still on his lips. You expected him to make out with you more, but you notice him glance back at the front door.

"I want to continue..." He started to speak.

"But the risk of a drunk San or Mingi coming in tonight is the issue?" You finish.

"Exactly." He laughed. He hugged draping himself over you with his face nuzzling into your neck. "I'm sorry. The risk of nosy roommates."

"Don't be." You hum, moving your hands. You rested one on his back and the other at the back of his head.

"How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? Tipsy and over the moon." You felt his chest rumble with his laugh. Seonghwa pulled his face from your neck and his hands were back to cupping your jaw. He stared at you for a few moments. He took in a deep breath, building up his confidence for what he was about to say.

"I figure the kiss would show you but let me tell you." He smiles. "I have feelings for you, (Y/N). I care immensely for you. I find you charming and so, so beautiful. I enjoy talking to you and being in your presence. I am glad to have taken that chance when we first met. You've become such an important person to me."

"Oh, Seonghwa." You felt stinging in your eyes and tears quickly filled then.

"Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?"

You lean in and place a soft kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him.

"I am just happy you feel the same as me. You know, I always pushed away my feelings for you. I was worried you only saw me as a friend. Which would have been fine by the way." You add with a slight nervous inflection. "I feel like an idiot though. When I look back at it now, everything seemed so obvious we both felt the same."

"I had the same revelation today when I saw how you were looking at me today at the shoot."

"Ugh, don't remind me of that." You groan and lean forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck.

"Don't be embarrassed." You felt him laugh and rest his hands on your back, one rubbing small circles. "You should of heard all the teasing the others did towards me.".

"Yeah, they teased the hell out of me too." You couldn't help but chuckle, now knowing the rest of Ateez knew about both yours and Seonghwa's feelings. "No wonder Wooyoung was so adamant you liked me back."

"It all makes too much sense now." Hwa almost scoffs, his shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle. There is a pause in the conversation. The silence didn't cause any discomfort between you two. Though, Seonghwa had a question he needs your answer to. "It may seem like a dumb question but..."

"But?" You prompt him to ask.

"Would... Does this mean you'd like to be in a relationship with me?"

You pull away from him, just enough to look at his face. You initially wanted to tease him, ask him sarcastically if it wasn't obvious you were head over heels for him... But you saw the vulnerable look in his expression. You knew he needs reassurance right now.

"Park Seonghwa." You gently take his face with both of your hands. You inhale and shakily exhale, a tender smile on your lips. "I love you, okay? I would absolutely love to be in a relationship with you."

"I love you too." He smiles brightly, almost making you melt on the spot. He wraps his arms around you, one snaking up so his hand could cradle the back of your head, before kissing you again. You slid your arms around his neck in the moment.

"How can you be so perfect?" He murmurs against your lips.

"I should be asking you that, Hwa." He chuckles softly in response to your words.

"How are you feeling now?" He asks again. "You did take that extra shot."

"I still feel a little on the tipsy side, but I am doing good, Hwa... And everything I said and every kiss I gave was of clear conscious too. I would do those things again, just less confidently."

He chuckles, "Well, we should probably get you some water and start getting you to wind down."

"Hwa, I don't think I can wind down after finding out my crush loves me back and now we are dating."

He tilted his head back and laughed in response, making your chest feel warm at the sound.

"Come on." He stands up from the couch and helps you to your feet. He hands you the bottle of makeup remover while he holds onto the dirty towels. "Get some comfier clothes on, do what you need to before bed, and I'll meet you in my room."

You gave him a curious looks but did so. You popped back into his room for some nighttime clothes and went into the bathroom to take a very quick shower. You didn't know you could get as clean you did that fast but you did. When you entered back into his room, you saw Hwa sitting in his desk chair scrolling on his phone. He looked up and smiled seeing you enter. He gestures to his bed, which already has the covers pulled back.

"I figure we could watch something before bed. If you would like to."

"I would love to, Hwa." You smiled and laid down on the side closest to the wall. Seonghwa followed suit in the spot next to you and pulled the covers over both of you.

He grabbed his tv remote and turned on the screen, putting on something you've both seen at a low volume. He kept his back propped up by the headboard while you had an arm wrapped around his midsection, curled up next to him with your head on his chest. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulders while his hand softly traced patterns into the skin of your arm.

It was quiet except for the tv playing, but two questions lingered in Seonghwa's mind.

"(Y/N?)" You glance up when you hear him softly call your name. "When did you realize you started having feelings for me?"

"When I had that shitty week at the end of last semester and your voice helped calm me down enough to sleep... why do you ask?" You felt a tinge of anxiety peaking through. "Is it because I was a fan-?"

"No, don't worry about that." He placed a soft, short peck to your hairline. "I could tell from the start you didn't have any negative intentions and I always appreciated you letting me initiate things."

"Oh, I didn't realize you picked up in that. I just never wanted you to be uncomfortable."

"I pick up a lot, as untrue as that seems." He jokes, making you snort. "No. I was just curious. That night was when I realized I liked you more than a friend as well." There was a shared silence between you two for a moment, though it felt like minutes, until he spoke again. "If you liked me then, why did you agree to go on that date with that guyfrom your class?"

