#pour one out for him the best boy in the world
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Lassoed In Love
|| Masterlist || Chapter 2
Chapter Summary: An investigation turns into a car accident rescue, a cup of coffee, an argument...and heated kisses.
Pairing: Farmer!Clark Kent X Teacher!reader
Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, No Sex in this chapter, Slowburn, descriptions of car accident, anger management issues, no sex but lots of kissing, topic of rape being mentioned.
Word Count: 8k
Author Notes: To save me from total writers block I thought I'd share this story. I will repeat. I HAVE NOT ABANDONED MY OTHER STORIES.
Inspiring Song: "Too Sweet" by Hozier
CLARK
Tossing and turning in the blankets, Clark sighed with frustration. His head turned and stared at the empty space on the mattress. He had half the mind to drive to the dump and collect the old one again. But it still smelt like her. That selfish bitch. The mother of his daughter...Lois.
His body yearned for intimacy, aroused for the warmth of a woman. He grabbed himself beneath the sheets and groaned softly. What was he to do? Porn was starting to be an issue. Some nights he felt like a teenage boy covered in acne hiding porn magazines from his mother, only now it was deleting the internet history off the computer he shared with his daughter and hoping he wouldn’t wake her up with the wet squelching.
He sighed clenching his eyes shut. The crickets outside chirped like an obnoxious symphony. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight again. Not with how his thoughts consumed him.
‘Coffee...no...I need a whiskey.’
With a heavy set groan he rose from the covers, naked and larger than life. His muscular body moved with soft cracks down his spine. The icy floor beneath his bare feet was a gracious gift, cooling down his hot blood and calming down his own erection.
Padding to the living room, he crouched low to the liquor cabinet. All the bottles were in different places than he last recalled. He didn’t dwell as he poured himself a drink and sniffed. No smell. He lifted the glass to his lips. Water.
He blinked. Sighed. Couldn’t help the tiny jerk rise to the corner of his lips.
‘Fucking kids.’
Lara and her friends were going to the newest Mission Impossible movie, or at least that’s what he was told. Clearly, they’d snuck into the cabinet at some point and helped themselves to the joyful adult treasures while sneakily topping it off with water.
‘She is grounded. That’s for sure.’
Lara was only sixteen. His sweet pride and joy. She had been through a lot in her young life, a life Clark could only sympathise and try his best to be a good father. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, so he put on the kettle, dragged on a pair of jeans and sat outside on the porch. He gazed out at the road and fields consumed by the growing frost.
The icy air cooled down his body. His nipples grew taunt. The bright white moonlight beamed across the strong lines of his features, his years of hard labour and history in the maps of his crow feet and smile lines. His voluminous black hair with hints of silver through it fell to his shoulders, he would need to start tying it back or cut it short again. His thick pink lips pursed just sitting above his jawline, he was like a blade, sharp and strong.
His veins ran with the blood of two different worlds...but there was a certainty that he would never be able to return to one.
With his strong desire for companionship, he knew himself well. Though he controlled it, there were times when he needed the physical touch of a woman. He often met with Diana Prince, a widowed woman who lived in Cottonwood Falls. Theirs was a purely physical arrangement, with neither interested in marriage. Clark tried to keep their visits infrequent, aware that her gossiping neighbours would be shocked to know she was seeing a man in the middle of the night...a man who had a criminal record, a dark past.
The next day was going to be a Saturday. He would carry out the planned chores and duties on the farm. The upkeep was falling apart and he desperately needed to fix the barn roof hole and retighten the fences and cut the firewood. And in the evening he would ride his truck out to Cotton falls, park and walk the rest of the way to Ms Princes house and extinguish all the fiery rage of his loins inside of her.
He didn’t like riding his truck on the icy roads. He chewed his lips as he glanced down at his erection rising again in his jeans. He needed a woman. God help him.
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YOU
You had your own chores and plans for the Saturday. In particular there was one plan on your list you were desperate to investigate and find a resolution.
