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s-4pphics · 2 days

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candy crush. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you’re too sweet, and ellie hates it.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: recordshopmanager!ellie, crumblcookiebaker!oc, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a cunt, ocs too sweet, FLUFF?? FROM ME??? HUHHH, crushing, slight suggestive thoughts

A/N: idk where this came from lol

Ellie’s reorganizing the vinyl selection when a delicate hand lands on her shoulder. “I know your miserable ass doesn’t enjoy company,” Dina hisses in her ear, purposefully hushed, “But you got company.”

Ellie’s eyebrow quirks with confusion, leaving the earplug that blasts Head like a Hole to dangle over her shoulder. Her eyes glaze over the semi-filled shop, narrowing in on every face until she locks eyes with you from behind the guitar displays. The eye contact only lasts about 1.5 seconds before Dina smacks her leg.

“Don’t look. You’re gonna make it weird.” Dina quietly snaps from beside her, occupying her hands with some misplaced records.

“You know her?”

“I see her around sometimes. I think she works nearby,” Ellie catches her smirking from the corner of her eye, “… I think she likes you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m dead serious. She’s been staring for the past 10.”

“At who.”

“At you, dipshit.”

Ellie can’t help herself. She takes one experimental glance in your direction; discovers you typing away at your device with a black mask pulled down under your chin, bottom lip trapped between your teeth with worry. Your apron and tiny name tag indicates you probably work somewhere close by, but she can’t pinpoint where. You’re too far and her vision is failing.

“Get her numbe—“

Ellie’s head whips to face Dina, “If you don’t shut up, you’re fired.”

“Abuse of power,” She snarks in return, “C’mon! She seems so—“

“D-Do you guys have any acoustics for sale?”

You’re a ninja, for sure. Both girls' heads snap around to face you — who stands a bit too close for Ellie’s liking — phone desperately clutched to your chest and eyes wide as a doe. Mainly locked with Ellie’s before they drop to your name tag.

Crumbl. 2 shops down.

Fuck.

“Why, yes!” Dina says excitedly when Ellie doesn’t reply, “Most of ours have been used, but they’re still in great condition. Are you interested in renting or purchasing?”

“Purchasing… I think.”

“No problem. I can show you some that we have on display, and if you don’t like those, we have some stocked in the back!”

Ellie’s forehead creases. Dina has never been this active in making a sale, let alone interacting with any customers. Ellie is always the one who’s forced to pick up her and Riley’s slack in the shop. She catches the light traces of disappointment that overtakes your expression at Dina’s interjection, but eventually, you’re led over to the guitar displays.

Ellie sighs in relief.

That brief exchange gave Ellie everything she needed to know. She doesn’t find gratification in denying proposals at work, but after months of being hit on by a multitude of customers — the men particularly piss her off— she’ll be as stern as she needs to be to get the point of denial across. Sure, it makes her look like a cunt to the general public, but she’ll take that over being chased after on the clock. No questions asked.

Ellie assumes that you’ve found what you needed because on your way out, persistent stares are thrown in her direction up until your departure. She dodges them with mastery.

She would hate to have to embarrass a strip neighbor.

Three days later, you stumble upon the record shop once more. Dina isn’t here to save Ellie this time, and Riley’s passing time in the break room. Your uniform is lightly dusted with white, presumably flour, and your mask is down, phone clutched to your chest like it holds all your secrets.

Your mouth drops open around a small smile when you approach the service counter, but Ellie interrupts before you can greet her.

“What can I help you with?”

She assumed her annoyance would be guarded by professionalism, but your smile drops at its corners at her tone. A light flinch that Ellie prays is enough to deter you from spending your breaks here.

It doesn’t. Your eyes still shine like the star that you aren’t.

“I, um… I actually wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay—“

“Is it regarding the purchase you made a few days ago?”

Dina slid Ellie a notice on the down payment you made for your used dreadnought since you weren’t able to pay in full. The scolding she received about “taking care of you” whenever you returned made her teeth grind together.

“N-No. I just—“

“I’d appreciate it if we kept the conversation about that,” Ellie uses the scribbles on her notepad as a distraction, “Did you have any questions regarding the instrument? Or if you’re interested in taking part in the lessons we offer, I could redirect you to Riley. She’s in charge of—“

“I just wanted to see if you were… interested in sampling out some cookie flavors I came up with? I’m a baking and pastry student and—“

“Look,” The tip of Ellie’s tongue sharpens into her cheek, irritation evident when you two are eye-to-eye. “I’m not sure where this proposal is coming from, but frankly, I’m not interested.”

The drop in your expression doesn’t stop Ellie’s relentlessness.

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know why you thought I’d be a good candidate for… taste-testing, but I’ll politely decline. No thanks.”

Her declination doesn’t sound polite in the slightest; quite snippy and condescending from your perspective, and it forces your windpipe shut. Only for a second before a strangled gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if it’s out of shock or lack of breath, but it aches in your lungs all the same.

Ellie’s glare sends holes through your back as you rush towards the exit, the small bell singing through the store and alarming your leave.

All Ellie can hope is that you got the message.

It’s a new week, and therefore, a new Crumbl cookie line-up. Dina won’t stop raving about the carrot-cake cookie which doesn’t resemble a cookie at all. It's tiered and way too soft and stacked with icing that’s sweet enough to rot teeth from the gum.

It reminds Ellie of you, for some reason; Somehow still managing to be a nuisance without trying.

Even more so now since Dina’s been using her 45 to walk down and see you. To talk to you. Dina has yet to cough up what about — not that Ellie cares. It’s just weird that you two suddenly have so much in common after knowing each other for all of two days maximum. Whenever Dina clocks back in, she tortures Ellie with dramatic retellings of your stories.

It’s Thursday; a quiet day for the shop that Ellie uses to her advantage when the sun is at its peak. Searching through cheap magazines and playing Candy Crush on her phone.

What a time for you to come barreling in. The formerly enjoyable shriek of guitar suddenly sounds like nails on a chalkboard at your appearance. No longer are you in all black. You’re in a sundress. An orange one. You look like a popsicle.

And you bear gifts. Ellie’s mood turns even more sour when she sees two bright yellow gift bags with smiley faces on them and a tray filled with coffee stuffed in your hands.

“Good morning!”

You’re smiling, gleaming, and Ellie’s nose turns up. She plucks one of her earplugs out and closes her graphic novel.

“How can I help you?”

You set your bag down on the display case of her prized arch top, and she sighs in exasperation. Annoyance sparks when she notices one of the bags has her name on it, flowers and hearts and sparkles surrounding the tag.

“Can you not put your belongings on the displays, please? I’d have to clean up after you since none of my employees will.”

You’ve already moved your bags and exclaimed apologies before Ellie could finish her sentence. She’s seconds away from shoving her earplug back in to tune you out, but you’re fast. Persistent. She hates it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” You say gently, and Ellie shrugs you off, “I, um. I-I came to, uh…”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “If you’re here to apologize for last week, don’t bother. It’s not needed.”

“Not at all! Well, I’m just… I wanted to drop by and—“

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with just… dropping by. Have you realized that?”

Ellie’s squint is harsh and scrutinizing, and sorrow overshadows the light in your pupils.

“Since it’s obvious that you’re not understanding me, I’ll put it like this,” She leans a bit over the counter, front fully pressed against the glass and palms resting on the stainless steel, “I’m not interested in anything you have going on. Stop using your breaks as an excuse to come see me. I don’t wanna go out with you. And I don’t want to do a taste test. Drop it already.”

Ellie watches your lip quiver with a harshness exclusive only for people like you, tears welting in your eyes and your fingers pinching at the hem of your sundress. Insecurity is practically seeping from your pores, and your gaze drops shamefully to the floor.

Ellie’s just about to tell you to kick rocks when the STAFF ONLY door swings open and exposes Riley. Her break ended 20 minutes ago.

“Hey! You’re early!”

Ellie scoffs, “No, you’re late—“

“Not you. Be quiet,” She waves her off and smiles at you, who’s smiling back at her with guised genuity. A complete 180 from the you seconds ago. Since when were you and Riley on speaking terms? Friends?

She jogs from behind the stand, “Dina told me you weren’t coming til 3!” Riley throws her arms around your shoulders, and your hands tremble where they rest on her forearms. “Are those the goods?”

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds heavy. Like you’re guarding a breakdown, “I-I had some time so I stopped by a little early.”

“I got some to spare til Dee gets here. Hang out with m—“

“Actually!” You intervene shakily, “I have some other drop-offs to make. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Watch me get my Food Network judge on?” Riley suddenly points in Ellie’s direction, “Who knows. Sourpuss might even pop a grin once she tries one.” Ellie’s cheeks run red-hot.

“Sorry, Riley. Maybe next time,” You’re already wobbling towards the exit, “But, please call and tell me what you think! Dina, too! Any feedback is appreciated!”

“I’m sure they’re delicious, Monster!” Riley compliments playfully, “Text me when you’re home!”

When the door shuts, Ellie sees Riley’s back stiffen at the sight of you frantically wiping your face through the glass.

“What the fuck did you do.”

“I didn’t do shit. She’s loitering.”

“Lo— Oh my fucking god, you’re an embarrassmen—“

“No, she is. Taking up space for no fucking reason to come and see me. She’s loitering—“

“You’re blowing a fuse over fucking cookie samples?” Riley stares at her like she’s nuts, “And not to burst your self-centered bubble, but I told her to come. She’s been asking all the stores on the block if they’d like to taste ‘em.”

Ellie pauses, expression softening only slightly when Riley continues,

“I told her you don’t like chocolate, so she made a peanut butter version for you.” Riley shakes Ellie's special, slightly smaller bag as a means to taunt her, and the freckled girl’s face burns red. Glows even harsher when her friend throws in, “You cunt. She’s a sweetheart. Not everyone is fucking obsessed with you.”

Riley leaves Ellie to simmer in her discomfort, slamming the break door shut. The day seems to drag on longer than usual.

Ellie’s organizing the break room when she comes across her small baggie that Riley left behind. She would’ve expected her friend to take them home after Ellie’s dramatic blow up, but there it sat on the counter, untouched and jeering.

Tempting enough for her to rest the broom against the counter and inspect its contents. Wafts of cinnamon and peanut butter hit her through the small opening of the bag, and her heart gives a squeeze. The cookie is iced to perfection — an entire scenery on the light brown canvas. So many flowers and trees and the blue hues of the sky; almost too much detail. It looks printed on.

You’re artistically talented and the cookie smells divine.

One nibble wouldn’t hurt. She’s sure the damage she caused is already irreversible.

But when she cradles the carefully swaddled cookie, a small note falls from beneath the bunched cling wrap. She knows she shouldn’t. She should really, really leave the neatly folded piece of paper where it lays. Down the cookie. Trash the bag.

She takes the cookie and the note back to her seat at the table. The cookie isn’t what she unravels first.

“thought I’d make you a separate batch. Riley gave me the heads up about your chocolate disdain. I’m too paranoid to ask for your number in person, so I thought I’d use bait instead. I hope it’s convincing enough. Please let me know if it’s decent. Thank you for tasting.”

Signed with your name and a smiling heart with wings. Ellie’s heart shatters, remaining shards dangling from the rim of her ribcage. She can already see her friends glaring through her chest when they visit the apartment to berate her tomorrow morning. She already knows what they’re going to demand from her, but she’s three steps ahead.

She ate the entire cookie in two bites right where she sat. It was delicious. Almondy, not too sweet, gently spiced. Probably the best she’s ever had.

Ellie has never been to Crumbl before.

The viral spot is always bustling — too crowded and filled with loud teenagers with a sugar rush for her taste. Plus, she’s already on the clock when they first open. But the record shop is closed on Fridays.

She put an extra bit of care into her appearance. She doesn’t recall the last time she did her hair. Half of it is pinned up and her button-up is neatly pressed. Jitters rustle in the pit of her stomach and her forehead is a bit damp, mainly because she can see you through the goddamn window.

In uniform, you stand at the register with the same beaming smile from last week, talking and giggling with your coworkers, and Ellie instantly feels guilty. Your day seems off to a great start, and here she is… About to ruin it. She almost turned around at the thought.

But the small bell above the door blares loud, and your bright smile drops once you recognize her, and with that, her stomach. Ellie mentally notes the bags forming under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. It looks like you haven’t rested for days. Her heart squeezes.

Your movements turn robotic; stiffly perched on the sides of the iPad stand as your thumb works on the screen. You haven’t looked Ellie’s way since. She approaches the counter with her tail between her legs, fidgeting with her middle finger.

“Um… hey.” Ellie’s quiet. Out of place. Afraid.

“What can I get for you?”

Even with the stiffness, you somehow still manage to sound as soft as a cotton ball, but Ellie’s body locks. The scenario hits her like a brick wall; she’s doing exactly what she accused you of doing to her last week. Bothering her at fucking work. She should’ve never come to your place of business to coddle her ego. She feels like a hypocrite. You certainly see her as one.

“Um… A cookie?”

“… What flavor.”

“Uh… peanut butter?”

You swallow thickly, voice hollow, “That’s not on the menu for this week,” You point towards the display of cookies that were big enough to feed a family, “These are the six we’re serving until Sunday. You can also look at the menu on the screen.”

Ellie follows your pointing finger. How the fuck does this place work? Weekly flavors? What the fuck does that mean? She quickly examines the names of cookies that flash across the screen: raspberry cheesecake, pink velvet… Mom’s recipe? Odd name for a dessert but she lets it slide.

“W-What’s your favorite?”

You’re a baker, for fucks sake. You’d have better taste than anyone, better than her, she’d painfully admit.

She watches your fingers clench around the screen, tapping mindlessly.

“Um… raspberry cheesecake.”

“I’ll get a dozen.”

“O-Of the same flavor?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious, “… Yup.”

You give her one skeptic look before tapping at the screen. “It might be a little wait. About 15 minutes. Do you mind?”

“No.”

“Cash or card?”

“Card, please.”

More tapping, “That’ll be $41.65. Swipe or tap whenever you're ready.”

A financial dent over a box of cookies was not on her bucket list. You hand her the receipt, and before you can rush to the kitchen, Ellie exclaims, “When’s your break?”

“Excuse me?”

“W— um, when’s your break?”

Your coworkers are suddenly very interested in Ellie, all four of them eyeing her like venomous hawks. Her cheeks burst into flames.

“Um… I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

And you’re right. Anything involving you is short on Ellie; it was never her business, but a burning in the pit of her stomach desires to learn. Needs to catch you at the right time to give you a proper apology even though she doesn’t deserve the time of day. She doesn’t know what to say.

You use her floundering as a scapegoat and hustle behind the slamming doors. Just as Ellie rushes to leave empty-handed, one of your employees — Abigail reads across her name-tag, keeps professional, but Ellie’s skin burns with the fire in her eyes.

“We’ll have those right out for you,” monotone, but gruff. It makes Ellie wonder if you told any of them about her — she doesn’t doubt it.

“You can wait outside.”

One stiff nod, and Ellie’s booking it until her feet plant on the packed sidewalk, nearly bumping into a couple with interlocked hands. It takes 25 minutes for the box of cookies to be rigidly placed on the lounge table by another employee. Ellie scurries into her truck with a boiling face and pulls out into the road.

When she makes it to her apartment, she eats three mini cheesecakes in one sitting.

She sees why they’re your favorite.

The following week was filled with glares and curses from Dina and Riley — your newfound friends, evidently. They have a way of making Ellie feel like a worthless dunce. They both have rubbed in the tales of you being a thrill to be around; the life of the party whenever they hang out.

It makes her nauseous. And sad.

But her sadness swiftly shifts to bewilderment when she catches you smoking near a lamppost after closing. Still in your uniform with a bag over your shoulder, pants dusted in white, proof of your labor. It’s dark out, the only illumination coming from the light stood tall above you and the orange gleam of your cigarette. The sight shocks her. You didn’t seem like the type.

Maybe that’s where Ellie went wrong with you: constantly assuming… who you are. Your desires, your intentions with her, her friends. She’ll admit her wrongs, of course.

But it has to be to you.

Ellie scares you when she approaches, inhaling the nicotine a bit too roughly because you start heaving. Shoulders hunched and jumping with every cough.

“Uh — fuck, I’m sorry! I-I thought you could see me coming! I didn’t mean — fuck —“

You’re still choking, but you hiss in between, “What the fuck do you want!”

“I’m just — I’m sorry about —“

“You’re not — cough — you’re not sorry! You made your point clear. I don’t why you keep — cough cough — following me. I left you alone like you wanted!”

“I DON’T WANT THAT!” Ellie shrieks in panic.

It’s a heavy-handed admission. A weighted confession that was said too aggressively given your flinching away from her. She takes an instinctive step forward.