You blink and shift to sit up so you could look at his face. You scan over his features but didn't catch any sign of anger or any negative emotion. He was genuinely curious.

"Insecurity mostly." Your voice was quiet. Hwa nodded his head for you to continue and gently took hold of your hand. "It seems silly now, but I was just insecure about a lot of things, which made me so sure you never liked me more than as a friend. I saw it as a way to hopefully get over my crush."

"Oh, jagiya." He hums softly. "I got too wrapped up in my mind to think you'd want to pursue a relationship with me as well." He leans in and gently kisses you. "Looks like we really were fools... and Wooyoung is going to remind us whenever he gets the chance."

"Why don't we hold off on telling the rest of them as-"

"What?" He furrowed his brows, a look of confusion and a flash of hurt was on his face.

"Don't over think and let me finish" You gently 'tut' and move to hold his hands. He gave you a sheepish smile. "Since they knew about both our feelings, have gotten super invested in getting us together, Woo's going to gloat, and I know if we ever attempt to go on dates one of the others will try and tag along... let's just have a short time period of just us. Would that be fine?"

"Having one over the others? Not letting Wooyoung say he was right? A pinch of privacy?" He raised his brows, a smile growing on your face. "More than fine."

That made you laugh.

---

Yuhno sighed as he took Mingi's dorm keys from his drunk friends grasp. He would have just let him crash in his room since Jongho had his hands full with Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and San, but Mingi was insisting on sleeping in his own bed. Plus, you had left your cellphone behind. He just hopes neither of them will wake Seonghwa or you.

He got the door open and with Mingi's arm around his shoulder he walked through the dark apartment.

"YuYuuuu." Mingi mumbled.

"Shh..." Yuhno whispered, helping him to his room.

"I'm not drinking again after this."

"I'll help keep you to that, let's just get you to bed for now." Yuhno got the younger male to his room, turned around as he changed into his pajamas, and tucked him in.

"Thank you."

"Uh huh, go to sleep, princess." Yuhno snickered and patted his friend, leaving his room with a yawn. He fished your phone from his pocket and approached Seonghwa's room. When he saw the light was still on and heard the tv faintly playing, he figured you were still awake. He glanced back to Sannies door and saw it was dark there.

"That last shot must of done him in." He mused to himself with a small smile.

Yuhno did a quick knock and opened the door.

"(Y/N), you left your- Oh." Yuhno's eyes widened, not expecting to see you and Seonghwa mid kiss. You both were sitting up against the headboard, your hand on his neck while his hand was on your side. You and Seonghwa were frozen and heads slowly turned to the taller male. There was a big grin on Yuhno's face. "I was just, uh, dropping Mingi off and your phone."

"Yuhno sit down, please." Seonghwa sighed pulling away from you. His ears were bright red.

"No, no. Don't let me interrupt you both." He waved his hand, gently tossing your phone onto the foot of the bed, and went to leave.

"Yuhno." The eldest uses a serious tone, making the younger male sit.

"What is it?" He looked between you two, his voice soft.

"We wanted to keep this secret, just for a bit. You know how the others get, we just wanted to have this to ourselves for the rest of the trip."

"Plus," You add. "Wooyoung can't gloat and you get bragging rights of knowing first." You offer to him, making Yuhno laugh and Seonghwa roll his eyes with a chuckle.

"Your temporary secret is safe with me. The thought of telling everyone didn't even cross my mind. You guys decide when you want to tell everyone." Yuhno states sincerely. "But I am curious when this happened."

"Tonight, like 20 minutes ago."

"Ah, I'm happy for you both." Yuhno grins and gets up. "I'll leave you both alone now, I need to check on Jongho before going to bed. Goodnight and make sure to sleep."

"Goodnight, Yuhno. Thank you." Seonghwa smiled at the younger male, who simply smiled and shook his head before leaving the room. You both looked at each other and sighed.

"That went well. At least he knocked..."

"No privacy." Seonghwa rolled his eyes and moved enough to flop on his back.

"Hey, he is keeping it to himself. He was sweet about it."

"I don't care." Seonghwa turned on his side with a slight pout, wrapping his arms around you to pull you down to lay partially on top of him.

"Hwa!" You quietly yelp.

"I'm getting all the intimate affection I can in our alone time." He chuckled, and holds you tightly. "And we are locking my door every night until you leave."

---

Wooyoung and San practically cornered you the next day during a break in practice, asking if you two confessed. You were getting a drink from a nearby vending machine when you felt Wooyoung's arm wrap around your waist while San's was around your shoulders.

"So, (Y/N)... Did you two do anything last night?" Woo asked in a hush tone in your ear.

"No, Wooyoung. He practically passed out when we got to the dorm and I didn't have the confidence to talk to him about my feelings." You sigh, finally deciding on what drink you wanted. "I don't think I can confess at all this trip."

"Let me help you." Woo whined.

"No, it's fine. Maybe one day it'll happen... but not now." You shrug off their arms and squat down to get your drink.