Miss Lara Kent
The girl had left highschool prematurely three months ago, a month before you had arrived to take over the role as teacher after Ms Rampling died at the age of eighty four. You had deep shoes to fill. Smallville had quite literally a small school it would seem ranging from kindergarten all the way to year twelve with only four hundred students in total.
Not a single student or teacher had mentioned her name, it was by sheer luck you’d come across her school records. It was rather bizarre that such a successful student to drop out. A straight A student. Nothing in the file indicated a decent reason to why she had left school but it had been approved none the less....the burning passion of your life work was lit a flame.
“Oh Lara?...Lara...oh...Kent...that farmers kid...yea, best be left alone,” said Miss Lana Lang, the eighth grade teacher.
How could you though? Clearly this girls future was in jeopardy if she just left it so suddenly. You needed to understand what was the choice behind this important decision. You recalled being sixteen and feeling so ready for the world only to find even yourself so unprepared when you moved out of home.
You stood in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea as you stared out your window up at the lonely moon, naked of the wreaths of stars...how could you sleep when this poor girl was making such a bad life choice?...you couldn’t imagine what her parents were thinking.
The cold wind was spreading white fog and frost against the window panels.
You were sure it would probably snow the first day of November at this rate. You rubbed your eyes and shivered. You would need to hire a handy man to fix the heater soon or else you’d freeze to death. It was never so cold in Metropolis city where you were originally from.
You’d moved here only after a month. You felt it was a sign of luck. You were struggling to find another teaching job while juggling to afford your rent....and then one-day you received a call on the phone. Out of some miracle or curse you had a great-great aunt Gwendolyn-Lee and she had a fat inheritance and a whole house left for you, her only surviving heir.
Oh and a ginger cat named Oz. With all the movie posters you had to assume your great aunts favourite film and book was none other than the Wizard of Oz.
He sat stop the old floral print arm chair, staring out the window. He turned his head and meowed wistfully. He kept to the floor and trotted over to you, threading his body around your ankles.
You sighed, “I know Ozzie, your poor bean toes must be getting cold like mine, I might need to see if there’s a pet store in this tiny town. See if they have socks for kitties.”
His meowing reply was lighter as if he had approved of your comment. You crouched to his level and ran your fingers along his orange stripe spine. It hadn’t taken him long to warm up to you. At first, he refused to leave the space beneath the bed in the master bedroom. You wondered how he had survived so long after Gwendolyn passed. You didn’t know who was feeding him. He mewled softly as you began getting dressed.
Despite the wonderful fortune you’d gained, tragedy struck when the moving van forgot to pick up the box with all your clothes.
So naturally you borrowed your dead great aunts hand made, outdated dresses. You’d never met the woman and yet the genetics were clear to be positive considering how you were both the same size.
You went with the white shirtwaist dress with lilac astor flowers embroidered along the edge and collar. You would’ve gone out to the town and bought a new wardrobe...if the shops sold anything that wasn’t still the same style from 1970.
Who were you even trying to impress, yourself? You sighed looking at the mirror. You reached for your flat shoes. ‘No one.’ Your hands ran down the front of your dress. ‘What type of man wants a woman that dresses like a grandma?’ you rolled your eyes.
You scratched Oz behind the ear, his little golden bell jingled away as he kept up onto the mattress and stretched his lithe body.
“I guess you’re the only man in my life to impress Ozzie,” you giggled as he flopped on his side and purred, snuggling his cheek on the patchwork quilt to take a fat cat nap.
Fetching the wool cardigan and car keys off the hook you grabbed the school record file and handbag.
Outside your car waited. You knew you’d have to drive carefully along the road. You prayed the address on Lara’s record was correct.
You pulled out of your driveway and watched as the small town buildings became trees and dead orange leaves. Halloween was just around the corner. Everyone was setting up their decorations, you felt strangely naked with such a bare house. It was on your shopping list to buy candies for the kids in the neighbourhood. You didn’t feel obligated to decorate or participate when you lived in your shitty city unit. But now you lived among families and country locals.