“Your cookies… tasted fucking incredible. I’m also an asshole.”

The drag you take from your cig while she rambles is almost comedic. Brows cinched at the middle of your forehead, gauging her. You’re not convinced, but you’re not fleeing like the first time. She takes a leap, and a large step towards you.

“I feel really… really bad,” Ellie’s much quieter, eyes unwavering and the softest she’s ever shown you, “I shouldn’t have… said all that. To you. I’m just so used to being harassed at work. I’m sorry.”

Maybe nicotine calms you. Your body language isn’t as taut compared to when Ellie first initiated conversation, and your eyes soften at her reasoning.

The rasp from your timbre melts her skin like butter. “I didn’t know you went through that. That sucks.”

Ellie shrugs, “I didn’t know you were… nice.”

She made the mistake of attempting playfulness, “Maybe ‘cuz you wouldn’t let me talk.” You snark while ashing.

“I’m sorry.” Ellie implores.

You take one last drag before stomping out the flame. “Me too. For bothering you.”

Ellie cringes at your choice of words, but nods in acceptance. “Are we, uh… okay, now?”

A small smile grows on your face. It’s cute. Makes your cheeks puff out like a hungry squirrel.

“We’re good.” You extend a fist out to her, and she connects her own at the knuckles.

When they drop, Ellie nervously stares at her shoes, “Do you want a ride home?”

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“C’mon, I don’t want you waiting out here by yourself.”

You pause before asking, “What’s the catch?” Your brow arches mischievously.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate, “More of those cookies.”

A giggle escapes you. Soft and airy like a feather. Ellie feels a tight clench in her chest. A thumping from her ribcage. Has your smile always been this vibrant? She mentally kicks herself for not noticing before.

Ellie escorts you to the passenger's side of her passed down pick-up: opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before starting it up. She learns you’re a metalhead when she cranks the radio to the highest volume.

… How quickly can crushes develop?

Two months. Ellie’s spent two months finding every excuse to spend time with you. She welcomes your visits to the record shop and silently thanks the heavens above when you call after her shift to talk about your day. Listening to your rambles about customers and their weekly cookies has become the highlight of hers.

She’s also found comfort in watching you fail at playing guitar. You’re adorable whenever you strike an incorrect chord or break a string. She’s more than willing to guide you through your trials: late-night invites to her apartment to practice. One of your goals was to learn how to play the entire Vanara soundtrack.

Ellie assumed she simply enjoyed being in your space. She does, but something shifted between you during one specific session. It was past midnight, and Ellie could tell you were getting tired. She innocently suggested for you to spend the night so you wouldn’t have to Uber at such a late hour, and you graciously accepted her offer. When you started to get comfortable on the couch, she tuts in disapproval and invited you to share her bed because it was more comfortable.

What a mistake.

After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, you both crawled into bed and swiftly drifted off. When Ellie’s eyes opened the following morning, her heart immediately traveled up to sit in her throat. If anyone told her she’d wake up with you completely sprawled out on top of her with your warm breath hitting her neck and her arms wrapped around you, she wouldn’t have believed them. She was completely frozen beneath you, but not for the reason she’d assumed.

Ellie was scared to wake you up. Ellie was scared you would move away from her.

She was pulled between waking you up and pulling you even closer. You were soft and warm and you smelled like her cinnamon body wash. A literal human cookie. She caressed your back as delicately as she could, and you nuzzled into her shoulder with every swipe. She hoped the harsh thrashes from her heart wouldn’t disturb you.

They didn’t.

You took a piece of Ellie when you left her apartment that morning. She’s not sure which part you stole, but she hasn’t felt the same since then. A pull towards you that’s electric, sparks her to life, keeps her up at night. Whenever you’re away, at work, not next to her, she’s desperate to pull you close. To breathe in the natural scent of you.

Evidently, crushes develop rather quickly.

“I thought baking was supposed to be fun.” Ellie huffs from where she lays on her bed.

“It is fun! My favorite past-time, actually,” She watches you pace around her bedroom, guitar still strapped securely around your shoulder, “It’s just stressful when you have chefs constantly breathing down your neck. It’s so hard to be creative because they nitpick everything.”

Creating a menu is much harder than Ellie assumed. She’s become the person you’ve come to whenever you’re fired up from classes, ranting and raving about the apparent dickheads that judge your creations. After testing your recipes for as long as she has, how could anyone turn down a dessert from you?

You’re such a hard-worker. Focused, determined… pretty when you’re brainstorming. Pretty when you’re talking… Pretty when you’re smiling. Standing. Staring off into the distance.

“Hm.”

It’s all Ellie can say. She’s been trying to mask her rampant stares at your bare thighs for the past… however the fuck long. They look so soft. So pliable. So easy to stretch and pry and yank at—

Her guilty pleasure went from collecting Pokémon cards to gawking at your legs whenever you wear shorts.

Ellie’s definitely crushing.

Crushing very, very hard.

#mean!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie the last of us #the last of us smut

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staryuee · 3 days

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HOW THEY REACT TO YOUR SILENT TREATMENT.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread … sigh

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . you and your partner are having a “cooling down period”, a time of détente, after a recent argument. how do they deal with the lack of love from you?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, eula, wanderer, ayato, gorou, tartaglia, lyney, wriothesley, neuvillette, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . as a psychology student ☝️🤓 i can safely say that the silent treatment is usually frowned upon due to its connotations with emotional abuse, therefore i tried my best to make it apparent that this sort of silence is within the boundaries of the relationship ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ ) please communicate with your loved ones if you feel a certain way :)

you and your beloved recently had a pretty bad argument. out of respect for both of your feelings you both decided to have a period of détente to allow a gradual recovery of your emotions and logical reasonings.

there was no need to argue, and there was also no need to be hostile or petty; therefore your silent treatment wasn’t a way to maliciously gain control or make your lover come running back to you, it was a way for both of you to regain composure and come back to the topic when prepared.

that did unfortunately, lead to much less affectionate gestures from both of you. of course there was still the casual “i love you” every morning and night accompanied by a simple kiss, but it never went anything beyond that.

while your lover fully knew why this sort of peaceful coexistence was necessary, sometimes it’s sincerely difficult to not just reach out and kiss you breathless.

you’re so close yet so far, it’s unbearable.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

master diluc has been rather restless lately.

constant muttering to himself, plucking the dried up skin that stuck out from his badly bitten lips, his gloved hands constantly scratching a non existent scratch; honestly, if the fellow residents of dawn winery didn’t know any better they’d think he was possessed and required an immediate exorcist.

adelinde refuses to see her precious baby sink his eyes into ruin purely because he’s out secretly patrolling once he wakes up in the middle of the night to clear his head. you’re always there with him throughout the night: but why does it still feel so empty regardless?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST ?

diluc is no pushover or people pleaser; if you were guilty, then you’re guilty and he’ll wait all the time in the world till you eventually own up and apologise (please let that come sooner or later though otherwise he’ll give into ruin and sip alcohol for a breather). otherwise, if its his fault, or no ones and it was a mere misunderstanding, the silent treatment lasts for a day. not any longer not any less; he doesn’t allow it to.

he’s more than happy to wait forever for you but gods if he ever made a mistake that accidentally led you to elongating this supposed transient silence till the end of time, diluc would much rather swallow his pride and give his all to you. you’re worth more than pettiness, and he’ll prove that to you once you wake up and get greeted with all your favourite luxuries and a bright, relieved smile on his face.

EULA — 优菈

you’re beyond delusion if you think this woman won’t turn this into a healthy-ish competition of sorts.

you wish to avoid her for days on end? she’s already used to the world avoiding her mere gaze, she can withstand the somber feeling of having the one person who’s fully understood her as the complex person she is self-isolating from her for a little while.

never mind, no, she literally can’t. come back to her right now. we have problem right? lets talk about it, isn’t that what you taught her in the first place? what do you mean you need a break and want to clear your head for a while to not hurt her feelings? you think eula of all people cares about something like that?

she’d rather you spit at her than withstand another hour of this mindless nonsense.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

she doesn’t apologise unless she sees whatever caused this perilous argument in the first place truly hurt you and you ended up in tears; otherwise whats the use in pointless words when you can easily hug it out and call it a day?

she lets you apologise under the guise of “if you don’t, my vengeance towards you will be greater than my foes”, but in reality? eula is hardly paying any attention to the words slipping past your lips. all she’s thinking about is how she’ll be able to shake off this uneasy tension that’s somehow been created between you two.

WANDERER — 流浪者

you can’t tell which one of you needed this little breather more, after all, you’d hope scara would allow himself to soften after distancing from you after a while, and scara hoped you’d see reason within your argument and eventually, as always, forgive him.

but forgiveness is a two way straight in the way most people subconsciously ignore; does he and could he ever forgive himself? that image of your teary eyed face, the harsh puffs of breath you heaved to prevent any more molten venom to burn his plastic skin, the slight clenching of your jaw, fuck it hurt.

he couldn’t admit it at the time, but right now after being forcefully peeled away from you for about week and forcing auntie nahida to listen to his venting rambles? he wished he just gave it all up and did something: anything at all. kissed you, hugged you, consoled you, swiped your tears away with his thumbs, fluttered his eyelashes on your cheek gently as he whispered an i love you.

yet all he could do right now was wait.

wait until you hopefully came back, he couldn’t face you. if you abandoned him he’d deal with it. the petals on the floor and the hushed whispers of “they love me, they love me not” are just hallucinations from his worried caregiver, he swears.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

never would he stoop so low as to apologise.

verbally. that is. if he’s aware that he’s in the wrong (believe me that look on your face does wonders for trying to figure out whats on your mind) he’ll begrudgingly come up with some covert way of making it up to you. he doesn’t want to be stuck in this immortalised silence forever; believe me, he likes your talking more than he realises and this little test trial of abandonment was more than enough proof that your existence within his life is essential.

if you’re not there standing by his side, what even is the point in that fraudulent pacemaker of his? your laughter is in the same shape of his heartbeat; if you’re not here, he’s just back to being that dumb little puppet cuddled ashore in the slim darkness of the night.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

bile builds up in ayato’s throat, eyes threatening to spill hazardous tears on his paperwork. he HATES being away from you. yes, you’ll be back comfortably in his arms with a kiss on your forehead soon…but time isn’t making that “soon” come any quicker and it’s killing him.

‘silence’ is only the act of not speaking, right? so he’s technically allowed to sneak in pastries onto your desk when you’ve gone to take a break — he’s also most certainly allowed to write down his frustrations about not being able to be overly affectionate with you and then pitifully sliding them under your door in hopes you’ll read them and maybe write one back.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

he desperately tries to convince himself that if he works long enough, he’ll forget the hollowing feeling in his heart that’s left in the silhouette of you. he puts down his calligraphy pen with an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples with rough motions as if to completely rid himself of any lingering thought of you.

that’ll never work, and ayato thinks you two have calmed down enough so therefore he trudged his way into your room, knocking of course, and sat down with you for a lengthy but beneficial conversation.

without a doubt, ayato will be the one to apologise first. whether it’s a conscious decision or not completely depends on how long he’s been away from you; at some point you just fall back into regular routine completely by accident.

GOROU — 五郎

he’s glad you’ve decided to take this sort of approach to your relationship instead of having a painful battle of the wits with him but right now, he’d withstand a thousand hours of scolding than the way his fellow soldiers worryingly clutter around their little general and ask about his well-being purely because those furry ears atop his bundle of bed hair decided to stay drooped down all week.

but he can’t help it! he’s utterly miserable! you didn’t even give him your complimentary “good morning, have fun at work, be safe” kiss before he left the door in the static quiet of your abode. to top this torture off? you haven’t pet him once, and while he’d normally revel in not being treated like an actual lap dog…you’re a huge exception in that rule!

unfortunately, it’s not like he can just outright demand attention from you merely because he’s feeling a bit down on his luck. you asked for peace, he’ll give it to you. he’s a war veteran but treats you like a flower thats sprouted on a ruined patch of sand.

ehem, but please come back to him soon. please?

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

whatever it takes to get your pretty hand to ruffle through his brunette locks he’ll do, he doesn’t care if the apology consists of him kneeling down on pitifully shaking his head near your thigh with his lips puckered into a pout. shame doesn’t exist within your relationship right? he’s more than willing to apologise first regardless of who was to blame.

if the argument was a little more serious however, he’ll sit down you on your couch that holds so many sweet significant memories within your mind, his head resting atop your collarbone and tail sneakily swishing from side to side now that your heartbeat was so clear to him. he’ll hear you out, talk through it, but more importantly, love and appreciate you.

TARTAGLIA — 公子

nuh uh. you think you’re getting silence with someone like him around? unless one or both of you fucked up really bad, tartaglia can’t see the point in silent ignorance; if you want to ignore him to personally calm down? sure, do whatever you want honey, you’re still getting treated like the other piece of his heart that you are.

if you’re genuinely annoyed he can leave you alone…for maybe two hours thirty minutes max. he loves you so much, talk to him, he doesn’t care if you insult him out of anger, lash out at him if you must. so long as you return into his arms so he can sway you around within his tender embrace and pepper your face with kisses, he’ll be more than happy and satisfied.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

him all day — call it the big brother complex with having to always apologise first whenever he got into a slight squabble or disagreement with his siblings when he were younger, or call it pure unadulterated love for you and the refusal to continue with this pointless staring battles whenever you guys were sitting across from each other.

whatever it is, just know he takes your feelings seriously regardless of the teasing grin across his face when you try not to squirm from the way his hand traveled from across your waist to the slither of exposed stomach. he just wants to assure you that his love won’t ever fade even if it becomes so deliberately one sided. he’s yours, after all.

LYNEY — 林尼

he’s used to eerie silence that bellowed icy winds against his ears, used to the tension that forced out his fight or flight response, but currently all he could do was freeze and overthink. how come this silence seemed so much more deafening than usual?

lyney doesn’t want this worse than capital punishment torture to continue without at least the slightest bit of laughter mingled into both of your days; he tries his best to curve your lips to even the slightest twenty degree lift using whatever he could. silly little flower reappearing trick there, a sneaky kiss to the side of your neck here; just any fleeting desperate attempt for some reciprocation on your part.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

lyney’s used to apologising first given his experiences within the house of hearth and the father herself. so imagine his surprise when you both incidentally stammer over one another as you two splutter apologies helplessly. god he’s so happy your relationship is built open gushes of giggles instead of the splats of tears because if it weren’t for that cute little accident? lyney was sure the second you opened your lovely lips to speak he would’ve teared up.

he missed that voice telling him constant i love yous, the affectionate cradling of his face against your neck and the way you wouldn’t hesitate to hold his flushed face within your cooling hands to comfort him after a particularly stress inducing performance.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

you left the conversation with an “i love you.” so he knows that you’ll come back to him.

however, the last time he blindly trusted the comforting words of a loved one, it ended with blood on his hands and a lengthy sentence at the fortress of meropide. luckily for his heart and your own, he knows your charms and honeyed words aren’t for show and truly mean something.

wriothesley respects your boundaries and wishes to the t, he won’t speak to you like nothing at all happened but that doesn’t mean he won’t be overly cautious when it comes to your behavioural patterns. if he notices this sentence of silence is clearly taking its toll on you, he will, with no hesitation, talk everything out with you.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

depending on the argument, he’ll apologise first. if it’s rather undeniable that you were the one in the wrong however, he’ll explain his feelings thoroughly until you apologise — the standard. he doesn’t want this silence to end till the fortress of meropide overflows with primordial water so once you see multiple guards on your case more than ever, just know he’d like to talk to you.

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

fontaine has been drenched in rain for the past couple of days. every hour, every minute, every second neuvillette spends alone in his office makes him realise just how grand and solemn it is. everything is so mundane and banal…even the cheerful mutters and chatters of the sweet melusines couldn’t bring a smile to his face — much to the dismay of the little sigewinne who even so kindly brought him a cake to cheer him up…

what makes it even worse is that everything reminds him of you…and oh god the muddied clouds have once again been cursed with rain. this unquenchable thirst for your presence cannot be ignored by a mere sip from his intricate cup and being the ever so carefully mindful iudex, neuvillette sees it more than fit to call this hopeless game of silence to quits.

WHO APOLOGISES FIRST?

regardless of who’s in the wrong, neuvillette apologises first. he’s sorry for letting this go so far, he should’ve just trusted his gut and returned to your side even if it meant having to persuade you with his clever tongue or the coiling of his draconic tail around your leg to pull you sweetly closer.

honestly, if he could, he’d make this a punishment in the fortress of meropide for every couple. you committed a petty, technically non offensive crime? well instead of doing some charity work for the city, you’re not allowed by the side of your beloved for a few weeks.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

a bunny within the jaws of a spring locked beast thinking it can persuade the tides in their favour with silence? arlecchino is amused you’d think such cheap tomfoolery would work to solve through your problems.