"Don't worry about it. Just don't neglect your feelings." San patted your back as you stood back up. "We are going to get drinks for the others, would you mind helping us?"

"Sure!" You were grateful San took the attention off you. The older of the two tapped his card to the machine and the three of you started picking out drinks for the Ateez members and the BBTrippin crew. Once there were five drinks, San delegated Wooyoung to get them to the studio, which left you two alone.

"So how did you confess to him last night?" He asked while picking up a drink.

"I told you, nothing happened." You try and give him your best confused look. He kept a knowing smile on his face as you both stared each other. It felt like a minute and it was clear he wasn't relenting. You groaned, making him laugh. "How do you know?"

"You both just seem very happy today and I can tell there is something different. You both don't look at each other with hesitation. It's sweet to see." He pats your back again. "You didn't tell me how it happened... though you don't have to. I'm just curious."

"It was the right moment, like you said would happen."

"I'm glad it worked out. Like we all told you it should."

"Ugh this is why we are waiting to say anything." You whine, playfully smacking his arm which made him laugh. "Do you think anyone else knows?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I haven't heard anything from the others."

"Good." You huff with a laugh. You and San gather up the rest of the drinks and head back to the dance studio. "You're not allowed to say anything."

"Cross my heart."

---

Later in the day it was just Seonghwa and Hongjoong in his studio. The captain wanted his older friends inputs, both because he valued Hwa's opinion and because Mingi wanted to take some time freestyle dancing with Yuhno and Yeosang, on some of the final minor edits he made to the tracks. The others were still in the dance studio while you joined Jongho for one of his vocal lessons.

"I like the addition to the dance break for this one, though I think the end should be tighter." Seonghwa gestured to the screen.

"I was thinking the same." Hongjoong hums and focuses his attention on the small changes. Seonghwa felt his phone buzz on the table and he quickly unlocked it. A smile grew on his face at the cute selfie of you and Jongho sent to the group chat. He quickly saved the picture and couldn't help but stare at your face.

The call of his name had him looking back up.

"Yes, Joong? Is there something else you need help with?"

"You confessed to (Y/N), didn't you?" The younger male smiled.

"What? No. She passed right out once she got her makeup off." Seonghwa furrowed his brows and hoped he was convincing enough.

"Hwa, you are terrible at hiding your emotions and secrets. Your eyes always give it away." The captain laugh and playfully flicked the older males arm. "I can see it in the way you look at her and how you 'try' to act shy. Your eyes don't hold the same longing. They say something different now."

"Please don't tell the others." Hwa sighed and looked to his friend, silently pleading to him.

"I won't... but why keep it a secret?"

"We just want some privacy about it. Everyone is so integrated with one another. We do plan on telling everyone soon."

"I see." Hongjoong nods and then smiles, a hint of smugness there. "So we were right? You both overthought everything between you two and now everything fell perfectly into place."

"And that's also why we don't want to tell everyone yet."

"Ha! You're just prolonging the inevitable teasing." Hongjoong grinned. A curious glint was in his eyes now. "So how did it go?"

"The moment is ours alone so I won't share any details, but..." A fond smile grew on the eldest's face. "It was sweet... really, really sweet."

"I'm happy for you, truly, Seonghwa, even if I plan to tease you about it. You deserve this, especially with (Y/N)." Hongjoong reached over and gently grabbed Hwa's hand, giving it a firm, quick squeeze before slowly dropping it. Seonghwa couldn't help the bashful smile on his face. The two scooted close to each other, nudging each other as they got back to working on the finishing touches of the song.

---

It was late at night. You were laying in bed, watching Youtube on Seonghwa's tv before you fell asleep. You heard soft knocks on the door. Pausing the video, you get up and open the door, revealing Seonghwa. You let him in and make sure to lock the door. You felt him wrap his arms around your waist, his chest flush against your back.

"Mingi went to bed." He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to your temple. He removed himself from you and flopped onto his bed. "What were you up to?"

You laughed and joined him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. "Just catching up on some Youtube. I can put something else on-"

"No, this is fine." You nodded and started the video over for him to watch. It was nice, curled up under the covers with him, feeling warm and comforted in his arms; and you were sure he felt the same when you rested your arm over his stomach. You didn't want to break the peacefulness but you knew he should know that another members knows.

"Hwa? Can I tell you something?" You pause the video again.

"Go ahead, you can tell me anything."

"Sannie knows about us."

There was a brief pause before he chuckles.

"Hongjoong knows too. How did San figure it out?"

"He said he could see us acting different around each other. How did Hongjoong?"

"He told me my eyes gave it away." He then rolled his eyes for dramatic effect. "At least he said he won't tell the others."

"Sannie promised too. So that's a relief."

Another moment of silence.

"You're leaving soon." There was a sadness to his tone. Seonghwa briefly tightened his arms around you.

"I know." You sigh, snuggling into his hold more. "But, there will be more visits again."

"But now that we are together... now that you're in my arms..." He shifts away from you. You felt his hands on your shoulders as he gently maneuvers you down the bed so he could guide you onto your back. Hwa then moves himself to hover over you. "I don't want to let you go."

