#your literally my other shoe if that makes sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randompiecesofwriting · 22 days ago

Text

Your Side of the Bed

Summary: Robby finds himself in an arrangement of sharing the reader’s bed. Sleeping side by side in the most literal of senses. It was simply a way they could be there for one another, offer comfort on hard days. And yet he found himself wanting more.

Paring: Michael “Robinavitch” x reader

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: NO SMUT I don’t think it’s even joked about here lol so there’s no smut in here! Brief mention of suicide prevention measures in a joke. Reader gets a small cut and is freaked out by medical procedures.

A/N: Really this was born out of me just wanting to write some Robby fluff. I think I’m slowing down on my writing frenzy y’all so please don’t expect my previous schedule of nearly every other day story releases I’m sorry! All in all as always I just wrote what I thought I would want to read so I hope y’all enjoy it and as always let me know what you think!

You hadn’t expected the night to end the way it did when you left your job that evening.

And honestly there was no reason you should’ve, afterall you hardly knew the man.

Sure you’ve met Robby a few times before. Interacted with him enough to know what he did for a living but beyond basic elevator small talk you’ve never really spoken to the man.

So when you spotted him standing outside of his apartment, keys in hand, just staring down at them dejectedly you didn’t really have a plan when you opened your mouth. You just knew you recognized that look on his face, the way his hands shook, the way he stayed rooted in place even as the elevator dinged as you got out, and you wanted to help.

“Hey Robby” His head snapped up at the sound of his name, the way his eyes went wide at your voice telling you he truly hadn’t noticed your approach “just getting back?”

“Yeah” he sighed out the word, telling you more than you thought he really meant to, his gaze going back to his keys, reluctance on his face as his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Have you eaten yet?” The words basically tumbled out of you, the offer though made spontaneously was no less sincere “I’m just getting back too and was going to make something quick if you want to come in” and you could see the hesitance quickly building, the denial on every part of him but his lips “I was thinking pasta and I struggle to make anything less than four servings”

He seemed to pause at the joke, to take a second to reconsider. “It’s late I don’t want to impose”

You shook off the worry easily, moving past the man to your own door faking confidence he would follow “I promise you aren’t, besides I’ve kinda had a shit day so being alone doesn’t sound like a lot of fun right now”

It wasn’t a complete lie to be fair. Your day hadn’t been the best but more than anything you knew this man shouldn’t be alone right now and he wasn’t going to take help unless he could offer some in return.

“I should shower first” The implied acceptance had you smiling as he turned back to his door, you could practically see him hype himself up to go in.

“You can use mine” You offered, forcing a level of nonchalance you didn’t feel into your tone “no pressure obviously the dinner invitation stands either way but since you’re going to be over anyways” you let the end of your sentence dangle purposefully as you shrugged “plus I don’t mean to brag but the landlord just fixed my plumbing so I have the best water pressure in the building”

Your attempt at a joke had him snorting as he cast one final look at his door before wordlessly turning away from it and heading in your direction, following you back to your place “If that’s true the landlord and I will be having words”

Trying to tamp down the odd mix of anxiety and excitement at having Robby listen to you, you kept your gaze ahead, focusing a bit too hard on getting your key into the lock as he stood behind you patiently “I had to threaten to sue and it still took months so good luck with that one, you’ll need it”

Opening your door you toed off your shoes and put them to the side in your entryway prompting him to do the same while you started turning on lights “Feel free to set your bag anywhere, kitchen tables covered in my work stuff so that may be your best bet” you instructed him as you set your own work bag down at one of the chairs at the table “in the meantime make yourself at home I’ll grab you a towel and some clothes you can use”

You rushed through the process of grabbing an extra pair of clothes you thought would fit him and a towel, knowing the longer you left him alone in your living room the more likely he was to back out entirely. Something that was quickly proved correct as you joined him with the stack back out in the living room, hesitation and awkwardness practically carved into his bones as he stood rigidly in the center of the room.

“These should fit but obviously let me know if you need anything else” you ignored the trepidation on his face as you handed him the stack, Robby blindly grabbing it as he already started to backtrack.

“You really don’t have to-“

“Please I want to” you interrupted him, walking back towards the kitchen forcing him to hold onto the stack as you got out a pot “besides I need someone to get wine drunk with. Can’t do it on my own, I think that’s when they call it alcoholism”

Still he stared at you silently, you could practically see him trying to think of a way to politely extract himself.

“Unless you don’t drink of course in which case I’ve got soda or water or-“

“No no” he chuckled though it sounded slightly strained, patting to top of the stack you had given softly “wine’s good”

“Good I’ll open the bottle then” you smiled warmly at him, gesturing with a nod back towards the hallway behind him “bathroom’s down on the left I’ll be out here if you need anything”

Still he just stared at you for a brief moment, silence stretching with words unsaid, before he finally accepted it and nodded, giving you one last thanks before he made his way to go shower, leaving you to start cooking and distract yourself from the death spiral of regret and anxiety your brain was trying to force you down.

You heard the shower start up just as you put the pot on the stove to boil, you’d honestly planned on doing as little as possible when it came to getting food in you tonight after work but with Robby here you figured you could at least put in a minimal amount of effort. All things considered though boxed pasta and jarred sauce was as far as you were willing to go tonight.

Deciding last minute to add at least a salad to the side you were chopping up vegetables by the time that Robby joined you once again, looking tired but clean and a little lighter at least.

“You weren’t kidding about the water pressure” he noted as he sat on the other side of the bar that separated living room from kitchen, watching you continue to chop.

“I know right” you grinned at him “I don’t know what they did but I’m considering letting all my other unanswered maintenance requests go as a thank you”

He chuckled at that, looking back out at your apartment appraisingly “do you need me to do anything cause I-“

“Sit down doc” you chided him harmlessly “have a glass of wine you look like you’ve had a long shift”

He took the glass you slid his way with a nod, a small huff escaping him as he shook his head “what about you what’s got you coming home this late?”

A part of you wondered if you should commend his effort to try and fix your shifty night in lieu of his own or condemn his clear avoidance of the conversation turning to him. For now you chose to do neither and instead just answer “parent teacher conferences”

He hummed at that, watching you carefully as you threw the salad together and checked on the noodles “they go that badly?”

“They didn’t but that’s kind of the problem” you shrugged as you stirred the boiling water.

He raised a brow at that, no question coming to his lips just a silent ask to continue.

“It’s always the parents of the kids I’m not worried about who show up” you shrugged, leaning your elbows on the counter in front of him as you spoke “The straight A students, or at least the students who are clearly putting in the effort and trying”

“Meaning the students who’s parent’s you want to speak to don’t come” he answered for you in understanding.

“Exactly” you nodded, grabbing out a colander to drain the pasta as you continued “Which I get it parents can be busy or can just not make the conference hours but given all the emails I’ve sent over the course of this semester that have gone unanswered…”

You trailed off with a shrug, dishing up two portions of pasta and salad without a thought and placing one in front of Robby before putting yours in front of the seat next to him.

He nodded in thanks, starting to eat as you did the same, a small silence passing over the two of you that felt infinitely more comfortable than the one shared earlier in the evening, before he broke it “do you know what you’re going to do about it yet?”

You nodded in answer, twirling your fork absentmindedly in your pasta as you thought “Yeah it’ll be another round of emails, maybe some printed notes sent home with kids offering to meet at other times, I’ll see if I can at least get some of them on a phone call or something”

He hummed in thought, studying you for a moment before his eyes cut back down to his plate “you’re a good teacher”

You snorted at that, furrowing your brow at the man beside you in response “what makes you say that”

“You care” he shrugged like it’s obvious “you’re going out of your way to try and set these kids up for success. That’s what a good teacher would do”

“Feels like the bare minimum” you chuckled slightly “it’s my job to make sure they leave my classroom set up for whatever comes ahead”

“The fact that you so clearly believe that proves my point” he smiled back at you “it’d be a lot easier to write it off, to say you tried and give up but you keep pushing, keep advocating for these kids. You’re a good teacher”

And truly you didn’t have anything to say to that, the words dying on your tongue as you looked up at him and saw the complete sincerity in his eyes. Instead you simply offered him a small smile that he mirrored back.

“What about you how was your day” the question was out of your mouth before you could think better of it, the action of asking him in return feeling too natural.

You could see him shut down at the question, could see his walls going up as his gaze cut back to his plate “Fine. It was fine”

And maybe you should’ve left it there but you were already in too deep to feel comfortable with letting it go “you’re a good doctor, you know that right?”

His gaze cut back up to you quickly with a furrowed brow, a shocked huff leaving him at your words “have I treated you before?”

“No” you assured him with a snort “but no matter what you claim I can see that you’re not fine” you watched him tense at your words, would’ve found it almost funny in any other circumstance “I just mean a good doctor wouldn’t have a day get to him like that. You clearly care about your patients. Like actually care not just pretend to care until you can shuffle them along to the next person, that’s what a good doctor would do”

He chuckled slightly at your words, a lopsided small smile tugging at his lips as he looked you over “Feels like the bare minimum””

“You throw my words back at me and my response will be the same as yours” you chided him good naturedly, relishing the sound of his laugh you got in response as he shook his head.

“touché”

You smiled at the concession, taking note of both of your empty plates and looking back out at your living room before making a decision “do you want to watch a movie?”

He raised a brow at you but you watched the corners of his mouth tick up in response making you smile back “Obviously you can tell me if you’re tired and would rather go to bed but I like a movie at the end of the day to wind down” you shrugged in response.

“Only if you let me do the dishes”

You tried desperately not to let it show how much his easy acceptance shocked you “Robby you can come over and do my dishes anytime”

He laughed easily at that as he took both of your plates and made his way over to the sink, collecting the various dishes you’d used to cook from around the kitchen.

“I hope you know this means I will be subjecting you to my objectively terrible taste in movies”

“I think I’ll live” and you tried to ignore exactly how it made you feel to see this man smirking at you from your kitchen as he handwashed your dishes. Instead you choose to make your way over to the couch and start looking at your options.

And that was how you found yourself seated comfortably next the neighbor you’d had maybe five conversations with before, watching a movie much too late into the night. And thus how you found yourself waking up the next morning to the light streaming in through your living room windows and a comfortable chest beneath your cheek, with an admittedly painful twinge in your neck but feeling more well rested than you had in months.

You didn’t see Robby for a few days after that. The morning after had been awkward enough you counted it as a blessing.

There’d been a brief moment of serenity, admittedly, right before you fully woke up where all you could notice was how warm you felt, how comfortable, how secure. You remember burying yourself further into the comfort, giving a soft wiggle as you pressed your face further into what you had assumed was your pillow, until you heard a chuckle.

Rather you had felt the chuckle first, could feel it ruminate up Robby’s chest beneath your head before it broke to the surface. You felt what you quickly surmised to be an arm thrown over your shoulder and wrapped around you pull you in tighter, hardly enough to notice but enough to send butterflies through your stomach, before you finally opened your eyes.

Robby had already been staring down at you, his eyes wide in clear surprise but still the corners of his mouth ticked up, you wondered if he noticed. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as you looked back up at him, neither of you moving for a moment, almost afraid to burst the bubble before you spoke “good morning”

His eyes got almost comically wider as his gaze cut to the nearest clock, a verification of the time seeming to fully solidify exactly what position the two of you were in for him as he quickly retracted his hands, open palms coming up by his head as if to placate you in the situation as a million apologies spilled from his lips.

You had just barely pulled yourself off of him before he was on his feet and grabbing his bag, all but running out of the door before you’d even finished stretching.

So naturally the first time you would see him in days would be when you were drunk off your ass after a night out with friends.

You all but stumbled out of the elevator, heels as always were a terrible choice for a night out but you couldn’t help but love the way your legs looked in them. So focused were you on keeping upright as you exited the elevator that you completely missed Robby standing in front of his door.

Looking up from your feet finally however you noticed the man frozen in place, keys in hand, lips slightly parted as his gaze made a slow climb from your feet up to your face. You couldn’t have stopped the grin from growing on your face if you had tried “Dr. Robinavitch we have got to stop meeting like this”

You speaking seemed to have snapped him out of whatever daze he was in, a startled huff escaping him as his posture relaxed “Well you look like you had a good night”

“I had a great night” you affirmed, taking a wobbly step forward that had him surging forward to brace you by the forearm, a slight chuckle escaping him as he helped you steady yourself.

“And how many drinks did we have tonight?”

“Not enough” you shook your head, griping his hand in yours happily as you took another step “ohhh we should do shots”

He laughed much more freely at that, shaking his head in response “we absolutely should not do shots we should do carbs. When was the last time you ate something?”

“Fuck I love carbs” you hummed letting him lead you back to his place without a thought, leaning up against the wall while he put his keys in the door “French fries, we should do French fries”

“I can manage French fries” he smiled at you, pushing open the door before extending a hand to you, helping you into his place with a hand on your hip.

You leaned into him happily as you more pawed at the buckle on your shoe than actually tried to get it off, this going on for just long enough Robby was getting ready to help you with it when it finally slipped off your ankle and you fled the shoes where they dropped, making your way to his kitchen and going right for his freezer.

“Make yourself at home” Robby teased as he carefully picked up your shoes and set them off to the side alongside his, making his way next to you in the kitchen to start preheating the oven as you dug around in his freezer for the fries.

“yes you got the good ones” you cheered as you unearthed the bag, handing it to him without a thought as you immediately dipping into his fridge “we should do cheese on top”

Smiling in amusement Robby took the fries without a word and got out a baking sheet, dumping a good amount onto it before fielding the block of cheese you tossed his way without even looking to see where he was.

“Now you don’t have salsa but you do have tomatoes and onions and I can make that work” finally you shut the door to the fridge and turned to face him with the required ingredients clutched in your hands.

“Salsa?” he asked with a raised brow, putting the fries in the preheated oven.

“We can’t have loaded fries without salsa” you answered as if it were obvious, eyes skating around his kitchen looking for something “now where do you keep your knives”

“Absolutely not” he chided immediately, making his way across the kitchen over to you and grabbing the produce from your arms.

“No I swear I can do it” you tried to assure him even as you let him push you out of the kitchen.

“Swear all you want but I’m chopping the vegetables”

“You chop the vegetables I’ll chop the fruit?” you asked hopefully, giving him your best charming smile that Robby couldn’t help but mirror.

“Nice try now will you please sit down at let me do it” he shook his head as he led you around the bar to the stool on the other side, hands on your waist to steady you as you stepped up into the chair and plopped yourself down.

“But I could help!” though you thankfully stayed put you still tried to get involved, swinging your legs energetically in the air as you watched Robby start to dice “I could be like that person who hands you the scalpel”

He furrowed his brow at you with a smirk, looking up at you from his slightly bent position as he worked “person who hands me the scalpel?”

“Yeah you know in the tv shows. You go scalpel and hold you hand up like this” you demonstrated the proper movement to him, choosing to ignore his grin as you talked “and someone puts it in your hand without saying anything that could be me”

“You do know I’m not a surgeon right?”

“All I’m hearing is you don’t have a scalpel person and it could be me”

He laughed at that, shaking his head as he gathered up all of your fry toppings “why don’t you sober up first then we’ll talk about your career options”

With a disgruntled huff you rolled your eyes, resting your head in your palm as you watched Robby finish off your loaded fries, dutifully instructing him on how much of each ingredient was required before happily digging into the plate he set in front of you, a myriad of content hums coming from you as you ate making Robby smile.

“You know I like this way better” you pointed out without looking at him, taking the time to pick the perfectly loaded fry.

“Like this better than what?”

“Better than you being weird” if you noticed the way the room went cold around Robby at your words you didn’t let it show, instead snacking happily as you stole a glance at him from the side of your eye.

“I’m weird?”

“You acted weird” you corrected him with a shrug “after we woke up on my couch you basically ran away from me”

A tense silence followed but you watched him unabashedly, waiting patiently for a response Robby wasn’t sure he wanted to give “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable” again the words came out of you so easily, a part of Robby wished he could be drunk for this conversation too “in fact I was really comfortable until you moved”

A huff left him at that, a small smile growing on his face despite his inner turmoil “Really?”

You nodded in response, finishing off the last of your food and wiping off your fingers on a napkin, pushing the plate off to the side and finally turning your full attention to him “I mean the couch wasn’t the best but you make a comfortable pillow”

He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at that, an anxious hand coming to rub at the back of his neck as he laughed it off “well I’m glad I could be of service”

“I don’t think I realized how bad I had been sleeping lately until that night” you revealed softly, the carbs and the late hour clearly kicking in as you seemed to sober slightly “stress of parent teacher night ya know? But I slept really well that night”

“I know what you mean” the words slipped out of him before he could think any better of it, the way they put a smile on your face making it hard for him to regret them though.

You studied him for a moment, a comfortable silence blanketing the two of you before you broke it softly “you wouldn’t admit it but you were having a bad day. Did I make it better?”

Now it was his turn to examine you, to watch the lazy way you kicked your feet out from the chair, the way your hair fell half hazardly around your face as you tilted your head slightly at him, the soft curve of your lips as you smiled absentmindedly at him “yeah. Yeah you did”

“Good” and now you were beaming at him, spreading a warmth through his chest he wasn’t prepared for “we should do it again sometime”

“Pass out on your couch?”

“I’d prefer the bed but beggers choosers” you shrugged through the idiom with a chuckle “but no I meant be there for one another. It’s nice to have someone there, even if it’s just to exist next to them in silence”

“yeah it is” the admission again left him without much thought, a smile growing on him as he watched you perk up slightly at the response “for now though you need to get to bed and work on sleeping this off, you good to head home now?”

You nodded happily at the question, pushing yourself off the stool with practiced ease as you did so “Just need to grab my purse and I’ll be good”

He frowned at that “what purse?”

“Black tiny bag” you described it to him, looking around his apartment lazily “got my keys in it”

“You didn’t come in with a purse”

“no” you shook off the statement without a thought “I remember packing it before I left, got all my stuff in it”

“No I mean you didn’t come into my place with a purse” he explained slowly, watching as the news seemed to hit you, your shoulders dropping in defeat “You didn’t have it with you when you got off the elevator”

With a heavy sigh you cursed under your breath, the palms of your hands coming up to dig harshly into your eyes as you swore softly, the last of your fun drunkenness abandoning you fully.

With a huff Robby couldn’t help but smile at the move, gesturing back to his room with a nod “Go take a shower I’ll call the bar you were at and see if they have it”

With a grumble you nodded “thank you”

“Don’t worry about it” he shook you off as he pulled out his phone “bottom left drawer of my dresser should have clothes you can wear, take whatever you want”

Nodding you slowly pulled yourself off towards his room, tossing the name of the bar you were at over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Calling confirmed the bar did in fact have your purse and were willing to hold onto it until the morning so Robby made sure to inform Jack he would be running a little late the next day so he had time to go with you to pick it up. By the time he had finished his calls and cleaned up the kitchen you had joined him back out in the living room, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with dripping hair in sweatpants that were just slightly too long and a shirt you had no business looking that good in.

“I’m sorry I could’ve helped clean”

He shook you off again with a swipe of his hand, practically forcing his eyes away from you as he surveyed the space around him “don’t worry about it there wasn’t much to do” he assured you, offering you the glass of water he had gotten you earlier “drink all of that first but go ahead and go to bed, we can go pick up your purse tomorrow”

With a nod you took the glass with a small thank you, “will you-uh-“ you stuttered on the words, fidgeting slightly on the spot making Robby frown “do you think we can share the bed?”

His furrowed brow raised as he realized what you were getting at, already shaking his head “Oh don’t worry about it I was already going to insist you take the bed anyways, I’ll sleep on the couch”

You chuckled nervously at that, taping your fingers on the side of the glass as you shook your head in response “no I mean. Just it was really nice last time we-ya know-shared the couch. Would it be okay if we did it again?”

Robby was at a loss for words at the question, his entire mind going blank on the spot as you fidgeted beneath his gaze.

“The answer can of course be no” you quickly cut in with a small laugh “I just haven’t slept as well since so I figured”

“Yeah” the word all but slipped out of him without his head clearing it, Robby finding in the moment that he didn’t really want to walk it back anyways “yeah we can share the bed”

Finally your fidgeting broke as you smiled in relief, relaxing on the spot as you nodded “okay good”

“You go on ahead I’ll meet you in there” he instructed softly with a smile “just gotta lock up first”

Giving him a nod you heeded his instructions, slipping underneath his covers on one side of the bed and laying still, listening to Robby’s nighttime routine as he locked the door and brushed his teeth.

When he finally made it back to the bedroom you could practically feel the hesitance rolling off of him as he stood beside the bed for a moment, not moving an inch as he debated just taking the couch anyways, before he carefully peeled back one corner of the blanket and slowly lowered himself, careful not to jostle the bed too much in case you were sleeping, careful not to get too close to what he considered ‘your side’.