Even though the farm lands were carpeted in brown, red and orange leaves, you were looking forward to the gossip that come spring the lands would be blooming with green lush grass and waves of flowers and forests of apple trees with rushing blue creeks soaring through the valley. Smallville wasn’t very small in the proportion of its farming lands.
As you peered over to look at the map sitting on your passenger seat, you struggled to clearly see the street names.
Above the sound of your engine, you heard the sound of a moo before glancing up back over your hood. A large beast, a black bull the size of a fridge was haphazardly trotting across the road in line of your cat. You slammed the butt of your palm against the car horn before you hit the breaks hard and instant lost control on the loose dirt road. Spinning out, you uttered a prayer the big bull would move in time. You squealed as the tires burned across the trail and fields you crashed against flying dirt smoke and dry leafy grass up. Your body was lunged slightly forward before the car fully stopped and your ass hit the seat hard. You were finally caught in a man dug gutter, the cars nose diving down and the boot hanging up half on the road.
Your chest had been strangled by the seat belt when the loud bang and buff of white slammed up into your face, knocking your head back against your car seat.
Your mouth filled with blood and your face felt like it had been soccer punched. You managed to move your face to the side, sobbing at the feeling of your throbbing nose. Eyes closed in a mixture of fear and disbelief, you felt like you could barely breath, spitting up blood and crying in pain. You were gasping for air, your lungs stung like a million cuts.
You didn’t register the sound of a man’s voice asking if you were alright, nor how he flung open your door and used a pocket blade to slice through your seat belt.
The car hood was clouded in white, billowing out steam like the smoke of a Pompeii volcano.
What you do remember about your saviour was how he had the most bluest eyes that reminded you of the cleanest ponds. His hair was jet black like a crow. You stared up at those features when he curled his arm under your knees and behind your back and shoulders and hauled you out.
Your guardian angel...or the grim reaper carried you away from destruction as your head grew heavy and your eyes rolled like heavy marbles to the back of your skull.
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CLARK
He was riding along and moving his cattle from his main property over to the Nell Potter’s who had lease out her land to him for grazing before all the frost took the sustaining grass. He had watched your car, assuming that a group of cattle with legal crossing signage would have you slowing down....but your speed never changed until Chief was last in line and taking his time to walk across the path.
By some miracle you’d managed to miss the bull but only to twist out of control and crash into the edge of his corn crop before the wheel took you back up and the car slammed into the road gully.
He leaped from his saddle, yelling out to the stranger in the car as he did. He tore the car door open, slamming the bags, struggling to click out your seat belt before succumbing to using his tool knife in his pocket to cut your trapped, weak body out. You were awake, your eyes droopy, but you weren’t responding to his questions.
“What’s your name?” no answer. He tore out the keys from the car, turning the damn thing off before it had the chance to explode or catch fire.
You weren’t answering.
“You alright darlin?”
He swore loudly, shuffling your body from one arm to the other, carrying you back hurriedly down to his house. He managed to whistle his horse back over. It had to be said you were lucky he managed to get off his horse in time before you suffocated against the airbag.
He trusted his cows to stay in the Nell property, grazing on the new grass, too stupid to leave the paddock back onto the road.
Chief had run into that yard the moment your horn blared.
Clark was a strong man yet that did little to change his worries. Racing up the steps of his porch, he kicked open his front door and planted you with care along his sofa lounge.
Clark stared at you with disbelief. How could anyone be out in the bitter cold so poorly dressed? How had you managed to not slow down for such a huge bull? He wondered how you’d almost hit the massive beast instead of slowing down and breaking in time. Thank god the car had swivelled on ice for a quick turn or else he would have a dead Kerry Bull and a female corpse he’d have to talk to the police about, again.