“darling, come here,” she taps her lap with her blood-stained nail, her eyes looking up at you greedily to soak up every single jitter of your movements as you alas fall onto your rightful throne, “my dumb bunny,” arlecchino coos at you with that devilishly low hum of her voice. “do you think the phrases ignorance is bliss, distance brings fondness, truly work within our relationship?”

arlecchino painfully grasps at your waist, that grip only loosening once you comfortably situate yourself on her thighs and lace your arms around her neck per routine. “i’d expect this behaviour from my children at the house of hearth, not you, angel.” she nibbles on your earlobe deliberately, forcing your lips to part just the way she likes. that perfect look of both surprise and desire; it’s a gorgeous display of your vulnerability.

“explain to me your problems, or else we can be at this forever.”

no such thing as the silent treatment when the very epitome of a wordless shadow has betrothed you.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

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yandere-daydreams · 3 days

Text

Title: Unchaperoned.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.2k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of Physical/Psychological Abuse, Mentions of Kidnapping, Reader's Just Going Through It In This One Okay, and Dissociative Behavior. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as you realized Satoru wasn’t in bed.

Most mornings, he’d already be gone by the time you woke up, with the only signs that he’d ever laid down next to you at all being the phantom weight of his chest pressed into your back and a sickly sweet note left on the bedside table (usually something to the tune of ‘be home late tonight, can’t wait to see you again’ or ‘if you keep trying to pick the lock on the kitchen window, I’ll know’), but today was supposed to be one of his prized days-off, and when he wasn’t pried away from you by obligation, he preferred to spend as much time as he could sprawled out across the mattress, your body tucked against his, waiting for the haze of a slow morning to dip and ebb until his mouth founds its way to your neck and his hands to your waist. Sometimes, he was called away by an emergency mission, a sudden problem with one of his students, but you weren’t often that lucky, and he never left without waking you up, first.

Failing that, you should’ve known something was wrong when you did finally open your eyes, and immediately found Satoru looming above you, perched on the edge of the mattress, already dressed and wearing the wide, toothy grin that made your stomach drop and something embedded deep within your chest curl up and pray for death.

You tried to shut your eyes, to roll over, to pretend you were still asleep, but Satoru must’ve been watching you for a while. His hand was on your shoulder before you could so much as settle into place, his mouth crashing into yours before you could brace yourself for his rough affection. He’d never been a very good kisser, even when you’d been a willing victim, but there seemed to be no moment sweet enough and no occasion soft enough to stop him from forcing his tongue down your throat, from keeping his mouth slotted against yours until your lungs ached, from nipping at your bottom lip with enough force to sting. Too resigned to be genuinely annoyed, you remained limp and pliable underneath him until he finally pulled back, his smile just a little brighter as he beamed down at you.

“I picked out something nice for you,” he muttered, his voice low, sentimental. If it wasn’t for the cold bolt of dread that accompanied the sound of his voice, you might’ve called it playful. “Get dressed. We’re going on a field trip.”

You swallowed, thickly. “Where are we going?”

Impossibly, his smile seemed to grow wider. “It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

You blinked up at him, too used to suppressing your reaction for the effort to be conscious. Satoru was possessive, but he was also childish, impulsive – too self-indulgent to keep his favorite toy locked away for very long. Usually, though, your little trips were planned meticulously and limited to five-star restaurants with private backrooms, rented-out theaters, picnics in the countryside where he could ensure you wouldn’t have anyone to pay attention to other than him. He’d never been so vague, before. You didn’t like having to guess what he was going to do to you.

But, his grip on your shoulder tightened, and you were abruptly reminded that you didn’t have much of a choice. It was either go along with his whims, play into his domestic fantasies, or risk disobeying him and—

And disobedience wasn’t an option. Not anymore. Not after so long.

A little more than an hour later, you were in the backseat of a black sedan, hands clasped together in your lap and Satoru’s arm draped over your shoulders. Every so often, your eyes flitted from the floor to the window, lingering on the passing landscape for no longer than a few seconds before falling back to something less direct, less contentious. Still, from what you could tell, you were miles outside of the city and deep into the backwoods that surrounded it. Anxiety alternated between tying knots in the pit of your stomach and stabbing into the tender flesh at the back of your throat. You’d never been very prone to motion sickness, but maybe, if you told Satoru, you’d look pale enough for him to buy it, tell his driver to turn around, and let you go back to the kind of misery you were used to.

You straightened, sucking in a deep breath and doing your best to choke down the worst of your paranoia. If Satoru noticed the extent of your distress, the most the offered by way of reassurance was an airy laugh, a gentle tug that left you pressed that much deeper into his side. Fighting not to draw back, you broke the silence, more eager for a distraction than a genuine answer. “Are you really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“I can’t, baby.” He was still playing coy, playing cute. It might’ve been charming three years ago, when you were just having fun with a mysterious man with endless funding and eyes brighter than cloudless sky, but it was hard to find someone charming after you’d known them longer as a captor than you ever had as a friend, as a partner. “If I did, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now, would it?”

Your gaze fell into your lap. You’d been allowed to do your make-up and style your hair to your preferences, but he’d chosen your outfit – an ankle-length sundress the color of snow and daisy petals and pale skin bled dry. The color of his hair, although you tried not to let the automatic association needle its way into your conscious mind. “I don’t like surprises.”

“You’ll like this one.” Another laugh, another tug. Your skin was crawling. Maybe you wouldn’t have to play sick after all. “It’s real special to me. Thought I should finally get around to sharing it with you.”

You could remember complaining about that kind of thing, once – just how little you knew about Satoru in comparison to just how much he knew about you. You shared your life openly with him, and even if you hadn’t, he always seemed to be just around the corner, always where he needed to be to walk you home after a dull workday or invite himself to drink at a downtown bar with you and your friends. He’d been more secretive, more discreet. It’d taken you three months to find out he was a teacher, and another six so much as hear the word ‘sorcerer’. In retrospect, it was probably more of a deliberate effort than you’d been willing to give him credit for, at the time. He’d assumed that, the moment you found out anything more than his name, you’d try to run, and he’d been right. He’d wanted to delay the inevitable, and he’d succeeded.

It was stupid to be so worried. It was stupid to be so… so upset. Most days, you would’ve traded anything to be able to leave Satoru’s suffocating penthouse apartment, would’ve sold your left kidney for just an hour of freedom, but this wasn’t freedom, and it was hard to enjoy the illusion of it when you didn’t know what price you’d have to pay after it was pried away from you. You didn’t like not knowing what to expect. You didn’t like not knowing what you’d done to deserve this. You didn’t like that, even after years of learning to deal with Satoru’s bullshit, he could still make you feel just as scared and just as helpless as the day you first woke up in that dark room, your hands tied behind your back and—

The car jolted to an abrupt stop. Reflexively, you snapped up, going rigid, but Satoru seemed unaffected. He started to reach for the door, then stopped himself – fishing something out of his pocket. “Show me your hand, princess.” Satoru didn’t give you time to obey before taking you by the wrist and slipping a thick, silver ring onto your finger. You glanced from it to Satoru, who winked. “Just in case.”

You didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before he was threading his fingers through yours and dragging you out of the backseat, into the open air. You tried to be thankful to have room to breathe – tried, and failed.

The driver didn’t follow you out. You stood, alone and unprepared, next to Satoru at the foot of massive, winding, temple-style staircase. Weather-beaten torii separated the pathway from crowded foliage, and with your hand still trapped in his, Satoru guided you through the steep ascent, each step accompanied by another drop of tell-tale dread, a fresh wave of anxiety. For one long, terrible minute, you managed to convince yourself that there was a sacrificial altar waiting at the top, or a guillotine – something ornamental and damning that he’d use to cut your life that much shorter, to tie you that much closer to him. Your eyes were clenched shut by the time you crested the peak, your breathing rapid and shallow, any panic you might’ve been able to stave off during the trip now returning in full force. It was all you could do to keep yourself from breaking down entirely when he finally, finally came to a stop, squeezing your hand with enough force to leave it aching.

You wanted to stay like that, blind and deaf and only on the verge of sobbing, but it wasn’t possible – your body couldn’t take much more, and even if you had been more durable, Satoru wouldn’t wait much longer. Tentatively, you forced yourself to open your eyes and took in—

A schoolyard. A bog-standard, borderline uninteresting, utterly devoid of life schoolyard. The architecture was a little pre-modern, sure, and it was strange not to see any students or teachers milling through the open space, but it was far from the ceremonial execution site you’d primed yourself to step into. As far as you could see, at least.

“Pretty, right? In a rustic kind of way, I mean.” Satoru was still grinning from ear-to-ear. You doubted he’d stop any time soon. “I promised I’d get around to showing you where I work eventually. C’mon, I’ll give you the tour.”

Right. You’d known he was a teacher, but somehow, you’d managed to go your entire captivity without ever so much as attempting to picture the school where he must’ve taught. Then again, to be fair, you may have had more important things on your mind.

The tour wasn’t optional. When Satoru wasn’t dragging you from building to building, he was rambling on about his students, his own education, telling you decade-old stories with more energy than a man closer to thirty-one than eighteen should’ve had. You listened to very little of it and retained even less, but Satoru seemed satisfied with your occasional nod muted noises of acknowledgment. You never passed anyone else, but he kept a vice-grip on your hand, as if he was scared you’d make a run for it as soon as he turned away. A few months ago, you might’ve considered it, but you weren’t that hopeful, anymore.

“One more stop,” he said, as he pulled you towards the last building – or, buildings, rather. It was a row of ornamental classrooms, all divided into separate schoolhouses. Against your better judgment, you edged forward, willing him to move a little faster, too. This was the last stop. He just wanted to show you his classroom, then you could leave. This was the last thing you’d have to endure, and then, you could go back to the kind of misery you were used to.

Or, at least, that’s what you might’ve told yourself if a blur of pink and black hadn’t emerged from the nearest corner, sprinting across the small courtyard, and running directly into Satoru’s chest.

You flinched back, but if Satoru was fazed, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t see his eyes, not through the tint of his glasses, but he wore a crooked smile as he looked down at the teenage boy now standing in front of you. He must’ve been in high school – a first-year, if you had to guess, his black uniform coated in dust and debris. Rubbing the back of his neck, he blinked a few times before seeming to notice Satoru and straightening, bowing his head shallowly. “Gojo-sensei,” he barked, speaking quickly enough for the name and the honorific to blend together. “I was looking for Nanamin, but— So, Kugisaki found this ultra-cool cursed weapon, and we thought Fushiguro could figure out—”

He was cut off abruptly by a sneaker hitting the back of his head. A second later, another teenager – a girl, this time – seemed to appear behind the boy. Notably, she was missing a shoe. “He’s lying,” she said, her tone nearly venomous enough to be believable. “Whatever he says, it isn’t true. He’s a liar, and sexist, and I heard Sukuna say—” Abruptly, she cut herself off, her attention snapping towards you. She was quiet for a second, then another, before going on with a polite smile. “Hello, ma’am.”

For the first time, the boy turned to you, his eyes immediately widening. “Fuck,” And then, his gaze falling to where his hand was still wrapped around yours, “Fuck.”

You couldn’t stop yourself – bringing up your free hand to stifle your laugh. You almost introduced yourself, but Satoru was quick to cut you off. “These,” he explained, with a broad gesture to both teenagers. “are my beloved students, Kugisaki and Itadori, who value my mentorship and look up to me as their teacher.”

“I know,” the girl, Kugisaki, whispered to her companion, Itadori, only half-heartedly trying to hide her voice. “I really didn’t think men or women could stand to be around him.”

“And, adoring students, this,” His grip tightened as he forced your hand into the air, your new ring facing the students. “is my beautiful fiancé.”

“Fiancé,” Itadori repeated. “Was it, like, arranged?”

And then, from Kugisaki to you, “Did he pay you up front?”

Reflexively, you moved to respond, used to having to provide an answer as soon as you were asked a question lest Satoru resort to more drastic means of getting your attention, but something else caught your attention. A mop of black hair rounding the schoolhouse’s corner, the collar of a white t-shirt pulled over a bloody nose obscuring, but not completely hiding, a familiar face. You didn’t want to, but you recognized him immediately.

Megumi.

Huh.

You’d never seen him without his sister, before.

He made a point not to look at you, dark eyes trained on the ground as he positioned himself a few feet behind his more energetic classmates. You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again just as quickly. You might’ve actually found the courage to say something, if Kugisaki hadn’t lurched forward, shoving Itadori out of the way and tearing your hand out of Satoru’s. She clasped both your hands between hers, staring up at you with a frantic kind of urgency. “Listen,” she started, her tone just as dire as her expression. “If he bribed, kidnapped, or threatened you to make you go along with this, say so. There’s another sorcerer on campus – we’ll make sure you’re safe while he’s brought to the proper authorities.”

You hesitated, for a second.

Then, you opened your mouth, and distantly, heard your own voice spilling out. “We used to be in a relationship.” You stopped, swallowed, then went on. “But, he kidnapped me three years ago, and he’s kept me trapped in his home ever since. If I ever leave him, he says he’ll break my legs and kill everyone I know. He hasn’t really proposed, yet, either. He just shoved a ring onto my hand and started calling me his fiancé a few hours ago.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

And then, Satoru laughed. It was a cheery, juvenile sort of laugh. A ‘forget everything you just heard and look at me’ sort of laugh.

Soon enough, his students joined him – Itadori first, then Kagisuki. Megumi never made a sound.

“I think what you meant to say,” Megumi didn’t even look at you. You wished you could ask how his sister was doing. You wished you could say anything at all. “is that it was love at first sight. I was on a mission, fighting my way through a group of a hundred curses. That’s when I heard someone crying out from the heart of the swarm, and I—”

You made no attempt to listen. As Satoru’s story drowned on, Megumi’s eyes flitted upward – first to Satoru, then to you, widening slightly. You made the same realization a second later.

Satoru wasn’t holding your hand, anymore.

Satoru wasn’t paying attention to you at all.

Finally, Megumi met your gaze. He held your stare for a second, before shifting – looking towards something behind you. His message was glaringly apparent, albeit unspoken.

You took half a step back, then another. Satoru was still caught up in his story, and if his students noticed you moving, they didn’t feel the need to comment. It wouldn’t work, something vile and fearful whispered into the back of your mind. He’d notice, and he’d drag you to somewhere isolated and claustrophobic, and he’d break every finger on your right hand, or dislocate both your ankles, or lock you in a room so dark and so tiny that you would be able to convince yourself he’d buried you alive. It wouldn’t work, but you were already three feet away from him, then ten, then twenty. At some point, Megumi shifted, taking your place just outside of Satoru’s peripheral, replacing your presence at his side. When you reached the corner of the nearest schoolhouse, you turned on your heels and ran.

Your mind raced as you made your way back to the main schoolyard, back to the front gates. You were in the backwoods, but you couldn’t be that far from the city – not if you’d been able to drive here. There was bound to be a public road nearby, or better yet, a highway, something with drivers you could flag down and beg to take you as far from here as possible. You’d pawn the ring, dye your hair, call yourself by a different name until you found someone willing to get you out of Tokyo, to get you out of Japan. Maybe, if you made it to a port city, you could—

You stopped abruptly about twenty feet away from the main gates. A blonde man in a suit leaned against one of the wooden beams, his face familiar but not immediately placeable. Someone working for Satoru, you thought, irrationally. Someone who wanted to stop you from getting away.

He was already looking at you. He nodded, the gesture slow and measured, and you continued to stare blankly in the direction of the gates. “(Y/n).”

His identity came to you immediately. Not Satoru’s employee, but one of his coworkers, only barely remembered from a few nights spent drinking, a handful of conversations you only barely remembered. “Kento.”

You’d taken a few beats to respond, but Kento wasn’t as hesitant. “Gojo said you left the city.”

“I didn’t.”

“You’re here with him?”

You swallowed. “He’s talking to his students, right now.”

He took a moment to evaluate you – your disheveled dress, your wide eyes, the way you couldn’t seem to stop breathing in shallow, panicked huffs. Should you have tried to look more sympathetic, more like a captive? Should you be talking to him at all?

He didn’t smile, didn’t soften his tone into something overly sweet, overly dizzying. It was good that he didn’t – or, actually, it might’ve been bad. If he had, you would’ve forced your way past him without ever stopping to hear what he had to say. “He was never the type to think further than he could reach,” Kento said, straightening. “I’d like to talk to you, sometime. Somewhere private.”

“I… Satoru doesn’t really like it when I—”

“Gojo doesn’t have to know.” He paused, straightened. “Honestly, I’d prefer if he didn’t.”