"Hwa." You smile, placing a hand on his cheek. "No matter the distance, you have me, okay?"

Seonghwa smiled sweetly though you could see a hint of something else in his eyes, something lustful.

Honjoong was right. His eyes do give away a lot.

He lowered himself down, pressing himself against you and you could feel he wasn't putting his full weight on you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and trailed his lips along your jaw and down you neck with opened mouth kisses. You hummed pleasantly, giggling softly at how he focused on kissing your neck, his teeth grazing your flesh.

"Seonghwa, weren't you concerned about nosy members?"

"Front door and bedroom door are locked." His breath felt hot against your neck, making you pleasantly shiver. "Mingi sleeps like a log." You felt his teeth gently nip your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, and then his tongue swiping over the area. You couldn't deny that there wasn't arousal slowly building inside you. He pulled his face away from your neck and stared down you. "I can stop if you want me to."

You stare into his eyes. You can see the love and adoration he holds for you. Your heart flutters in your chest.

"Keep going." You murmur, placing your hand on the back of his neck and pull him back down. His lips met yours in a feverish kiss. His tongue explores your mouth and brushes against yours, all while you feel him press himself against you. Your hand stayed on the back of his neck while the other was on his side, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Seonghwa lifted himself from you again now straddling your hips. His fingertips grazed your stomach, barely moving underneath the hem of your shirt. He gave you a look as if he was asking for permission, in which you nodded slowly. You take in a sharp breath of air feeling his hands glide against your skin under your shirt.

His soft hands slowly cupped both your breasts and he starts to gently knead them. You take in a deep breath and smile up at him, enjoying the feeling. You see he was biting his bottom lip and suddenly you felt a small shiver run up your spine when his thumbs brushed over your nipples. You can see he was getting lost in moment. Slowly he removed his hands from your chest and you missed feeling his warm hands fondling your breasts.

Seonghwa helps sit you up and them assists pulling your shirt off your body. He stared at your bare torso with wide eyes, a blush creeping up on his cheeks and ears.

"I'm feeling a bit under dressed here." You laugh, making him blink out of his dazed state. He chuckled, and took off his shirt as well.

"You are gorgeous, jagiya." He speaks softly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. He placed more wet kisses in the crook of your neck. He shifted himself so he could go lower, until he guided you on your back again. He trailed his kisses from your neck to your collar bones. His mouth moved lower and when he got to your breasts he started biting and sucking on your skin.

"Seonghwa, love..." You murmured, worried about the others seeing the hickeys.

"Don't worry. I won't leave any in visible places." He kissed where he bit. He left scattered little marks of your breasts and along your stomach, kissing each one when he was done while his hands caressing your body. When he was finished he took a moment admire all the little marks he left in his wake and you knew they would show up more prominently tomorrow. He smirked as he stared at your body.

You let out a soft gasp when you feel his mouth latch onto your left nipple. His hand went to your other breast and squeezed your flesh, his fingers played with your other nipple. His eyes looked to your face as he gently sucked and you feel his tongue swirl around the harden bud. He kept his mouth latched to you as if his life depended on it. You comb your fingers through his dark hair which caused him to make a noise similar to a hum. You made a soft moan at the sensation.

He released his mouth with a slight 'pop' noise, a string of saliva still attached to the pebbled skin and his lips. He moved over and repeated the process to your right tit. You let out a soft whine when you felt him gently bite around your nipple, making him chuckle and remove his mouth. He looked down at you with pride on his face, seeing how worked up by his actions you were.

"Too bad we have to be quiet, I would love to hear what noises you make." Seonghwa trailed his fingers down your stomach and shifted so they rested at the hem of your sleep shorts.

He craved to taste you and further use his tongue on you.

You glance down to where he now sat on your thighs and saw a clear bulge in his pajama bottoms. You bit your bottom lip knowing you weren't fairing any better, you could feel how wet your panties were already. His other hand rested on your hip and he gave you another look. You nodded and appreciated his subtle way of asking for permission. He smiled and started pulling down your shorts and underwear. You raise your hips to help him and soon enough, you were completely bare.

A sense of heat flushed your face at the realization, shivering at the lack of covering over your core. You move to close your legs but Seonghwa's hands gripped your thighs and gently keeps them parted. You saw the tip of his tongue peak out of his mouth.

"Don't be shy." He breathed, taking in everything. "I'll get fully undressed in a moment... Let me admire you first."

"Seonghwa!" You huffed. The embarrassment you felt was clear as day on your face, which made him smile more. His hands gently squeezed your thighs as he took in how wet you were. He never felt this turned on before, he could feel his cock throbbing against his underwear.

"Let me have a taste first." He murmurs, almost too quietly. He maneuvers himself to lay on his stomach, his arms wrapped around your thighs. His face was mere inches from your soaking cunt and you swear you could feel his breath against you. "May I, my love?"

Your face felt on fire at how seductive he looks right now with his head between your thighs. It was such a turn on to see how eager he was to eat you out and please you. You could feel a sensual heat pooling in your lower belly.