But his anger at your careless driving was eclipsed by his grand concern. You seemed so vulnerable; underdressed and out in the middle of the countryside, if your car flipped Jwho but him or Lara would be here to come save you?
Who the hell were you?
The moment he asked himself however, a sense of recognition flooded him as it became clear who you were. There was no mistaking that you were the new schoolteacher he’d heard so much about in the farm tool supply barn store. With the way you were dressed, it was like staring back at a significantly younger, prettier version of Ms Gwendowlyn-Lee.
That old bag died just around the same time as Ms Rampling died too. And it was to be well known the pair were...special roommates for a time in their youth, but that was just gossip and talk.
He snorted softly. Of course you were hers to replace not one But two ancient Smallville women.
Nonetheless you were severely underdressed for the climate. He hastily moved to the kitchen sink and began running a pot of hot water for you. He paused as he thumbed your front buttons. Your dress was soaked in your own blood. Did you know his history? What if you came to full awakening and saw him looking over your chest and touching that spot...would you start screaming that vile word too?
He huffed annoyed, shaking his head. He got up and returned to the warm water pot. If you didn’t wake up in the next ten minutes, he’d throw you into his truck and speed to the local hospital. Even if it meant he might risk spending a night in jail. God knows the average folk never listened to reason or logic – always jumping to conclusions.
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YOU
It felt like a split second, cut up into spliced moments. You in the car. The bull. The devilishly handsome guardian angel and then waking up on a full purple lounge.
Your eyes fluttered wide open. Your head felt like it computer weighed like a bowling ball. The sensation of nausea took hold of you as you tried sitting up. You decided to give in to your body and laid back down. The room was slightly rocking. You shut your eyes again and sighed before slowly opening them, focusing on breathing and looking around the room.
The room was covered in similar decor as the stuff at your aunt’s home. Old ornamental decorations and wallpaper from the 70s. The dated furniture and lack of television in the living room except there was a and desk in the corner.
Beside you on the coffee table was a folded out box filled with first aid kit items. Bandages, syringes, gauze and disinfection creams.
You were startled to rise a little as the sound of loud foot steps entered the room. An enormous man held a bowl of warm water and a cloth. His face was stern while his brows lifted.
“Oh fuck, he’s huge,” you thought, watching how his hard face twitched in a smirk that appeared and disappeared in a blink. You realised with horror you’d murmured that thought aloud.
He got onto his knees beside you, touching your shoulder lightly and softly guided you back down onto the soft cushions. He wet the towel and gently dabbed at a spot on your forehead. You hissed. It stung. You winced and jerked back, quickly apologising.
“Care to share why you were tryin’ to kill my prize Kerry, Miss?” you heard him mutter. Your mouth dropped at hearing how deep, rich and sensual his voice was. You never had heard such a pronoun southern drawl sound so seductive.
He washed the dirt front your face lightly, he let he droplets wash away the marks.
You warmed, feeling butterflies in your belly as you tried to mentally find your bearings, “Wh-what? Could you repeat that sir?”
His brows lifted again, this time a firm frown was on his face, “Miss, you were in an automobile accident, are your brakes broken or are you just a bad driver?”
That’s when the black bull came back to your mind once more. You swallowed, your mouth was dry.
“I didn’t-,” you stammered and shook your head, “I wasn’t trying to hit it.”
He snorted with a hint of disbelief.
You curled in your lips, your eyes skated over the home again. You were almost at the Kent property according to the map address. You would’ve gotten there if it wasn’t for his dumb stupid bull.
You licked your bottom lip timidly, “I’m Y/N Y/F/N, I’m a schooltea-.”
“I know,” he said sharply.
Your eyes widened, “You know?”
“I know,” he repeated. You felt a discomfort in his responses even when his voice sounded like deep warm honey over buttered toast. Maybe his toast was burnt black in way.
You lightly nibbled your bottom lip and dared to ask, “Are...are you Mr. Kent? Sir?”