Something thick and acidic rose into the back of your throat. It was your turn to straighten, now, to ball your fists at your side, to let your mouth fall open and—

And shut it again as you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you against a broad chest. You didn’t have to check to know it was Satoru. You felt his fingertips dig into your side, his chin settle onto your shoulder. “Just can’t stand not to havin’ me all to yourself, huh?” His voice was low, playful. If you’d been able to think over the deafening static in your head, you would’ve called yourself an idiot for ever thinking it was cute.

“Thanks for looking after her for me.” He was talking to Nanami, now. You might’ve been grateful, if not for the ever-present pressure of his hand on your waist. “My fiancé tends to wander off.”

Kento’s expression, as always, was near-unreadable. He seemed to catch on the word ‘fiancé’, but whether that was because of the implication or the way Satoru seemed to bask in it, you couldn’t tell.

His response was curt, polite. “Congratulations.”

You could feel Satoru’s grin against your throat. He’d been glad to show you off in front of his students, but it almost seemed compulsory for him to flaunt you in front of Kento. “One wrong step, and suddenly I’m a taken man. Not that I’d have it any other way.” His arm fell away from your waist. Rather than reaching for your hand, he took you by the wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise. “I’ve gotta show the little lady a couple more things. You’ll keep an eye on the first years for me, right?”

Kento might’ve tried to answer, but you were around long enough to hear it. Satoru was already dragging you back in the direction of the schoolhouses, and willingly, you followed, keeping your head bowed and your teeth grit. It was almost a relief to know he was going to do something terrible to you. At least, while you were injured, or bound, or so heavily sedated that you couldn’t remember your own name, you wouldn’t be able to try to run away again. You wouldn’t be able to get your hopes up, and have to bear the hollow, gnawing agony that came when they were, yet again, dragged back down and crushed under Satoru’s heel.

There were no flustered students to intercept you before you reached his classroom, this time, no stoic teachers to pretend to care that you looked so miserable. Satoru only let go of your hand once you’d crossed the threshold, once he’d shut and locked the door behind you. Idly, you wandered into the empty space at the front of the classroom, only sparing a quick glance towards the empty chalkboard, the vacant teacher’s desk, the barren walls before letting your eyes fall back to your feet. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I didn’t mean to do anything, but—” You almost brought up Megumi, but stopped yourself. “I… I’m just sorry.”

Satoru hummed. You felt a hand on your hip first, then your side, nudging you towards the desk. When you failed to move, he chuckled and abandoned the idea of your cooperation entirely – lifting you off of your feet without a hint of strain and placing you on edge of the empty desk, positioning himself between your legs. His hands fell to either side of you, caging you between his arms. “I know, pretty girl, I know.”

“And—And, your students seemed so nice, or—uh, energetic, at least. I haven’t talked to anyone other than you in so long, I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I get it, princess. You were always shy like that.”

Shy. You’d never really been shy. Not before he kidnapped you, at least. Not before he took all the things you’d always told yourself that people just didn’t do to each other and done them to you.

Still, you didn’t correct him. “Can we…” You trailed off, shrunk into yourself. “Can we go home, then? I don’t want to—”

His mouth was crashing into yours before you could finish. You jerked back, but one of his hands was already on the back of your neck, keeping you in place while his tongue racked over yours and he moaned shamelessly into your mouth. Just as suddenly as he’d lounged, he drew back, his mouth falling to your throat as his free hand slipped under the skirt of your sundress.

There were a few minor differences between building dread and cold, pointed fear that you’d never noticed, before your time with Satoru – that you still managed to sometimes forget, during the brief calm patches spread throughout the course of your captivity. What you’d felt in the back of his car, that aching pressure that can only ever stand on the precipice of crushing – that was dread, all anticipation and no catharsis, your own mind doing worse things to you than Satoru ever could.

What you felt as the pad of his thumb traced over the length of your slit – that was fear.

“No,” as your hands found his shoulders, nails burrowing down, and then, a second, later, as your eyes found the door you’d come through. “Not here, ‘toru, it’s—Your students, they’re still—”

“You don’t have to worry, pretty girl. I’ve still got an eye on them.” His voice was airy, distant, his words only just audible in the gaps between open-mouthed kisses pressed into the curve of your throat. You could feel his saliva on your skin, the heat of his breath fanning across your jugular. Disgusting. He was disgusting. Disgusting and messy and vulgar and perverted. You were ashamed that you’d ever so much as considered loving him willingly. “I’ll be quick – all you’ve gotta do is sit still and look pretty.”

“But, someone might—” Your voice cut off as he found your clit and pressed down, immediately using too much force and too little care. You jerked forward, burying your face in the dip of his shoulder, but Satoru had only ever taken your aversion as a sign to go further, to do more. You could feel him drawing little, quick patterns into the sensitive bud through the thin fabric of your panties, and even worse, you could feel liquid heat beginning to pool in the pit of your stomach, dripping out from the space between your thighs – your own body betraying you when faced with Satoru’s coercion. “Satoru,” you whined, your pleading tone the closest thing to actual anger that he would allow. “Please, I don’t want to do this her—”

He hushed you, the noise soft and definite, and just like that, you gave up on speaking entirely.

Satoru’s impatience was unparalleled, but he’d had time to train your body to keep up with his impulsivity. By the time he pulled your panties to the side, slipping two fingers into your tight entrance, you were already wet, already waiting for something new, something more. “That’s my girl,” Satoru muttered as he slid his ring and middle digits into your dripping cunt, only stopping once he was knuckle-deep. “Always so bratty until you get something inside of you. It was a good thing I found you when I did, before someone else realized just how easy it was to get you all soft n’ pouty.”

His fingers curled upward, scissored apart, and you let out the smallest, weakest possible whimper – quickly cut off by a bubbling, half-choked moan. Your eyes darted to the second door; he’d been decent enough to lock the one you’d come through, but there was another, leading into a hallway that must’ve connected the disparate classrooms. It didn’t have a window, meaning you wouldn’t be able to see if someone walked by, wouldn’t be able to know you’d been caught until it was too late to tell Satoru to stop – not that he’d listen, even if you did. Rather than drown out the feeling of Satoru’s pumping into you, it only seemed to make the sensation of his fingers battering against the walls of your cunt more acute, only seemed to heighten the awful pressure starting to mount in your core. You buried your teeth in your bottom lip, shut your eyes and buried your face that much deeper in his shoulder, but no amount of self-suppression could stifle the slick, lewd noise of his fingers thrusting into you. No amount of self-loathing could convince Satoru to shut up, no matter how strongly you willed him to choke on his own tongue and die.

“I don’t think you were taking me seriously – about the whole engagement thing, I mean.” His voice was airy, almost distant. It was the same way he’d talk to you over breakfast, or when he insisted on resting his head in your lap as he told you about his day and you half-heartedly pretended to listen. “I meant it, y’know. I’ll have to do something more romantic for the actual proposal, but—” He paused, laughed. You felt his lips ghost over your cheek, then the corner of your jaw. “I meant it. Couldn’t stand the idea of putting it off any longer, ‘specially not when I already knew that you were going to say yes.”

Whether he was speaking out of narcissism, cruelness, or genuine delusion, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t want to know. All you could seem to focus on was the terrible heat of his affection, all you could seem to do was whimper through grit teeth as he forced another finger into your hyper-sensitive cunt. “We’ll have to get married, too. I wanna do it as soon as possible – fuck, I wouldn’t mind being able to call you my wife today.” You stiffened, shook your head, and Satoru huffed, amused. “Right, right – gotta pace the good stuff out. That’s why I love you so much, babe. If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have time to breathe.”

A ragged sob escaped your pursed lips as you came undone around his fingers. He nursed you through your climax, only drawing back after you’d gone limp against him. There was another kiss, this one to the corner of your mouth, before his lips found yours – his touch suddenly gentle, featherlight. Your head fell to his collarbone as he straightened his back, but you were beyond the point of caring. You let your eyes fall entirely closed, sinking into him. At least, if someone walked in now, you’d be able to write it off as Satoru comforting you after a sudden bout of heat exhaustion, or a purely romantic (albeit, uncomfortably intimate) moment between a man and his—

His captive.

You could last a few more days before you fully submitted to the role of his fiancé.

You opened your mouth, unsure as to what you wanted to say but aware that you couldn’t stand to sit in silence for any longer, but anything you might’ve said was swiftly and callously drowned out by the sound of rustling fabric, the weight of a hand on your hip while another positioned Satoru’s now-free cock against your entrance. For a moment, you thought about attempting to shove him away. For a moment, you thought about screaming and hoping someone was close enough to hear you.

Then, he thrust into you, and you couldn’t do anything at all.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #yandere gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo x reader

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lonelyvomit · 2 days

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I need Käärijä to stop catching strays in all this.

dude had his win absolutely robbed last year, stood up for Baby Lasagna only to get bodyshamed by the guy later, was put in an interval act that was basically all about Sweden gloating about how he got screwed over, and then people acting like him being amicable and friendly to the wrong person is equal to him dropping a nuke on Palestine all by himself.

give Jere from Vantaa a break he's literally just a dude.

#look. I get it. I get it. he shouldn't have been hanging with Eden.#but people act as if they approached him and went ''do you wanna film a clip to promote genocide?'' and he went ''fuck yeah''#and not yknow. a man known to be sweet and friendly to everyone being approached by another human and acting like he always does.#yes there are obvious problems with Jere trying to stay non-political in this situation but that is what he was trying to do.#he wasn't enforcing anyone or anything. he was being himself - friendly and sweet to everyone - and secretly filmed and used as ammo.#some of yall acting like he's besties with the Israel delegation as if he didn't get shamelessly used by them.#käärijä #esc 2024 #eurovision 2024

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mclqren · 2 days

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WEST END GIRL ★ F1 GRID

PAIRING ✦ alex albon x fem!younger sister!reader ; f1 grid x fem!albon!reader [ implied logan sargeant x fem!reader ]

SUMMARY ✦ your brother and his cohort of friends from the f1 grid come to support you on the first night of your big break in the west end [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ bit of a shorter one :) reader is younger than alex, but it's not specified how old she is. i felt it more fitting to make her perform in the uk, so i made her perform in the west end. reader plays eponine in 'les miserables'. the fc i've used is fah yongwaree, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are closed.

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liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, and 3,001 others

yourusername so...this is my life now?? my first night performing is in two days time, and it still doesnt feel real ❤️

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user1 AHHH LES MIS??

user2 wait who are you playing?? im going to watch!!

yourusername eponine!! hope you enjoy urself, its truly amazing! ❤️

user3 no way she's albon's sister...

user4 i knowww she's so glam

user5 how is alex ur brother

yourusername been asking myself that since birth 🤷‍♀️

alex_albon i was born first??

lilymhe my sister, so proud of you ❤️❤️

yourusername love you lils 💓

alex_albon we'll be there, trust!

yourusername who's we

alex_albon don't worry about it 😉

imessages ( alex )

yourusername

( caption one: getting ready for tonight 💓 | caption two: my first show done ✅ after dark ❤️ )

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, and 355,412 others

tagged yourusername, lilymhe

alex_albon got to watch my sister in action today in the west end and wow, is she incredible. watch les miserables right now YOU WON'T REGRET IT 🫵🫵

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user6 SHE'S STUNNINGGG??

user7 RIGHTTT?

user8 omg i saw her she was so goodddd

user9 the albon siblings are talented beyond relief confirmed

user10 I NEED TO GO ASAPPPP

user11 NO SAME

user12 bad time to be living in america rn :(

yourusername it was so fun to see everyone tonight! ❤️

landonorris you were amazing y/n!!

charles_leclerc ^^

user13 DID WE MISS A CHAPTER

yourusername the flowers were gorgeousss who told logan my favs were tiger lilies 🥺

logansargeant just intuition 🤷‍♂️❤️ i'll have to get you them again next time!

alex_albon yeah yeah she's still my little sister back up sargeant

carmenmmundt y/n was truly breathtaking 💗

georgerussell63 agreed ^

yourusername MAMA Y PAPA love you guys💓💓

georgerussell63 we're not that much older than you?

yourusername boo dont care still my parents 👎

liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc, and 35,312 others

yourusername and you're singing the songs, thinking this is the life!

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user17 woweeeee that dress was made for youuuu

user18 IS THAT NOT THE PICTURE THAT ALEX POSTED OF YOU ON HIS INSTA

user19 i think it's from a diff angle though hahaha

yourusername ^ yup!!

user20 AMY MCDONALD THIS IS THE LIFE MENTIONED??

user21 the prettiest princess ever

alex_albon photography credits??

yourusername yeah yeah whatever thanks alex

alex_albon no problem!!!!!! 😁😁

logansargeant all those flowers and not a tiger lily in sight

yourusername still waiting for ur tiger lilies mr sargeant!

logansargeant come to miami and i'll give you some 🫡🫡

yourusername might just have to take you up on ur offer!!

alex_albon um guys can we not

yourusername wdym this is purely friendly?!

alex_albon keep the public flirting to a minimum PLEASE

oscarpiastri where are you finding cars with flowers in it

yourusername london babyyyy!

yourusername

( caption one: 🌊🌊 | caption two: crazyyy 😱 )

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, and 44,931 others

tagged logansargeant

yourusername yeah i went to miami but i also got my nails done so what's new really

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user25 miss y/n continues to SERVEEEE

user26 she knows what's up!!

user27 tagging logan on the lilies awww :(

user28 okay but the caption is so real bc the nailsss?? CAN WE HAVE A MINUTE FOR THE NAILS PLEASE

user29 the way we've all decided to just stan alex's sister is everything to me

user30 she IS iconic

lilymhe the way you're wearing my necklace 🥺

yourusername of courseee you gave it to me!!

lilymhe ❤️

landonorris papaya flowers is that a sign or what

yourusername they're TIGER LILIES you idiot and just bc you won doesnt mean im switching sides

landonorris @/oscarpiastri wellll it was worth a try ☹️

logansargeant my flowers made a feature :)

yourusername of course they did i loveee them!

oscarpiastri boo make out already

alex_albon OSCAR I DON'T SUPPORT THAT

alex_albon the red nails im feeling betrayed rn 😔

yourusername switching sides @/scuderiaferrari @/charles_leclerc PLEASE give me a paddock pass thank you!!

scuderiaferrari your wish is our command 🫡

charles_leclerc y/n switching teams 🤣

landonorris oh so you'll switch to ferrari but not mclaren?? okayyy i see

yourusername yeah sorry about that lando 🤷‍♀️

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 days

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andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five, five being the most recent part. read part five here

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list.

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying.

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist.

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him.

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up.

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now.

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you.

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone.

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself.

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much.

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy.

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine.

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol.

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is.

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her.

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall.

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance.

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that.

But god, does he think about you like that.

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee.

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand.

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought.

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?”

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her.

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse.

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom.

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again.

But.

That’s all contingent.

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same.

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies.

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him.

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him.

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back.

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out.

Not again.

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can.

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is.

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too.

He sends you a text—the third message in a row.

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years.

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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ikeuverse · 3 days

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YOU'RE MY PROBLEM — l.heeseung

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: angst, fluff, humor, suggestive WC: 11.6k+

WARNINGS: swearing, arguing, cheating, divorce, mention of drinking. slightly smut in that there is a section (albeit brief) describing almost – very almost – sex.

NOTES: idk what's going on, but heeseung's been on my mind a lot these days. 2nd plot in less than two weeks and he's the owner of everything! at first this was going to have a smut, but i felt it would be too long and idk if it turned out that well, so maybe it could happen in a second part that isn't even final. but that's it for now, i hope you like it!

masterlist

"What's your problem?" that intonation was already typical when directed at you, but it still never failed to send a chill down your spine.

Sighing, you got up from the living room floor and smiled at the little boy in front of you, trying not to focus your gaze on the man next to the sofa.

"Can't you do your job properly for once?" he said to you again as he followed you into the downstairs bathroom, and you tried to ignore him as much as possible to put the first aid kit away in the drawer and leave the room. But he blocked the door.

"Can you come out, please? I want to go through" you asked, looking at him for the first time.

"I asked you what your fucking problem is" he leaned over and gritted his teeth, now he could cuss since he wasn't next to his younger brother.

"And I asked you to leave" you leaned in too, almost touching the tip of your nose to his chin because of the height difference. This caught the man completely off guard and he took a few steps back, clearing the way for you to leave the bathroom and walk into the living room.

It wasn't a horrible accident, you weren't a terrible babysitter for nine-year-old Hajun. But his older brother, Heeseung, had been a pain in the ass ever since you first set foot in the Lee house.

And it wasn't as if you'd done anything because Mrs. Lee always praised your work highly and you even did a few extra periods just to play with Hajun or stay with him when there were family problems. These, more often than not, were your suspicions as to why the Lee family had hired a nanny for their youngest, and also why Heeseung seemed so down on life. Especially with you.