You, however, were having none of that. The minute he seemed to settle you turned around and moved yourself beside him, placing your head directly onto his shoulder with a soft hum.

A startled inhale sounded from Robby as you did so, the muscles in his arm all tensing beneath you the second you made contact.

“I warned you, you make a comfortable pillow” you whispered out into the room attempting to cut the tension in the air. Something you seemed to at least partially accomplish as he huffed out a laugh in response, his arm remaining tense nonetheless “unless you’re uncomfortable cause we don’t have to-“

“no no” he interrupted you softly before you could get too far, his voice slightly hoarse causing him to pause as he cleared it quietly before continuing “could you just lift your head for a second”

Complying quickly Robby slipped his arm beneath your head and wrapped it around you wordlessly, prompting you to drop your head back down onto his chest and wrap your arm around him in response, one leg naturally tangling with his as you buried yourself fully into Robby’s side with a content hum that made him chuckle.

Your mind stayed fixed on the soft patterns he was tracing on your arm with his finger, wondering if he was even aware he was doing it. “Thanks for saving me tonight Robby”

Another appreciative laugh escaped him, your head bobbing slightly as his chest rumbled with it “’saving’ is a strong word there, I just gave you a place to crash, basic human decency”

And you thought about arguing the point, pushing back on his refusal to properly accept your thanks, point out that he was doing a lot more than the ‘basic’ nice thing. But if you knew Robby, and you were starting to think maybe you did, that would just make things worse, would just push him further away, so you let it go, for now at least “and supplied the French fries. You can’t forget the French fries”

“You’re right I did save you didn’t I? Think they’ll knight me?”

“Pretty sure that only applies in England” you hummed back, enjoying the quietness of the moment, the simplicity of it, the lack of any expectation “maybe a key to the city?”

“Not nearly as cool”

“No. No it isn’t. We’ll get you something to make up for it” your next words left you in a sleepy whisper, your eyes already closed, your brain not conscious enough to fully recognize the weight of your words as they slipped out “you deserve nice things Robby”

His fingers stilled at the words, no sound escaping him as he went silent, staring at the ceiling above the bed, all while you finally succumbed to sleep.

Things changed after that.

It wasn’t quite as you hoped, you still went days without seeing one another but whenever you had a bad day you had someone to go to, someone you knew would be there for you without question, without comment if that’s what you preferred, and you knew Robby felt the same.

There was no dramatic change, you didn’t automatically start spending every night together but still you found your excuses to cuddle up every now and then.

Something that apparently wasn’t going unnoticed, at least on Robby’s end.

“You seem lighter lately. Happy almost” Dana’s comment came out of nowhere at the end of a fairly standard Thursday shift. As usual with the charge nurse there was no preamble, no beating around the push, no coddling of feelings, she went right to the issue. For the first time Robby found that he really wished she wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry?”

“No it’s good. It’s creeping out the med students, our number of charting errors have been cut in half” She smirked at him, a smile that foretold trouble he did not want to deal with.

“Ah then you’re welcome”

“So you gonna tell me about her?”

And there it was, the metaphorical shoe “her?”

“The woman who’s been making you happy” Each statement was said with such a level of confidence, of finality, it felt absurd to try and push back.

“There is no woman” And yet still he must.

“There has to be a woman”

An incredulous laugh left him at that as he finally lifted his gaze fully from the chart in front of him to look at her. “Is it so impossible to think I’m just feeling better lately” he knew how weak the argument would be before it even left his lips “Maybe I found inner peace”

And based on the glare Dana sent back at him she thought so too “Either there’s a woman or I’m asking Gloria to up suicide prevention measures on the roof”

“Ask her to hire more nurses while you’re at it”

Surely there had to be something else to do in the emergency department than badger him “Does she work here?”

Surely she had to accept his flat out denial eventually “There is no woman”

“There’s a woman” The two of them both tensed slightly at the emergence of a new voice, Purlah’s sudden arrival catching them both off guard.

Dana, however, recovered quickly with a wolfish grin “What do you know”

“I know a lot of things you’ll have to be specific” Purlah leaned on her forearms against the nurse’s desk as she settled eagerly into the conversation. Now was his time to escape.

“About the woman”

“The woman up front? Is there something to know?” The last question was directed to him as the two woman fixed him with their gaze, halting him mid tip-toe.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about” Robby groaned softly, rubbing a tired hand over his face as he grabbed the first tablet he could see “now if you excuse me I think at least one of us should be doing thier job right now”

“Wait but the woman up front” Purlah stopped him before he could leave “She’s asking for you, says her name is Y/N Y/L/N”

A strange mix of panic and dejection filled Robby at the revelation, both feelings only growing as he watched Dana break out into a wolfish grin over Purlah’s shoulder as she watched his face drop before finally conceding “Yeah send her back”

Purlah nodded and took off and Robby knew news of your existence would be spread to every medical professional on the floor within the hour. So much for flat out denial.

“So there is a woman”

He refused to look at Dana as he switched out tablets “I promise it’s not what you think”

“Believe me I’m trying very hard not to think about it” she snorted, gaze pulling to the door to the ED as it opened and you scurried in behind Purlah, head ducked low and eyes planted firmly on the ground as you held a familiar looking kitchen towel to your hand “She’s cute”

“Not a word” Robby tossed the empty threat over his shoulder as he made his way to the room you were being placed in, choosing to ignore the cackle Dana let loose as he did so, instead putting all of his focus on your clearly panicked figure that sat up on the bed before him.

“Hey I’m really sorry”

“Don’t be sorry” he brushed you off easily, docking the tablet and pulling on a pair of gloves with practiced ease “What’s going on”

“I cut myself honestly a while ago and it hasn’t stopped bleeding” you held the towel wrapped hand out in front of you, offering it to him, speaking much faster than you normally did.

“Alright let’s take a look” he tried to slow down purposefully, to speak lowly and quietly, to put as much calm into his tone as he could.

“Again I’m so sorry to bother you at work and ask for you specifically I didn’t-“ Still you took off at double speed, not even making eye contact with him as you spoke.

“Hey you’re okay you should always come in with stuff like this” he cut you off with a reassurance, hand coming out to squeeze your knee in a small offer of comfort.

“Yeah I know I just feel like I used you to bypass the whole line and you guys probably have a whole system in place-“

“You’re rambling what’s going on” he cut you off again, a small frown as he watched you squirm on the spot, gaze never staying in one spot for long enough to be natural.

“I don’t really do hospitals well” you admitted shyly, the corners of Robby’s mouth ticking up slightly at your words as he shrugged.

“That’s okay me neither”

For the first time your eyes finally met him as you sent him a cold glare “you’re not helping”

He tried desperately to fight back his smile “Okay I’m sorry but listen, small cut, just a few stitches, we’ll have you out of here in no time”

“Right sure, few stitches” he let you all but talk to yourself as he gathered the suture supplies, tuning back in when he heard you voice raise slightly as you addressed him “I’m assuming that requires a needle”

“If you’d prefer I can hold the skin together myself until it starts to heal but I’ll warn you my hourly rate is incredibly expensive”

Another death glare was sent his way, he choked back a chuckle.

“Jokes’re really not helping got it.” He changed tactics with a warm smile, planting himself onto a backless stool a breath away from you, giving your knee a soft knock with his own “I’ve done a million of these it’ll be over before you know it”

Still you looked at him skeptically, a look that told him you were seriously considering his offer of simply holding your skin together himself.

“Hey you’re the one that told me I was a good doctor not that long ago, let me prove you right”

That finally got to you, a dramatic huff leaving you as you deflated slightly on the spot, a defeated “fine” slipping through your teeth Robby couldn’t help but chuckle at as he got the lidocaine ready.

“That’s the spirit. Now local anesthetic, small pinch and a burn” The words came out quickly, more one amalgamation of sound than individual words, his brain already starting to go through the motions when he paused “Imma need you to stop tensing, it’s just going to make it worse”

“Yeah I know I’m sorry” you sighed out the words, giving your shoulders a little shake to try and relax.

“You’re still tensing”

“I can’t help it I’m freaking out” the words exploded out of you as you tried to pull your hand back, Robby grabbing you by the wrist softly to try and direct you back into place.

“Hey hey look at me” he approached calming you down like dealing with a wild animal, entirely soft words and slow movement “sweetheart please I’ve got you. Do you trust me?”

With a huff you let him have you hand back, staring back at him blankly with an expression that told him the second he let go of you you were out the door.

“I’m going to pretend this hesitation doesn’t hurt”

With a roll of your eyes you sighed again, forcing a deep breath as you shook out the tension in your shoulders once more before refocusing your gaze, locking eyes with him and nodding softly “yeah I trust you”

Before you could even think of doing anything else he inserted the needle and depressed the plunger, pulling back quick enough to escape the way you dramatically snatched your hand back from him “Fuck did you just stab me with a needle without looking”

“I told you I’ve done a few of these” he shrugged with a smirk, already moving on to prepare the next step.

“Did you do each of them blind too?”

“The needle was already lined up” he motioned for you to give him your hand back, unable to keep the smile off his face as you glared at him.

“No I’m not listening I want a new doctor”

“What if I promised to look when I actually do the stitches”

“That should be a given?” The words came out in an incredulous shriek that had Robby fully laughing

"I'll give you a lollipop when we’re done”

You narrowed your eyes at him at the offer, hand on your injured wrist tightening slightly before you suddenly thrust it back at him with a huff “If I have a scar I’m suing”

“Deal” he conceded easily, threading his needle and inserting it before you could call it off again, the cut requiring just two quick stitches Robb had you done in minutes “See that wasn’t too bad”

Only when he had finished bandaging did you pull back your arm again, cradling it protectively into your chest as you sent him another glare “I want you to know I’m leaving this hospital with emotional pain as well as the physical pain I was already in”

“Oh that’s my specialty” Robby snorted as he started to clean up “Call it a two for one special”

“I’m demanding a red lollipop in recompense”

Robby looked surprisingly sheepish at that, hands tucked deep into his pockets as he swayed back on his heels “ah so about that we don’t actually have lollipops here. More of a family medicine thing”

You let the silence stretch uncomfortably as you glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest for an effect that pulled a small snort out of him.

“I can offer you a crisp five dollar bill for the vending machine though”

“And you lie to patients” you mused with an shake of your head and a condescending tsk “I’m adding this to my pile of evidence for the malpractice suit”

“My first name’s Michael just so you can make sure to get the right person on that”

You paused at that, cocking your head to the side slightly as you asked “is it really?”

“Yeah” he chuckled softly “you didn’t know that?”

“Always thought your parents just had a thing for alliteration” You shrugged it off with a smile, watching the corners of his tick up in response “seriously though thank you for this. I know I’m not the easiest patient”

“You didn’t get bodily fluids on me or try to hit me so that’s a win in my book”

“Damn so the bar’s low”

“Everytime I think we hit rock bottom someone shows up with a pickaxe to prove we can go deeper”

You let out an almost hollow chuckle, a sound more to fill the awkward silence following a statement you guessed held more truth than you could know.

“About what you said earlier” he hedged the words in, seemed almost hesitant to let them fall.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be held responsible for anything that comes out of my mouth for the duration of this visit”

He chuckled appreciatively at the break in tension, running his knuckles up and down across the palm of his other hand as he looked at you for a moment before physically shaking himself out of it “no I mean if you’re ever back here again, for any reason, tell the nurses to come find me okay? Don’t worry about messing up our system I promise it’s a myth anyways, just come find me”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him at that, the promise falling softly from your lips “I will”

“Good” he answered just a softly with a nod “now how are you getting home”

“Ah I walked” you answered sheepishly “Tried to delay the inevitable for as long as possible”

He shook his head at that but didn’t say anything to condemn it, reaching into his pockets to pull out his wallet “I get off in 45, here”

You furrowed your brow as he tried to thrust a few folded bills into your hand “oh you don’t have to”

“Please it was cruel of me to dangle candy in front of you without following through” he was brushing off your denial quickly, grabbing your hand to force the money into your fingers when you refused to grab it “Get yourself something from the vending machine and wait in the breakroom I’ll take you home”

“Its not that far” you tried again

“Let me anyways” and you could see the silent question in his eyes, the plea, it was a look not dissimilar to the one he wore when he showed up at your door late at night.

“Which way’s the breakroom”

He responded with a soft smile, making his way behind you and leading you forward with a hand at the small of your back, stopping just outside the door to point to a room across the way. “Just through there, I’ll come find you when I’m done”

With a nod you started to make your way to the room, not making it more than a step before he was calling back to you.

“Also if a blonde woman introduces herself as Dana you run in the opposite direction”

“You realize that just makes me want to talk to her more right?”

“It was worth a shot”

For perhaps the first time in his life Robby was ready to leave work on time, some may even say he was eager to do so. And if the smirk on her face was anything to go by Dana was certainly one of these people.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve checked your watch in the past five minutes”

Robby chose to ignore her teasing tone, bouncing on his feet lightly as he eyed the board with dread “My shift did end five minutes ago”

She snorted at that, shaking her head as she watched him avoid her gaze “I wasn’t aware you knew what time your shift ended”

Robby sent her a cutting glare “I don’t suppose you’re going to get on Jack’s case like this too for being five minutes late when he’s always twenty early”

She sent him a dangerous smirk and a shrug “Don’t have to Jack’s here already”

Robby furrowed his brow at that, casting his gaze over the bustling ED in search of the attending “He is? Since when?”

“Bout twenty minutes ago” there was a forced casualness to her tone that made him dread whatever she was going to say next “I sent him to the breakroom for coffee, weird he hasn’t come back yet”

Another sharp glare was sent her way she couldn’t help but grin under “You’re too invested in my personal life”

“What personal life” she snorted “thought you said ‘it’s not what you think’”

“I’m leaving” he declared with a nock on the desk “you should too”

“You going to offer to walk me home too” she called after him as he made his way to the bank of lockers, enjoying the pointed way he ignored the comment.

Grabbing his things quickly he threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the breakroom, barging through the door without a thought to see you and Jack sitting side by side, the corners of his mouth tipped up in as close to a smile as Jack got while your soft laugh rang through the air, your injured hand without any of the dressings he had so carefully applied half an hour ago cradled softly in one of his.

“Hey Robby” Your greeting snapped him out of his staring contest with your hands, his gaze meeting yours across the room as you offered him a soft smile.

“Hey” he greeted back, watching Jack slowly, deliberately, retract his hand from yours “is everything alright with your stitches?”

“Yeah they’re good” you affirmed happily “Jack just wanted to take a look at them”

Jack, not Dr. Abbot or even just Abbot, Jack.

“Can’t remember the last time you did stitches, gotta make sure you don’t horribly scar the poor girl” if the smirk on Jack’s face was anything to go by the man knew exactly what he was doing.

“And the verdict is?”

“I’ve seen worse”

He snorted humorous-lessly “high praise coming from a combat medic”

Jack sent him another smirk before turning back to you “let me get you another set of dressings and you’re good to go”

“I got it” Robby cut in before Jack could get up, not enjoying the amusement that danced in the man’s eyes as his gaze cut back to Robby still standing in the entryway.

“I don’t mind-“

“I said I got it” Robby forced a polite smile to his face, one he knew didn’t reach his eyes, a fact that only made Jack’s smirk deepen “Besides I heard you have a case of explosive diarrhea to take care of in south 7”

Jack chuckled as he leaned slightly closer to you, stage whispering while he kept his gaze on Robby “I think I’m in trouble”

You giggled back at him knocking your shoulder against his playfully as you stage whispered back “you better go before you get me in trouble too”

Standing up slowly Jack made his way out of the breakroom finally, sending Robby off with a mirth filled smile and a slightly too aggressive set of pats on the shoulder, finally leaving you and him alone in the breakroom.

“In my defense you told me to avoid Dana, nothing in there about Jack”

With a huff he shook his head, dropping his back next to you “My mistake clearly. Now lets get you some new bandages and get out of here before she has a chance to sink he claws into you”

“Ah you’re about thirty minutes too late for that” you giggled at the way he sighed dramatically at that, sitting down next to you to start applying a new set of bandages to your hand. “I like your coworkers though, they’re nice”

He chuckled at that with a shake of his head “nice is not the word I would go with there, try lacking any semblance of boundaries”

“The best of friends are” you shrugged with a grin, Robby unable to help himself from mimicking it as he finished off your bandage.

Finally free to leave the hospital the two of you made your way out, Robby doing his absolute best to avoid the gaze of everyone as he led you through the packed waiting room. Only when he was safely outside with you did he finally breathe easy.

The silence between the two of you as you walked stretched, blanketed the surrounding area, he couldn’t help but focus on it and yet it didn’t feel oppressive, didn’t feel awkward, he didn’t feel the need to try and break it.

This was the moment everything changed, there was a charge in the air you could feel, a weight to the moment that was palpable.

Robby looked down at you wordlessly, eyes dancing over your face as he just studied you for a moment, the corners of his mouth tipping up as you offered him a soft smile.

“Let me take you out” a simple offer, said on a shrug, followed by an endearing clarification “like on a date”

It wasn’t a grand declaration, wasn’t a cathartic clash, wasn’t a dramatic outpouring of emotion. It was quiet, casual, understated. A facsimile of that first time you spoke in the hallway. A simple hand held out, palm up. An offer for the taking.

“I’d like that”

You hadn’t known all that would result from that chance meeting late at night in the hallway. Hadn’t known all of the comfortable silences, awkward moments, and heartfelt conversations that would be shared in the weeks to come. And honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way.

503 notes · View notes

stzrgirl4norris · 3 days ago

Text

No Judgement - GR63

George Russell x BestFriend!Reader

summary: You and George have been best friends since before his career in F1, always there for each other. He's the only one who accepts you just the way you are. Although fans think you're a bit weird for him, he doesn't care. And, after all, opposites do attract.

based on this request right here

liked by georgerussell63, fan1, yourbff and 1, 700,411 others

yourinstagram i'm about to crash tf out ngl

View all comments:

charles_leclerc Why?

> yourinstagram because i'm fighting battles you’ll never understand > charles_leclerc What battles? You vs your ugly shoes? 🧐 > yourinstagram yeah because YOU have such good fashion sense > user be serious charles

georgerussell63 Your caffeine consumption is worrying me, actually

> yourinstagram let me live george. > user yeah george let her live > user he's being HEALTHY and CARING and she's out here drinking 7 iced lattes a day > user idk why this is giving babysitter dynamic lol

lando disgusting shoe and sock combo 🤢

> yourinstagram ok mr. panda nikes > user i actually like the socks 🫣

> yourinstagram user it’s because you have ✨taste✨

user she's like what I don't want in my pinterest boards

mercedesamgf1 We are against crashes here

> yourinstagram ahem > user mercedes adm is the funniest one

user she’s the only influencer who makes me laugh

> user she’s not even trying to be funny though? > user that's the thing... she isn't funny

user she’s weird, like the kind of weird you can’t fake

> user lowkey feel like her intentions aren't the purest and george doesn’t even notice > user they've been friends before his f1 career, let's not do this shit now

user she and george are SO opposite I actually think it balances the universe

> user he’s giving oxford debate and she’s giving dropped out of school > user he’s too good for her but it’s working and I hate that

user She looks like she made George do tarot readings

user I love that George is like a gentleman and she’s... her

user she definitely manifested him. with like, crystals.

user not to be rude but she kind of gives “i thought he was gay at first” energy

yourbff crash out queen your earned it

liked by yourinstagram, mercedesamgf1, kimiantonelli and 2,333,605 others

georgerussell63 Standard pre-race vibes

View all comments:

yourinstagram you’re welcome for the entertainment

>user literally what does she even do? > user she does him that's what > yourinstagram well i don't but that was a good comeback i respect it 👏

user why is she wearing sweats in the paddock?

mercedesamgf1 Is she okay?

>yourinstagram define okay

user I LOVE that she’s just casually unhinged around him

> user unhinged is generous

user i'd pay to see what their texts look like

user how is he not distracted by that? how?

> user maybe he's into chaotic energy idk

user if they’re not dating yet I’m gonna sue

user he's too polished for her

user george’s mom definitely calls her “that girl”

user not to be dramatic but if she breaks his heart I will take legal action

> user break his heart??? they’re just friends

user she’s literally just doing bits in the background like it’s her show 💀

user why is she climbing that chair like that 😭

user no because i can HEAR her saying “george look!!” and him ignoring her

user she makes everything look unserious and i love that for her

user someone get her down from the chair before she breaks something 😭

user the fact that she doesn’t care what’s going on and he clearly likes it 😭

user what is she even doing back there LMAOOO

user i’m begging her to act normal just once

user help she’s gonna fall

user she’s gonna knock over something expensive i feel it

> georgerussell63 won’t you look at that?? yourinstagram

> yourinstagram ???? everyone knows that wasn’t even the most expensive champagne on the market

user why is she dressed like that 😭

user why is no one stopping her?