His ocean blue eyes darkened to the pitch of the night sky, his rosy lips peeled back, showing his white teeth in a tight grimace, “I’m Clark Kent.”
Oh.
You cleared your throat, “You’re Clark Kent?”
“I’m Clark Kent,” he repeated, again.
Granting him a small tight smile you then asked, “So you’re a farmer?”
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CLARK
When you spoke so easily to him, it caught him off guard. Had no one warned you about him? Had the rumours not gotten to your darling ears? When you raised your brows in that inquisitive manner, it only added fuel to his frustration.
“Yeah, dairy and maize,” he grunted.
The delicate curves of your face and those sweet eyes had a curious effect on him; it set his teeth on edge. He was not going to hurt you, but he could if he wanted. That primness about you irritated him to no end. His first instinct – to shock you out of your prudishness – scare you into fearing him, make you see the monster everyone but his daughter called him. Your beautiful eyes were so innocent; it was frustrating that you couldn’t see how vulnerable of a situation you were in. There was something so twisted in his mind that even he was surprised by the urge to protect you from himself.
He tore open a packet of povidone-iodine and cupped your cheek and held the curve of your jaw, “Best hold still,” he warned, his eyes bore into yours, “This goin’ sting now.”
He pinched the wipe and ran it over your forehead. Clark had been focused on cleaning the cut but his gaze flickered up at the pitched whine you made, right into your wide teary eyes. The whimper that came from your lips had the air sucking out of his lungs. What a delicious noise. Your eyes right then were his new favourite colour, he decided. Your delectable lips had turned into an ungodly knot as they quivered in pain. And they were just inches away from his and the unfortunate desire to kiss them flashed in his mind.
He ran a thumb over one of your wet cheeks,
He wondered if your skin was just as soft and sensitive all over...your breasts, your belly, your thighs...the petals between your legs. Your body trembled under him. And the brief thought of making you tremble naked made his loins stir beneath his jeans. Holy fuck.
You’d just met him and made yourself a nuisance but the thought of kissing you sent an overwhelming surge of desire through his body. It was like an electric shock to his entire system. As he drew nearer, he noticed that you smelled exquisite. Your scent was tantalizing and all he could think of was how much he wanted to taste it. The urge to kiss you was nearly unbearable. But you would probably squeal and run out the door if he lifted your dress the way he wanted to and buried his face against your silky thighs to inhale the honey of your cunt.
He launched fast up onto his feet and walked away.
“I ugh, I’m makin’ coffee,” He marched back to the kitchen and turned on the pot for some coffee. No...he needed whiskey. Fucking damn it Lara.
He splashed cold water from the sink into his face. What the fuck was wrong with him.
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You
You sat in quiet solitude as he took his time making coffee.
After five minutes of staring up at the garden wallpaper on the ceiling, you heard his foot steps return back to the living room.
You decided that Clark Kent was in fact not a social person and holding a conversation would deem a challenge. But you were stubborn. You came here for a reason and his lack of small talk would not dissuade your mission. In fact, it gave you the opportunity to study his character.
He sipped his cup and cleaned up some more scratches on your face. Very carefully he began peeling band aids apart and applying them to your face. You smiled at some still in the first aid kit. They were children’s bandaids, yellow and printed with ducklings, cute and probably many years old. You couldn’t imagine a sixteen year old girl being caught dead wearing duckling bandaids.
You had hoped to compare him to Lara and perhaps even her mother to see why and what behaviour the girl held. When he leant over you, you studied his expression, hoping to find some clue as to his thoughts. But his face was unreadable; you couldn’t discern a single emotion within his eyes. Without even the slightest word, he pinched your embroidered collar to get your attention.
You licked your lips, unaware of how your tongue movement had captured his attention. You wanted to say something, but were at a loss for words. His physical proximity had utterly paralysed your thought processes. You felt completely overwhelmed by the sensation of his presence and the sight of his face. You were struggling to find a thought or a word that could accurately describe how much he stirred your senses.