It was typical for him to make some sarcastic comment, and roll his eyes when you excitedly answered something his mother had asked. Or even mutter a swear word when Hajun chooses to go out with you instead of his own brother. Jealous? Or that intensified the anger Heeseung felt even more, you just didn't want it to be directed completely at you. In your mind, Heeseung was already like that because of something that happened in the family – and you'd always been curious to ask, you just didn't have the courage – so, because you were the only person who was easy to get along with apart from his mother and younger brother, the boy only had you to put it all out there.

You weren't such a bad listener, you could call Heeseung to sit down after your babysitting shift and tell him everything that was bothering you. Why he was so angry and, most importantly, why did he seem to hate you? Your memory tried to capture a moment when you could have given him a curt reply, a grimace or simply been rude, but no.

As soon as you arrived and introduced yourself as Hajun's new nanny, Heeseung just rolled his eyes and left the room.

"Don't worry about him, Y/n" Mrs. Lee smiled lovingly at you "Heeseung is going through a difficult process, I think he'll get better soon. He's sweet."

You hoped he would be. And you waited for months to see that Heeseung was still the same... Maybe his process would take forever and you would have been chosen to be his punching bag.

But one day it would get tiresome. Surely you knew that you would respond in full, even if you were afraid of losing your job because he might be able to get his mother's head around firing you.

Back in the living room, you smiled at Hajun when you saw the little boy smile at you too. Your gaze completely ignored Heeseung sitting in the armchair next to his brother.

"Come on Y/n, I was telling Seungie how I fell in the park earlier" the little boy had no idea what had happened minutes ago between you and Heeseung, and you preferred it that way. Your priority was always to protect Hajun and be with him.

You sat down next to him, feeling Hajun's small hands wrap around yours.

"So I went to play ball with some boys, but Y/n told me not to go barefoot because it could be dangerous for me" Hajun formed a pout on his lips as he looked away from Heeseung to his bruised knee, now completely clean and bandaged "And I didn't listen" Hajun looked at you now, showing his newly grown teeth "Do you forgive me, Y/n?"

"Oh, of course" you hugged him as he laid his head on your shoulder.

Heeseung huffed from the other side of the sofa, running his hand through his hair impatiently.

"Anyway, do your job properly next time" he got up and left the room, leaving you with Hajun as he climbed the stairs with his feet tapping.

You felt the younger man move beside you, looking into your eyes while still smiling. Hajun was an amazing child and you felt your heart sink every time you thought that, if it wasn't for you, he might be alone in this house.

Not completely alone, Heeseung worked in his room a few days a week and Hajun could ask his brother for help with anything, as he was extremely protective of the youngest. But if it wasn't for you, the little one wouldn't do his homework. He couldn't go out to the park in the next block, let alone go to the movies in the late afternoon because he was too bored to do anything indoors.

Thanks to you, Hajun had company every day. And that was the thought you had when Mrs. Lee hired you to keep him company.

"Ignore him" Hajun's voice brought you out of your thoughts and back to the reality you were in at that very moment. The little boy was already standing in the middle of the room "Heeseung is a pain in the ass when he wants to be."

"Hey, watch your mouth, young man" you laughed when he grimaced.

"Seriously, after—" Hajun sighed, looking at you "Never mind."

"You know you can tell me whenever you want, right?" you stood up too, walking over to him to ruffle the younger man's dark hair.

Hajun nodded, smiling at you and asking you to make him a brownie. Because he deserved it and he was hurting. This made you laugh because, although the mood changed drastically in that house, you knew that he always tried to take everything in good humor.

Hajun's slip in the previous few minutes only made you even more certain that something was going on, and your heart squeezed to see that he was aware of the problems within his own house even at his young age. So, more than ever, your determination to take care of him spoke louder. Because Hajun was your priority in that house. And that would always be the case.

With your head in your hands, you felt like screaming as you stared at the computer in front of you. Life as a university student was complete shit, even more so when you were forced to start a project and didn't even know where to begin.

Your two best friends were sitting right in front of you with their projects very well developed, but it was as if only your head was short-circuiting because nothing was good enough.

"You're going to tear your hair out soon" Jake leaned over the table to pull one of your hands away from your face, taking his attention away from his project.

"Can I rip my head off?" you almost cried as you looked at him, both of you looking away to Ryunjin sitting next to you.

"Why are you like this?" she asked.

"Is it because of the project?" Jake was already sitting properly in his seat, his eyes still on you and Ryunjin too. You nodded in agreement, swallowing dryly when the girl sighed.

"Or is it for someone else?" Ryunjin emphasized the question when she looked at you.

The table was now a little chaotic with Ryunjin peeking out with a smile on her lips, you trying to wiggle out of it and Jake looking between the two friends like a lost puppy.

"What the fuck is going on? Because I think I've lost something" the boy finally said.

"Heeseung, again" Ryunjin answered for you "He's still being an asshole to Y/n. Hasn't your little friend said anything worthwhile to let us know what happened?"

Jake opened and closed his mouth to answer but to no avail. He was a friend of Heeseung's, fortunately, or unfortunately, the boy went to the same university as you. Being Jake's friend, he once let slip that his mother was looking for someone to look after Hajun. And since you needed money... you could just combine the useful with the pleasant.

But your friend seemed to be as lost as you were, or at least he pretended very well. As one of Heeseung's best friends, it would be difficult for him to tell you if something was going on that could involve you. But he was also your best friend. This standoff with Jake could leave you confused and feeling bad on both sides, which is why you never pressured him to tell you anything.

"He's just having some problems" Jake tried to be vague on the subject.

"He's the problem, Jake" you closed your computer, giving up on working on a project you knew would come to nothing. Your head was full – unfortunately of annoyance about Heeseung – and nothing could make you concentrate on the moment "He was really rude to me last time, you know?"

He knew.

He listened to Heeseung swear for ten minutes about how you could let Hajun get hurt. Then he let his friend cool off and tried to argue that it wasn't your fault. Heeseung understood and even pondered whether he had been too hard on you.

"I... No, what did he do?" Jake nibbled his lower lip to suppress a sigh as he began to listen to everything he had to say.

From his perspective it wasn't your fault, Heeseung was too hard on you and anything you did. Sometimes Jake felt like telling you everything, telling you how many times he'd lost count by cursing Heeseung for his behavior. Or wanting to punch him just because his friend took out his frustrations on the wrong things.

"You need to talk to him to stop being like that with Y/n" Ryunjin caught Jake's eye, making him look at her "Or I'll shove some architectural material up his ass. Name one."

"A piece of concrete?" Jake frowned. He had no idea which materials were architectural, Heeseung did that course, not him. Jake was a computer scientist, just like Ryunjin.

She smiled with satisfaction at the answer and then looked at you.

"Now don't think about him and focus on your project, my love" Ryunjin reached out to touch your hand gently "I bet your designers are going to be amazing."

"We can't wait to see it" Jake also celebrated, taking your other hand and running his thumb over the back of it in affectionate contact.

Even with all the stuff going on in your life, the daily stress of dealing with the older brother of the little boy you were looking after, being in the presence of your friends seemed to cure everything and then some. Even though Jake was Heeseung's friend, that didn't change the way your friend treated you or how much he wanted to see you well.

Ever since these disagreements between you and Heeseung started happening, Jake made it clear to both parties that he didn't want to be a part of it. Ryunjin even complained once that she would be part of it and still defend you, but no one listened – thankfully.

After some time exchanging glances with your friends and smiling, you decided to focus on your project because, even if time was in your favor and the deadline was a month away, being prepared and ahead of schedule was your motto.

Taking advantage of a few vacant classes at college was perfect for going to a remote table on campus and working on whatever it was. These get-togethers with your friends were what got you out of stressful and bad times, even if you saw them on some weekends or in some classes. Just sitting there, chatting away regardless of the subject, made you feel a little better.

"Jake, dude, I finally found you" the voice took you away from your more peaceful thoughts and gratitude for your friends to focus forward. The boy whose name had been called stared after you with soft eyes, but as soon as he noticed your gaze on him, Jake's eyes widened slightly "Are you studying?"

Heeseung's voice was unmistakable to you. And at that moment you wanted to dig a hole and hide, or run out of there just so you wouldn't have the pleasure of bumping into the boy at his study table.

"Tidying up projects" Jake hissed, squeezing Ryunjin's leg under the table when he felt his friend move in her place. Her gaze was locked on Heeseung so angrily, yet the boy didn't notice, too distressed to find Jake.

"Can I join you here?" he asked "I need to finish some university homework and then we need to meet Jay for a game of basketball."

"Sure" Jake gave a small smile and beckoned Heeseung to sit down.

No. Not. Jake and Ryunjin were sitting next to each other, so the only vacant seat was right next to you.

Heeseung sat down without looking in their direction. He smiled at Ryunjin as a silent greeting, but she took it in her stride and ended up nodding at him politely after looking at you at the same moment Heeseung did.

The boy's eyes could come out of their orbs if it were possible, the way he opened them. Fidgeting uncomfortably on the bench next to you, he was in a bit of shock, even looking a little vulnerable given the circumstances that Heeseung always looked fierce when he was around you at his house.

"Y/n?" he asked, afraid that you were real.

"Hey" you said quietly.

He didn't know what to say, how could he forget that Jake was always with you on campus if you weren't with him? Why didn't Heeseung check out the people at that table before he sat down?

There were so many questions circling his mind that, as the boy saw you ignore him to open the computer and focus on your study, maybe he should do the same.

Focusing on his university homework while he waited for Jake to finish his project and then meet his other friends was what he had to do. All Heeseung had to do was answer a few questions that the teacher had given him in class and hope that his friend would finish as quickly as possible.

"Heeseung" Ryunjin called out after a while, her gaze flicking between him and you. You both looked very uncomfortable next to each other and it was so clear. Even more so after he arrived and didn't greet you properly, it wouldn't go unnoticed by your best friend.

"Hey, Ryunjin" he tried to smile amiably, almost feeling a shiver run down his spine when she leaned over the table, resting her elbows on the stone. She smiled strangely; he had seen it before when the girl was sarcastic or about to fight with someone. Was she going to fight with him?

"Is there concrete in your course building?" she asked.

Heeseung frowned in complete confusion. That question had no basis in fact, but at least she wasn't angry with him, so he could relax a little and not feel any more chills as the girl still stared at him.

"We have several, will you need them?"

"Yes" she said.

"Sure, but what for?" when Heeseung asked and Ryunjin was about to answer, you quickly closed your computer. Praying that everything was intact even with the small bang.

This startled the three at the table – even you – so you got up and grabbed your backpack.

"I remembered that I need to go with Ryunjin to the library, now" your emphasis was a complete answer to the fact that your friend would have to follow you. Jake was grateful that she obeyed, even if it was against her will, putting her things away as she picked up the backpack to leave.

"Why did she want concrete?" Heeseung looked at Jake after you and Ryunjin left, laughing quietly and focusing on the questions he needed to answer, missing his friend's gaze, which was a little shocked.

"I have no idea" Jake lied.

Or omitted, exactly. Heeseung didn't need to know the intentions of the girl who had ranted at him minutes before he arrived at the table.

Of all the things Heeseung wanted to put out of his mind, one was to know exactly where to find the person who had hurt him the most. Who broke up the perfect family he thought he had.

Heeseung wanted to be able not to remember the bar his father frequented, but here he was. Across the street watching the large glass windows, and inside the establishment, people were drinking and celebrating something.

He was drinking too. He was already on his third bottle and brought the glass up to his lips to finish off the bitter liquid which, at this point, no longer had any effect. Heeseung was focused on the male figure who was laughing and raising his glass of alcohol to talk to some other men. So this was how his father looked every Thursday night before going home. That's how Heeseung followed him one night, tired of seeing his father come home late only to catch him drinking in that damn bar, with a woman sitting on his lap who must have been Heeseung's age.

His father didn't see him he didn't want to cause a fuss and make his mother even more worried because, frankly, Heeseung was on the other side of town and late at night. But he couldn't hide it when he got home and told his mother. She was an amazing woman and didn't deserve the kind of thing that was happening right behind his back and that of the whole family.

Heeseung didn't know that he could feel as strongly repulsed by someone as he did by the man who, at that moment, staggered out of the bar with another woman hanging around his neck.

He felt nauseous, wanting to throw up the beers he had bought while his eyes stung and blurred. But the figure of the man on the other side who was dialing something on his cell phone was clear, waiting for the app car together with another woman. She was different from the woman Heeseung first caught him with, so his father was with a different one every time. That was even more disgusting.

"Let's go to my apartment, baby" he laughed out loud as soon as the car arrived, letting the woman get in first and him follow behind. Leaving Heeseung's sight as the car pulled away.

"Fucker" Heeseung kicked the glass bottle against the sidewalk to break it instantly.

The tears were already rolling freely down his face and he didn't care that he was crying, he'd held it in for so long since the last two days. He stayed in his room so that he could cry in peace without his mother or Hajun noticing. He didn't want to worry them because he was now the oldest male figure there. While his mother worked all the time at the company, Heeseung needed to be there for Hajun even if you were with him.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of Heeseung's cell phone, startling him briefly as he picked it up to see who was calling. His mother.

Involuntarily, a sad smile formed amidst the tears and he didn't think twice about answering the call.

"Hi son, where are you?" she asked on the other end of the line.

"I came for a walk" he struggled to keep his voice from sounding so sad and tearful, clearing his throat as he sniffled "Is everything all right? Do you need anything?"

"Everything's fine, don't worry" she laughed, making Heeseung laugh too. That laugh that he missed, knowing that it was slowly coming back "It's just that a great opportunity has arisen to close a deal with another partner in the company and I'm going to have to travel to the neighboring city for a week."

"And Hajun?" he asked.

"I've just spoken to Y/n, she's going to sleep at home" his mother just passed on the information, showing that the decision had already been made. And even if it wasn't, Heeseung couldn't do much since he knew that his younger brother needed the nanny's care. He couldn't be available to look after Hajun.

"All right" he said afterward, "I'm coming home."

"Okay, my son. Come back carefully, okay?" she seemed to be smiling as she spoke, which warmed Heeseung's heart "Be a good boy with the two of them at home, please."

"I will" he replied "Bye mom, I love you."

"I love you more, my boy" and saying that, she hung up.

Heeseung felt less bad about his mother's call, but he still couldn't forget the scene he had seen a few minutes ago. He knew that his mother was moving on and accepting the divorce as best she could, but Heeseung couldn't forgive the betrayal. The way his father had acted in the face of everything. He hadn't spoken to the man since he found out, choosing to ignore his calls and messages and telling his mother not to go to the university. Heeseung didn't want to see him. He'd rather pretend he'd never met or lived with a lying father than have to say anything to the man.

Maybe he needed to go home like he said he would. His head was already beginning to buzz with disparaging and angry thoughts, which he wanted to get rid of quickly.

A hot bath and a video game were all Heeseung needed at the moment to feel cleansed of everything he had witnessed that day. Not that it had been much, but he hadn't come home from university. He hadn't arrived at the same time as Hajun from school so that he could have lunch with him. Heeseung wandered around every familiar corner until he stopped at an app car and went straight to that damn bar. Now it was time to get another app car and go home.

Heeseung felt angry with himself for letting anger take over every fiber of his body, while he could do the same as his mother. Or even Hajun, who was already asking less about the man daily. Perhaps the younger brother wouldn't even remember his father if he wasn't mentioned, and the elder wanted it that way. He wanted his brother not to have the proximity he had to see how disgusting and untruthful the man who once lived with them was.

"Thank you" Heeseung thanked the driver as soon as he pulled up in front of his house, getting out of the car and waving quickly.

He took slow steps to the front door to see that everything was dark, you had probably already put Hajun to bed and that would be a relief. The two of you would be asleep and you wouldn't see the deplorable state that Heeseung had arrived home in.

In as much silence as he could manage, he unlocked the door and opened it, then locked it and looked around. Absolute silence inside the house. It brought Heeseung a little peace to think that the motherfucker he had seen earlier would never set foot in his house again.

He took off his shoes and the jacket he was wearing, throwing the garment on the sofa and feeling his body begin to tire. His throat was dry from the beers and from crying, his eyes would surely swell up because of it and Heeseung always forgot that fact. It was a pain. So maybe a little water would at least save his throat; he'd deal with his morning appearance later.

Heeseung walked to the kitchen only to feel a scream escape his mouth as the fridge door slammed shut.

"Fuck" he put his hand over his chest as he looked at your equally frightened figure. You had also let out a little scream, but he only heard his own because his ears were ringing "Why is everything out?" he asked when he saw you moving away from the fridge.