> charles_leclerc I ask myself that all the time…

yourinstagram y'all can't handle my swag

yourinstagram added to their story!

liked by georgerussell63, lando, maxverstappen1 and 1,804,302 others yourinstagram traveling with george is fun if you enjoy being judged by every stranger every 4 minutes

view all comments:

georgerussell63 it's because you brought a whole farmacy in your bag 😤

> yourinstagram don't act like you didn't take my benadryl to sleep > georgerussell63 you can't keep saying shit like this in public > yourinstagram mercedesamgf1 i'm joking

> user not her snitching on his sleep aids in front of millions

alex_albon No one invited me

> yourinstagram you didn’t pass the vibe check > georgerussell63 because you always forget your passport

user you cannot convince me they haven’t kissed

user it’s the way george looks like he's going to europe and she looks like she's going to mexico or smth

maxverstappen1 don't worry I think George was the one they were judging

> yourinstagram don’t start > georgerussell63 maxverstappen1 ? > user oh this just got good

> user max came here to start violence and left like it’s casual

lando did you lose a bet or something?

> yourinstagram are you losing the championship or something? > user HELP WHY ARE THEY ALL IN HER COMMENTS

> user lando got cooked and didn’t even fight back 😭

lilymhe did you bring medication or just incense again?

> yourinstagram mind your business lady

kikagomes I kind of admire the chaos

> yourinstagram do you want to switch places?

user they’re opposites in a way that concerns me

user nah bc they’re all in the comments like it’s a groupchat 💀

user george is one “babe please be serious” away from imploding

user her bag probably has crystals, six vitamins, a banana, and a taser

user this feels like i walked into a conversation i wasn’t meant to see but i’m not leaving

user she’s too powerful they’re all scared of her and they should be

user no bc what kind of relationship involves benadryl beef on main

user is this flirting or HR violation i genuinely can’t tell??

user she’s the only person who could talk to all 4 of them like that and survive

user the entire grid acting like siblings in her comments i’m obsessed

user girl this is not close friends why are u posting like that 😭

📍Tulum, Mexico

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, lilymhe and 2,222,399 others georgerussell63 an unpredictable travel companion

view all comments:

yourinstagram ?? unpredictable??

yourinstagram you always post the pics where i'm ugly and you're hot 😔

> georgerussell63 you're never ugly > yourbff george like this if she made you say that > user why do i feel like she screenshotted that reply for future use

user the way he posts her like a proud husband…

oscarpiastri unpredictable is a very diplomatic word

> yourinstagram shush > user oscar sounds like he’s seen some things

user how is she unpredictable when she literally posts her entire life?

> user bc she’s the kind of person to fly to a race and forget shoes > user i bet her suitcase has like… soup in it or something > user she’s a walking side quest and george is the main plot

yourex she’s not unpredictable, you just don’t listen.

> yourinstagram yeah and YOU did > georgerussell63 thank you for your input, therapist ass

maxverstappen1 patrick the ⭐

> user what is max doing here????

charles_leclerc every time i see you two together i feel like i’m watching a social experiment

user max is getting too comfortable in these comments🙃

> user it’s always when she's in the posts too > user you just know George read that Max comment in silence

user do you think she realizes she's not quirky just extremely awkward?

user they hate when you serve weird girl bestfriend😇

user i don't understand their relationship and i don't want to, let me stay confused

[5 days later]

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63 and 1,835,029 others

yourinstagram go george or go home! 💙🏁 (also lewis hamilton looked at me)

view all comments:

georgerussell63 are you trying to steal all my friends?

> yourinstagram i'm trying to steal your heart 🫦 > alex_albon don't threaten him with a good time

lando fine... i'll admit... cute jacket

> yourinstagram only the jacket??? 😏 > lando jesus what is up with you today??

lewishamilton can you please text me the pictures you took?

> yourinstagram sir, yes sir 🙂‍↕️

alexandrasaintmleux nice seeing you today! 🥰💞

> yourinstagram if you want we can make it everyday 👀 > user girl are you ovulating or something??

maxverstappen1 nice latte art 👍

> yourinstagram not as nice as the one from that day ❤️ liked by georgerussell63 > user WHAT DAY > user WTF IS THIS

user she’s a menace

user george liked yn’s comment 😭😭😭

> user no bc what did she mean by “that day” DID THEY GO ON A DATE?

user why does it feel like she's flirting with the entire grid??

user she held his umbrella before the race 😭

> user because she's actually his biggest fan > user i don't understand why people don't like her

user with all these boring basic wags it's so refreshing to see someone with a personality 😌

> user not if it’s the worst personality in the world

> lewishamilton yn’s the funniest girl in the world. We all love having her in the Paddock ❤️ liked by yourinstagram

> user help not lewis defending her and george staying completely silent

user it just feels icky to me that george sees all those hate comments and says absolutely nothing

> user yeah if they were dating he'd say something

user another day another what the fuck

user her post is normal but the comments are cracking me

liked by yourinstagram, lando, alex_albon and 2,850,111 others

georgerussell63 Don't ask me how she convinced the entire grid to go to the club

view all comments:

oscarpiastri Peer pressure is real

> yourinstagram peer pleasure is realer 😇 > oscarpiastri this doesn't make sense

yourinstagram evrywine luved it

> user jesus is she drunk??

fernandoalo_oficial Finally someone who knows how to party

> yourinstagram omg did you actually kiss taylor swift??? > fernandoalo_oficial I don't kiss and tell

alex_albon I still have glitter inside my clothes

charles_leclerc Can someone explain why there was a goat in the vip area??

> yourinstagram because he deserved to party too. don’t be speciest. > georgerussell63 that “goat” headbutted the DJ

user the way george just accepts that she’s everyone’s problem now 😭

user “don’t ask me how” LIKE HE’S EXHAUSTED

> user he says that but he was dancing on a table by 2am don’t let him lie > user i saw them holding hands at the taco truck at 3am i fear they’re in love

user does she have everyone at gun point??

> yourinstagram they came willingly 😇

user your friends should be your 2nd priority. Your 1st priority should always be clubbing

> lando agreed

user i love this era

user guys my friend was there and said they saw yn flirting with a random dude

> user not max??? > user nope. not george either. random blondie in a red jacket > user nvmd me griefing

user a man is nothing without his extremely loud girl bestie

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,423,333 others

yourinstagram touching grass is not enough i need george to run me over with his car

view all comments:

user OH WE ARE SO BACK LOOK AT THEM

user wait this looks like a date 👀

user if you ever catch me smiling at my phone it's this post right here

user for the first time she's properly dressed

user i just love how george loves her for who she is and doesn't give a fuck

user they hate when you serve sexy bad bitch while being a lil odd and weird 💅

georgerussell63 thanks for paying the bill ❤️

> user and here we are thinking he was a gentleman 😞

user she’s deranged and he’s in love. god’s favorite couple fr

user no bc he’s smiling like she’s the best thing to ever happen to him lewishamilton George can arrange that wish for you!

> Charles_Leclerc And if George isn’t up to it, I can do it!!

> yourinstagram is that a promise charlie boy??

> georgerussell63 No one’s running yn over with their car!

> yourinstagram you always spoil the fun 😔

user no thoughts just george’s stupid little smile lando i know a thing or two about grasses and cars, just saying

> yourinstagram maybe george should run YOU over > georgerussell63 don't threaten me with a good time

user this man is clearly obsessed. and honestly? taste. alex_albon do you guys even like food or was this all foreplay?

> user ALEX > user alex knows something we don't

user girl how did you pull george “mr perfectly polite” russell i’m scared of you????

user she looks like she bites and he’s into it

> charles_leclerc I can confirm he is into it > georgerussell63 you can't confirm shit

user there's no way her rizz is that good

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, kimiantonelli and 2,441,200 others

georgerussell63 just being ourselves (no judgement)

view all comments:

yourinstagram never let your bestfriend stop you from finding your future husband 💙

charles_leclerc I KNEW IT

> charles_leclerc albono, norris and hamilton you can all pay me > alex_albon i'm not paying you shit 🙂‍↕️👍 > lando bro you were the only one who participated on that bet

alex_albon finally omg

user ok niall horan fan we see you

user THEY’RE DATING THEY’RE DATING THEY’RE DATING

oscarpiastri what happened to “she’s like a sister to me” 💀

> georgerussel63 I lied

lewishamilton he’s been smiling like an idiot all week btw 🫣

user i don’t even know them but this feels big 😭

sebastianvettel as long as you recycle together ♻️

> user even seb is invested here

> user girl seb is invested on the amazon forest let’s be for real

mercedesamgf1 💙 user they’re so in love it’s disgusting i’m crying user george posting like a man who’s been kissed on the forehead multiple times

user if i had this kind of love i would simply never shut up

user they better be each other’s lockscreen that’s all i’m saying

oscarpiastri ngl i didn’t think she liked him back 😭

user this feels illegal to witness but i can’t look away yourbff is she still mean to you or did love change her 🧐

user i can't you guys he's deffff out of her league

> georgerussell63 She’s perfect. Say one bad thing and I’ll block you ❤️

liked by yourbff, georgerussell63, lando and 2,333,403 others

yourinstagram no rizz, just insanity and love for carlos sainz

slide 3 is me and george in the future

view all comments:

georgerussell63 why are you wearing an "i love carlos sainz" apron?

> yourinstagram because i love carlos sainz > carlossainz55 please let me nowhere near this

georgerussell63 the things you put up to in the same of love....

user max suddenly disappeared

charles_leclerc I am afraid of future instagram posts

alex_albon george did she make you cook in that apron?

> user don't give her any ideas > yourinstagram i might orgasm > alex_albon I am currently regretting my life

yourbff does george know you printed that apron yourself?

> yourinstagram who did you think recommended me the printer store?

user what’s important is that love is alive. confusing, but alive ❤️ georgerussell63 it’s fine. totally normal. totally healthy relationship 👍🙂

> yourinstagram you literally tied the apron for me babe calm down > user BABE

user the way she’s so unserious and he’s still in love is actually inspiring user carlos looks so scared in the comments i’m crying

lando i give this relationship 3 business days

> georgerussell63 why are you even here?? > lando it happens that i kinda care for you both..

user max saw this and booked a one-way flight to monaco

> maxverstappen1 I promise you I'm doing just fine 👍 > yourinstagram damn... and here i am thinking you were devastatingly in love with me > maxverstappen1 I took you for coffee and you talked about george not liking you back for 2 hours straight > yourinstagram TRAITOR > yourinstagram MAX VERSTAPPEN DRINKS ICED VANILLA LATTES WITH OAT MILKS > maxverstappen1 you BITCH🫵

iamrebeccad i just want to know where you got the apron

> yourinstagram etsy. handmade. carlos-core. i’ll even buy one for you

> iamrebeccad can you buy me a george one? 😂

> yourinstagram YES OMG

> carlossainz55 now what the hell is going on here?

kikagomes what else have you custom made??

> yourinstagram a tote that says “gasly girls don’t gatekeep” > pierre_gasly i— > user LMAOOO GASLY GIRLS UNITE

user imagine your type being yn 💀💀💀

user this woman is living my dream

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 writing #f1 #smau #george russell smau #george russell fanfic #george russell x reader #george russell

681 notes · View notes

guppiechuu · 1 month ago

Text

sweet like cherry pie 𓂃⋆⭒˚🍒｡�� s.j.

boyfriend!jake x virgin!reader

length: 3.7k

contains: female!reader, fluff, utterly devoted jake, sweet relationship stuff, seriously so sweet I got toothaches writing this, date night, whiny jake, talks you through it, so gentle with you, but can hardly contain himself, consent checks

warnings: smut (minors dni), unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), praise, dirty-talk, loss of virginity, oral sex, p in v penetration, lots of kissing, mutual orgasm, that pie is creamed guys

synopsis: Jake is perfectly fine waiting as long as you need to take your relationship to the next step. He's never doubted for a second that you're the one for him. So when you finally approach him with the very simple request, "will you have sex with me?", he just about loses his mind. But not before he makes sure you lose yours first ;)

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ this was so freaking fun to write and made my heart literally flutter the entire time. GOD. I LOVE JAKE. anyways. enjoy <333

——

Jake loved everything about you.

The smell of your shampoo in his room when you got out of the shower. Finding your lost hair ties amongst his dirty laundry. The sound of you mumbling to yourself in your sleep.

He loved you, and he loved being your boyfriend. Doing all the boyfriend things he was meant to. Silly, stupid things like opening doors and giving you a steady hand as you leaned down to put your shoes on.

He loved the feeling of you on his arm, or that excited skip in your step when he picked you up. Your crinkled eyes when he said something funny. Even the way you grumbled in the morning before you had your coffee, he just couldn’t get enough of it.

Being your boyfriend meant Jake had responsibilities, ones that he took very seriously. To care for you, to keep you safe, to make sure you were happy, these things mattered a lot to him, and he took care in demonstrating just how much.

This kind of love and respect extended to your sex life as well.

Jake knew you were a virgin. Of course, he knew. He knew everything about you: your favorite foods, your guilty pleasures, all the words to your favorite songs. He knew that you’d had a few short-term relationships before him and that you hadn’t had sex with any of them.

They just weren’t right, you’d explained early on. None of them made you feel important, or special. You knew you wouldn’t sleep with any of them. You wanted to feel desired and respected, that someone had truly earned their right to your body.

Jake liked the way you’d said that—so matter of fact and confident. He liked that you knew yourself well enough to wait. Sex was important to you, and there was nothing that Jake wanted more than to prove he was worthy.

Despite your inexperience, you had a sexual appetite that rivaled his at times. You were a kisser — a sat-on-the-counter-with-him-between-your-legs, grabbing-him-by-the-collar kisser. You liked to pull him in close, dragging your hips against his as you slid your tongue into his mouth.

You’d pant and grind against each other until, eventually, you’d pull away, hand to your chest, face blushing bright red. It drove him crazy.

But Jake was patient, and utterly devoted to you. If you wanted to wait, he would wait. Hell, if you wanted a ring on your finger first, he had no objections. He had a design picked out halfway through your second date.

It was real for him, realer than anything had ever been in his life. He was ready to remain very patient and very devoted for a long time, right until you were ready to trust him with this part of yourself.

It just so happened that, on the most random of late afternoons at his place, you were ready.

——

At first, Jake thought he was hallucinating.

The way you looked at him—open, sure, no sense of hesitation—it knocked the breath from his chest.

"What did you say?" He breathed.

You blushed. Your face—your sweet, adorable, beautiful face—turned several shades redder.

"Don't make me say it again," You whined, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater.

"Please, baby?" He insisted, inching closer to you. "I need to know that I heard you right because if I didn't—if you didn't just say what I think you just said, I'm officially going crazy."

You laughed. "Jake. Will you please, pretty please, have sex with me tonight?"

Jake looked like you'd smacked him straight across the face.

You tried insisting that it didn't have to be a big deal. That all you really wanted was to be with him, to take the next step in your relationship together because, damn it, Jake Sim was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

You didn't need roses or candles, just the feeling of having him close. For real this time.

And in typical Jake fashion, he wasn't having any of it.

He leapt up from the couch, running his hands through his hair a few times as he paced back and forth. "Right," He murmured. "Right, right, right."

Then, he took off down the hall, disappearing into his room.

"Where are you going!?" You called after him.

"Phone! Restaurant! Taking you out and buying you the nicest fucking dinner you've ever had in your life!"

You got all done up. Jake fucking loved it. Watching you in the bathroom mirror, bent forward as you put your makeup on, it drove him wild. He couldn't keep his hands off you, stopping to kiss you every time he came into the room. Hell, coming in just to kiss you.

He felt like he was dreaming. Like this was one, long, unending delusion that he'd somehow slipped into. He put a finger to his pulse, checking to make sure he hadn't accidentally died and ended up in some kind of amazingly strange afterlife.

But, nope. His heart thrummed against his finger, and his beautiful, perfect, way out of his league girlfriend was in the bathroom, putting her hair up to go out.

And she wanted him to fuck her.

Good god.

Jake beamed all night long, getting your car door and pulling your chair out for you as you sat down at your table. You giggled. He was always a gentleman, but now he was really dialing it up—insisting that you order whatever you wanted, refilling your wine glass the moment it was empty, complimenting the way you looked.

"Your makeup looks so good, baby," He said cheerfully. "I like the sparkly stuff on your eyes."

You laughed. "I wear it like this every day."

He shrugged, giving you that dopey grin. "Well, you look beautiful. Gorgeous. I love you."

"I love you, too, Jake."

Whether it was the wine, or the candlelight, or the way Jake's knee brushed up against yours as you ate, you could hardly contain yourself the whole drive home.

Jake tried to keep a steady eye on the road, but the way your hands were roaming up and down his chest, fingers playing with the buttons of his jacket, he found it nearly impossible to focus.

You barely made it through the front door before his lips were on yours, hands scrambling for your waist. You giggled against his mouth, pulling him through the door by the collar and slamming the door shut behind you.

He groaned frustratedly into your mouth, dizzy with the knowledge that he was about to have you completely to himself, that you trusted him enough for this. He could hardly think straight as he picked you up and carried you down the hall to his room.

Your moans grew softer as he laid you down, your hands nervously fidgeting with his shirt. He pulled back, taking in the sight of you—your cheeks flushed all pink, your lips swollen from kissing him. Your eyes darted around his face nervously, not quite sure where to look.

Everything else seemed to fall away. It was like the world began and ended with his bedroom, everyone beyond it ceasing to exist. All that mattered in that moment was you.

He leaned down. "Hey," He said softly, brushing his fingers against your cheek. "You okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip. Your voice was small as you replied. "I'm nervous," You whispered, looking up at him with those big, round eyes of yours.

His heart felt like it was melting inside his chest. "You can change your mind," He said, matching the volume of your voice.

You shook your head. "No, I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm." You gazed up at him determinedly, still chewing anxiously at your bottom lip.

God, he fucking loved you. You were so cute, so sweet, exactly the kind of girl he always felt like he'd never deserve. You smiled, and he felt his mind go to mush. You laughed, and the rest of the world seemed to go quiet.

Jake took his time. Kissing you slowly, rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. You sighed into his touch, marveling at the way even the lightest brush of his fingers made your stomach tighten with desire. Long overdue desire.

"Gonna take this off, baby," He said, pushing your dress up your legs.

You'd been naked around him plenty of times—changing out of your swimsuit, getting out of the shower, sharing the shower on the rare instances that you both woke up late for work—but this felt different.

Your body temperature seemed to go up several degrees as he pulled your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor.

"Mmm," He murmured, bending down to kiss the skin on your chest. "You're so beautiful."

His kisses were feather-soft, brushing against your collarbones, your shoulders, your jaw.

He was always telling you how perfect you were, how pretty you looked, how smart you were—but he was all of those things and more. You admired him as he moved down your body, strands of dark hair falling over his face.

"I love you," You said suddenly, prompting him to look up.

"I love you, too, baby."

"No," You insisted, reaching down to grab his face and haul him back up to you. "I love you. I don't ever wanna be away from you. Like, ever."

He grinned. "Good. Because you're never getting rid of me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," You said breathily, tensing as his hand lowered between your legs.

His breath hitched and he froze, biting his lower lip.

"What is it?" You asked, heart quickening at the feeling of his fingers against your underwear.

"Mmm." He shook his head, dropping it onto your chest.

"You can say it, what is it?"

"You're so wet," He whined, voice muffled against your skin. "Fuck, baby. Fuck."

"Will that mess things up?" You asked, unsure. You didn't think being too wet was a problem, but what did you know? All of your knowlege had been based off of explicit movie scenes and poorly written internet blog porn.

"No," He gasped, looking up at you with wide eyes. "No, baby, you're perfect. So perfect, wanna taste you. Can I?" He asked.

Your stomach twisted with nerves, but he was so needy, staring at you with his lip between his teeth. You could've said no, and Jake would have moved on, no questions asked. But something about the look on his face, the way he was waiting so diligently for your answer, all movement paused until he heard what you had to say...

"Yeah," You nodded sheepishly.

He let out a deep groan, coming up to kiss you again before hooking his fingers over your underwear and pulling them down your legs.

It was a foreign feeling, having him so close to this part of your body. You were still nervous, a little self-conscious, but it was hard to stay that way with Jake talking like you were the most perfect thing he'd ever seen in his life.

"God, what am I gonna do," He muttered anxiously, lips tickling the inside of your thigh. "I'm not gonna last a fucking second. Jesus Christ, baby."

You giggled as his mouth brushed your skin again, sending shivers up your body.

"So sensitive," He teased, pressing his mouth to your inner thigh and nibbling gently with his teeth. "I'm gonna kiss you, baby. Tell me what feels good."

"Okay," You said breathlessly.

You ached painfully for him, overwhelmed by the feeling of his breath on your core, his fingers digging into your thighs. He pushed his face between your legs, making contact with his full, pouty lips, and you gasped, your entire body tensing.