He’s so big...God...help me.
You should have maintained your composure and remembered why you had come here, instead of acting like a foolish girl because an attractive man was standing too close to you. You were frustrated with yourself for allowing yourself to be so swept away by his good looks, rough appearance, and masculine presence. You tried to remind yourself that his physicality wasn’t the point of your presence here but it failed to have any impact. Your body simply reacted with desire and longing to the nearness of his person.
You cleared your throat for the thousandth time to ask, “Ah… I have come to speak with Lara Kent, if I may?” as if you hadn’t just crashed your car and almost killed one of his cattle.
You cast your eyes over to the man in front of you. His face seemed expressionless as he stared back at you, but there was something in his eyes – a hint of suspicion, scepticism. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
“Lara ain’t here. She’s doin’ her chores out in the paddocks. Probably got her walkman on a higher volume, she didn’t hear your car destroying some of the crop or else she’d have been here by your side like you were some helpless duckling.”
A tiny smile came onto his face at those last few words before it melt back into his set frown.
“I see....sorry about the...corn,” You hummed sheepishly, “And...when might she return inside?”
He sighed, scratching lightly at the corner of his brow, he glanced over across the room at a grandfather clock beside the fireplace, “She should be back any time now....”
You looked at him disbelievingly, your eyes locked on his. You couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to this man than just being a farmer. “Are you Lara’s father?” you finally asked.
“Yes,” he replied in a clipped yet measured tone.
“And where is her mother?”
There was no denying he was a man of few words, and yet somehow, he managed to convey much more than what was spoken.
His eyes shifted to the fireplace. You followed his gaze. There was a beautiful enclosed vase on the mantle...wait, no-
“Dead.”
-an urn.
Something about that flat, solitary word jolted you, a mix of surprise and discomfort. Yet alongside the shock, there was also a faint sense of relief. Slowly you sat up and with a quick glance away, you stared out the window just beside the sofa. You focused your eyes on the dead and disfigured front garden, dotted with weeds and looking more like a barren wasteland than a place of joy and life.
Clark began packing up the first aid kit. He left to put it away.
Further out you could see your car, the front bumper crushed and totally ruined. Shit. You’d be doing a lot more walking and catching the bus.
When he returned, in his hand was a cup of water and a small bucket.
“It’s salt water, to clean your mouth of the blood.”
You gratefully accepted the water, swishing the foul liquid in your mouth. You spit into the bucket. There was still a stillness in the air that felt like a heavy weight, weighing on you as you breathed in the cool air. You faced him again, hands in your lap now, touching your feet to his floor.
You dared to ask, “And how did you feel about Lara quitting school?”
He shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “It was her choice.”
He was turning to go back to the kitchen.
A palpable and intense feeling of indignation and exasperation mingled together, acting as a powerful driving force, you got to your feet and started to follow him, “But she’s only sixteen! She’s just a young girl—”
You managed to follow him into his kitchen, old vinyl flooring and wooden benches with a deep copper sink. He slammed the bucket and cup into the sink and spun on his heel.
“She’s my daughter,” Clark interrupted, holding his finger up, “and she can read, write, practices arithmetic better than anyone I know in this hick-town. My Lara also knows everythin’ there is to know about livestock and runnin’ a dairy farm.”
The man’s voice held a hint of pride, though even that couldn’t mask the hint of resentment that still showed through. “This is my land, my dairy farm, my house,” he continued. “One day it will all belong to her. She decided what to do with her life, and she decided to harvest and produce milk to the entire county.”
Clark was blushing, hints of his frustration were spitting out. He wasn’t fond of sharing his or his child’s life story, considering all the prejudice they faced all these years. Except, there was something about you, this huffy, and prissy little teacher that made him answer.
You seemed oblivious to the rumours about his past; or else why would you be mouthing off so brazenly without bringing it up... you evidently knew nothing about what made him who he truly was, about the impact of his name on the town of Smallville. You didn’t know how often it was people turned away and ignored him just to avoid associating with him...you didn’t know how much it affected Lara too.