"I thought you'd already arrived, I didn't want to disturb you" you held up the bottle of juice, probably something you'd drink while you were there until you fell asleep.

Heeseung just nodded and walked over to the light switch, squeezing his eyes shut along with you when the brightness hit. It didn't take long to get used to it before he looked at you, swallowing dryly as you looked back at him.

"Is everything okay?" you asked. Heeseung was going to ask why but forgot that his eyes and the tip of his nose were probably red because he had been crying.

Shit. Continuing with the light off could have been better.

"I don't want to talk about it" he replied immediately, his nervous tone returning as Heeseung looked away from you.

"Heeseung—"

"You're here to look after Hajun, right?" turning to look at you, Heeseung felt his eyes misting up again. He didn't know why he felt like crying while standing in front of you, one of the only people he didn't want to show himself vulnerable to apart from his younger brother and his mother "So why don't you do your job, and stop asking questions?"

For a split second, Heeseung saw your shoulders slump, the bottle of juice resting on the sink and your lips parting to say something. He blinked a few times to keep the tears from falling.

"What's your problem?" you finally said to him, your chest aching and your heart beating fast from nervousness "I have no idea what's happened to you" with each word, you took a tiny step towards him because Heeseung was blocking the passage from the kitchen worktop to the main door to leave the room. You had no choice but to approach him "But don't take your frustrations out on me!" you wanted to shout the last sentence, but out of respect for Hajun and for him being asleep, all you did was poke his chest a little harder. Pushing your index finger in there.

Heeseung closed his eyes as he felt your finger pushing him, but before you could push him away, he grabbed your hand.

Your eyes widened at him because that was the first touch the two of you had shared since you started working at the Lee family home. His fingers were warm against your wrist and you wanted to struggle to get out of his grip, but without a doubt, Heeseung was stronger and faster. Pulling your body against his and wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It would be foolish to ask what or why, and even more foolish to try to get out of there because with every reluctant movement you made, he pulled your body even tighter against him. He tilted his face towards you, lowering it enough to touch his forehead to yours, and you took the opportunity to lean in and meet his lips halfway.

The touch of Heeseung's lips was soft, his tongue pressing against your bottom lip was electrifying and when he wrapped the muscle around yours, you could taste the lingering taste of beer in his mouth. It wasn't as if you'd never drunk before, but feeling the alcohol in someone else's mouth, Heeseung's had made your whole body shiver.

He pulled your body closer until his big hands and firm fingers pressed your waist to your butt. Giving small touches to your thigh, he wanted to signal you to jump into his lap, and without disobeying you did so, already knowing that your butt would be in contact with the cold marble countertop in the kitchen.

Your legs wrapped around Heeseung's waist and body to pull him closer while you lost yourself in his lips. It would be a lie to say that he didn't notice every detail of your face, and you would also be a hypocrite to say that you didn't look at him a little more closely when he wasn't looking at you. But feeling the softness of those lips that were always frowning in your direction was wonderful.

Heeseung lowered his lips to your chin and kissed down to your jaw, then down to your neck, and like a damn pro, he hit exactly the spot that made your whole body shudder. Your reaction couldn't have been different, letting out a sly moan and clamping your legs even tighter around him. When Heeseung's body tightened between your legs, he instinctively moved his hips towards your, thrusting his hips to give your better friction between his legs.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at each strand while your mouth worked wonders on his skin down to his collarbone.

He moved his hips again, this time you could feel Heeseung's semi-hard cock pressing against your pajama-clad pussy. Moaning once more, you tugged on his hair as he lifted his head to kiss you again.

It was breathtaking how he felt between your legs, taken by your lips and touching your body with his fingertips. Your waist was perfect, fitting exactly between his palms as he pressed you even tighter against him. It was Heeseung's turn to moan against your lips when you planted your feet on his lower back to press Heeseung's hips even tighter against yours, nibbling on his lower lip to catch your breath.

"Y/n" he moaned your name and you almost whimpered and asked him to rip off all your clothes and fuck you right there. Heeseung would do it for sure, you wouldn't even think of denying it because of the way he was squeezing every curve of your body and chasing his lips to kiss you again.

If it hadn't been for the incessant crying upstairs. The two of you separated for a few seconds to see if you had heard the same thing. Heeseung's eyes traveled to yours and then to the kitchen door, hearing Hajun's crying again.

With great difficulty, he climbed out from between your legs, feeling the loss of contact grow cold between his fingers as he took a few steps back and took your hand to help you down from the worktop. Heeseung looked at you a little better this time. Lips reddened and the skin on your neck the same, a few bite marks he'd left while kissing there made him smile a little sideways as he saw your eyes go down to his cock.

"Oh" Heeseung threw his oversized blouse over it, even though it only covered half of his lower body, but he couldn't stop it.

You'd even tease him about how beautiful he looked with his hair messed up – by you – and his red mouth too inviting to keep kissing. But Hajun had called your name, taking you away from all the unholy thoughts you were having in the kitchen with Heeseung.

"Shit" you turned away from Heeseung and watched him throw his head back, as frustrated as you were to get it over with as the two of you ran to the top of the stairs. Climbing each step a little faster until you entered Hajun's room and were followed by his older brother "Hey, I'm here."

"I had a bad dream, Y/n" he was crying, hugging your body quickly as soon as you sat on the edge of the bed.

You kissed the top of Hajun's head and looked at the door, beckoning Heeseung to come in too. And so he did.

"Hey buddy, are you okay?" Heeseung knelt beside the bed where you were sitting with Hajun.

"Seungie" the younger man pulled out of your embrace, this time choosing to hug his brother, "I had a bad dream."

"Do you want to tell us what it was like?" Heeseung asked.

Hajun remained quiet for a while still hugging Heeseung, probably calming down from the fright he'd had as he got out of his brother's arms and lay back on the bed. You dried the stubborn tears from his face with such a gentle touch, that it made Heeseung wonder if you would have done the same for him if you had seen him cry earlier.

What kind of fucking thought is that, Heeseung? He pushed any thoughts of this aside and focused on the scene in front of him, seeing that Hajun looked a little calmer as he sighed.

"I dreamt about my father" the mention of the man, made Heeseung's jaw clenched, and he wanted to curse himself so much for seeing that your eyes were on him now. Surely this could come up as a topic of conversation or, worse, now you could find out about his father. And that was a subject Heeseung didn't want anyone to know about.

"And do you remember what it was like?" you asked.

"Never mind, Hajun's tired—"

"He fought with me in the dream" Hajun interrupted Heeseung who was already on his feet, he didn't want to pace around while listening to his brother's dream "And then I saw him beating up Seungie and leaving the house with my favorite teddy bear."

Before Hajun could cry again, you grabbed one of his hands and kissed it.

"It was just a dream, it won't happen, Junie" trying to reassure the little boy that it would never happen was easier than you thought. He smiled at you.

"Promise you won't let it happen? That you'll look after me, but Heeseung too?"

Hajun's eyes were so pleading and piteous. You wondered if Heeseung did the same thing when he wanted something. But also, you wondered why that had been said. Why had Hajun asked you to do that kind of thing?

Your lack of words made Heeseung restless, moving from side to side until he went to the bedroom door. Perhaps you had been clear in your attitude that you were only there to look after Hajun. He just didn't know why it was bothering him so much, leaving a slight tightness in his chest. It could be because of his brother's dream, of course! That was it, wasn't it? Or was it his lack of an answer?

Heeseung didn't want to think too much, he didn't want to let anything get to him. But he was completely wrong when standing in the doorway of Hajun's room, he heard you.

"I promise, Junie."

If before it was inevitable not to look at you while you were around, now it seemed impossible for Heeseung to look away from you. Even having to spend a whole week with just you, him, and Hajun.

The boy had the vivid memory of your lips against him in that kitchen every time he saw you say something. Your mouth moved to answer something his younger brother or talk on the phone to his mother because she called and wanted to know if everything was okay. Heeseung wanted to curse himself for remembering the sounds you made and how he felt when he got between your legs. It might have sounded pathetic to any guy who said it out loud, especially if it was about you.

He'd certainly heard half an hour of Jake's lecture about what had happened, especially as he didn't dare to say much afterward.

"She thinks I'm an idiot, then?" Heeseung asked.

"More than usual? Absolutely" Jake wanted to throw anything in his hand at his friend's head, especially after he saw the gleam in Heeseung's eye when he talked about you.

It was clear that all that denial was turning into attraction and Sim knew it would, he didn't read the silly novels that Ryunjin pushed at him for nothing, something would have to do and sure enough, it was the analysis he'd done on your – unofficial – relationship with Heeseung. Something he kept quiet until his older friend opened his mouth and told him everything.

At first, the kiss had been something that had shocked Jake, after all, Heeseung couldn't spend two seconds next to you without an argument breaking out. But as he went on to tell you about the events and how he had been acting around you during that week, something in Jake clicked. It wasn't necessarily a crush, but something in Heeseung about finding you attractive or starting to take a romantic interest in you.

"That's got to be a joke, doesn't it?" Heeseung turned to Jake and then looked at Sunghoon, another friend of the two of them who always listened to the lamentations and frustrations about how Heeseung had argued – again – with you.

"Firstly, you didn't deny it at any point when Jake talked about you being attracted to Y/n ever since we arrived" Sunghoon leaned back even further in the café chair, holding back a smile when he saw his friend's eyes go wide "Secondly, you kissed her, like, do you do that with someone you can't stand?"

Heeseung wanted to say yes, that was exactly it. It would be normal to kiss someone he can't stand, right? But the question would be... Why can't he stand himself?

After keeping quiet for a while, he tried to forget how right his friends were because he didn't want to dwell on something he was struggling to forget, especially since his mother's week away was over and that meant you'd be going back home. No more seeing you at home all the time, at least not alone. This would give him time to think more calmly and put all his thoughts in order, which could make him even more confused if it were possible.

Sighing heavily after returning from university, Heeseung just wanted to throw himself on his bed and forget about all that mental confusion for the next few days. Isolate himself, do his homework, and pretend you weren't downstairs in his house. Maybe that would be easy. Maybe he could ignore it a little and try not to run around looking like an idiot in front of you because he's had a whole week, uninterrupted, to say a single word to you. But no, Heeseung couldn't.

At least he said good morning and smiled at you every day while you were with Hajun, right? You shouldn't smile back, you shouldn't make him almost scream internally because you were being nice to him.

Shit, Heeseung. You sound like a teenager, you idiot. He might even have continued talking in his head if it hadn't been for the voices coming from the living room.

Heeseung didn't want to think that he had arrived at his house after you and that he would see the scene of you fooling around with Hajun. He tried to run as far as he could when Jake gave him a lift so he wouldn't have to wait for you to get home and have lunch with you. At least not that day. But to the boy's surprise, the voices were much more different than his own.

And he knew – unfortunately – who it was.

"Look, you're here" in the old days, Heeseung would have given anything to hear that voice cheerfully after coming home from school, perhaps if he were in eighth grade again. But coming home from university with a sick feeling in his stomach, he just wanted to throw up as he looked at his father.

"Son" his mother got up from the sofa where she was, not so close to his father, and they both seemed to be having an amicable conversation before Heeseung arrived.

"What are you doing here?" he asked directly to the man who was trying to smile in his direction.

"Your father called me yesterday, he misses you and Hajun" his mother had the sweetest voice of all, and on any occasion. Heeseung wanted to ask her how she was feeling in the presence of that man. It was impossible to have such a beautiful smile and calm voice after everything he had done.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he knew that his pent-up anger would come out somehow, he just didn't want to explode in front of his mother. At least Hajun wasn't there.

"I asked your mother to spend a weekend with you and Hajun" he took a step forward to try to get closer to Heeseung. The boy did the same, mustering the only ounce of sanity he had not to slam his fist into the man's face. Unfortunately, it was still his father.

"I won't, and you won't get Hajun out of this house."

"Heeseung" his mother called out.

"What's your problem, Mom? Really?" Heeseung turned away from his father and walked to the middle of the room to approach his mother. It was almost like a plea when he let out, "After everything he's done, you still have the nerve to let him in and allow this? No!"

"He's still your father, my son" she smiled weakly "And it's only a weekend..."

"No" he said.

The protests could continue, Heeseung knew that this discussion would be so long that they would spend hours in that room. They shouted and protested that they wouldn't leave, but the door opened quickly.

Hajun's hurried footsteps and the conversation he was having with you were the reason the three of them shut up immediately.

"I can't do without this ice cream, Y/n. Please" Hajun whined. When you laughed, it was the only thing that could make Heeseung relax his shoulders, even if he didn't want to admit it. The sound of your laughter so close up awakened something in him.

"We can go to the other side of town after you've done your homework" you said, making the little boy giggle. Okay, maybe you were right, but he'd still convince you to go across town to the best ice cream parlor you and he had visited last week.

"Dad?" Hajun was the first to enter the room, looking at the scene before him. Upon hearing this, you took a few more hurried steps behind the little boy to be equally shocked by what you were seeing.

The father of the Lee family was there, for the first time since you started babysitting Hajun. Mrs. Lee had a small smile when she saw the little boy go towards her to hug him affectionately. But what caught your eye was Heeseung's furious look. That look you knew because it was the only thing you saw all that time, except when he looked at Hajun or his mother.

So Heeseung was angry at his father, the man who was smiling at you at that moment.

"Hello, you're..." he tried to make conversation when he saw that no one would say anything.

"Oh, I'm Y/n, Hajun's nanny" you approached to greet the smiling man, smiling too. But as soon as your hand almost touched him, a strong tug on your wrist made you stagger backward.

Your eyes quickly searched for the reason to find Heeseung already looking at you.

"Come up with Hajun, please" he ordered.

"Heeseung..."

"Not now, just go up with him" he whispered when he saw that Hajun was engaged in an awkward conversation with his father and mother "And stay there as long as you can."

"Are you okay?" Heeseung didn't want to have another clash of feelings at that moment, especially with your gaze so intensely on him. So he just nodded quickly and looked away to the other three.

"Junie, go upstairs with Y/n. I heard you need to do your homework..."

"But I wanted to meet the babysitter and, well, spend some time with your brother" the older man seemed quite nice, but if that was the reason Heeseung was clenching his hands into fists, it was certainly a false front.

"Hajun, go with Y/n" was the older brother's final word, and from the way the little boy didn't even question it, you knew it was something much more delicate.

As a silent apology, Mrs. Lee waved to you and Hajun before going upstairs to the youngest's room.

"Do you want to take a shower before you start your homework?" you asked, going to his closet to get some clothes that were more comfortable than his school uniform.

Searching for some sweat shorts and a T-shirt, you turned towards him to see Hajun's eyes redden and shine. Running up to the little one, you knelt in front of him before feeling little arms encircling your neck.

"Hey, hey, hey... Are you okay?" you whispered as you hugged him, sitting down on the floor to welcome the little one into a tight embrace.

"I don't like it, Y/n... I don't like it."

"What? What don't you like?" as you asked, your hands went straight to the little one's hair to stroke it as you let him cry in your embrace.

Hajun cried silently for a few minutes, sobbing softly as he felt a little safer in your arms.

"The last time Dad was here..." he sighed between whimpers, lifting his head a little to meet your face "He and Heeseung had a nasty fight, but neither of them knows that I know."

"Your mother knows?" you asked, Hajun agreed.

It was the night the betrayal came to light that Heeseung didn't want to put his mother through all that lying to sustain a marriage that was only for her. His father had been gone for a long time, or at least trying to maintain an appearance that didn't exist.

Hajun was supposed to be asleep that night, but Heeseung's furious shouts woke him up, causing him to get out of bed and open the bedroom door with a crack. Hearing the swearing and shouting, he also heard something. It sounded like a struggle. Mrs. Lee's crying aroused Hajun's despair and he almost went downstairs to see what was going on, why Heeseung was cursing his father. Hajun had never heard his older brother swear like that.

But before he could go downstairs, his mother stopped midway with watery eyes and a silent plea for him to go back to his room.

"Stay here, okay? And don't tell them about it" Hajun knew something was very wrong because he had never seen his mother cry. And after a few minutes, the fighting seemed to stop.

The front door slammed hard and then Hajun tried to forget what had happened for so long until he only remembered after seeing his father's figure standing there in the middle of the room. They were flashes of the small event that was much bigger, and it made you even more curious because Hajun's words were few, even though they contained a lot of information since you were left in the dark when you arrived.

At least there was something to know, but it wasn't as if you needed to ask him everything either. You just wanted to protect him and you would do that, the questions could come later.

"God, dude, stop drinking" Jake whined as Heeseung poured himself another glass, ignoring his friend's protests.

"Why?" he asked "As far as I remember, we came here because I'm sad and I need to get drunk."