"Okay?" He asked, glancing up at you.

You nodded, sitting up on your elbows to watch in wonder as he opened his mouth against your cunt, dragging his tongue between your folds like you were the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

"Oh, Jake," You whined, letting your head fall against your shoulder as your brows furrowed.

He responded with a hum, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pushed his mouth further onto you. It was, by far, the most erotic thing you'd ever experienced.

Jake had an incredible voice. Hearing it always put you at ease, no matter the kind of day you'd had or what mood you were in. But feeling it? Feeling the shiver of his voice against your sensitive skin?

Your legs trembled with how badly you wanted more.

It was overwhelming. His sloppy kisses, the soft swipes of his tongue, the way he moaned into you like this was the only thing he'd ever wanted in his life—it left you speechless.

You could hardly make any noise at all, too consumed in the feeling of him curling his tongue against you. It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. Hotter than getting to watch him work out. Hotter than his voice first thing in the morning. Hotter than all the times he'd confronted rude or handsy men at bars.

This was sexy. The way his hair fell against your skin, his face disappearing into your cunt. The bunch of muscles around his shoulder blades, tensed as he leaned in for more, more, more.

Jake, who had no way of knowing just how unraveled your thoughts were becoming, looked up from between your legs, a concerned expression on his face.

"You okay?" He asked, kissing the inside of your knee.

You nodded eagerly, pushing your hips up towards his mouth. You needed more. You needed to grind into his tongue until you were shaking.

The little action sent Jake over the edge, like gasoline on an already lit fire. He went in again, his tentative demeanor from before disappearing.

You moaned, arching your back as his tongue swirled around your clit, dipping into the well of your pussy with a delcious "mmmm" that reverberated up your body.

"Jake," You cried, hips grinding down on his tongue. "Can you come here? I'm ready, really. Want you now."

He stilled your hips with his hand, holding them in place so he could drag another wet stripe up your cunt. "Not yet," He cooed, kissing you sloppily. "It'll be better this way, trust me."

You struggled to see how anything could get better than this, until your stomach clenched violently at the feeling of his lips massaging your clit. You stuttered, looking down to see your legs shaking around his head.

Your body bucked upwards, hips chasing the feeling that was building in your lower abdomen. Jake's face was slick, your arousal mixing with his saliva as it dripped down his chin. He drank in the taste of you, dick hard beneath his jeans at how whiny you were, twitching under his tongue like you could barely take it anymore.

Every touch made you shiver, each puppy-lick to your clit caused your voice to rise an octave. He devoured you, savouring the knowledge that no one, no one, had ever given you this feeling before.

When it seemed like you could take no more—your hips shaking, your voice cracking under the weight of your moans—he pulled away.

You watched him with a dazed expression on your face, sweaty and already spent. His stomach twisted protectively at the sight of you, the ache of his erection the very last thing on his mind. All he wanted was to make you feel good. To get you over the edge.

To feel you cum around his cock.

He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor where your dress lay, forgotten about. He trailed his hand up the side of your body as he crawled over you, admiring the way your muscles tensed under his touch.

You hastily reached for his buckle, pulling the clasp apart and unbuttoning his pants. His chest tightened, still half-disbelieving that this was really happening. The rest of your clothes were discarded as he settled between your legs, the heat of your bodies spreading like fire.

You pulled him in, hands on either side of his face. His mouth tasted bittersweet, still hot from being buried between your thighs. Your pussy clenched desperately, missing the feeling of his lips, aching for something to fill it.

"Gonna go slow, okay?" Jake said, his voice wavering slightly. His heart was pounding in his chest at the heat between your legs. "You ready?"

You'd never been more ready for anything in your life. "Stay right here," You said, your lips barely hovering over his.

He nodded as he lined himself up, the slick warmth of your entrance sending a mind-numbing shiver through his body.

You hardly blinked. You watched, lip trapped between your teeth, as Jake's brows furrowed, his mouth falling open.

You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pushed himself inside of you. It hurt, but not like you expected. It stretched you, slipping deeper inside as you leaked around him, the sensation reaching all the way up to the base of your stomach.

Jake's breath hitched, his whines getting trapped in his throat as he fit all the way inside you.

"Fuck," He breathed, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn't move. If he did, he'd lose it. If he moved even an inch, he'd lose all self-control. And once he started to fuck you, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

Unfortunately for him, you had plans of your own.

You twisted under him, pushing your hips up in an effort to get him to satisfy the burning desire that had tangled itself up in your lower abdomen.

Jake moaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck as you slid against him, your cunt sucking him in even deeper.

"Babe," He growled, trying to get a hold on himself. "Give me— just a second. Need a second or m'gonna fuck you," He said through gritted teeth.

"Do it," You murmured against his mouth, dragging your fingers over his skin.

"Won't be able to stop," He whined, kissing you again.

You didn't care. You needed to feel him moving inside you or you were going to scream.

Slowly, carefully, he started to move, ignoring the stars that were bouncing around the edges of his vision. His body was tense, barely controlled, as he pressed himself all the way down on you.

To take his mind off how unbearably good you felt, he turned his attention back to you, kissing your neck and sucking harshly at your skin to alleviate some of the pressure building in his stomach.

"Jake," You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair. Your breath heaved unevenly.

He pulled away. "You okay?"

You nodded, stuttering. "Y-yeah, don't..."

"Don't what, baby?"

"Don't stop."

Jake practically fell apart right then and there. He collapsed into you, driving his hips so hard that the bed began to rock beneath you. You arched your back as he filled you up, your throat exposed for him to drag his tongue across and mark up as he wished.

Mine, mine, mine, he thought, digging his teeth into your skin. "Jake, can you..." You bit your lip, squeezing your legs tighter around him. "Can you t-talk to me?" He obliged, kissing you furiously as words tumbled from his mouth onto your lips. "You feel so good, baby, so fucking good. Jesus—I could come right now. Taking it so good, baby. Wanna stay like this forever. Wanna drown in you."

His words were like a drug, injected directly into your bloodstream. The way he touched you, like you were the most precious thing he'd ever laid his hands on, how he praised you for being so good for him, it all made the tension in your stomach threaten to spill over.

"I'm close, Jake," You said against his mouth, tilting your head to bite his lower lip.

He groaned.

"You feel so good," You echoed, watching desperately as he bit his lip, brows furrowed. "You're so big— I didn't think you'd fit at first."

"Mmm, knew it would," He said, reaching a hand between your bodies to thumb at your clit. "Knew you'd take me perfectly. Such a good girl. So wet for me—I hardly had to touch you and you were soaked."

You moaned, grinding your hips against his hand. A tightness formed in your abdomen, rising up like a wave threatening to crash over your entire body.

Jake talked you through it, relishing in every rough stroke you took from him, drinking in the sound of your pretty voice as it called his name, begging to finish.

"Please, fuck, please, Jake," You cried.

"That's it, baby, just like that. Do I make you feel good?"

"Yes," You whined desperately.

"You wanna come?"

"Yes," You repeated.

His breath shuddered, his muscles going tense under your hands. "Cum with me, baby. I'm right here."

You bucked your hips into his, muscles aching with how tense you were, as the nerves in your stomach unwound entirely. He whimpered as he stuttered into you, fingers pressed into your waist so hard it ached.

"Fuck! Fuck— y/n, god, oh my god."

His whiny moans fell against your lips, cock twitching inside of you as he shuddered through his orgasm. You gasped into his mouth, the feeling of him finishing spurring your own climax.

He held you through it, kissing the length of your neck as your body shook, his name falling from your lips. Your body slow beneath his, cum dripping onto his thighs as your pussy clenched around him.

"That's it. Good job, y/n. So pretty. So pretty. Could watch you cum on me forever."

You whined, face buried in his neck as the last of it rolled over you. He leaned his head down to look at you, his pupils blown, expression equal parts concerned and exhausted.

"Jake..." You mumbled, pressing a hand to your face.

He pulled back, eyes darting over your face hesitantly. “Yeah? You okay? Did I hurt you?”

"That was… the best thing that has ever happened to me. In my whole life." Your eyes were bright, skin flushed and glowing with satisfaction and affection for your boyfriend. “If I’d have known— Fuck, that was good, baby.”

He released the breath he'd been holding and laughed. "Good, I was worried for a second."

You looked up at him, pursing your lips. "Was it for you? Good, I mean."

Jake widened his eyes. "Was it... Babe, today is the best day of my life."

He cleaned you up after, carrying you to the shower and covering your face in a smattering of happy kisses. He washed your hair, and your shoulders, and your neck, admiring all the marks he'd left behind.

He was tender with your lower body, kissing your cheeks gently as the water rained down his chest, forming little rivers that lined his muscles. You'd never felt so tired and so rewarded at the same time.

You fell asleep curled into his chest, the sound of your breath slow and steady. Jake kept his arms wrapped around you protectively, a new feeling taking root at the very base of his heart. The very core of his being.

He loved you more than he'd loved anyone or anything in his entire life. And he was going to spend the rest of his days proving it.

#jake sim #enhypen jake #sim jaeyun #boyfriend jake #jake imagines #loss of virginity #jake smut #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #jake fluff #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #so sweet #so sweet i could die #inexperienced reader #enhypen imagines #guppiechuu

478 notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 2 months ago

Note

Would you maybe consider writing something about buckynat x reader again? Maybe something along the lines of reader being a little insecure in the relationship and really trying to find her place with Bucky and Nat? Maybe it ends with some super sweet spice and reader in subspace?

Idk but that's what I'm thinking! I love all of your works so literally anything you write, I will be sat and ready to read!!

⁀➷ Where You Belong // Bucky/Nat x F!Reader

Summary: You've always felt like the extra piece in a perfect puzzle—especially when that puzzle is made up of Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff. But after a slow spiral of self-doubt, Bucky and Nat remind you just how perfectly you fit between them. And when they do, they don’t hold back.

Part one

Requested by: Thank you so much for the lovely request (all those months ago)! I hope you liked it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, self-doubt, comfort, dom bucky/nat, oral, sub reader, subspace, multiple orgasms, aftercare

Words: 1.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Falling in love had been as easy as breathing, and yet as restricting as a boa constrictor around your chest. Where excitement bloomed, insecurities festered.

At first, it was just late-night lunches delivered to the weapons floor, quiet coffees in the lounge. You were the one who printed out reports, staying until the rest of your colleagues at Avengers Towers' corporate level returned home, just to make sure your work was completed.

This was where you first ran into Natasha, or rather, she ran into you, head first, until you’re slumped on the floor. One trip to the medical bay later, you’re introduced to her boyfriend, Bucky - of course, you already knew who he was, much like the rest of the world.

It was safe to say there was no one else you’d made quite a spark with before. Friendly conversations turned into evening hangouts, and spending every possible moment together.

It still didn’t make sense to you–how two assassins, legends and Avengers, found comfort in a soft-spoken office girl who cried at dog commercials and couldn’t even hold a gun properly.

And even now, months after that night, when the lights flickered out and friends became something more with comforting hands, lips, and bodies colliding together with the admittance of feelings, the uncertainty lingered. It seemed you were just waiting to be left behind.

You had tried not to let it show. You smile when they tease each other and share stories from missions you weren’t there for. The intimacy you allowed yourself to enjoy because, well, who wouldn’t want their kisses and touches? Even if a voice in your head told you that you’re a temporary fixture in a relationship that was already stable before you’d even begun working in the Avengers Tower.

One detail that you had brushed over was their profession. Assassins had to be vigilant, you mean, it’s a key skill for them to have. So Natasha notices. Bucky feels the reluctance.

They wait until a night when you’re home late, kicking off your shoes and shrugging off your coat with a tired smile, only to stop dead at the sight of both of them waiting in the kitchen. Too quiet, casual, gentle smiles that should be reassuring, but had you feeling defensive and fragile.

Natasha speaks first. “You’ve been quiet, Milaya”. Darling. The comfort of the nickname is momentarily there.

“Been pulling away from us, Doll”, Bucky begins to cross the room.

“I’m just tired. Work’s been crazy-”

“No,” Nat says softly, slipping off the counter. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to us.”

You try to swallow the tears burning your throat. “I just–. I don’t know where I fit in here.”

Bucky’s arms wrap around your shoulders, unable to watch your pain anymore. “You fit right here, baby. Always have.”

“I’m not like you two; You have all this history. You’re heroes. I make coffee and file reports.”

Natasha's arms wind around your waist as she presses against your back. “You are not less. You are everything.”

They take you to bed like you’re something sacred. Wanting–No, needing to show how much they care for you.

The bedroom was already decorated with dim, warm mood lighting, scented with lavender, and soft music filled the silence. Natasha undresses you slowly, her fingers lingering on your hips, your thighs, your ribs, like she’s mesmerising every inch and leaving a trail of heat behind.

“You’ve been in your head too long,” she whispers, cupping your cheeks and pressing her forehead to yours. “Let us take you out of it. Let us remind you why you are our best friend and girlfriend. Why you are ours, just as we are yours.”

Bucky nods from perched on the edge of the bed, “Let us take care of you.”

In a sweet daze, having been wholly blindsided by the evening's activities, you nod, “Okay.”

The first night that you were intimate with Natasha and Bucky, it had been with desperate touches, frantic and heated. Tonight was different. Tender, slow touches that held just as much intensity and passion as the first night.

Bucky has you pinned to the bed, your hands above your head, kissing you deep and slow, mouths moving perfectly together in sync, tongues brushing against one another just to get a little taste.

Natasha is out of sight, but you can feel her between your thighs, her fingers spreading you open.

“You’re already so wet, baby,” she groans in excitement. “You want this, don’t you?”

You moan in response, unable to answer in words, but only because Bucky’s tongue is in your mouth. Your back arches as her tongue licks a stripe up your centre, making sure to fill her mouth with your taste.

Bucky keeps you grounded, whispering praises in your ear. “You’re perfect. So good for us. You don’t have to think. Just feel.”

Natasha’s tongue is relentless. Hot, wet circles around your clit, two fingers cluring inside you in perfect rhythm. You’re already trembling, struggling to keep your thighs parted, but Natasha knows that, knows what all of your whimpers and mewls mean as she holds your thighs firmly spread.

They don’t stop.

That’s when the intensity begins. It had happened twice before, and the sensation was slowly building in your body.

Nat doesn’t let up even when you cum. She barely pauses, groaning against you like you’re her favourite meal, lapping up the droplets of squirt that you couldn’t hold back. Natasha's hands become firmer, holding your upper body down as you squirm.

“One more,” she says, voice silky and rough. “Give us another. Make me work for my dinner.”

And you do. You orgasm again with a broken cry, Nat’s mouth not missing a single drop as she licks and slurps with renewed excitement.

The sensation intensifies. Your body feels as if it's floating off the mattress, and your muscles go limp. Those negative, self-destructive thoughts slow down.

They are not done.

Bucky lifts your body into his lap as he sits against the headboard. He’s able to move your body for you, lowering your hips as he penetrates you with his thick cock. You’re trembling, brain cottony, too far gone to do more than cling and beg.

“Shh,” Bucky reassures, rocking his hips until you’re both flush. “You’re doing so well. Look at you, Doll. Taking me so good.”

Your head falls back, resting against Natasha’s chest from where she kneels behind. Her hand cups your cheek, a touch that has you nuzzling into as your hips continue to rock in time with Bucky’s gently. “She’s there,” Natasha remarks to Bucky. “She’s gone all soft for us.”

A pathetic little mewl purrs from your throat as your eyes drop close, barely processing the words.

Subspace is like sinking into a warm ocean. Every sound muffled, every touch magnified. You’re floating. Safe. Free. Wanted. The only thought was the two individuals who were caring for you.

They never pushed too far when you’re in this headspace, just enough.

All you’re able to do is let them move you, care for you, touch you. Natasha’s hand over your chest, grounding you, Bucky’s body wrapped around yours, filling you so deeply you can’t breathe right. But you don’t want to breathe right. You want to stay here forever.

In this headspace, there's no saying how many orgasms you have. You stop trying to speak. Everything is sensation and guidance from your lovers.

“That’s our good girl. You take us so well.”

“Such a pretty thing. Safe now. You’re safe.”

“You’re ours. You’re mine. Don’t ever forget it.”

The bath is warm. The steam curling around your flushed skin, softening the edges of your floating mind. Natasha is behind you in the water, her arms around your waist, breasts pressed to your back as she kisses your shoulder again and again. Bucky kneels beside the tub, gently running a washcloth over your chest, dipping it into the water every few seconds.

“You’re so well for us, Milaya. We’ve got you,” Nat reassures, her voice swimming through the haze.

Opening your eyes, you turn from Bucky to Nat, blinking slowly. Bucky's metal fingers tip your chin back in his direction. “You don’t have to talk yet. Just breathe. You’re with us and you’re safe.”

It takes a while. Longer than usual for your mind to function even remotely close to normality. The silence is only broken by gentle splashes and quiet humming from Nat and reassuring squeezes of your calf by Bucky. Eventually, your lashes flutter, and you blink repeatedly, eyes still glassy but more focused than before.

“You back with us, baby?” Nat asks, kissing your jawline.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Just floaty.”

Bbucky leans forward, bending over the tub to kiss your forehead, his stubble scratching against your skin. “That’s okay. You were deep. You let go so beautifully.”

Your bottom lip trembles as your body begins to react more to your surroundings, which are fully present and hot, and the emotions surge like an overwhelming wave. “I didn’t mean to go that far, I just-”

Nat hushes you immediately, arms tightening. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That’s what we wanted. For you to feel safe enough to let go.”

“You were perfect,” Bucky encourages. Brushing his thumb against your cheek. “We knew that you needed, and you trusted us to give it. That means everything to us, Doll.”

“I want you to listen carefully to us, ok?” Natasha requests, her tone hardening slightly. “We didn’t bring you into our lives just for fun. We love you. We’ve loved you for a long time, even before that night with the power cut. You’re the part that we didn’t realise was missing.”

“You love me?” Your breath catches, tears filling your vision.

Bucky lets out a quiet laugh, a grin spreading across his face. “Of course we do. So damn much.”

“We are a trio. We move together, we love together. You’re not on the outside just because of your job. You’re ours because of who you are as a person.”

Once the tears began to slip down your cheeks, you could not hold back, but Bucky was there to catch every single one.

“Hey, it’s alright. Happy tears?” he questions.

You nod, biting your lip to hold back the sob building in your chest.

“Good,” he reassures, leaning over to kiss the tip of your nose as you sniffle. “Because you’re stuck with us now, I’m afraid, Doll.”

“Forever,” Natasha adds, kissing the side of your face.

“I love you,” you rush the words out, sounding more like a prayer than a declaration of your feelings.

“We know,” Natasha reassures, continuing to hold your body.

You remain there until you’re sure your body is completely pruned. As much as you’d been in your head for so long, there was no doubt in your mind that they loved you.

#buckynat #buckynat smut #buckynat x reader #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky one shot #bucky #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #marvel smut #marvel #mine*

350 notes · View notes

dakusan · 5 days ago

Text

Flex & Ink

Tattoo Artist!Seo Changbin x Reader | Ink. Discipline. He said “good girl” and never looked back.

🔞synopsis: Tattoo Artist AU. You’re the picture of control. Pilates instructor by morning, posture-obsessed menace by noon, and calm-matcha aesthetic 24/7. You don’t sweat. You correct form. You breathe through the pain. And you’ve never let anyone leave a mark on you—until him. He’s the co-owner of NO SAINT INK. At the gym, he’s silent power: sweat-drenched tanks, mythical back pieces, and eyes that never once look your way. Until they do. It starts with a tattoo. But that line between ink and intimacy? Between the sharpness of his needle and the way he says “good girl”? Yeah. That gets blurred fast. One minute he’s fucking you like he owns you, the next he’s wrapping you in his hoodie and feeding you water like you’ll break.

💌a/n: IT’S SO FUCKING HOT. LONDON TRANSPORT IS A HUMAN-RUN HEALTH HAZARD. THE TUBE IS LITERALLY MURDER SAUNA. And me? I decided to write tattoo!Changbin smut with a brain fog caused by the heat. I—listen. I just wanted to write about a brooding tattoo artist rearranging a pilates princess guts. I hope this makes sense?? I hope you like it?? Little bit of slow burn??? I was literally sweating while writing and I don’t know if it was from the smut or the heat or the fact that CHANGBIN IN BLACK GLOVES LIVES RENT-FREE IN MY HEAD?? p.s. If you liked it, reblog it. Reblog it like he’s fucking you into the mirror and saying “Don’t look away.” p.p.s. Changbin supremacy. p.p.p.s. I am NOT responsible for your hydration status during this fic

📌 Please read with caution. Stretch beforehand. Hydrate. Apologize to your tattoo artist. And your gym crush.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Thirsty— Taemin « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:27 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

You’re the vision of calm control.