"Hwa, please touch-" You couldn't finish your sentence as you let out a low whimper; Seonghwa licked up your slit with his tongue. He delved in and his tongue flicked over your clit. He practically buried his face in your pussy as he worked your sensitive nub just right. You cover your mouth with your hand as you tried to suppress the noises threatening to escape from your lips.

Seonghwa groaned as he lapped your cunt and messed with your clit. His eyes stayed watching your face and he nearly smirked seeing you cover your mouth. Never had he tasted something sweeter. His arms around your thighs tightened, though he was so tempted to start using his fingers soon. He moved his mouth from your clit, nuzzling his nose against it, before he plunged his tongue into your wet hole.

"Oh God, Hwa..." You moaned quietly, muffled by your hand. You glance down and see he was still staring at you with his face buried into your cunt. He was devouring you as if you were his last meal. The sounds coming from his mouth on your soaked pussy were downright sinful. The feeling of his warm tongue thrusting inside you with the tip of his nose brushing against your clit felt almost too good. Your other hand found purchase in his dark hair, gently gripping it with your fingers as you start to roll your hips against his face, making him hum. You could feel an orgasm inching closer and closer.

Seonghwa felt euphoric as your started losing yourself to the pleasures he was providing you. He loved the feeling of your hand in his hair and they way your hips moved. He let out a moan of his own as he kept going, paying no mind to the tiredness he felt in his tongue. His mind was only focused on getting you to come.

Hwa moved one of his arms from holding your thigh, barely moving his mouth off your slit for just a moment, before he went back in with his tongue playing with your clit. You felt him slowly enter one finger, feeling around, before entering a second one given how he further turned you on from his ministrations. He curled his fingers just right inside you as he started thrusting them at steady, quick pace, causing you to nearly cry out. Your voice was strained to stay quiet whilst your hand over your mouth kept it even quieter.

He pulled his mouth away again.

"That's it, jagiya..." His voice was low and smooth. He resumed his tongues motions on your clit, and the spring that was coiling tightly in your lower stomach finally came undone.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tossing your head to the side as you whimpered as quietly as you could; you came hard. Seonghwa could feel you clenching around his fingers and he could hardly contain the moan of satisfaction. He slowed his fingers down, prolonging your orgasm, before slowly removing them and his mouth from you. He sat back up on his calves, your juices and his saliva coating his chin.

He slowly inserted the two fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. Hwa's dark eyes never left your face as he slowly crawled over you. His mouth met yours in a sloppy kiss and you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You whimpered softly into the kiss. Your shaking hands gripped his shoulders and you pulled away to take in more air, recovering from your climax.

"How the fuck are you so good at that?" Your frazzled brain had you slip back into English for a moment. Seonghwa laughed and admired your face for a moment. You stared back, your breathing soon falling back into a stable rhythm.

A thought popped into mind when you glanced down.

You shifted yourself downward ever-so-slightly and placed your hand at the hem of his sweatpants.

"Can I return the favor?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to." He smiled softly as he felt a pleasant shiver up his spine.

"I want to, Hwa." You smile when he then answered a soft 'yes.' You gradually dipped your hand into his sweatpants, your hand going over his underwear. You cup his hard cock, feeling a patch of wetness from precum, and give him a very gentle squeeze. You heard him take in a sharp breath which made you smile and bite your lips. You palm him for a few moments and capture his lips in a heated kiss. His hips rocked, rutting himself against your hand.

You remove your hand from him, leaving him softly whining for your touch again. You guide him to sit up and take your spot against the headboard, not before his sweats underwear joined your discarded clothes on the floor. You smile at his blushed cheeks and ears. You straddle his lap and press yourself against him.

Your hands gently cup his jaw and you lean into a passionate kiss. You could feel his hard erection brush against your pubic mound and lower belly, making him softly moan into your mouth. You repeated what he did to you earlier and started trailing kisses from his lips, all the way down to his collarbones. You had to move yourself continuously to go lower. You didn't dare leave any marks that would be visible, much to your disappointment.

Soon enough you found yourself on your stomach, face dangerously close to his dick. You kept your eyes on his length while you could feel his eyes watching you. In a teasing manner, your fingers gently messed with his velvet-y soft tip. Seonghwa moaned softly and he caressed the side of your head. You collected his precum onto your fingers, letting it coat your your hand, before wrapping your fingers around his shaft. You stroke him at a languid pace and you could feel his member twitch in your hand.

You lean in and place a tentative kiss to the crown of his cock. You glance up and see him watching you intensely while biting his bottom lip. You give him a few teasing licks before slowly engulfing him into your mouth. What you couldn't fit comfortably in your mouth you used your hand on as your slowly bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks in the process.

Seonghwa let out a low moan and swallowed hard at the sensation around his cock. His hands could hardly stay still. He managed to keep one against the side of your head but his other hand caressed and gently squeezed your shoulder, his fingers brushing against your neck. Your tongue would swirl around the tip as you continued to move your head. You couldn't exactly look up at him from where you were but you could tell by just how hard he was breathing he was feeling good.