He swallowed loudly, “Now, all that bein’ said, she chose to leave that sorry excuse of a school,” he tongued his inner cheek, trying his best not to curse. He groaned, his knuckles turned white as he gripped his own flannel. It was like white smoke was pouring from his ears and shooting out his nose as he forced himself to take deep breaths.
“And, who the fu-...who are you or I to tell her what she can or can not do?” He licked his teeth, “I’d love to see your smart ass out in the dairy shed and see how much you mess it up, I’ll wager it’s like your driving.”
You bravely jerked your chin up with your hands coming to sit on your hips.
Oh Fuck, he wanted to kiss you
And unbeknownst to him, you would’ve let him. Something about how much he was pissing you off and getting heated made you excited, scared...aroused. Facing the beast in the car was not as scary as facing this beast on your feet.
“I’d like to talk to her anyway,” You said stubbornly.
His brows connected, he licked the bottom of his lip, glancing down at yours, “That’s up to Lara. She might not want to talk to you. Especially if you’re here to ask her to return to that school.”
He leant away from you briefly to turn the coffee pot on to boil.
The hands on your hips cross over your chest, You scoffed, “Right, then you won’t even try to encourage her to graduate from the highschool then?”
That was it. He paused. He smirked, he chuckled mockingly and shook his head at you, “Nope.”
“Why not?” Your foot almost stamped, “She’s a bright girl, she should at least have the option of going to college!”
Clark stepped closer, towering over you, his nose nearly touching yours as you glared up at those dark blue eyes, “You listen here,” the air from his nose was hot against your face, “She’s sixteen, don’t you understand what that means ‘round these parts?” He snorted rolling his eyes, “Hell, how can you? You’re just some uppity, conceited, self-centered upstart.” He then scoffed. “She’s not welcome in that school. That was made very clear. When she wasn’t being neglected she was being bullied. Why the fuck would she want to go back?”
You felt a chill run down your spine as he edged closer, his words sharp and venomous. You bared your teeth in a grimace, frightened by his aggressive manner. You weren’t used to men invading your personal space, shouting curses in your face. As a young girl, boys had turned a blind eye to the shy, bookish girl. Now, as a grown woman, men still showed scarce interest in you.
You were utterly unwavering in your beliefs about education and refused to let him frighten you into submission. Bigger people often used their size to intimidate smaller ones, oftentimes not even realizing the effects of their actions. However, you weren’t going to bow down simply because he was more robust than you. Your beliefs were far too important to sacrifice for someone as boorish as him.
“She was at the top of her class given her KAP results, top in the five percent in Kansas for girls in her age group.” you said briskly. “If Lara could beat that top, think of what she could accomplish with help! She could get a scholarship, become something greater than a dairy farmer, or is having a doctor for a daughter beneath a redneck like you?”
He fluttered his eyes shut. There it was. That disdain he was used to. Little did you know...he was fighting his arousal his erection and the urge to put you on your hands and knees on that kitchen floor. If you wanted to call him a redneck, he’d fuck you like one...dirty and unprotected.
The silence was beyond pregnant until his throat bobbed, “Like I said, it’s up to Lara.”
The scent of freshly-brewed coffee filled the kitchen, but neither of you spoke as the minutes ticked by and the silence stretched on. He backed away and poured two cups of coffee. He poured fresh milk into the cups, real cow cream. He leaned against the cupboards and watched you sip from your porcelain mug, taking in the delicate sight. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, thinking back on what you’d just called him after he saved you from your car.
Redneck...
How could he be so kind in the face of your rudeness?
“Sorry...I didn’t means to call you a redneck...”
He smiled, this time it was filled with cheek, “Oh, yes you did...but I ain’t no soft Lily. Trust me, I’ve been called worse. You think I can’t handle when some hoity toity teacher goes an calls me a redneck?”