Every morning at 6:45 a.m., like clockwork, you sweep into the downtown fitness complex with your pastel wrap-top tied neatly at the waist and your hair twisted into a ballerina bun so tight it could survive a storm. You drink your matcha through a glass straw. You carry your mat like it’s an accessory. Your shoes are spotless, your voice is melodic, and your posture is the kind that makes people instinctively stand taller when you pass by.

You glide into your reformer pilates studio with the serenity of someone who’s mastered both her breath and her boundaries. Former ballet prodigy turned core activation coach, you teach five reformer sessions a day—each one a display of elegance, intensity, and razor-sharp muscle control. Your clients both adore and fear you. You have the kind of presence that makes people fix their own form before you even say a word. When you do correct them, it’s precise, polite, and just pointed enough to sting.

You don’t raise your voice. You don’t sweat. You don't slouch. You float. And online? You’re even worse. Your Instagram is a minimalist’s dream: toned arms on reformers in golden lighting, skin like silk, cryptic captions. Every third post is a quote in muted beige serif.

You’re elegant. Controlled. Inkless. A vision of untouched skin and core stability.

But lately, your control is being tested.

By him.

He’s not like the others at the gym.

You first noticed him three months ago. It was leg day for him, glutes and inner thighs for you. You were coaching a private session—soft music playing, aromatherapy diffusing gently from the wall—and then: A thud. A guttural grunt. The sharp, echoing clang of 140kg hitting the floor like war drums.

He was lifting right outside your studio window.

Tank top soaked. Forearms vascular. Hood up. Headphones in. He never looked around. Never checked his form in the mirror. He just moved with raw, thunderous efficiency. Quads like carved stone. Tattoos crawling up his arms and peeking out from his neckline—dark, mythic things that looked like they were alive.

At first, you were annoyed. He disrupted the peace. You had to close the door to keep your clients focused. His grunts threw off your cadence.

Then you started watching.

The first time he took off his hoodie mid-set, you caught a flash of the ink across his back—two black dragons twisted together in an ouroboros loop, scales razor-fine and smoke curling over his spine. You stared longer than you meant to. Long enough to miss a cue in your own session. Long enough to have to repeat it.

You looked him up that night.

Seo Changbin.

Co-owner of NO SAINT INK—a notoriously hard-to-book, high-end tattoo studio. His pieces? Blackwork. Ornamental. Gothic.

He did ink like it was cathedral architecture. Intricate beasts. Baroque rib cages. Sacred geometry that bled into chaos at the edges. He played with negative space and muscle flow like a sculptor. There were rumors he did some biomech and anatomical fusion work too—stuff that made it look like your bones were crawling up your skin.

He only took on clients by referral. He didn’t do walk-ins. And he never, ever did colour.

He never looked at you.

Three months of the same schedule. You, in your silk-press pastel perfection. Him, in his dark gymwear and smudged chalk palms. You passed each other in the hallway sometimes. He never said a word.

Until the day you snapped.

You were mid-session with a new client—she was struggling with core control, every breath shallow, every motion tense—and there he was again. Deadlifting to the tempo of a war anthem. Slamming weights like gravity owed him something.

You stepped outside, hands on hips, breathing through your nose.

“Some of us are trying to center, not detonate.”

He paused mid-lift. Turned. Pulled out one earbud. A beat. A smirk.

Then: “Want me to show you how to really activate your core?”

And then he turned back to his barbell like it was nothing.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You’d never been so simultaneously furious and flustered in your life. After that, he started showing up earlier. Lifting closer. Watching your warmups from the squat rack. Making comments.

“You know, your foot arch collapses on your second lunge set.” “Your glute engagement’s solid. You ever load it?”

And then one day—after a particularly intense set of weighted split squats—you sat down on your mat, breathless and sweaty, and saw him watching you through the mirror. Just... watching.

When you looked back, he only said: “You’ve got perfect spine alignment.”

And walked away.

You told yourself it was nothing. You weren’t interested. You were focused. He was chaos. Loud. Covered in ink. Rough around the edges. You were all about precision and peace. You weren’t even into tattoos.

...Except lately, you’d been thinking about them.

About what it would feel like to have his hands on your skin—not in the gym, but in that studio you’d stalked online a hundred times. About the fine-line blackwork on his clients’ ribs. The sacred geometry down their thighs. The way he seemed to carve stories into people. You started wondering what he’d draw for you. What he’d see in you.

And one day, without thinking, you murmured: “I’ve got a clean canvas.”

And he’d grinned. “You ever wanna ruin it—come find me.”

You’re standing in front of it.

NO SAINT INK.

You grip your tote bag tighter, heart jackhammering beneath your zip-up. You can’t believe you actually booked this. You’d pulled every favour, begged one of your fitness clients to refer you. You filled out the intake form, submitted references, proof of healing care, even a fucking aesthetic moodboard. You never expected to get approved.

And yet… Here you are.

You glance at your phone one last time. The design you sent him glows on the screen: A fine-line ornamental dagger wrapped in black lace. Minimalist. Symmetrical. Inspired by the old ballet blades you used to train with in theater. You asked for placement on your ankle—something graceful but a little dangerous, hidden unless you chose to show it.

Finally, you move inside the studio and the scent hits you: vetiver, eucalyptus, ink. The kind of clean that hums with sterility—but underneath it, warmth. Masculine warmth. Leather and musk.

And then—

“OH SHIT—PILATES BARBIE MADE AN APPOINTMENT?”

You blink.

Behind the desk, crouched in an ergonomic chair with wheels and way too much energy, is a messy-haired, coffee-chugging creature. Han Jisung.

He is nothing like Changbin.

Where Changbin is broad, silent menace, Han is chaos in a hoodie. He’s wearing socks with avocados on them and a smirk that says he knows exactly how much your blood pressure just spiked.

You try to keep your voice neutral. “I have a 2PM with Changbin.”

“OH you do, do you?” He spins dramatically in his chair. “Chan-hyung! Bro! Pilates Princess has entered the temple!”

From behind the wall, you hear a deep, amused voice. One that sends a traitorous ripple down your spine.

“Be nice, Jisung-ah.”

Enter Bang Chan, who appears wearing all black, a beanie, and the warmest smile known to man. He’s muscle and honey—sharp arms, soft voice. And somehow, despite your anxiety, he makes you feel like you just got wrapped in a weighted blanket.

“Hey. You must be…?”

“She’s Miss Breath Control,” Han chimes. "As Changbin says of course.”

You ignore him.

“Yes. 2PM. With Changbin.”

Chan nods, warm and non-threatening. “He’s finishing up a back piece right now. Should be out in five. You can sit if you want—or look around.”

You sit. Which is insane, because your legs never shake and now they’re doing a little wobble dance beneath the stool. You try to sip water but miss your mouth and curse under your breath.

Han watches all of this with way too much joy. “You want some calming tea? Or, like, whiskey?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’re gripping that water bottle like it owes you money.”

You take a deep breath. Count to four. Exhale through your core. Then: “Don’t you have something to sterilize?”

“I do, but watching you try not to panic is a lot more fun.”

Before you can respond, there’s movement in the hallway. Boots. Heavy steps. You know it’s him before you see him. He steps out of the back studio like he owns the whole fucking planet.

Changbin.

All black, sleeves rolled, dark tattoo gloves still half-on. A sleeveless muscle tee clings to his chest, neck shimmering slightly from exertion. His jaw is tight. His lips are flushed. His hair’s pulled back in a half-tied knot that makes you irrationally angry. His arms are covered in fresh ink smudges. And his eyes? Locked right on you.

The world narrows.

“You came,” he says. Not a question. A statement. Like he knew you would.

You nod.

He gestures with a tilt of his chin, lazy and deliberate. “Come on back.”

The moment you step into his space, and sit down on the tattoo chair you simply go still. You’ve been in control of your body your whole life. Every breath, every joint, every limb—trained, refined, disciplined. You know how to hold your spine like a prayer and your voice like a blade. You’ve never fidgeted in a professional setting.

So why are you perched on a leather tattoo chair with your hands folded tight in your lap like a chastised schoolgirl?

Because the room smells like ink and amber and him. Because there’s bass-heavy music playing low through the built-in speakers—wordless, sultry, like the kind of thing you’d move your hips to if he ever pressed you against a wall. Because Seo Changbin is leaning over his iPad, reviewing your submission with a furrowed brow and one ringed hand cradling his jaw.

You’re trying not to hold your breath as he scrolls. Then he glances up at you, eyes sharp but unreadable. But then, his mouth twitches—almost a smile and he turns the iPad to you.

“Here’s what I designed.”

Your breath catches. It’s yours—but not. It’s alive.

He’s taken the dagger and curved it slightly, so it follows the natural line of your ankle and rises just a little up the calf. The blade’s body is woven with the lace, yes—but his lace moves. It ripples like real fabric, and within its folds are secret things: a single rosebud at the hilt. A glint of barbed wire hidden in the shadows. He’s added a moon crest at the base—almost imperceptible—and along the edge of the dagger, in the subtlest script: tempus vincit omnia.

“Time conquers all,” he translates, before you can ask.

You blink. You don’t remember putting that in your references.

“It felt like you,” he says, gaze holding yours. “You act like you’re untouched. But your silence says otherwise.”

You should say something. Anything. But your throat is dry. The room is warm. His voice is velvet dipped in command. And the way he’s looking at you now—eyes flickering down to your ankle, then up to your mouth—is not professional.

“May I see the placement?” he asks.

You nod, because you’re a coward. A good one.

You slowly pull your pant leg up, exposing your bare ankle, the pale skin taut from crossed legs and tension. He crouches in front of you, rolls his stool close, and gently sets the iPad aside.

“Pretty canvas,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

Your pulse jumps.

He slips on a fresh glove, snaps it into place. The sound is surgical, threatening, hot.

Then he touches you.

His fingers are firm but slow, tilting your foot, angling your leg just right. He’s completely focused. One hand on your arch, the other gently brushing your ankle bone.

“This spot will hurt a little,” he says, glancing up. “But you’re good at pain, aren’t you?”

You want to say yes. Want to say show me. Instead you say: “I breathe through it.”

“Good girl.”

You flinch. Not from the words—but from how good they feel.

He doesn’t apologize.

He rises to his feet and starts prepping the stencil, moving around the room with focused precision. Gloves. Transfer paper. Sanitary wipes. Ink tray. You sit there, skin buzzing, ankle still tingling from his touch, wondering how the fuck you’re supposed to survive this session.

He moves like he’s done this a thousand times. Because he has. Stencil fluid. Gauze. He lays out everything on the side tray with quiet precision, occasionally glancing your way like he’s clocking your posture, your breath, your jitters.

He doesn’t talk unless it’s necessary. No showmanship. No dramatics. Just work.

You respect that. You also kind of want to bite your lip off because the tension is unbearable.

He crouches again beside your ankle, wiping the area clean with clinical care. The alcohol is cold, startling. You inhale through your nose, quietly.

He notices. “Still good?”

You nod.

“You sure?” He glances up. His brows are slightly lifted. Not teasing—checking.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Alright.” He holds the stencil in one hand, then gestures with his other. “I’m gonna press this on now. Just stay relaxed. Let your leg fall natural.”

You obey.

When he applies the stencil, it’s methodical. He rolls it from heel to calf, smoothing it into place with both thumbs, then steps back to check alignment. He adjusts your foot slightly. Tilts your knee. Scans the angle. Then he nods to himself and grabs the handheld mirror from the cart.

“Take a look. Tell me if anything feels off.”

You lean forward, lift the mirror—

—and freeze.

It’s perfect.

The dagger curves with your bone like it was meant to be there. The lace hugs the dip above your heel. The little Latin script rests just where your Achilles flares. Somehow, it’s sharp and delicate at the same time.

You don’t speak right away.

So he does. “You hate it?”

“I—what? No. It’s perfect.”

He hums under his breath. Like he knew. But he gives you space. “Alright. If you’re good, I’ll get set up.”

You nod again, a little too quickly. He moves back to his cart.

Machine. Cartridge. Ink caps.

The buzz of the tattoo gun doesn’t startle you like you thought it would. But the sound of it? It changes something in the air. The room goes quiet except for that hum.

He settles beside you again on the rolling stool, anchoring your foot with a towel. He sets your ankle on a support, angles it just right. The touch is firm but careful.

Then he looks at you. Straight-on. Steady.

“I’m gonna start with the outline. We’ll go slow. You tell me if anything feels weird, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Last chance to tap out.”

“Do it.”

His mouth twitches again. A small curve. A breath of something smug.

“Tough girl.”

Then the machine kicks on.

And the first needle hits skin.

You inhale sharp through your nose. Fuck. You knew it would sting, but it’s different than you expected. Not unbearable. Not sharp like glass. More like a scratch that keeps going—a hot drag along nerve endings that wakes up everything. You exhale. Count. Re-center.

“Breathe through it,” you murmur out loud, mostly to yourself.

His voice is quiet. Low. Unshakably calm.

“You’re doing great.”

He keeps working.

The dagger begins to take shape—delicate linework up the edge of your ankle, the fine curve of the hilt tucked beneath your calf. You don’t look at him, but you feel him—close, focused, his forearm braced gently across your leg as he works in deliberate strokes.

It’s intimate in a way you didn’t expect.

Not sexual. Not yet. But close. Controlled. Charged.

After a few minutes, he speaks again—quiet but with a grin in his voice this time.

“Still breathing?”

“Barely.”

“Good. I’d hate to lose you halfway through.”

You snort under your breath. “You’d lose your best linework.”

“Exactly.” Beat. “Wouldn’t look right on anyone else anyway.”

That makes your chest stutter.

You don’t reply. Not out loud. But you shift slightly in the chair—tense. Hot. And he knows it.

He keeps working.

You hear the buzz. You feel the heat. The pain is low-key addictive now—every new line something you earn. And through it all, Changbin stays steady. Anchored. The perfect storm of pressure, skill, and focus.

But, you've had enough of the silence, especially with how it was stretching and so, you decided to break it.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Tattooing?” His thumb brushes against the arch of your foot to hold it steady. “Seven years. Shop’s been open for four.”

“Always wanted to do it?”

“Nah.” He leans back for a second, wipes the needle tip. “Thought I’d be a strength coach. Maybe gym ownership. Did some personal training for a while.”

“That checks out.” You glance down at his forearm, thick and corded with muscle, tattoos crawling up to his elbow like they’re trying to escape.

“Yeah?” he says, smirking faintly. “You profile every guy who squats heavy during your classes?”

“Only the ones who grunt like they’re in labor.”

That earns a real laugh—short, rich, warm.

“Okay, Pilates Princess. Maybe I do get dramatic when it’s above four plates.”

“You were scaring my client.”

“She was on a reformer. She couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own smug exhale.”

You bite back a smile.

“Still. You disrupted the chi.”

“And you walked out in pastel spandex and told me I was ‘rupturing lungs.’ What was I supposed to do? Not flirt back?”

Your breath catches slightly. But he doesn’t press it. He just goes back to work—steady hand, eyes trained on your ankle. The air feels charged now, though. Like he lit a match and pretended he didn’t.

“What about you?” he asks after a beat. “Always been a reformer girl?”

You shrug. “Ballet background. Dance conditioning led to pilates. I got addicted to the structure.”

“Makes sense.” His eyes flick up briefly. “You’re precise. Can tell you move from control.”

You swallow. His tone isn’t teasing anymore—it’s… observant. Real. And something in your chest flutters uncomfortably.

“Is that your polite way of saying I’m uptight?”

“Not even close.” He sits back, stretches his wrist slightly, and looks at you fully. “Uptight’s when someone can’t bend. You?” He tilts his head. “You bend perfectly. You just don’t like anyone else touching the steering wheel.”

Your breath skips. You don’t answer right away. Not because you don’t know what to say—but because he’s right.

So you redirect. Softly.

“Why ‘No Saint’? The name.”

He taps the foot pedal, stops the buzz, and wipes your ankle clean with firm, slow strokes. It gives you a moment to breathe again—but not enough.

“Because I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not.”

You blink. That was… blunt. Honest. A little dark. He continues, eyes down now.

“We don’t bullshit clients. We don’t sell fake sentiment. No ‘live laugh love’ tattoos unless they’re ironic. No fake wisdom. No trends we know you’ll regret in two years.”

“Just pain and permanence,” you murmur.

“Exactly.” He smirks faintly. “No saints here. Just ink, heat, and choice.”

The silence that follows is thick. Comfortable. But hot. Like both of you are aware how close this is to something more.

He leans in again, machine humming softly back to life.

“You’re doing good, by the way,” he says. Quieter now. “Most people twitch by now.”

“I’m not most people.”

“I’m starting to believe that.”

He inks another line—this one along the edge of the dagger, right where your skin thins over bone. It burns—but you hold steady.

“Let’s finish the outline.” he suddenly says.

The session lasted

just under two hours.

You hadn’t realized how long it had been until the buzz finally stopped and the silence rolled in like a warm wave. You feel boneless. Drenched in adrenaline and restraint. Your ankle stings, wrapped delicately in breathable film. Your body feels too warm for the room. And your head? Light. Fuzzy. Like the space between flirtation and freefall.

Changbin strips off his gloves, tosses them, and wipes down the station with clinical precision. He hasn’t said much since finishing. Just the usual post-tat routine—cleaning, wrapping, murmured instructions.

But his eyes? They keep sliding to you.

You slip your sock on halfway and tug your pant leg back down carefully, wincing a little.

“Still good?” he asks, finally looking up.

“More than good.”

He gives a small nod. Like he expected that answer. Like he knew you’d handle it.

You grab your bag and follow him out to the front. The air outside the studio room hits colder, sharper. You suddenly remember there are other people in this building.

The first one you see? Han Jisung. Eating fucking pineapple chunks out of a plastic deli cup with a tiny fork. He looks up from his stool like he’s been watching through the glass wall the entire time.

“Well, well, look who survived the blade.”

“She didn’t just survive,” Changbin says, rounding the desk and tapping something on the iPad. “She was better than half the regulars who talk big and cry during linework.”

“You cried during your own hand tat,” Han mutters under his breath, chewing.

From the side sofa, another head pops up.

Felix. Wearing an oversized hoodie, sipping juice from a literal juice box. His legs are tucked under him like a kid at a sleepover. He doesn’t say anything, just raises his brows meaningfully—and takes a long, slow sip.

You blink at the scene. “...Do you guys always just lurk out here eating kindergarten snacks?”

“We’re moral support,” Felix chirps, straw still in his mouth.

“We’re witnesses,” Han adds, tossing a pineapple chunk in the air and catching it. “To whatever this vibe is.”

“What vibe?” Changbin asks, not even blinking.

Han points at you. Then at him.

“This VIBE. The quiet storm flirting. The ‘good girl’ energy. The tension so thick I had to put on noise-canceling headphones to avoid getting secondhand arousal—”

“Jisung.” Changbin cuts him off, finally looking up from the counter.

His tone is sharp, low. The kind that says drop it before I kill you.

You try not to laugh. You fail.

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hand. “I’m used to being analyzed by men eating pineapple.”

“Icon,” Felix whispers around his juice box.

Changbin finally sighs and turns back to you, handing over a printed aftercare sheet, folded neatly.

“Info’s all on there. Product list, wash instructions, what to look out for.”

“Got it.” You slip it into your bag. Your hand brushes his. Just barely. But you both feel it.

He doesn’t step back.

Doesn’t break eye contact either.

“Listen,” he says casually, voice lower. “If you ever need touch-ups, or... if you’re thinking of something else—” His eyes flick down, briefly, to your throat, then back up. “You can text me directly.”

“I figured appointments went through the website?”

“They do.”

A beat.

“But you don’t have to.”

Your throat is suddenly dry. You arch a brow—curious. Just enough sass to stay in control. “You giving your number to all your clients now?”

“Just the ones who breathe through pain and still flirt back.”

Felix chokes on his juice. Han makes a strangled sound that might be applause.

You blink. Then slowly, slowly smirk. “Fine,” you say. “What’s your number?”

He rattles it off. You type it in. Save it under NO SAINT. He glances at your screen. “That what you’re calling me?”

“What would you prefer?”

“Something you’ll actually say when you’re out of breath.”

Han falls off his stool. Literally. Felix wheezes so hard his straw pops out of the juice box. Changbin doesn’t even flinch. He just leans on the counter, arms crossed, watching you like you’re a puzzle he already knows how to solve.

You match his look. Slowly. “We’ll see.”

And with that, you turn and walk out.

After the tattoo, you saw him more. It started small that is.

At first, it’s coincidence—he’s back to lifting heavy in the gym at odd hours, same as always. But now he nods at you when you pass. A real nod. Eyes meeting. A corner-of-the-mouth smile that makes your stomach flip. Sometimes he’s got one AirPod in instead of two. Sometimes he lingers near the cable station while you’re on the mat. Never interrupting. Just... there.