"You're so beautiful..." Hwa tilted his head back against his headboard and quietly moaned. His eyes peered down at the sight of you with your now swollen lips around his cock. He admired how your nude body looked right now and he wanted to reach down and give your ass a firm squeeze. You bobbed faster, taking him in a little deeper, and it nearly drove him crazy. Seonghwa's hand found itself on the back of your head. He gently guided your head but didn't push down harshly.

He carefully took hold of your head in both hands and lifted your head, stopping you from sucking him off.

"Something wrong?" You swallow and sit up.

"If you kept going I wouldn't have lasted." Hwa helped you sit up on your knees and pulled you into a tender kiss. "I wanted to go further, if you want to."

"I want to but," You murmur against his lips. "Well, this may be a bad time to ask but do you have condoms?" He chuckles and rests his head against your collarbones. He placed a soft kiss to your neck, moving away from you and getting off the bed. You watched him walk to his closet and reach inside on the upper shelf. He grabbed a box near the back and came back, sitting on the edge of the bed. In his hands was an unopen box of condoms.

"Before you think I was presumptuous with these, Mingi and Woo bought them for me before your visit." He snorts. "I think they are the right size... I'll be slightly concerned if they are."

"I'm on birth control if we just want to forget the condoms-"

"If they make you more comfortable, I will wear one for you." He gave you a reassuring smile and looked over the box. Hwa hummed softly as he opened the box, taking out a wrapped condom. He tore open the rapper and slid on the condom with ease. He then kissed you deeply, moving you back on your back. You didn't need words to know where things were going now.

Seonghwa placed one of his pillows under your lower back and helped maneuver you into position, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs. He teased you by dragging his tip up and down your slit. You whine softly and playfully tapped him with your foot, making him laugh.

"Alright, jagiya." He smirked and lined himself up at your entrance. Slowly he pushed himself inside, inch by inch, until he was fully buried inside. You moaned quietly as he deliciously filled you up while he groaned, feeling pleasant tightness and heat around his length. Your hands squeezed his shoulders briefly as you took a moment to adjust. He stayed motionless for a few moments and you both were enjoying the moment. "Feels good."

"Move, Hwa." You pleaded, desperate to chase a second orgasm. His hands found themselves holding your hips as he pulled almost all the way out and, languidly, he rolled his hips forward.

His thrusts were slow and sensual to start, slowly building up that arousal between you both again. His cock gently massaged your walls and it felt so good. You were having a hard time already keeping your noises at bay... you were worried you wouldn't be able to stay quiet if he went faster. Still, you crave more.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his voice slightly hoarse and strained.

"Feeling good... Feeling really good." You moaned. You wanted to feel more. You threw out those previous concerns. Your voice was a hushed whisper, but the needy tone was clear. "Faster, love."

"Of course." Hwa rasped. You feel him pull out, making you whine. He softly cooed and re-adjusted himself and yourself so his face was barely above yours. Your hips were at more of an angle now with your legs folded into your chest and your calves on his lower back. Your arms were loosely around his neck.

Seonghwa captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue rolling against yours, as he entered you with one quick thrust. Your moan was muffled by his mouth or else it would have been loudered than you meant. His set a quick rhythm as his hips snapped against you, the not-so-subtle sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the small room. His cock was hitting a new, deeper angle and it felt amazing.

You both broke from the kiss to breath. You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to control your whimpers and moans.

"Shh... you're doing so well." Hwa praised, his voice a hushed whisper by your ear. Though his own moans and groans indicated to you he was also struggling to stay quiet.

"Hwa-!" You cried softly. You feel his arm move and next thing you knew his hand was cradling the back of your head, pushing your face into the crook of his neck. He pressed his upper half against yours, further folding your body together, as he fucked you at a fast tempo. Your noises were muffled by his flesh and you could feel the vibrations of his strained moans against your face. You could feel heat slowly crawling up your legs and you knew a second orgasm was close.

"God, I'm close, love." You murmur, your lips brushing against his hot skin.

"Me too, jagiya... Me too." Seonghwa whispered. "Can... Can I come on you?"

As you were about to speak Hwa just barely shifted his hips, his cock hitting your g-spot just right.

"Y-yes!" Your moan was low. The build up had you feeling like your nerves were on fire. You felt your breathing quicken a numbness-like feeling crawl up your legs

You pushed your face further into Seonghwa as waves of pleasure washed over you. You choked out moans against him and without realizing, you bit on his flesh. Your body trembled and your walls clenched around his length as you came hard.

Seonghwa continued his thrusts, though you can tell he was just about to lose it too. You felt your muscles twitch and tremble with every stroke of his hips as he prolonged your orgasm. Hwa is chasing his own release and you could feel his thrusts getting sloppier and his moans were getting huskier.

Suddenly, he pulled out of you, your walls fluttering around nothing. He got the wet condom off of his length and he moved his upper half to hover over you. You watch, nearly breathless, as he strokes his cock at a fast pace. He lets your lower half drop against his thighs. His eyes stayed trained on your dazed face, biting his bottom lip.