"Drunk is fine, but not to the point of vomiting" Jake took another glass away from Heeseung "I'm taking you away and I don't want anyone vomiting in my car."

It was a fair point, but Heeseung didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He wanted to forget the last few weeks.

He wanted to forget that, unfortunately, his father had had a shitty, friendly talk with his mother, agreeing that he would take Hajun away for at least one weekend to go for a walk or do something nice. Even if the boy's fights and constant swearing came to nothing. He knew he couldn't stop it, not legally, so as long as nothing happened to the little boy, Heeseung vowed not to speak a word to his father.

Then he became even more frustrated by your presence in his home, and this was because, as the days went by, he realized that he could feel something. Not even the slightest something for you. But what he didn't count on was the fury that went through his whole being when he saw you laughing with a boy in the university cafeteria. Heeseung hardly ever saw you there, or if he did, it was always with Ryunjin, so why did it bother him so much?

The last fact had been a state secret, none of his friends knew anything about it. So they attributed Heeseung's bad mood and sadness to the events with his father and how powerless he felt to let Hajun meet the man he hated most on the face of the earth.

"I might as well go home alone" Heeseung flashed all his pearly teeth in a childish grin when Sunghoon arrived with a few more glasses.

He was such a savior of the fatherland, making his sad friend, who just wanted to get drunk at that moment, happy.

"So why did you ask me for a ride?" Jake raised one eyebrow, smiling "Why did you say you wouldn't drive and I was supposed to take you back home?"

"Because you love me and would do anything for me" Heeseung picked up another glass and turned away from Jake to drink.

There was no point in arguing or stopping the tallest boy from drinking that night, not even Sunghoon could do it. The only way out was to surrender and let Heeseung enjoy as much as he could, even if Jake sneered every time the glass was against Lee's lips.

He wondered what the car would look like if it swayed too much while he was taking Heeseung home, or what he would look like in the back seat or even in the back if he had to take Sunghoon too.

And it was this scene that Jake found himself in, a few hours later, as he carried his two best friends out of the bar. Sunghoon was in the driver's seat to guide the way while Heeseung sat in the back seat, his legs wide apart and his head resting against the back of the seat.

Jake looked in the rearview mirror, afraid that some fluid would come out of Heeseung's mouth or that he would have to stop abruptly so that his friend would run off and vomit. But no, the journey continued normally until the three of them stopped in front of Lee's house. Meanwhile, Heeseung's mind was far away. Closed eyes had been a plague on his life for the past few weeks because every time it happened, your face would appear in his mind. It was something Heeseung tried at all costs to ignore. Something he swore to himself that if it happened again, he would have to take action.

And it was impossible not to think about you after the last scene he saw, your smile at that other boy still played like a memorized movie in his mind and even if you hadn't meant it, Heeseung had no right to feel that way. He was the one who had been a jerk to you all along, you couldn't be expected to be sweet to him about it.

"Heeseung" Sunghoon called out, turning back to touch his friend's knee. He opened his eyes slowly, getting used to the idea of seeing his friend's face and not his own in his thoughts.

"What's up?" he asked as soon as he was off the bench and sitting properly.

"We're here" Jake said, turning off the car "Do you want us to go in with you?"

A while of silence was enough for Heeseung's mind to wander even further and, without realizing it, it had already come out of his mouth without giving him a chance to regret it.

"Take me to Y/n's house."

"What the fuck?" Sunghoon almost shouted. Jake turned around abruptly, almost hitting Sunghoon head-on.

"Dude, what the fuck? Why are you asking me this?" he asked.

Really, why was he asking this? Heeseung didn't have an effective explanation for it, much less did he think he should. He just felt like it.

"I don't know, I just need to see her now and..." a long sigh came from his lips, Heeseung allowed himself to run one hand through his hair as he looked at Jake and then at Sunghoon "I need to make up for the shit I've done and tell her that I can't stop thinking about her."

"Oh" the two friends said at the same time, Jake swallowing down the urge to shout and say that it was all part of the little novel he'd written in his head about you and Heeseung. But that would be something for future conversations.

"Only if you tell me something" Jake said.

"Whatever you want to know" since everything was screwed up, there was no point in hiding anything from his best friend.

"Your father wasn't the only reason we were at the bar hours ago, was he?"

The shy smile that Heeseung tried to hide by biting his lower lip said it all, he didn't need a specific word for Jake or Sunghoon. It was clear how exactly that said that you had also been a reason, even if neither of them knew what it was.

Seeing Heeseung like that was new for the two boys sitting in the driver's and passenger's seats, so all that was left was for Jake to start the car again and drive to your apartment. Without asking Heeseung any questions about it.

But nothing stopped Sunghoon from making fun of him the whole way.

Words of encouragement were a mantra in the boy's mind who, with every step into the building where you lived, felt his whole body tremble. It was strange to be feeling this way, even more so for him who had never been this attached. Heeseung had never really thought that a girl could make him so nervous that he almost tripped over his own feet as he entered the elevator.

What could he say to you when he knocked on your door? That he wanted to see you? That would be something you wouldn't believe, even if it was the only truth he could tell you.

It made Heeseung rethink everything he'd ever said to you and the way he'd treated you since he met you. He didn't mean to be rude and he knew that it was all a reflection of what he had experienced with his father's disagreements. You, unfortunately, were the only person around and he didn't want the sight of someone new coming into his house. Because the last person to come out from under that roof had made a huge stranger in his life.

Heeseung didn't want to give in to someone like you, who came so easily into the Lee family's life and won over even his mother. The way she talked to you, the way she treated you like a member of the family. Heeseung rolled his eyes every time his mother brought the same candies, but not just for him and Hajun, she brought them for you too. Or how affectionate she was with you when you were at his house, chatting like old friends and laughing at things he didn't understand. He didn't want to understand why his mother was so happy after finding out she had been betrayed while Heeseung was suffering and disgusted by his father's image.

It was something he hadn't understood until recently. Maybe all the answers were right in front of his eyes, he just didn't want to accept it yet. So he needed to throw his hands up in the air and knock on your door right then and there, and that's exactly what he did.

He didn't know how you would react and he didn't want to, just looking at you would be enough for him to smile and walk away. Maybe apologize and say some lame excuse the next day and hope you believed his words.

Heeseung heard footsteps from inside the apartment and some mumbling that you were already on your way, indicating that you weren't ready for visitors or were far enough away to answer the door. Apprehension gripped his entire body as he took a few steps closer to hear what was going on inside.

As soon as you opened it, finishing putting on one of the sleeves of your long coat, Heeseung's world seemed to stop right there.

You were beautiful. More beautiful than he'd ever seen you before. Sharing the same roof with you for a week when his mother went away gave him the right to see you in your pajamas practically every night, but he didn't know that you looked even more beautiful in light silk pajamas and wearing a wool coat to cover your exposed arms.

"Heeseung?" your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked at your face, the shock and curiosity screaming in your eyes making him feel euphoric. He didn't know what to say as he saw that you were still standing there, slightly startled by his presence.

He opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds to say something, but nothing seemed to come out. It was as if Heeseung had unlearned how to say anything because your gaze was making him shy.

When you took a step towards him, as if to get the attention of the boy in front of you, Heeseung didn't reason enough. He just raised one of his hands to touch the wool of your jacket and pulled you forward. The slow thud of your body against his made you let out a startled cry, which soon calmed down when Heeseung looked you in the eye.

"Jake gave me your address," he whispered "I needed to come here."

"Why?" your low voice sent all kinds of sensations through Heeseung's body and he wanted to be able to run away, but he limited himself. Squeezing his fingers against the wool of your jacket and loosening the fabric little by little.

"Because I want to talk to you, can we?" it was your time to deny it, tell him to go home and carry on without talking to Heeseung because a conversation with him would never end well.

But it wasn't like you to do anything you really should, so you gave him the go-ahead to enter your apartment and guide him to the sofa. Asking him to sit down before disappearing down the corridors. Just long enough for Heeseung to take off his jacket and put it on the armchair next to him, then sit down on the larger sofa and look around. Trying to get as many details as possible in case one day you asked him what he thought of your apartment.

Not that it mattered, he could say he'd need to go there more often to notice anything different. But remembering the first time you were here could be something useful and nice, perhaps.

"Here" you came back into the living room with a glass of water in your hands, walking over to the sofa where he was sitting and handing him the glass.

"Thanks" he said after taking the glass, drinking almost all the water in a matter of seconds. This was an indication of how nervous he still was after feeling your weight next to him on the sofa, the closest you'd been since the kiss you two had shared in the kitchen at his house.

Heeseung placed his glass on the coffee table and continued to stare at his own feet as he sighed slowly, clasping his hands together and playing with his fingers.

"My relationship with my father is the worst of all, and you've realized that haven't you?" you mumbled when he asked, albeit rhetorically, letting him continue his train of thought when he looked at you straight away "He cheated on my mother and ruined our family."

Oh. So that's why Heeseung was so harsh in his father's presence. And you couldn't understand how someone could betray Mrs. Lee, even if she was such an incredible woman.

"When my mother hired you, it was because she wanted to keep Hajun entertained most of the time and she knew I wouldn't be able to do that because I signed up for everything the university offered. Just so I wouldn't stay at home and have to deal with my father showing up."

Heeseung hated to lie that he had been neglectful to his younger brother about this, but he also couldn't risk bumping into his father and ending up fighting with the man in his younger brother's presence. That's when Mrs. Lee hired you as a nanny. Having someone to give the little one the attention that neither she nor Heeseung could be her priority. Someone you knew – even if you and Heeseung didn't speak to each other at the time – made the woman feel relieved because you seemed to have hit it off with the little one straight away.

"Seeing you integrate into the family made me feel angry because no one could like such a broken family with a false front" Heeseung was still looking at you, but his thoughts were a little more distant when he rambled "My mother wasn't happy when she hired you as a nanny. Hajun wasn't so happy when he met you and he only did it because my mother asked him to be nice to whoever was going to take care of him" a long sigh came from Heeseung's lips, looking away from you. "And I didn't accept that someone would be so nice to us because the last person who treated me, my brother, and my mother, so well, betrayed all of us."

You listened intently, seeing how broken Heeseung was inside your home. Opening his heart to you and asking for nothing in return.

He spoke for the first time about what it was like to have caught his father that night at the bar, how he felt the anger consume his body, and how he fought so many times until the man finally left the house. The divorce proceedings were kept under wraps because Hajun couldn't have known that something bad was going on, and your role was important in distracting him.

Heeseung admitted everything. And all the bad treatment he's given you since he met you was because he didn't know how to separate what was bad with his father, and that it shouldn't show to anyone. You wouldn't be like his father to anyone in the family, but amid the whole divorce process, you were there. Doing good for the Lee family without even knowing it.

And he didn't think he deserved it. I knew that Hajun deserved everything wonderful because he would spare his brother any bad feelings, but when you started being nice to Heeseung, he only knew how to be defensive.

You weren't supposed to greet him every time you were at home, you weren't supposed to flash smiles in his direction, let alone wave after a short answer he gave. Heeseung was rude – even for no reason – and you were still nice to him. Or at least polite. He wanted to believe that it was out of pure politeness and because Hajun was almost always around.

"I know I was a complete idiot and you never deserved that anyway" he slid his hand up to rest on your knee, feeling the slow touch of your fingers against his. Hesitantly, you took Heeseung's hand to intertwine your fingers in each other's "And that day in my kitchen..."

"We don't— Don't need to talk about..."

"I want to talk about it" he interrupted you, squeezing your fingers lightly and looking at you. This forced you to look at him too and maintain eye contact as you listened to every word Heeseung had to say "It was the day I saw my father in the bar, I left very angry."

You wanted to ask why he had gone after his father because Heeseung liked to beat himself up about it. But perhaps that was a conversation for another time, his gaze was so intent on you that all you could think about was every word he said.

"When I got home and you were in the kitchen, arguing was so unbearable that I acted on impulse when I kissed you and..." Heeseung's gaze dropped to your mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry gulp as he swallowed his saliva nervously "I didn't regret it, because I wanted it again."

"You—"

"I don't know what you did, Y/n, but I can't stop thinking about that day" neither can I, you wanted to answer, but hearing you say everything without a hint of pressure was wonderful. Maybe you'd confess later, but hearing his confession first was much better "You make me nervous, and want to kiss you every time we're near each other."

It was your turn to swallow. Heeseung was still staring at your mouth as if he were mesmerized by every detail of your lips when he felt your hand break away from his and go to the face next to you. You pulled him by the chin and felt Heeseung's breath against your skin from the sudden contact.

"We're too close now, what can you do?" you whispered.

He knew very well what to do and he wasn't going to waste any more time as he had done in previous weeks. Heeseung allowed his lips to touch yours slowly, but showing the urgency he had to feel you like that again.

You completely surrendered to the moment of having to kiss Heeseung again, this time knowing the exact moment when he asked for permission to enter your mouth with his tongue and how much slower his lips were now. Each movement was well appreciated as his hands slid down to your waist and yours ran to the back of his neck. Pulling Heeseung close, almost as if he wanted to fuse him against your body. And he would certainly do that if necessary.

But all he did was lay you back against the sofa while still maintaining the slow rhythm of the kiss, sighing against your lips as you spread your legs to accommodate Heeseung's body between them. It was a scene from heaven to be there again and in a slightly better position than sitting on a kitchen worktop. Heeseung could have sworn he cried in the middle of that kiss at being so close to you again.

Like a memory from last time, as soon as you both felt the need for air and he slid his mouth over yours, a moan came out of his throat. As sly as if he was really inside you when Heeseung kissed a specific spot on your neck.

That sound triggered something in him that, at the same moment, Heeseung pressed his hips against yours so that you could feel the full effect that just one kiss had on him.

"Hee..." you whispered as he returned with kisses all over your skin until he reached your earlobe, nibbling the skin slowly before aligning his face with yours again.

"You wouldn't be able to stop me now, would you?" he whispered back, kissing your mouth as slowly as he moved his hips against yours. It was torturous and at the same time sensual to feel Heeseung's tongue slide against yours at the same pace as he pressed his hard cock between your legs.

You moaned once more, anchoring your legs and holding his body there. Helping with the pressure and making him moan this time, biting his lower lip to break the kiss.

"You're going to be the death of me, Y/n" he gasped as he looked into your eyes. The fucking beautiful expression with the disheveled hair and droopy eyes, red mouth and chest rising and falling to normalize breathing.

"My room isn't too far from here" you pulled him back to you, feeling his lips hover over yours. Heeseung's smile widened even more.

"Good" he sealed his lips to yours "I haven't stopped wondering how this would end since the day I kissed you in that damn kitchen."

He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the sofa to pick you up and carry you to your room with your instructions along the way.

Heeseung just didn't know that you were also thinking about it, about to unravel all that thought.

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luveline · 1 day

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more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure.

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips.

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.”

You step over it and almost slip.

“Careful,” someone says.

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.”

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably.

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you.

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?”

“Let me help you with this.”

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock.

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down.

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?”

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.”

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving.

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.”

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack.

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.”

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…”

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.”

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested.

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.”

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly.

His voice is velveteen.

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.”

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.”

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I pay you back?”

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist.

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive.

“How would you do that?” you ask.

“Is there anything else you… need help with?”

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too.

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.”

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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emmyrosee · 2 days

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for @mareeeahdenizeze 🫶🏻

The letter hangs heavy in your hands as you hold it, the contents making your eyes sting with frustrated, disappointed tears. You’ve dreaded this day since you submitted your application, and here it came, hitting you in the face like a ton of bricks.

Your heart pounds and your stomach queases, and you feel like you could pass out at this very moment, with a note of rejection clutched in your fist.

“Whats that?”

Your boyfriend asks, and you turn to face him with the saddest smile he’s ever seen- he winces from how you’re looking at him, “what’s wrong?”

You say nothing. You merely pass him the note, letting his own eyes glaze over the contents. They raise, then drop in disapproval, then furrow in annoyance. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you whimper.

“Well, fuck ‘em.”

“Sukuna!”

“What!” He scoffs. “You want me to be kind to the dumbasses who wouldn’t be able to recognize intellect and talent if it shanked them in the kidney? You’re out of your fucking mind.”

You sigh shakily, unable to conjure a voice to speak up and tell him to stop, to just let you be sad and mourn the disappointment of not making it in, leave you to be upset; you merely burrow into his chest to try and hide your face, and the second his arms toss around you, the floodgates open.

Tears spill from your eyes and soak his shirt, your chest hiccuping against him, and he gently shushes you and cradles the back of your head in his thick, warm hands. “They’re not worth it babe… they could be so lucky to have you, and they blew it. That’s not on you.”