The first actual post-tat interaction happens five days after your session.

You’re foam rolling in the stretching area, ankle still healing but mostly fine, and he walks by, glances down, and says: “Looks good.”

You raise a brow. “You spying on my ankle now?”

“Just checking my work.”

Pause.

“And maybe looking at your calf.”

You try to look unimpressed. You fail. He sits beside you and starts stretching his hamstrings without being asked. Doesn’t make a move. Just talks.

That becomes routine.

Short check-ins after workouts. Training tips you didn’t ask for but secretly appreciate. You realize he knows exactly how to adjust your form without crowding you. He never overcorrects. Never touches you without asking. And yet he always makes sure you’re safe, balanced, stable.

“Switch feet. You’re compensating on your left.” “You’ve been clenching your jaw all set. Breathe it out.” “I’ll spot you if you’re going heavier today.”

You stop correcting him eventually. Mostly because he’s right.

Then it shifts again. You start texting. It begins with questions about the tattoo. Aftercare check-ins. A meme he sends about gym people and their insane emotional attachments to water bottles.

Then you start sending him playlists.

He makes you one in return. It’s all bass-heavy, slow-burn, mostly instrumental tracks with names like “Pulse,” “Drive,” “Bend,” and one ominously titled “Repetition is Power.”

You: that one sounds kinky Him: it’s about training Him: …mostly You: mmhmm

The first “hangout” isn’t even planned.

You finish a late workout and bump into him in the protein aisle at the 24hr mart across the street. You make fun of his zero sugar birthday cake-flavoured whey and he pretends not to judge your matcha collagen bar.

“I have taste,” you say, tossing it in your basket.

“Yeah,” he says, barely smiling. “I noticed.”

You walk out together. He carries your bag. Doesn’t ask. Just does it.

Then come the actual plans.

A night walk after a shared late gym session.

Coffee before your first client.

He helps you move a reformer across your studio and doesn’t leave until he’s triple-checked the bolts.

He never pushes. He never assumes. He always walks on the outside of the sidewalk.

Once, when a guy was being weird to you at the gym, Changbin didn’t say a word. Just stood nearby, arms folded, gaze flat. The guy disappeared within three minutes.

When you thank him later, he shrugs and says: “Didn’t do anything.”

Beat.

“Just let him know you weren’t alone.”

And god. That does something to you.

You kiss him the first time after he walks you home on a Friday night.

You’re buzzed off wine and safety. You say something dumb about how he always smells like cedar and sin. He huffs a laugh and says, quietly: “You can kiss me if you want.”

No pressure. Just there. Waiting.

You do.

And his hand settles on your waist like you’re glass and gold at the same time.

Before you know it, it’s weekends at your place. Your pink robe draped over his hoodie on your chair. His phone charger lives by your bed now. He shows up at your studio on your long days just to bring you food he won’t let you pay for. He tries to act casual about it but always packs your favourite matcha bar on top.

You ask him one night—half-laughing, half-serious: “Are you, like... my boyfriend now?”

He blinks. Looks at you. Then cocks his head.

“Have you been seeing someone else?”

“No?”

“Then yeah. I’m yours.”

Simple. Direct. No drama. You say, “Oh,” like you hadn’t been melting for weeks.

He smiles, real this time, all warm teeth and soft boy. “Been yours since you sat in that chair.”

And the worst part? This dark, brooding, tattooed menace of a man? He’s so goddamn respectful it makes your head spin.

Doesn’t touch you in the gym unless you ask.

Always asks before kissing you.

Has literally said, “Tell me what you want. I won’t ever take it without hearing you say it.”

Brings your water bottle to your side when you forget it.

Traces your healing tattoo at night and whispers, “Still my best work.”

You’re doomed. You’re soft. You’re so, so fucked.

Your apartment is warm. Cozy. Too quiet.

The lights are low, and the vanilla-coconut candle you forgot to blow out is making everything smell like sweet skin and summer.

Changbin’s duffel bag is unzipped at the edge of your bed—lined with velvet wraps and steel trays, black gloves and sterilized ink cartridges. He brought the full setup, just like you asked. No studio. No distractions. Just you, him, and the blank canvas of your back.

You’re kneeling on the bed in nothing but soft shorts and your hair twisted up with a clip. Your top is already off, folded beside you. Between your hands is a pillow, hugged tight, just to ground yourself. Because the nerves are real now.

You wanted this design for weeks. Something elegant. Subtle. Yours.

A spine-length blackwork symbol—two mirrored crescent moons interwoven with minimalist wings. You told him it was about balance. About letting go.

You didn’t tell him it was also about him.

He’s behind you now, sterilizing your skin. His touch is clinical. Careful. But it burns anyway.

“You still sure about the placement?” he asks, voice low. Even. But there’s something underneath. A quiet strain.

“Dead sure.”

He hums. “Alright.” You hear the snap of gloves. The whir of the stencil printer. Your heart pounds in your chest like it’s trying to warn you.

Then—he’s back. His hands ghost over your spine. “I’m gonna press the stencil now. Stay still.”

You do. You try. But the moment his hands actually touch you—bare palms, gloved, strong and steady—your breath catches. The way he presses along your spine, smoothing the paper from the dip of your lower neck down to the top of your ribcage... it’s not sexual. But it’s intimate. Intense.

He pulls the paper away, and your skin tingles. “Perfect,” he says, quietly. “You want a mirror?”

“No. I trust you.”

And you mean it.

He sits back on his knees. Sets up the machine. Loads the ink. Your apartment fills with the low hum of anticipation—the buzz of something sharp and irreversible.

Then he speaks again, just above a whisper. “You ready, princess?”

You nod into the pillow. “Do it.”

And then—

The first line hits.

Sharp. Searing. Deep. Right between the blades. You hiss. Clench the pillow. Your whole body arcs. He presses gently between your shoulder and neck, grounding you.

“Breathe through it,” he murmurs, voice so soft it shouldn’t be that hot. “You know how.”

You do. You inhale through your nose. Exhale slowly. Your spine starts to relax under the pain, beneath his hand.

He works in slow, steady lines. Controlled. Ruthless. Focused.

And all you can think about is his hand anchoring you there. His knees brushing the backs of your thighs. The way his breath moves in sync with yours.

You’re soaking your pillow. Not from tears. From sweat. From heat. From want.

“You’re doing so well,” he says, after a particularly brutal curve along the left crescent. His fingers skim your waist as he shifts position. “I knew you could take it.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. “You’re evil.”

“I’m careful,” he corrects. “But I don’t go easy on you.”

You clench your thighs together. He notices.

And suddenly—there’s a shift in the air. He pauses. Sets the machine down on the tray. You feel the absence like a void.

Then: “How bad is it?” he asks. Not in concern. But curiosity. Low. Dangerous.

You don’t answer right away. So he leans down—chest brushing your back, lips at your ear. “You gonna be honest with me, or am I gonna have to pull it out of you?”

You arch into him. “It’s not the pain,” you whisper. “It’s you.”

Silence. His breath stills.

Then—

His hand glides from your waist to your inner thigh. Not high. Not filthy. Just… there.

“Then I’ll stop,” he says, voice gravel. “Because I don’t take from you when you’re not thinking straight.”

That? That ruins you.

“I am thinking straight,” you say, lifting your head slightly, panting. “I’ve been thinking about you every day since the ankle.”

He exhales. Like a man who’s been holding it in too long.

Then—he moves. One hand tilts your chin back. The other grips your waist, hard. And he kisses you. It’s slow. Deep. Tongue and teeth and restraint that’s breaking. You’re twisted half around, clutching his shoulder, kissing him like he’s already inside you.

He pulls away first. Barely. “You want to finish the tattoo?” he whispers.

“No.”

“You want something else instead?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Touch me.”

His hand is on your back again. Lower. Rougher. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

His hand lingers on your back—low, possessive—just long enough for your breath to hitch. Then, without a word, he pulls away. You blink. Your heart slams into your ribs. But then you hear it: The soft click of the tattoo machine shutting off. The rip of packaging. The squeak of gloves being stripped off and tossed.

You turn to look over your shoulder, breath caught. “Bin—?”

He’s focused. Completely. Dangerously. “Not touching you until the piece is sealed,” he mutters. “You don’t play with open wounds.”

The tone—deep, steady, commanding—makes your knees press tighter together. Your hips subtly shift, and he notices.

He always notices.

He moves behind you, silently, and you hear the rustle of him opening the dressing. The touch is clinical again, but somehow worse—cool antiseptic, gentle pat-down, sterile film peeled and smoothed into place. He’s careful. Exact. Respectful.

But when he speaks, it’s low. Ragged.

“You didn’t tap out.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You take everything I give you, huh?”

Your stomach flips. He finishes securing the dressing. Then… his hands slide down your sides. Slow. Worshipful. Possessive.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Now I can touch you.”

You barely have time to inhale before he grabs your hips—firm, final—and pulls you onto your hands and knees in the center of the bed.

“Stay like that,” he says, voice rough now, all velvet and gravel. “I want to look at you.”

You gasp as his palm glides over your curve, down the back of your thigh, up again to your waist. He doesn’t rush. He explores. “You have any idea what you do to me?” he mutters, more to himself. “All that control. That calm. That perfect mouth.”

You whimper. He smiles.

“You sound pretty now.”

He shifts behind you. Kneels. You hear his hoodie hit the floor. The telltale sound of his belt unbuckling. Then: a hand at the base of your spine, gently pressing.

“Arch for me, baby.”

You do. Of course you do. And when you feel the heat of him against your inner thigh—bare skin, hard and heavy—you moan into the pillow.

“Changbin—”

“Shh. Let me take care of you.”

And then he’s there.

One hand anchored at your hip. The other between your thighs, inside your shorts. Touching, teasing, sliding his digits through your wetness with a growl low in his chest.

“Fucking soaked,” he mutters. “You been thinking about this?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—”

“How long?”

“Since the first tattoo.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“Would you have stopped?”

“Not a fucking chance.”

He sinks two fingers in—slow, deep, curling like he knows what you need. Your hips jerk. He holds you still.

“There. Right there. That’s it.”

You gasp, high-pitched and shaking, and he groans—the sound wrecked and reverent.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you like this?” he asks. “Face down, ink fresh, all mine?”

“Yes—yes, Changbin, please—”

He groans, deep in his chest, and stills his fingers inside you.

Then his voice drops.

“Baby… I don’t think you can take me yet.”

You freeze. Pulse stuttering. “Wh-what?”

He leans in. Mouth right at your ear. “You’re already clenching just around my fingers. So tight. So sensitive. You think you can handle all of me without being stretched out first?”

You whimper. He smiles.

“No rush,” he whispers, like a fucking gentleman. “I’ll get you there.”

And then—

He hooks his fingers deeper, hits that spot just right, and your whole body arches.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder. “That’s it. Let me open you up.”

He keeps his fingers inside you as he shifts—kneels upright behind you.

His free hand drags down your lower back. Then to the waistband of your shorts.

And in one slow, deliberate motion he pulls down your shorts and panties in a single, fluid move.

They slide off your hips. Past your thighs. Down your calves. He tosses them aside like they’re in the way, and fuck, maybe they are.

Because now your ass is bare. Your thighs are trembling. And your cunt? Leaking around his fingers. Dripping onto the sheets.

“So fucking pretty,” he growls, behind you now, stroking one hand down your ass. “I should’ve had you like this weeks ago.”

You try to lift your head. Say something clever. You fail. He scissors his fingers slightly—just enough stretch to make you squirm.

“You like being opened up like this, baby?”

“Yes—oh fuck—yes—”

“Say it.”

“I like being stretched out—please, please, Changbin—”

“That’s my girl.”

He slides a third finger in.

You gasp—hips jerking, legs shaking—and he moans like he can feel it too.

“Shit,” he pants, fucking you slow and deep. “You’re so tight, baby. I can feel your pussy fluttering around me. You’re gonna lose your mind when I give you cock.”

Your hands claw at the pillow beneath you. Your thighs are soaked. And still—he’s patient. Focused. Wrecking you with just his fingers because he knows exactly how this ends.

“Almost there,” he breathes. “Just a little more.”

You whimper, spine bowed, thighs spread wide as his fingers thrust deeper—slow, deliberate, curling into that sweet, molten spot that makes your vision go white.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice like gravel and silk. “You feel that?”

You choke out a sound—something helpless. Shaky. Wrecked.

“You’re so close. You’re right fucking there.”

His fingers drag out, just enough to tease your entrance—then slam back in, curling sharp and precise. You cry out, hips jolting. His hand tightens, holding you still. “Don’t run from it,” he growls, low and possessive. “You’re gonna take it.”

He starts pumping—harder, faster, each stroke brutal in its precision. The wet sound of your cunt echoes in the room, obscene, soaked, desperate.

“You’re dripping, baby,” he pants. “This pussy’s begging.”

You’re gasping now—broken, breathless.

And then—

He does that. That perfect drag of his fingers against your front wall, again and again, exactly where it hurts so good you see stars.

Your arms buckle. You collapse onto the pillow, face down, sobbing his name into the sheets.

“That’s it,” he whispers, leaning over you now, breath hot against your shoulder. “Give it to me. Cum on my fingers, baby.”

And you do.

It rips through you—sudden, full-body, violent. Your pussy clenches tight around his fingers, locking him in as your orgasm explodes behind your ribs, sparks down your spine, tears from your throat.

“Fuck—yes,” he groans, rutting gently against your thigh. “God, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

You’re sobbing. Boneless. Cunt still fluttering. Thighs sticky. And he just keeps moving—slowing his fingers now, easing you down from the edge like he lives in your body.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Breathe. I got you.”

He pulls out with a wet sound, dragging his soaked fingers down your thigh before pulling away entirely.

You collapse, limp, twitching. “Changbin—”

“Shh. You did so good.”

You hear him kiss your lower back, just above the bandage.

Then—

A low whisper. “You think that was good?”

“Mmnh…”

“Baby… I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

His voice is molten.

You’re still on all fours, trembling, thighs slick, cunt fluttering with aftershocks—but the second he says it, something inside you tightens. You feel the heat of him shift behind you. The heavy weight of his cock brushes your thigh, then—lower.

“Gonna let me in now?” he murmurs, running his fingers up your spine, pausing just at the bandage. “Gonna take all of me?”

“Yes… please,” you breathe, voice cracking. “I can take it. I need it—”

He hums.

“You say that…” he mutters, guiding the thick head of his cock between your folds, sliding it through your soaked pussy—teasing, rubbing, spreading your slick. “But this pussy’s still so fucking tight, baby.”

He rocks forward, just enough to nudge your entrance. You whimper.

“So swollen. So wet. You’re still twitching for me,” he groans, dragging his tip up to your clit, then back down to your dripping hole. “You really want it?”

“Please—Changbin, please, give it to me—”

“Say it.”

“Fuck me.”

He stills—tip poised. Breathing heavy. Then—slowly. Deliberately. He pushes in. The stretch is brutal. You cry out, loud and raw, fists bunching in the sheets as he splits you open—inch by inch, so deep you can feel him in your throat.

“Oh my—fuck—Changbin—”

“That’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Take it, baby. Just like that.”

He doesn’t slam. Doesn’t rush. He sinks. One hand gripping your hip, the other spreading your ass to watch himself disappear inside you—slow, steady, until he’s buried to the hilt.

“God—so tight—” he growls, grinding once, deep and heavy. “Can feel every twitch.”

You’re panting. Shaking. Jaw slack.

“Too much?” he whispers.

“N-no—no, I just—fuck—you’re big—”

“But you’re taking it,” he says, teeth clenched. “Look at you. So good for me. This pussy was made for it.”

He pulls back—slowly, almost out—then slams back in. You scream. He starts to move. Long, deep thrusts. Not fast. Just full. Every time he pulls back, you clench. Every time he drives in, you cry out.

“You feel that, baby?” he grunts, rutting into you harder now. “That stretch? That burn?”

“Yes—yes—Changbin—oh my god—”

“You’re doing so fucking well,” he pants. “Letting me ruin you like this. Letting me fuck you open.”

He changes angle—hips slanted, cock pressing right there, that spot that makes your body jerk uncontrollably.

Your moans turn frantic. “Oh fuck—there—right there—don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

He grins, all teeth and sweat and dark fire. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He grabs your waist with both hands and fucks into you like he owns you. Harder. Deeper. The bed creaks beneath you. Your skin is slick with sweat. Your throat is raw from moaning.

“So fucking tight—so fucking perfect—”

“Changbin—I’m gonna—”

“Do it.”

His hand slips around your waist—fingers circling your clit with deadly precision. “Cum on my cock.”

You shatter.

Your whole body spasms, clenching so tight around him he growls, hips stuttering as you fall apart—loud, sobbing, ruined beneath him.

“That’s it,” he growls, breath hot against your shoulder. “Just like that. Look how fucking good you cum for me.”

You collapse forward, shaking. Chest to the bed. Hips high. You’re twitching—overstimulated, dripping, wrecked.

And he keeps moving.

His hand stays between your thighs, fingers slick and steady, rubbing your clit in slow, relentless circles while he grinds his cock in deep, lazy thrusts.

“Too much?” he murmurs, smug.

“Y-yes—no—fuck—I don’t—”

“You don’t want it to stop,” he finishes for you, dragging his cock out slow, then slamming it back in so deep your breath catches.

“You want to cry and cum at the same time, huh?”

You sob. It’s too much. It’s perfect.

Then—

His arm snakes around your torso. Tight. Possessive. And in one fluid motion, he pulls you up. Your back flush to his chest. Your knees spread. His cock still buried inside you, filling you completely.

“Stay open for me,” he growls into your ear, biting your shoulder. “Let me fuck you like this.”

He starts to thrust.

Hard. Upward. Precise. His thighs slap against the backs of yours as you whimper, your whole body rolling with the rhythm. His free hand comes up to your throat—choking you—while the other slips between your legs again.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, fingers stroking your clit again, gentle but devastating. “But you’re still taking it.”

“I can’t—I—”

“You can. You are.”

“It’s too much—”

“You love it,” he growls, voice low and filthy. “You love being fucked dumb. You love when I use you like this.”

You’re sobbing now. Raw. Clenching down hard around him with every thrust.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispers between gritted teeth. “So fucking good for me. Letting me ruin you like this. Letting me make this pussy mine.”

Your head drops against his shoulder. Your mouth hangs open.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he teases, rutting deeper. “Cock too big? Can’t think? Can’t breathe?”

“N-no—fuck—don’t stop—”

“Didn’t plan to.”

He pulls your hips down harder, fucking into you deep, pushing you up his cock like you owe him something.

“You’re gonna cum again,” he snarls. “Right here. In my arms. While I stuff you full.”

“Changbin—please—I’m gonna—”

“Fucking do it.”

He rolls his hips—rubbing your clit, dragging his cock against every oversensitive nerve—and you scream.

Your body jerks. Tightens. Breaks. You cum again. Harder. Hotter. Your legs give out and he holds you through it, fucking you through the tremors like he needs it.

“Good girl,” he whispers, wrecked. “So fucking good. That’s it. Let go. Give it to me.”

He thrusts once—twice—then slams in deep and stays there, cock pulsing inside you as he cums, hot and thick, hips jerking as he buries himself to the base.

You’re both panting. Shaking.

He keeps you pressed to his chest—his hands soothing now, stroking your stomach, your thighs, your sore hips.

“Still breathing?” he whispers, voice soft now.

“Barely.”

He smiles. Kisses your temple.

“My good fucking girl.”

Your body’s still trembling—completely wrecked, dazed, flushed head to toe—and yet somehow, he’s still inside you.

Still deep. Still full. Still warm.

His arms wrap around you like armor, like he’s trying to hold all your shattered pieces together with just the weight of his body and the steadiness of his breath.

“Easy,” he murmurs, mouth at your jaw, a kiss at your temple. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You shift—just barely—and it makes you both whimper. The overstimulation is insane, but the way he’s cradling you? You never want to leave.

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Want me to pull out?”

“Not yet.”

He smiles—soft, barely-there—and stills completely. You feel the twitch of him inside you, spent but still thick, locked in place with your body pulsing gently around him.

“You’re so warm,” he breathes. “Fuck.”

You don’t even respond. Just exist against him—your back to his chest, legs tucked under you, his arms rubbing circles into your hips and lower belly like it’s instinct. Like his entire nervous system is wired to soothe you.

His lips graze the side of your neck. “You’re okay,” he whispers again. “You did so good. So good for me, baby.” He stays like that for a while—just holding you. One hand finding yours to lace fingers together. The other gently petting your thigh. When he finally does pull out—slow, careful—you both groan at the emptiness. He catches your body before it slumps, scoops you up, and lays you flat on the bed like you’re made of glass.