Seonghwa's body went rigid and soft, whiney moans escaped his lips. You can see eyes roll slightly back as he came. Pearly white ropes of his cum lands on your stomach and chest, a little even lands on your neck. He slowed his hand down as he came, stopping once all of his seed was out.

You both were breathless, feeling hot and tired. Seonghwa moved and let your body lay straight down before he hovered over you again. His lips met yours in another kiss. It was soft and tender, full of love and adoration.

"How are you feeling, jagiya?" He asks softly, kissing your cheek and forehead. "Do you need something? A warm towel? Some water?"

"All of the above, love." You lazily smile, making him laugh.

"I like you using that English pet name for me."

"I thought was fitting with you using a Korean pet name." There was a pause in the conversation. "I think we need a shower actually."

"Agreed, I made a mess." He gave you a cheeky look, as if he was proud of himself, lifting himself up to sit on his calves. His eyes roamed your body with a small smirk tugging on his lips. "You look beautiful."

"I'm covered in sweat, cum, and probably look like a mess." You deadpanned.

"And you still look beautiful." He smiled and placed a chaste kiss to your lips. He got up off the bed and slowly helped you to your feet. He grabbed you some new clothes from your suitcase before grabbing clothes for himself. "Mingi should still be asleep, so we need to be quick."

"You... You want us to go out in the rest of the dorm and to the bathroom without any clothes on?" He simply nodded and you sighed but nodded. You didn't want clothes on right now until you were clean.

Seonghwa peaked his head out of the room, noticing all the lights were still off. With haste, the two of you get to the bathroom with ease. Hwa started the shower and you both waited for it to warm up. Your fingers trace the small red mark you left right by his right collarbone.

"Hopefully that doesn't linger. I'm sorry, I tried not to leave any marks on you." You mused, not sounding all too apologetic.

"I don't care if it does linger. Idol image be damned." He joked. "Come, the water should be warm now."

The shower was quick but it was very much needed after an intense moment. Seonghwa took it upon himself to wash you off. His hands gently caressed your skin, his gaze on you was caring. You closed your eyes whilst savoring the moment.

It was sweet and it made you two all the more closer.

---

You groaned, covered in sweat, in the dance studio. Wooyoung insisted you join him, Yuhno, and Mingi for dance practice while the others were off doing lives or something else. You probably would be in better shape to dance if you weren't feeling the least bit sore from last nights activities with Seonghwa. They were teaching you the choreography to Wave in an easy manner, but the ache in your hips and legs made it difficult.

"What's the matter, (Y/N)?" Mingi chuckled, handing you a water bottle. He and the others were sweating, but they weren't

"I don't know how you guys dance like this all the time." You pant and take a sip of water.

"We are teaching it to you slowly though, you seem more tired." Wooyoung remarked. He approached you and placed both hands on your cheeks, his eyes scanning over your face.

"I'm fine, just a little tired is all." You move out of his hold and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. He gave you a inquisitive look but dropped it.

After a small pause, the dancing resumed. Yuhno stood by you as he taught you the next steps. The move had you moving your arms up in the air and you followed almost perfectly. Though, when you repeated the motions your hand caught the hem of your loose shirt, exposing some of your midriff. You hoped that no one in the room saw your blemished skin from a particularly big hickey Hwa left on you. However, hoping got you nothing.

"(Y/N), what the hell happened?" Woo gasped. "Why do you have a bruise on your hip?"

Your face flushed with warmth and you saw Yuhno in the mirror press his lips together as he tried not to laugh. Clearly, he immediately figured out were the mark came from. Mingi also looked at you in concern. You wanted to send a glare to Yuhno but kept your cool.

"I needed to use the bathroom last night and bumped into the handle in the dark is all." You replied smoothly.

"Dummy." Woo laughed and so did Mingi.

"I didn't realize you were so clumsy, (Y/N)." Yuhno teased. You rolled your eyes and insisted they keep teaching you the choreography before you die from embarrassment.

---

Seonghwa and Hongjoong finished up their live together. Hwa had fun though he wanted to help teach you a dance to one of their songs. He and Joong got up from the table in the small room and left with the staff member who was behind the camera. The two went off on their own to Hongjoongs little studio room.

"Something happened between you and (Y/N) last night, huh?" The younger male asked with a teasing tone.

"What? No." Hwa replied, almost too quickly, as he took a seat in one of the chairs.

"I can tell by your eyes-"

"What can you tell now?" The eldest quirked his brow and gave his friend a glare, his ears and neck started to blush.

"Oh... did you two..." There was a mischievous look in Joong's eyes.

"Kim Hongjoong, do not finish that sentence." Hwa leaned back in the chair, not realizing the motion pulled his shirt in a way where the collar of his shirt exposed more of his skin.

"Well if that little mark right there didn't confirm it for me, your reaction did. Congratulations." Hongjoong teased. Seonghwa looked down and quickly readjusted his shirt more. His face felt on fire as he looked to his friend with a flustered glare. "Sorry, my teasing may have went a little far there. I'll buy you some ice cream as an apology."