“I just wasn’t good enough for them-“

Immediately, he pulls back and grips your cheeks in his hands, and you nuzzle into his grip to ground yourself. “Don’t fucking say that,” he snaps. “You’re fucking plenty and then some. You are more than enough. Them being fucking stupid enough to not see how worth it you are, is their fucking problem that you’re now taking out on yourself. Stop.”

With a soft sniffle, you nod and close your teary eyes, letting him envelope you in another close, tight hug. “Don’t cry… you should be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.”

You fist his shirt sharply, and to combat the flood of emotions, you turn your gaze up to him with a tired smile. “Softy,” you whimper, and he rolls his eyes.

“I show any sign of affection and you mock me for it, how the fuck do you expect me to keep giving it to you?”

He’s full of it and you know it, and you burrow your face in his chest while a massive hand cradles the back of your head, pressing tender kisses to the crown as a gentle reminder that he’s still here, no matter what.

“You know you’re smart, right?” He whispers, “you know you deserve the best?”

When you nod, he hums and squeezes you close, “good. Because you chose me, and that’s like. The smartest idea you’ve ever had.”

You laugh and his own chest rumbles with a chuckle.

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theemporium · 2 days

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[3.5k] after his iconic first race win in formula one, lando gets to celebrate with his three favourite people. or, the charlandax smut i accidentally promised after a lando win with a lestappen podium. (smut)

note: this is fucking filthy and i kinda feel like i need to go to a confession booth. okay bye, nobody perceive me after this. she’s also unedited so beware (I’m too lazy to reread and edit rn)

Lando Norris felt like he was on top of the fucking world but maybe that was just how it felt from the top step of the podium.

It hadn’t really hit him yet, despite his ears ringing from his own screams and the cheers from the crowd and the fans and his own team. It didn’t feel real until the national anthem began playing through the speakers, until he heard his team singing along, until he realised this was his reality.

He was a Grand Prix winner.

Finally.

Surreal was the only word to describe how he felt. After years of second-place and third-place podium finishes, of people telling him his time would come, of having so many close calls, he did it. He fucking did it. And he didn’t just skim a win, it was fully fucking his as he soared past the chequered flag.

And for once, Lando basked in the knowledge that all eyes were on him. It didn’t give him that prickling, itching feeling under his skin. It didn’t make him want to hunch his shoulders up to his ears. It didn’t make the little voice in the back of his head send him spiralling over every little thing he could be doing wrong.

He had just won the Miami Grand Prix and everyone was staring at him and he fucking loved it.

But it meant more than just a win to Lando, it meant so much more than a trophy to add to his collection back home. It was about the years spent achieving this dream. It was about the effort and the support he had from the team to reach this point. It was about sharing this moment and standing on the podium with two people who meant the fucking world to him with the third watching all three of them from down below.

It meant the fucking world to Lando.

It was a blur of happiness and excitement and adrenaline as he stood on that top step. It felt like he was in a movie when the trophy was handed to him, the number one staring back at him like it was reminding him he had done it. It felt like a fucking dream when the champagne celebration started, his hand barely wrapped around the neck of the bottle when Charles and Max drenched and drowning him in champagne.

It was completely fucking unbelievable this was finally his reality.

Time was a blur of big smiles, loud cheers and so many people congratulating him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, it made something in his chest burst with pride as he felt his team slap him on the back as he walked through the garage. He felt like his life was complete when you threw your arms around him, tugging him close until your bodies felt like one.

“M’so cold,” he murmured as he wound his arms around you, holding you closer as he buries his face into your neck for some privacy, despite the countless cameras pointing at him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear because he was the only one who mattered in that moment. “This is the first of many.”

He sniffled, feeling his throat close up a bit but he just squeezed you tighter when the words didn’t come out as smoothly as he wanted.

However, you were pulled away from him seconds later as he was directed towards the camera. With media duties and team debriefs and many more commitments, he didn’t have time to stop and celebrate with the people he wanted. He had to perform for the cameras, for the fans, for the people watching before he could.

And honestly, he couldn't complain. There were worse problems to have.

His brain was running a million miles an hour, so many thoughts and feelings and emotions to try and comprehend that he barely noticed the other person in his driver’s room until the door shut behind him and he felt a pair of lips on his.

“I am so proud of you, mon champion,” Charles murmured against his lips, the kiss short-lived due to the huge smile on his face. He pulled back enough to look at Lando properly, his hands holding the Brit’s face. “So, so proud of you.”

Lando felt his cheeks burn. “M’glad you and Max were up there with me,” he admitted, that funny feeling in his chest returning before he glanced around the room noticing that Charles was the only one in his driver room. “Where are the others?” Pause. “How did you even sneak in here?”

“I have my ways,” Charles answered vaguely, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And I’m here to help you hurry up. They are waiting in the car.”

Lando snorted. “And they sent you to hurry me up?”

“I may have come third, mon amour, but I’m still fast.”

Despite his words, it took a few more minutes of Charles pressing kisses all over his face and mumbling a load of French that Lando didn’t understand before he was finally able to grab his belongings and make it out of the McLaren motorhome.

His whole body was buzzing with energy, far too hyped up to even care about the way his face burned when he climbed into the backseat of Charles’ race weekend car, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

This.

This was what he had been waiting for.

This moment to be with the people who loved more than his heart knew he was capable of. A moment to be with the people who believed in him no matter what, even when the rest of the world doubted him.

And if Lando was being so completely honest, he was so lost in the buzz of his win that he didn’t think anything about your hand resting on his upper thigh. He was still lost in the race a few hours ago, still lost in the feeling of crossing the line and hearing Will’s voice over the radio confirming he secured his first Formula One Grand Prix win.

So lost in that moment that he barely had a chance to drop his backpack on the floor of Max’s huge hotel suite before the Dutchman was reaching for him. With the privacy of the hotel room door locked from the rest of the world, Max didn’t hold back as he raked his hand through Lando’s curls. His fingers twisted in his hair, tugging sharply as his teeth nipped the Brit’s bottom lip.

Lando couldn’t help himself when he let out a whine.

“Fuck,” Max groaned, tugging on his hair again as he watched Lando’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at our race winner, hm? So pretty, schat.”

Lando’s lips parted but words were lost on him. Instead, his eyes darted where you saddled up against Max’s side, head resting on his shoulder as you looked at Lando with a massive grin.

“I think you broke him,” you teased, a faux pout on your lips. “Guess that throws all our plans out the window.”

Lando blinked before quickly shaking his head. “I—no, wait, what plans?”

Max grinned. “Your reward, baby. Didn’t think we were gonna celebrate your big day, huh?”

“I—” Lando paused, feeling something deep in his stomach twist in desire. “I just…I don’t know. I thought we were gonna go out…or something.”

“We could,” Charles spoke up as he slipped in behind Lando, his hands on the younger boy’s waist. “If that’s what you want. We can go out and celebrate with everyone else.”

Lando swallowed. “Or?”

“Or,” you repeated, your eyes lingering on his kiss-swollen lips. “You let us treat you like a proper race winner.”

“And what does that treatment include?” Lando asked, because that was just who he was. That little brat in him that wanted to know his options, that wanted to know exactly how he was being rewarded, who wanted to know exactly what was getting done to him. The little brat in him that was mouthy and sassy and usually got put in his place—that wanted to be put in his place.

And Max knew that. He knew that if he reached down, Lando was probably half-hard already. He knew that no matter what he said, Land would be down for it. He could see the glint in the Brit’s eyes, that realisation of what he could have without realising it.

“Anything you want,” Max murmured, his thumb lightly tracing along Lando’s bottom lip. “You’re the winner, Lando. Our winner.”

…

Anything you want.

That was his limit—completely fucking endless. He had all the control in the palm of his hands to do whatever he pleased, whatever he desired, whatever he fucking wanted.

But that wasn’t what Lando wanted. He didn’t want to be in charge. He didn’t want to be the person making the calls and decisions. That wasn’t his role in the bedroom and he never really wanted to be. He liked being the one who got to lay back, the one that people tried to tame and dominate only to realise he didn’t listen as easily as people wanted.

He liked being the one that people worked to break.

So, that was exactly what Max gave to him and Lando only slightly regretted his decision as he slumped back against the Dutchman, grinding his ass back against the older boy’s straining cock as he threw his head back against Max’s shoulder.

“Please, please, please,” Lando whined, trying to buck his hips forwards but Max kept his body in place, just where he wanted him. “S’too much.”

“I know, schatje,” Max mused, pressing a lingering kiss at the base of his neck just to hear Lando let out a small moan at the contact. “But look how pretty they look for you, all for you. You don’t want them to stop, do you?”

But Lando couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“None of that,” Max muttered, squeezing Lando’s sides to get the boy to listen. “Thought my winner was gonna be good for me, huh? Look at them, Lando. Look how good they are being for you. Look at how much they are enjoying this.”

The boy only managed to let out a whimper as he fluttered his eyes open, his chin tucking into his chest as he looked down at the sight Max was demanding of him.

And, fuck, it made his knees buckle.

The two of you were absolute fucking messes. It felt like something out of a porno, one that would have Lando panting and whining and fantasising about because never once did he think it was realistic. And yet, here you and Charles were, looking like something out of his deepest desires.

He couldn’t focus on one of you, it would have been a crime to not stare and ogle you both. The way you both looked utterly perfect on your knees in front of him, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks and looking so fucking blissed out as you both worshipped his cock—like you were fulfilling a purpose, like this was what the two of you were made for.

And it was messy as fuck, something that maybe would have been gross to everyone else in the world, but Lando thought it was so fucking hot. The evidence of his previous orgasms splattered across you both, covering your lips and chins and naked chests. The way your lips wrapped around the head of his cock as Charles licked down the underside of his cock until he nosed Lando's balls. The way Charles had one hand wrapped around his leaking cock, pumping and stroking himself as you squeezed and played with your tits like it would give you some relief.

But it wasn’t about your pleasure or Charles’ or Max’s.

It was all about Lando.

“Such good sluts on their knees for you,” Max muttered, lips brushing against his ear as his warm breath tickled against Lando’s skin. “Usually that’s you, schat. Getting on your knees for me, doing whatever I tell you.”

“Fuck,” he let out in a breathless whimper, turning his head to try and nuzzle his face into Max’s neck.

“Do you like this, Lando? Like seeing them be such whores for your cock? So desperate and needy?” Max continued, his hands tightening on the younger boy’s waist as he looked down at you and Charles.

You let out a whine at his words, your thighs clenched together and your eyes fluttering shut as you traced your tongue along the slit of his cock. Your moans vibrated around his cock, leaving the boy a puddle underneath your touch as Charles placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his balls.

“Bet they would stay there all night if you wanted them to,” Max mused as his eyes caught teary green eyes staring up at him, desperation shining in the pretty colour of them. “Bet Charles would love to take your cock down his pretty throat, he always does it so well for me. Hm, amour? Think you could take our pretty winner’s cock like a good boy?”

The sound Charles let out was pitiful and straight out of a fucking porno.

“Max,” Lando breathed out, his hands reaching back to try and grab onto the Dutchman. “Please, I-I need…”

“What do you need?” Max questioned, squeezing his sides. “Need more than their mouths, baby? Or maybe you need more than that.”

Lando felt his whole face burn as he let out a shameless moan when one of Max’s hands began wandering, when his fingers brushed along his skin before squeezing the fat of his ass.

“The champagne wasn’t enough, hm? Maybe we need to fill you up,” Max suggested, like it was something as casual as talking about dinner options. “Bet you’d feel so nice and tight around me, baby. Maybe let Charles fill your pretty throat instead.”

“Please,” Lando whined.

“Yeah, you want that?” He could feel Max’s smile against his skin. “Let our pretty girl bounce on your cock whilst we fill you up? She would look so pretty sitting on top of you.”

Lando nodded his head vigorously, his nails slightly digging into Max’s skin. “I need it, Max, need it so bad.”

Max’s teeth scraped along the side of his neck. “Beg for it.”

So he did.

He begged for it until his voice was hoarse and his legs were shaking and his babbles were practically incoherent. He begged until he felt Max’s lips on his skin, joined by Charles and yours moments later as you three kissed and worshipped every inch of his body. He begged until his face was burning red, his blush spreading down his neck and chest as you praised him—your race winner—until he couldn’t take it any more.

He begged for it as you held his face, prepping kisses all over his face whilst Max worked him open.

He begged for it as Charles marked along his neck and chest to help him relax as Max slowly slid inside him, stretching him open until he was a whimpering mess.

He begged for it as you slowly sunk down on his cock, your cunt already soaking and slick with your own arousal as he buried himself inside you.

He begged for it until his hands were gripping Charles’ thighs, nails digging into his skin as he urged his cock further down his throat until he felt fucking full.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, rocking your hips back and forth as you let your hands skim along his skin. Your fingers traced along the planes of his abs, watching them softly clench under your touch before you traced along his sides. You kept your hands moving, feeling the need to touch every fucking inch of him as he preened and squirmed under your touch. “You look so perfect like this.”

Lando let out a muffled moan around Charles’ cock.

“Letting us fill you up, make you feel so good,” you continued, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. “This is what our race winner deserves. So pretty and fast today, baby, it’s so hot.”

One of his hands let go of Charles, blindly reaching out towards you until you caught the hint to intertwine your fingers together. You raised it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of his hand and something about the soft gesture whilst his body was being fucked into an inch of his life made the boy spiral.

He couldn’t do anything but just take it, let the overwhelming pleasure wash over him until his whole body felt like it was on fire. His nerve endings felt like they had been turned up beyond the dial, like every touch was more thrilling than he could ever imagine. The words of praise was a muffled mess around him, three voices all mixed together as he felt hands all over his body. He felt safe, he felt full, he felt complete.

It was a blur of too much pleasure and excitement and gratification when he finally came, white spots dotting his vision as he felt himself completely spill inside you whilst your cunt clenched around him, as Max’s cock hit the perfect spot deep inside him with every thrust. He was so lost in his own orgasm, in his own moans and whines and noises to fully realise the domino effect he started.

To really appreciate the sight of you coming on his cock, bouncing up and down on his cock whilst your tits moved with each thrust. To really enjoy the sensation of Max coming deep inside him, squeezing him so hard that he was sure his skin would bruise the next day. To watch the way Charles stroked himself a few more times before spilling over his chest, just for you to lean down and lick up the mess until you leaned down to kiss him senseless.

To be completely honest, he was waiting to wake up and realise this whole day was a dream.

But he blinked. And blinked once more for good measure. And your smiling face was still there to reassure him this was real, that everything about today was real.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice a little rough and hoarse.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned back at him as you raised your hand to gently cup his face, your thumb wiping away a few stray tears that slipped out. “How are you feeling, Mr Race Winner?”

And despite the exhaustion settled deep in his bones, Lando beamed at you. “Feel like I’m the king of this fucking world.”

You giggled. “Then our job here is complete.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to fight the urge to curl up and sleep for the next week straight.

“Don’t tell me that’s you done for the night,” Max’s voice spoke from somewhere else in the room, somewhere away from the bed but Lando couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. “There’s a whole city wanting to celebrate with you tonight.”

“Ugh, being a race winner is so much work,” Lando whined playfully, reaching for you to pull you closer before you could pull away from him. “Let’s just stay here forever.”

“All a part of the title, mon amour,” Charles teased as he settled down beside the younger boy on the bed. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss to Lando’s forehead. “I heard the other drivers making bets on who could buy you the most shots.”

Lando let out a breath. “Fuck, they are gonna try to kill me.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen,” you assured him, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I’m sure Max would join you.”

“Thanks, schat,” Max grumbled as he wandered back into the room, a wet washcloth in his hand. “We have a few hours before we are meant to meet everyone anyways. Have a nap, you can shower when you wake up.”

Lando blinked his eyes open, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alone?”

Max rolled his eyes. “It’s never enough for you.”

“I’m a high maintenance guy,” Lando replied.

“We know,” you murmured with a snort, only to gasp when he pinched your side. “Hey!”

“You can’t yell at me, I’m a race winner,” he shot back at you, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, that is exactly how this works,” Charles snorted as he slumped down on the pillow beside Lando, reaching for the Brit to curl up beside him. “That and club blowjobs.”

“It was one time,” Max grumbled. “And it wasn’t even my idea!”

“I didn’t regret it for a second,” you smiled shamelessly at the Dutchman before raising your hand, trying to pull him down onto the bed with the three of you. “C’mon, we can clean up properly later. I wanna cuddle.”

“So needy.”

“In the wise words of race winner Lando Norris, I’m a high maintenance guy.”

“Hell yeah, baby,” Lando murmured, his cheek pressed into the pillow with a sleepy smile on his face. “Someone stitch that onto a pillow.”

“Please go to sleep before I gag you both.”

“They would probably like that, mon amour.”

“You too, Charles.”

“Always so bossy, Verstappen.”