And then? Instant Softie Binnie™ activates. He disappears for ten seconds and comes back with a warm towel. A bottle of water. A hoodie. Socks. You blink, dazed, as he gently nudges your legs apart to clean you up—apologizing every time you flinch.

“I know, baby, I know… almost done…”

“You’re fussing,” you murmur, voice all ruined and raw.

“Of course I am,” he scoffs, bundling you up in the hoodie like it’s sacred. “You just took all of me. You’re not lifting a finger for the next two hours.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it.”

And god help you—you do.

He climbs into bed next to you, wraps you up in his arms like he’s claiming territory. Kisses your temple, your shoulder, the bandaged spot between your shoulder blades.

Then he murmurs, right against your skin: “Let's continue that masterpiece on your back, hm?”

That night? Changed everything.

Now your ankle isn’t just tattooed—it’s claimed. And your shoulder blades? A growing canvas he touches like a promise. Sometimes with ink. Sometimes with hands. Sometimes with lips.

And life with Changbin? It’s a whirlwind of contradictions you can’t get enough of.

Like tonight for example. You're sitting on the padded leather bench in his private studio, wearing your usual pilates set—dusty pink, seamless, hugging every curve. You came by to “say hi,” but the way he’s been watching you?

You already know where this is going.

His chair is still pulled back from his last client. You’re leaned back on your elbows, legs slightly parted. He’s standing between them. Black tee tight across his chest. Jaw clenched. Veins up his forearms like ink trails of their own.

And then he says it. “Stand up. Turn around.”

You blink. “Why?”

He jerks his chin toward the far wall. The mirror. It spans floor to ceiling—installed originally for stencilling and symmetry. But now? You already know he’s not thinking about stencil lines. He steps behind you, hands gliding down your waist as you face the mirror. You watch his dark eyes in the reflection—hungry. Heavy. Like he’s about to devour you.

“You ever seen yourself like this?” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear.

“Like what?”

“Falling apart for me.”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. Because he’s already peeling your leggings down. Slowly. Worshipfully. Your sports bra goes next, tossed aside like an afterthought.

“Look,” he says. His voice has dropped—dangerous and dark. “Look at how perfect you are.”

He wraps one arm around your waist. The other slips between your thighs. Fingers teasing—barely there. “Watch me touch you.”

And you do. You see it all. His hand moving slowly. His grip tightening when your legs shake. His eyes flickering between your face and your cunt like he’s memorizing both.

“You see how wet you are for me?”

“Yes—fuck, Binnie—”

He groans—low, possessive—and sinks to his knees behind you. Your hands brace on the mirror. The first drag of his tongue up your cunt makes your reflection arch.

“That’s it,” he pants, mouth wet against your cunt. “Stay still. Let me ruin you.”

Your knees buckle. He doesn’t let you fall. You ride his mouth. You watch yourself do it. You see your face—flushed, desperate, dripping. When he stands again—hands gripping your hips, cock out and hard against your thigh—you’re already trembling.

“Ready?” he breathes, forehead to your shoulder.

“Please.”

He pushes in slow. And it’s everything. The stretch. The press. The burn. Your eyes roll back. Your reflection jerks forward against the mirror—but he grabs your wrists and holds you there.

“Look,” he whispers. “Don’t look away.”

His thrusts start slow. Deep. Deliberate. You’re crying out now—louder with each one—watching your own body shake with every drag of his cock.

“Look at you,” he growls, fucking you harder. “You don’t even know how good you look, do you?”

“Changbin—fuck—fuck—”

“You’re so tight. So fucking pretty. Look at that face. Look at what I do to you.”

The mirror fogs. Your skin shines. You’re bent over, shaking, thighs soaked, and his hand never leaves your clit.

“Gonna cum again?”

“Yes—yes—”

“Then say it. Loud. For the mirror.”

“I’m gonna cum, Changbin—fuck—I’m cumming—!”

You convulse in the glass. His name on your lips. His cock deep inside you. His hand holding your throat, eyes locked on your wrecked reflection like it’s his favourite masterpiece.

And when he cums, it’s messy. Loud. Guttural. He presses you into the mirror with one final thrust, hips jerking, sweat dripping off his jaw.

“That’s it,” he groans, still inside you. “That’s my girl. Fucking perfect.”

You both collapse. Laugh. Breathe. And when he finally helps you dress again, hands still shaking? He kisses your shoulder and whispers:

“Next time? We try the chair.”

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #skz smut #changbin #changbin x reader #changbin smut #changbin stray kids #tethered tuesday #stray kids smut

361 notes · View notes

no-144444 · 8 months ago

Text

lies and flights- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: you two have a moment, the moment ends, and so does something else...

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He sighed as he walked into the paddock, cameras all over him as question after question was thrown at him. He answered as many as were appropriate and off he went, signing hats and t-shirts as he went. He had so much to do, so much to get through before qualifying, yet all he could think about was you. He didn’t mean to make it a big deal, he just wanted to take care of you. You’d fainted, for god’s sake. He was worried about you.

He caught a glimpse of you walking in with Lando as he was filming some random content for one of the sponsor's instagram pages, and his mood sank lower than it already had been. You with Lando.

It’s not like either of you had confessed, but you’d both felt the chemistry between the two of you, right? He finished up with filming and followed Tom into one of the meeting rooms, ready to look over data, when he (literally) bumped into you, sending you flying.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered as he caught you, holding you by the waist. “My bad.”

You smiled. “Saving me two days in a row? You should be a bodyguard instead of a driver,” you chuckled. “Thanks Osc.”

Lando’s jaw dropped when he heard you call him ‘Osc’, and a sense of pride bloomed in his chest. Osc was getting the girl! Lando sent him a quick thumbs up behind your back as he also held the camera.

“What’re you doing here?” Oscar asked, not yet letting go of you. His hands were so warm, radiating heat through your whole body and making you nervous. You had a love-hate relationship with interactions with Oscar. He made you so nervous, no matter what. Your years of media training and professionalism could get stripped back by one small chuckle, one small smile, making eye contact. It was embarrassing. You liked him so much, which was a separate can of worms itself, and he looked at you the same way he looked at everyone.

“Motorhome tour,” you explained, looking up at him. He could’ve sworn he saw something in your eyes, something that practically asked him to make a move, to kiss you here in front of everyone. Then it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, your professionalism taking precedence over your feelings. “Moving on,” you turned back to the camera as Oscar dropped his hands from your waist, allowing you to move on. “To the driver’s rooms!”

He chuckled as he watched you and Lando run towards the other side of the motorhome, and Oscar started walking again, not unaware of the eyes Tom was giving him.

“You two seem close,” he smirked. “The shoes aren’t a dealbreaker, no?”

He laughed. “Why does everyone bring up the shoes?!”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Congratulations on P3, Judgy McJudgy Pants! How did the race feel?” you questioned. You were doing post-race interviews today, and Oscar had gone from P5 to P3.

“Yeah, it was difficult but we kept a good pace, Max was just too fast to catch,” he nodded, his eyes staring into yours.

“I’m glad to hear, are you glad for the race to be over?”

He nodded, chuckling. “Very glad.”

“The heat must be something else in those cars, on top of the regular heat. Does that make getting out of the car a lot more of a relief?”

“It does, but I was more excited about the interviewer,” he smirked. He was not doing this right now. He was not flirting with you on live television. You got the signal that the interview should end and you let out a quick breath of relief.

“Well thank you, but I in fact need to interview your fellow podium drivers, thanks for your time.”

Lando walked over, ready to take the mic and he smirked at Oscar. “Getting bold?”

He shrugged with a smile. “What’s the worst she can say?”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

"Oscar Jack Piastri!" Nicole's voice rang out as he lifted his phone to his ear. "My son flirting with people on live television is not something I want to see."

He chuckled as he mother continued berating him, and they chatted about the race for a while, before he had to go to the airport. When he walked to his door, ready to leave, he wasn't expecting a knock at the door, nor was he expecting it to be you.

"Hey Y/n," he smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm good thank, you?" you were out of breath. Had you ran here?

"I'm great, thanks. Are you alright?"

You came in and closed the door behind you. "What are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?"

"The interviews, the pictures, everything. What are you doing?" you questioned.

"Isn't it obvious?" he chuckled. "I like you, like, like like you. I thought I made that clear?"

You grimaced and his heart sank.

"It's fine if you don't-"

"Oscar, no, just... it's kind of awful timing and we can't be together, right? That would never work, we hate each other, right?" you rationalised, willing him to agree with you.

As much as he wanted to scream and rip his hair out, he nodded, a flat smile on his face. "Exactly, that's why I was just joking."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" you chuckled. "Well, congratulations on the win and I'll see you in Qatar, thanks Osc."

"Bye," he smiled half-heartedly, then flung himself back on his bed when you left. You didn't like him back. And what did you mean by 'bad timing'? He spent his entire flight, awake and wondering about what you meant, and thinking over every interaction, wondering if he'd really just made it all up in his head.

But the way you looked at him, it couldn't just be platonic, right?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charlesleclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 2,928,733 others

yourusername: @.f1, you've been my home for many years and I love you, thank you for starting my career, but also for being my favourite series of motorsports since I was a little girl. But now @.skysports is branching out and I'm moving across the pond at the end of this season to cover @.Indycar and @.nascar ! I'll miss everyone so much, but I am so so so excited to see that the future will bring! 6 races left! (also sad to be missing the historic season that 2025 will be, but oh well!)

comments

user83: oh I'll kms.

pierregasly: we'll miss you xxx liked by: valterribottas, zhouguanyu, landonorris, danielriccardo, charlesleclerc, carlossainz, alexalbon, francocolapinto, liamlawson, yukistunoda, estebanocon, fernandoalonso, jensonbutton, aussiegrit, kevinmagnussen, nicohulkenburg, lewishamilton, georgerussell, kimiantonelli, olliebearman, isakhadjar, paularon, arthruleclerc, lancestroll, checoperez, maxverstappen, alexandrastmleux, kikagomez, lilymhe, rebeccadonaldson.

skysportsf1: We'll miss you most! xxx

tedkravitz: It's been a privilege and an honour to work with you. You truly are the funniest person I've ever met. Your segment on Ted's notebook will be thoroughly missed. You will be thoroughly missed.

charlesleclerc: Bonne chance mon amour! ❤️

yukistunoda: who will organise interviews with me and pierre now? 😿 -> yourusername: I'll ask ted :(

danielriccardo: legend of the sport :) -> yourusername: looking in a mirror are we?

mercedesfmg: we'll miss you y/n! 🩵

mclaren: missing you already! 🧡

user72: guys... has anyone told oscar? -> user21: he must be so upset :( -> user92: yeah his best friend and his crush leaving F1 in the same year.

stakef1: missing you 💚 -> yourusername: manifesting hulkenburg podium next year

lewishamilton: I'll miss you, but you definitely have to come back for some hot laps... maybe Austin next year? -> yourusername: I'm there :)

maxverstappen: sad to see you go, but i can't wait for all the stories :)

landonorris: FUCK I'M CRYING WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS YOU TOO MUCH PLEASE DON'T GO -> yourusername: IT'LL BE FINE LANDO YOU'RE A BIG BOY

patooward: YAY WE GET Y/N!

haasf1team: our favourite interviewer ever ❤️

alpine: missing you loads 🩷

jackdoohan: NO I'M FINE THAT MY BEST FRIEND IS MISSING MY ROOKIE SEASON -> yourusername: I'LL BE IN MELBOURNE AND AT THE LAST FEW RACES!!! -> jackdoohan: ...forgiven.

liamlawson: NO DON'T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE -> yourusername: JACK WILL BE THERE NEXT YEAR CALM DOWN

kimiantonelli: miss you xxx

olliebearman: will be in need of your smoothie recipe since you won't be here to make it :( -> yourusername: I'll send it to you :)

user829: someone check on oscar rn...?? -> user36: fr he's probably sobbing his celeb crush is leaving the paddock for good ->user292: BRO IS IN THE LIKES !!!!!!

redbullracing: we'll be staying tuned to watch shine -> user88: wow a better send-off than daniel got lmao

logansargeant: CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAIN 😁😁😁😁 -> yourusername: ME NEITHER

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He stared at his phone in shock.

What. The. Fuck.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

774 notes · View notes

thessaralka · 7 months ago

Text

Solas romance is basically:

Inquisitor: hey Solas:. …. Inky: I gotchu boo bear ❤️ Solas: choking th-thank you? Inky:… ;) you're not like other girls Solas: I - no I’m not. Thank u for noticing. Inky: ;;;) Solas: ur hot and I’m into u and I might plausibly want to test that theory Inky: choking Inky: so u have feelings for me? Solas: n-noo Inky: tests that theory Solas: fade tongue

Solas: moaning oh hehe this is a dream btw ~ Inky: wow. Hot. sooo. Wanna? Solas: there are....considerations. like mythal's geas over me which is heavily implied in the subcontext throughout my entire narrative arc. Inky:……. U don’t have to do this alone. I felt your tongue in my mouth. I said I gotchu.

Inky: I SAIDDDD I gotchu. Solas: choking vhenan ar lath ma I haven’t and will never forget that kiss smooching noises Inky: damn alright mf Solas: vhenan ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Solas: wow I love sex and parties reminds me of the good ol days let's dance babe Inky: ??? Solas: in the fade ofc. I don't party. Inky: o-okay Solas: mythal's temple…. It's all coming back…. Memories of my pa- the fade. you really cannot rely on friends at all. untrustworthy mfs Inky: ??? damn you're being negative as hell right now you tryina fuc Solas: no. Actually, Yes. Come with me vhenan. Solas: I have so much to tell you. Choking the truth. Your face. The Dalish are but simple fools - Inky: what the fuck Solas: kissing and grabbing ass, choking back tears we cannot. Your duty - I am but a distraction crying Vhenan: … I said whatever you're going thru you don't have to go thru alone. I meant that. Wyd? I love you. Don't leave me. Let's be worms together. Solas: choking and crying I'm such a piece of shit vhenan I can't Vhenan: 😭😭😭😭???????? Vhenan: 😡😡😡😡!!!!!!!!!!!

Solas: heartbroken and wracked with so much guilt on main Cole: all you have to do is tell her. she thinks it's her fault why don't you just tell her? Solas: I'm a piece of shit Cole please stop trying to help me I'm unlovable Vhenan: 💔💔💔???? Solas: harden your heart and use that pain against C-Corypheus. Solas: wh-what we had was real vhenan 😭😭💔💔😭 Solas: leaves Vhenan: 🚬😭 what the fuck even was that

Vhenan: Cullen wyd Vhenan: nevermind. Ew

Vhenan 2 years later: *putting on a clown nose* wdym Solas is an agent of Fen'Harel. Of course. He has been helping us all along ☝🏻😍 Everyone except Cole: you stupid bitch Cole: you see him ❤️ Vhenan: Solas idgaf that you're the dread wolf you should have trusted me. Solas: ….. I'm such a bastard. Solas: I'm going to tear down the veil and kill you and everyone you love. Vhenan: *in full clown makeup* let me help you Solas. You don't have to do his alone. I am literally just as crazy as you. Solas: choking I walk the din'anshiral vhenan I can't let you love me when I'm like this. Vhenan: you stupid mf. I will save you from yourself. Solas: choking and crying my love~ kissing sounds Solas: sobbing I will never forget you…. But you should forget me… I'm such a loser and horrible person. Bye Vhenan: this stupid mf. I will find his ass and make him see.

Solas for 8 years: writing vhenan unsent letters and reading smut and painting murals about it all emo Vhenan: wearing clown makeup this stupid mf. I love him still. Rook: damn okay. Vhenan: *putting on clown shoes* can we save him from himself at this point in time maybe? Morrigan: thinking with your pussy Inquisitor? Vhenan: I have literally never stopped thinking with my pussy from the moment I saw him

Vhenan: Solas, stop. Solas: choking vhenan what are you doing here? I am a peice of shit. Vhenan: Idgaf. You're my peice of shit. Solas: I cannot stop. I am under a geas by Mythal and the writers didn't want to extrapolate on that further even though it is the only thing that makes my character motivations make sense 💔 Mythal: I release you from my service btw. Solas: wow suddenly I am free to make descisions that align with my morals and values. Crazy. Rook: wack. I wanted to punch you. Solas: I will go and seek atonement. Vhenan: not alone you aren't. Solas: crying where I am going is terrible vhenan. Vhenan: I SAID I GOTCHU. WE GOING TO THE BLIGHTED ASS BLACK CITY TOGETHER TO BE WORMS ETERNAL. AND IT WILL BE FINE BECAUSE I SAID SO. Kissing noises Solas: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 thanks for bringing my woman back to me Rook, serving your only narrative purpose ❤️. Rook: whatever. Vhenan: ;)))) ❤️

604 notes · View notes

farmerstarter · 2 years ago

Text

The Bachelors on their Wedding Day

Hi Hello have this short list of my little Headcanons of the bachelors on their wedding day. Hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!🌷🤍

ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :

🏈 Fiddles with his tie relentlessly and ends up ruining it. He runs to Evelyn to ask her to tie it up again. The only other thing he fusses over is his hair.

🏈 Alex keeps a rabbit's foot in his pants, wanting all the luck he can get.

🏈 Spent literal days writing his wedding vows. Ends up opting to wing it. It wasn't the most eloquently worded thing you've heard but it was sweet.

🏈 He gave himself a pep talk in his bedroom before the ceremony. You only know about this because George was complaining about how loud he was to you.

🏈 Dusty the dog is the mermaid pendant bearer, I decided.

🏈 Also, the song that plays during the wedding is the same tune from Alex's music box. 🥺

ʚ🪶ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :

🪶Beach wedding. You guys have a beach wedding. You've expressed your interest in one and Elliott, with the eager help of Willy, clean up the beach for your special day. Elliott's shoes would fill with sand but his discomfort is overpowered by his delight when he sees you all dressed up.

🪶 He reads you one (of many) of his poems about you. You later learned that he's got a whole book of poetry about you that he's been writing ever since you two started dating. The poem he read on the wedding day was the very first one and is the first page of the book.

🪶 He spent hours trying to make himself look good. Asking for Leah and Willy's input on what he should wear for a solid 3 hours.

🪶 Aside from him worrying over his appearance, Elliott is more excited than nervous. He's on the verge of creating a new chapter in his life with someone else. Gone are the days of his lonely shack and the empty (well, not as empty since you moved into town) beach. Honestly, to say that he's excited is an understatement.

ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :

🛩️ Gets awfully shy when reading his vows, stuttering his way through his words and being a blushing mess. He has no problem with the one-on-one check up sessions he does with the other villagers of Pelican Town, but to read aloud in front of all of them at once threw him off. But he kept his eyes on you and managed to power through it.

🛩️ He considered shaving off his mustache for the wedding at least twice. But he decided against the idea.

🛩️ Insisted that you eat Farmer's Brunch the morning of the wedding. Even during your wedding day, he wants to make sure you're feeling healthy.

🛩️ Holds your hands throughout the whole ceremony. Whispering apologies for how clammy his hands are.

ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :

🎸 He wrote a whole song about you and played it on your wedding day. He made it a surprise for you and the moments of him hiding his guitar and shoving music sheets under his bed when you visit his room were all starting to make sense to you.

🎸 Couldn't sleep for the whole night before the wedding. He worried over the ceremony and wanted to make it go smoothly. He's not one to meticulously plan every detail, opting to engage in spur of the moment decisions, but he tried his best to make everything as close to perfect as he can get.

🎸 Jodi tried to gel Sam's hair back, but no matter the amount of gel and hours, his hair would always spring back. Sam wasn't a fan of dressing up in a "dorky suit" but he did anyway, for you.

🎸 Sam didn't want to see you until the wedding so he got Vincent to play messenger for the two of you. He wouldn't do it at first but only agreed to do it because he likes you (Cue a dramatic gasp from Sam).

ʚ🐸ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :

🐸 Ends up smiling through the whole ceremony, looking at you with such a brightness in his eyes.

🐸 He isn't one to wear anything fancy. The closest thing he ever wore that is considered formal was the suit that Lewis got him and the rest of the dancers to wear for the Flower Dance. He asks his mom to help him dress up for the wedding, asking her about it while she was building furniture. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he liked watching his mom so happy over something that was so mundane to him. He makes sure to keep the suit in perfect condition throughout the ceremony because of it.

🐸 He tells his very heartfelt wedding vows. And while he does, you could hear the faint "that's good," from Elliott before a grunt, inevitably elbowed on the side by Leah.

🐸 You and him ride on his motorcycle after the wedding. He drives you two to the cliff overlooking the city, the same cliff where he confessed his true feelings to you. Under the full moon, the two of you would look at the stars with Sebastian occasionally pointing at a constellation that Maru taught him to find.

🐸 Consider: winter wedding.

ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :

🐣 Genuinely doesn't believe that you want to marry him. He thinks it's a dream at best and a prank at worst. It wasn't until you were tying his mermaid pendant around his neck for him to know that you do love him. He still has trouble understanding it sometimes.