"Two ice creams."

"Fine."

---

It was nearly time for you to head out to the airport. Ateez's manager texted everyone earlier he was on his way to the dorms to get you. Wooyoung practically clinged to you as you sat on the couch while Seonghwa's hand lingered on your knee. Everyone was already throwing out ideas and plans for when you could visit next. You felt sadness knowing you were going away after having an amazing week with them... you were going back to your job and your classes across the Pacific ocean.

Another text came and their manager was outside the door. He told you in his message he will give you guys time to say goodbye.

You stood up by the door and everyone practically lined up to see you off. First was Yuhno.

"It was fun having you here. We should do dance video calls, you were fun to teach and dance with." He smiles and pats your head before hugging you.

"Yeah we definitely should." You reach up and ruffle his hair making him laugh. Next up was Sannie.

"I'm going to miss you. Please, visit as soon as you can." He had a large grin, eyes full of unshed tears, as he pulls you into a tight hug.

"I will definitely try." You say softly in his ear, returning the tightness of his hug. Mingi approached you next.

"I'll definitely miss your presence in the dorms." Minig hugged you, his hands patting your back.

You pulled away and smiled. "It's going to be hard not having one of my favorite giants around anymore." That made him and Yuhno laugh. Hongjoong was up next.

"If you ever need something, (Y/N), don't hesitate to call me." He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it. He then gave you a quick hug as well.

"You too, Joong. I'm all ears if you need something."

Next in line was Yeosang.

"I'm glad we got to spend more time together." He spoke softly with a kind smile, hugging you. "Please visit us again, I liked having you around over those two." He pointed to Wooyoung and San, teasing them both as they looked fake offended.

"Of course, Yeosang." You laughed as he joined the others.

"Ah, it was nice having you with us, (Y/N)." Jongho smiled. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. "Hopefully I can call you when I am doing my vocal practices?"

"Of course you can... Would you like a hug goodbye?" You asked him and he nodded. You two hugged and you took a mental note of how nice his hugs were. It was brief but he gave you another smile and stood off to the side.

You nearly lost your balance when Wooyoung hugged you tightly, his cheek pressed against yours. You chuckled and held him tightly, neither of you said anything. You could feel his shoulders shake ever-so-slightly.

"Aww, Woo, don't cry. You'll make me cry." You cooed softly.

"I'm not crying." He mumbled and pulled away. He had tears in his eyes as he smiled. "We'll text everyday, right? Even if it's just a random meme or a simple hello?"

"Of course." You rubbed his back as he hugged you again. He reluctantly moved away and stood with the others.

Now it was just Seonghwa left.

He slowly approached you and those who didn't figure out what happened between you two watched in bated breaths.

"This isn't goodbye, you know?" You ask softly as you noticed his eyes were also close to leaking tears. You could feel the stinging sensation in your own eyes as you stared at his face.

"I know." He replied with a smile. He took your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Still, I will miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Hwa." You smiled and he stepped away. You glance over to the others and saw how disappointed Wooyoung, Mingi, Yeosang, and Jongho looked. You look back to Hwa with a slight smirk. "You want to tell them or show them?" You say quietly, making him laugh.

Seonghwa stepped forward again and immediately cupped your cheeks, brining you into a kiss. You heard Wooyoung and Mingi exclaim in surprise and you just knew Jongho and Yeosang looked shocked. The eldest pulled away and peppered light kisses to your face.

"Alright, love. I think they get the idea." You giggle, your face feeling flush with warmth.

"What?" Wooyoung shouted. "How long- When did-." He was almost in shock. "And neither of you told me?!"

"I figured it out first." San said smuggled.

"No, I think I did." Hongjoong playfully crossed his arms. The two were about to start bickering but then a certain someone spoke up first.

"I actually did the night they got together finally." Yuhno said with a smug tone. "I walked in on them." That made even more chaos and loudness between everyone now.

"Yuhno!" You nearly shrieked from embarrassment, poor Seonghwa's face was pink. "You didn't need to word it like that."

"What? You said I had bragging rights for being the first to know." He teased.

"He simply saw us kissing." Hwa tried to clear up.

Wooyoung started to scold you for keeping this from him but he expressed his happiness for the both of you. You felt bad for their manager, who was still outside the door and could probably hear all the commotion.

"Can we say we told you both so, now?" Yeosang asked with a raised brow, making you and Seonghwa groan. Despite the teasing and the 'we told you so's' coming out, you and Hwa were happy. Hongjoong and San still argued between who out of the two of them figured it out first.

You held his hand and leaned against him as you both observed the rest of Ateez. Despite the embarrassment of their statements and jokes, you two felt satisfied at having one over on most of them. That lingering sadness was no more despite your soon departure. Never did you think you would have such a close knit friend group like this nor did you think you could find someone as lovely as Seonghwa to be your partner.

All thanks to some high turnip prices and a little squirrel in a video game.

-----

Taglist: @stopeatread @hee0soo @tridkeys @pocketjoong-reads @seonghwaddict @lelaleleb @acciocriativity @h-nji

364 notes · View notes