🐣 Shane asked Marnie to teach him how to waltz for your wedding day. Sure, he's danced in the Flower Dance countless of times but he wanted to learn something new to surprise you. And he did. After dancing with you, he dances with Jas. Well, it's more of Jas standing on Shane's feet while he walks and glides around.

🐣 He gave his chicken, Charlie, a bow tie for the wedding and everything. Even got a picture of you and Shane with the little guy. The picture ends up being hanged on Shane's side of the bedroom for many years to come.

🐣 Has his pocket full of corn chips, let's be honest. He offers one to you before the ceremony starts.

3K notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 11 months ago

Text

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments.

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes.

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding.

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over.

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch.

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen.

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology.

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too.

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience.

However.

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction.

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar.

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other.

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home.

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps.

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted.

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!”

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look.

“Suit yourself!”

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?”

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued.

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle.

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?”

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already.

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave.

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier.

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable.

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :(

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car.

And all you can do is stare at your screen.

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :)

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile.

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!!

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre.

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there!

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench.

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard.

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar.

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same.

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?”

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?”

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone.

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can��t stop your cackling when he responds,

“Turns out Jimin was right.”

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.”

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!”

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.”

—

fin. :)

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

#well hello LMAO #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #three tangerines #3tan7172 #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fluff #*latest #ryenwrites #3tanextras #yoongi angst

541 notes · View notes

hischiershoe · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 4.9k

summary: The one where you run into the guy who makes you believe in love all over again.

warnings: kissing, strangers to friends to lovers where they’re both a little oblivious, game mentioned is the game against philly with luke's ot goal

note: no angst?? who am i?? thank you maddy for answering my questions about luke so i could make this as accurate as possible ily

Someone once said that love comes when you least expect it and when you’re not looking for it, but you used to never believe that. You used to think that love was something you always searched for in others, that love was something everyone wanted, but you stopped believing that after it kept leaving you stranded and broken. You stopped looking for romantic love, choosing to believe that maybe it wasn’t meant for you, until one day when you’re quite literally trampled by the boy that made you believe in it all over again.

Walking the path near the water was one of your favorite pastimes since you’ve moved to the unfamiliar city. It was something that always brought you a sense of serenity whenever reality became a little too overbearing, or when you just needed a space to breathe after a particularly straining day at work. It was also your favorite way to start off your day whenever you had the time. Always a coffee in hand as you savored the peacefulness before the day truly began.

Today was one of the fortunate days when the weather wasn’t too cold that you needed more than a light jacket when you stepped outside. There weren't many people out and about as the sun had barely risen, but there were still a handful on their morning jogs or simply relaxing on the benches as they read a book. You had only looked away from the path in front of you for a brief second when you collided with something, or rather someone, and it sent your barely drank coffee to the ground, spilling all over your shoes.

“Shit,” You heard a boyish voice exclaim, his hands grasping at your biceps to keep you upright, “I’m so sorry!”

You knew it wasn’t on purpose, but you couldn’t help but grow a slight annoyance as you stared at the dropped drink. It wasn’t entirely his fault because you weren’t paying attention either and it wasn’t like you had just bought the coffee, you were just slow to drink it. Looking up at the person in front of you, your breath hitched in your throat when you saw one of the cutest guys you’d seen in the city yet. Though he looked slightly familiar, you just couldn’t place where you might have seen him.

He had a sympathetic, small smile on his face as he awkwardly dropped his hands back to his side. He had a beanie covering his hair, but there were a few strands of curls that had managed to poke out from the thick material. You were close enough to him that you can see a small scratch on the bridge of his nose that looked almost fully healed. He was quite a bit taller than you as well, his anxious eyes peering down into your own as you slowly blink at him.

“Are you okay,” He spoke again, gaze briefly filtering down to your shoes.

“Yeah,” You sigh as you step away from him, “I’m fine, but my shoes might not be.”

The both of you let out awkward chuckles before you bend down to grab the cup, slightly frowning to yourself as you bring it to your chest. When you meet his eyes again, he looks as if he was contemplating something by the way he keeps looking all around you. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie as he shifted his weight on his feet. The air is a little awkward as you think about just walking away, but he speaks before your feet ever move.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” He suggests, his voice slightly quieter than before as if he was nervous, “It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that,” You shake your head, “It’s no big deal. It’s just a coffee.”

“Please,” He tries, not wanting to press so hard enough he comes off desperate, “It looked almost full based on what I can see on the ground.”

You couldn’t help but notice his shy smile and hesitant eyes as he waited for your response. His cheeks and nose were slightly pink from the wind that refused to stop whipping at any exposed skin it found. He was sporting a nervous half smile as you mulled the option over in your head, trying to gather if there was any plausible reason to not let the cute boy with a crooked smile buy you another coffee.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” You agree, a smile of your own toying on your lips as you keep your gaze on him, “But only if you tell me your name first.”

“Luke,” He lightly chuckled, taking his hand out of his pocket, extending it for you to shake, “Yours?”

You gingerly took his hand in your own as you told him your name, ignoring the way his touch made your cheeks heat up and butterflies fill your stomach. You retracted your hand quickly, moving it to grasp the cup with both hands as you gestured for Luke to lead the way. You catch the way his eyes briefly dart to your cup before he began to walk the direction you had been coming from.

The two of you fell into a bit of an awkward conversation, him asking you if you were from the area and him telling you that he wasn’t either. He told you that he played professional hockey for the Devils and it clicked in your brain that that was why he looked familiar. You had seen him on TV, but you weren’t involved in the sport enough to put a name to his face. You teased him a little and playfully asked if he would get you tickets to a game, but the speed at which he said yes shocked even himself.

When Luke was handing you your new drink, that was when he told you that he was already running a bit late to some sort of meeting with his team and as much as he’d like to stay, he had to leave. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed at the news, but you ended up exchanging phone numbers before he was rushing away, still not entirely looking where he was going. You watched him leave with a smile on your face and a sort of hope filling your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

The two of you had began texting each other so often that people started to ask questions. Though it had only taken three days of you quietly giggling to yourself for your roommate to ask who the guy was. Whereas for Luke, it had only taken Jack until after practice the day he had met you. Jack had never seen his younger brother rush to check his phone while still in full gear before so quickly, and that was how he knew.

You didn’t see Luke for nearly two weeks after you had initially met courtesy of the stars, also known as his games and your work schedule, never aligning in the right way. When Luke had texted you after one of his games asking if you were free the following evening and you finally got to answer with a yes, you grew excited, and also extremely nervous.

He had given you the option to go out and do something, or to come over to his place and the two of you could order food and watch movies; just hangout, he had said. You ultimately decided on the second option since the weather had grown colder and you weren’t necessarily in the mood to join the crowds of people in the city. He subtly mentioned that his brother would be gone so it would just be the two of you, and the thought made your cheeks warm despite knowing he had no underlying intentions.

When you had texted Luke to tell him you had finally found a parking spot and he told you where to go from there, you had to take a small breather in your car to get yourself to stop shaking before finally going into the expensive looking building. You were so focused on taking in all of the little details inside the lobby that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and ran straight into someone’s chest.

You let out a surprised squeal as you squeeze your eyes closed at the impact, fully prepared to go stumbling backwards, but you never do. You can feel their hands on your hips, the pads of their fingers slightly digging into the skin separated by the material of your shirt. The soft laugh that filtered through your eyes made your eyes snap open to see a familiar face sporting an amused smile.

“At least there’s no coffee this time,” Luke teases, keeping his hands on you a tad longer than necessary before he pulls them back to his own body.

“Shut up,” You mumbled, hoping he didn’t notice the tinge to your cheeks, “I was looking at the stupid fancy decorations. I didn’t know you were going to be down here.”

“I noticed,” He chuckled, “You thought I wouldn’t meet you down here?”

“Well, no. You gave me the apartment number so I expected to meet you there,” You shrugged, forcing your gaze away from him and to your feet.

“You would’ve thought it was weird if I didn’t give you the apartment number,” He raises his eyebrows even though you aren’t looking at him, “Besides, sometimes people have trouble finding the door. It’s a little confusing.”

When you had reached the floor his apartment was on and saw that it was only one big hallway, you couldn’t help but give him a confused look. It wasn’t confusing at all, especially given the fact that his door was only the second one on the left. You could tell he was purposely avoiding looking in your direction as he pushed through the door, holding it open for you to slip inside, and you chose to let it be.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you talking about anything that possibly came to mind once you got through the brief bout of awkward tension, and you quickly found that Luke could talk forever. He talked about his teammates and family in a way that made you smile because it was clear he truly loved and looked up to them. You told him about your family back home and why you moved and the way he was hanging on to every word made you flustered because no one had ever cared enough to listen to you that way.

By the time the night was winding down, you were close enough to him on the couch that your thighs would brush together and his arm was slung around the cushions behind you, but not touching you. There was a movie playing on the tv in front of you, but you would be lying if you said you were paying attention to it. All you could think about was how things with Luke flowed so naturally and how you hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone in so long that you forgot the feeling even existed.

The two of you began hanging out regularly after that, never doing anything more than something you would do with a friend, but you could feel your feelings for him grow with each passing day. It started off as small notions and things you could brush off, but then you found yourself thinking of him no matter what you were doing. You were always seeing something that reminded you of him or something that made you think ‘oh, Luke would love that. I can’t wait to show him’. However, you were far too scared to let yourself believe that he would ever feel the same, so you swallowed those urges and went on as if nothing had changed.

When Luke had asked if you would be interested in going to one of his games, you thought nothing of it. You had told him that you would gladly go, but you would only need one ticket since your roommate worked most evenings and you didn’t necessarily have anyone else to go with. He told you not to worry about that and he would figure something out for you before he asked for your email to send the ticket. What he meant by that, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t ask questions.

You asked your roommate to help you with your outfit before she left for work that day, wanting to make sure what you wore wasn’t too much but also wasn’t sloppy. Once she had settled on something that adhered to your standards, she managed to leave enough time for her to help with your hair as well. She could tell that you were nervous based on the way your hands were constantly fiddling with each other and by the way your already clumsy habits seemed to increase by the second.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were so nervous. It wasn’t like this was the first time you were hanging out with Luke, and it surely wasn’t going to be the last. For some reason, him inviting you to one of his games felt different, but then it made you queasy because you began to think about how many girls he had invited before. By the time you were on your way to the arena, you had managed to calm yourself down enough that your heart rate was almost back to normal and your self sabotaging thoughts had been long forgotten.

Luke had taken the liberty of reserving parking for you, which you tried to deny but he said he had already done it so there was no room to argue. The parking garage was full of people in various jerseys for both teams as they made their way into the arena with you following suit because you had virtually no idea where you were going. You were so focused on looking at section numbers that you kept bumping into people, quiet apologies tumbling from your lips as you rushed away from their pointed looks.

Eventually, you found the correct section and showed your ticket to the usher at the top of the stairs before following his direction as you walked down. You stopped at the row your seat was in, your eyes falling on a group of women as they talked and laughed with one another, and you suddenly felt a wave of insecurity wash over you. They clearly knew each other, and you were there by yourself, and on top of that, they were absolutely gorgeous.

You took a deep breath before you shuffled down the row and to your seat, trying to ignore the way their voices grew quiet whenever you sat down. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept yours on the rink, watching as they set up the net and as others filed down towards their seats before the game started. It wasn’t until you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder that you turned to look at the one sitting right next to you.

“Hi,” One of them greeted, a bright smile on her face, “I’m Nicole!

You let out a shaky breath as you took her hand, giving her your name before returning her smile. The way her eyes lit up and she briefly glanced at the girls around her with a subtle smirk threw you off, but she was quick to ease your confusion as she moved her focus back to you.

“So you’re the girl Luke won’t stop talking about,” She playfully teases, “He made sure Jesper told me you would be coming and to look out for you so you weren’t alone.”

You can’t stop your face from heating up by being identified as ‘the girl Luke won’t shut about’, and judging by the way the other girls looked at you, it seemed to be a universal experience. They went around and introduced themselves, and their children, to you before they began to ask you questions. They started off with the easy questions such as your career, if you were in school, if you were from the area, if you were a big fan of hockey, but they quickly transferred the topic over to your relationship with Luke.

“We’re just friends,” You meekly said, eyes darting away from them as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But you like him,” Cat asks as she raises her eyebrows, though her tone hints that she knows the answer to that.

You briefly hesitated, not sure what your response should be, but you were very graciously saved by the music blaring through the speakers followed by the announcer's voice. You hastily turned towards the ice, thanking whatever higher being saved you from the embarrassment of admitting your feelings out loud.

As the game started, you caught yourself really only focusing on Luke rather than the puck itself. If he wasn’t on the ice, you were leaning towards the girls beside you to ask questions about the game you didn’t entirely understand. When he was on the ice, you flinched every time he got hit a little too hard, or when he would trip over seemingly nothing and fall on the ice. Although, you did know to join in on the collective booing whenever he was sent to the penalty box for a bogus call.

The game ended up going into overtime with Luke, his brother, and team captain on the ice as they stood opposite the Flyers players. Your hands were clasped together as you leaned forward, waiting with baited breath as the puck dropped on the ice. You watch as they skate towards their net, hastily trying to get the puck from the other team. You’re not sure who managed to get possession, but the next thing you know Luke is taking a shot that ends up in the net to win the game.

You jump out of your seat as you scream, your eyes not leaving Luke as he learns forward into a celebratory bow that you’re positive he did when he was at Michigan. A fact you knew after you asked him “if he was even good at hockey” and he proceeded to show you his highlight reels for the next hour. His team rushes towards him with giant smiles on their faces as they crowd around him, the arena filling with cheers so loud that it made your ears ring.

By the time things had calmed down, Nicole was the first to tell you that you were supposed to go with them down to the locker room. You walked through the arena with them, only briefly stopping to talk with security because you didn’t have the correct pass. The area outside the locker room was buzzing with life as various friends and family members of the team waited for the guys, their voices meshing with the loud cheers from inside.

The guys slowly began to trickle out of the locker room clad in their fancy and expensive suits, dopey grins on their faces. You stayed tucked between Cat and Nicole as they talked, but you were only halfway listening as you kept an eye out for Luke. Some of the guys you only vaguely remembered from pictures or videos Luke had shown you, but most you knew with confidence because of how often their names popped up in conversation.

When you finally saw a familiar head of curls walking through the doors, it was a bit embarrassing how quickly a smile grew on your face. He wasn’t even looking in your direction, instead animatedly talking to his brother who had seen you, a slight smirk on his face. The girls had stepped away from you, knowing looks on their faces when Luke finally looked in front of him to see you standing there waiting for him.

If they thought Luke was excited before, it was absolutely nothing compared to the look on his face when his eyes landed on you. He quickened his pace, leaving his conversation, and his brother, behind as he only focused on getting to you. You were painfully aware of the multitude of gazes on you, the attention beginning to slightly overwhelm you, but all of the worry disappeared the moment Luke wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

“Congratulations on your goal,” You mumble with your head pressed against his chest, your arms draped around the middle of his frame.

“Thank you for coming,” He quietly says, his hold on you subtly tightening as he lets out a deep breath.

You can barely hear the quiet whispers of those around you over the blood pounding in your ears, but you didn’t mind them anyways. Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the way his arms felt around you and the way his entire body seemed to relax under your touch. While physical touch with Luke wasn’t uncommon, it still gave you a small sense of hope that maybe everyone was right and maybe he did like you back after all.

“Jack, you might need somewhere to stay tonight,” You heard one of the other guys tease from behind him, making your face heat up as you stepped away from Luke. Though he doesn’t entirely break away from, keeping his arm slung across your shoulders as he turns to look at his teammates.

“Oh, I planned for it don’t worry,” He laughs as he shakes his head, “You picked a good first game to come to. Luke played his ass off.”

“I always do,” Luke quickly defended himself, his voice slightly raising and his posture straightening the smallest amount.

“Yeah, but you really did tonight,” Dawson pressed with a mischievous smile on his face.

“You guys are annoying,” Luke rolls his eyes, “I’m starving, so we are going to leave. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Your gaze snaps up to Luke as he briefly looks down at you with his usual half smile, but the sound of Jack calling out to him briefly moves his attention back to his brother. You let your eyes fall back to the ground in front of you, your mind running a mile a minute as you try to ignore the way he’s slightly grazing the skin above your collarbone with his fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat, the skin involuntarily raising in wake of his touch as you try to keep yourself outwardly collected.

“Hey,” Luke’s voice breaks through the thin barrier keeping you composed, “You ready? I figured I’ll drive so you can put the chipotle order in and we can pick it up on our way back to my apartment. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” You breathe out, giving him a small smile.

The two of you bid goodbye to the others, but not before they could pass on teasing comments or not so subtle winks as you passed by them. Luke had dropped his arm from your shoulders, a small absent feeling settling over you when he did. He asked you if you ended up having a good time and if the girls were nice to you, which you, of course, told him that you did and the girls were extremely welcoming and kind.

When Luke had climbed into the driver’s seat, he fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his credit card with the subtle threat that if he didn’t see a charge on his card for the food that he would buy you the expensive hoodie you had looked at a few days ago. You rolled your eyes as you took his card, not knowing that he had already bought the hoodie anyway and was waiting to give it to you.

By the time the two of you had picked up your food and were back at his apartment, your nerves from earlier had almost entirely disappeared and things felt normal again. Before the two of you started eating, he went into his room to change, and he returned with a random pair of sweatpants you had forgotten you bought last week and a shirt you’re positive was his. He waited for you to come back before he started eating like he always did, but you couldn’t help but feel like the air surrounding you felt slightly off.

You couldn’t tell if you were overthinking things or if something really was wrong because you still felt that way when the two of you moved to the couch. Luke still sat in his usual spot directly next to you, but he was barely focusing on the movie. His eyes kept darting around the room and he was nervously chewing on his bottom lip. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but you kept your eyes on the TV until he spoke up.

“Can I tell you something,” Luke nearly shouted, slightly startling you out of your spot on the couch, “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just– I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes were wide and full of confusion, and slight panic, as you spoke, “Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything.”

You watched as he took a deep breath, slightly turning his body so he was facing you completely, and you couldn’t help but let an almost painful sense of worry envelope you. You were running over every possible scenario you could conjure in your mind, but they were all so negative that you had convinced yourself what he was going to say was too.

“This might screw everything up and if you never want to talk to me again, that’s fine, but I can’t ignore it anymore,” His voice was serious, yet thick with an emotion you refused to place, “After I scored tonight and all the guys were around me, all I could think about was you. Not even just you being there to see it, but celebrating with you. Seeing your smile. Hugging you. Kissing you.”

He said the last part so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did. Those two words rang in your ears as you looked at him, your mouth slightly dropped open as the ability to form a semi coherent thought in your mind suddenly fleeing. You wanted to respond, to tell him that it was all you could think about too, but your mouth and brain were far from cooperative.

Your silence was slowly suffocating Luke, and he quickly wishes he never said anything at all. To him, he knew it was a long shot that you felt the same way he did. Early in your friendship, you had let it slip that you weren't looking for a relationship and you wanted to focus on yourself. He knew that, but he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself anymore.

“I’m sorry,” He backtracks, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have said anyth–”

You cut him off by surging forward and slamming your lips on his own, not trusting yourself to accurately say everything you felt. Luke’s reaction was almost instantaneous, his hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you onto his lip as he kisses you back. The metaphorical wall that had been keeping the two of you as friends crumbled beneath you as you pour everything you felt for him into one kiss.

His hands had moved to the small of your back, pulling you so close that there wasn’t even a millimeter of space separating you from him. Your hands were looped around his neck as your mouth moved against his own, and you couldn’t stop yourself from carefully grasping at his curls. Luke groaned against you, and he knew he had to stop before he took things too far on his living room couch.

He pulls away from you, his heavy breathing falling in sync with your own as he drops his head to your shoulder. You can feel his chest rise and fall against you as you attempt to gather your thoughts and tell yourself that this was real. That it actually happened and it wasn’t something you had dreamed up again, but you were suddenly shaken from your thoughts when Luke harshly snapped his head up to look at you.

“Wait, does this mean you like me back,” He asks, feigning a sense of seriousness, but you can see the smile threatening to shine through.

“You’re an idiot,” You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot, ” He counters before his eyes slightly widen as he hesitantly continues, “Right?”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, a small smile decorating your face, “You are.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night wrapped up in the other, the movie halfway forgotten as you found yourself with your lips on his more often than not. You were selfishly thankful that Jack had been telling the truth when he said he found somewhere else to stay. The uninterrupted time you spent in Luke’s arms allowed you to truly soak it in. To relish in the fact that you had finally found someone who made you believe that love did exist, and you owed it all to one spilled coffee.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

986 notes · View notes