You returned the smile shyly. Looking down at your chest, you pinched the fabric. The front was blazing bright red.
He stepped closer and carefully reached out, pinching your shirt, he said with a calm and steady tone, “Yea that’ll probably stain without a good soak.”
You pinched your nose, “It was my aunt’s, I think it’s vintage.”
Clark set his cup aside and jerked his head to the side.
“I reckon I got something for you to wear. You can keep it and soak the dress in the laundry. Lara can talk to you about this mess and I’ll scrub the blood out.”
For a man so stubbornly spoken, he had been remarkably hospitable to you.
As you glanced up at him, the intensity of his dark blue eyes caught your attention. Something about his gaze made you feel unsure of yourself, your heart racing and a slight feeling of unease growing within you. It was as if he were peering directly at your breasts with a hungry look in his eyes. The thought made you feel warm with embarrassment and your breath caught slightly in your throat.
“I think some of my wife’s old clothes will fit you,” he said letting go of your shirt.
His dead wife? Oh god...
“Oh, I don’t need any clothes. I mean, what I have on is perfectly—”
“Stained,” he interrupted. “You really want to be going back to town looking like that? People might think I’ve gone and bashed you....”
You looked down.
“or raped you.”
Your eyes snapped back up. You didn’t know why he jumped to such a salaciously coarse word.
He murmured, “Come with me, then.”
You followed him down through the hallway of his farm house.
“Where are we going?” you asked.
“To the bedroom.”
You stopped, blinking at him, he turned to face you with a bitter smile twisted his mouth.
“Don’t worry,” he said crudely. “It’s Saturday. I only rape on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
Your eyes blinked again.
“What’s wrong with Saturdays?” those words slid past your lips without any warning, leaving you dumbstruck when you realized what you’d done. You clapped your hands over your face, mortified that you’d accidentally insinuated the possibility of him committing such a heinous act and not just that but almost questioned his intentions towards you in that department. Heat surged into your cheeks as a flood of embarrassment washed over you. Your brain must have short-circuited; there was no other explanation for the idiocy.
Clark was taken aback by your words, the stunned expression on your face making it clear that you had no intention to say them. It had been ages since he’d seen anyone look so horrified, and it took him a moment to realize that you were acutely embarrassed. You were certainly something of a prude, he concluded, with your dowdy appearance and old-maidish manner. So much so that your slip of the tongue was probably the biggest entertainment he’d had in a while. He couldn’t help but grin as his irritation softened again. Yes, this was definitely a highlight for him.
“Not a damn thing Miss Y/L/N,” he chuckled.
You drew yourself up to your full height, your lips firmly pressed together in a rigid expression. “Please do not make fun of me, Mr Kent,” you stated clearly, though it took a great deal of effort to keep your tone even. His sarcastic comment only served to salt the wound you already knew existed. You knew you fell short in the seductive department, but you didn’t need sarcastic reminders to confirm it.
Clark’s straight black brows drew together over his strong nose, “Make fun of you? What? How?”
You sulked sourly, “I am fully aware of how I look. I know I am not the most stunning woman. But surely...” you paused, your eyes shut, “Am I that ugly to look at?”
The choking noise was loud. He was rather gobsmacked. Did you really just say that to him?
His heart was still pounding from when she had whimpered, a lingering throbbing in his loins reminded him that his reaction hadn’t completely subsided. He chuckled bitterly, the sound devoid of humour, his mind playing over again and again what had happened between them. Why not spice up your life a little more?
“Now, don’t play this game with me Missy,” he said
But the way you avoided his eyes.
“Shit. You’re serious? Come on now girl, you gotta know. You damn well know you’re a wet dream...you’re a real head turner. Make men like me all hot and bothered.”
“Hot and bothered, by what?” she asked blankly. It was impossible. She had never made a man… aroused a man in her life.
Heat had been simmering just beneath the surface for too long, and the irritation he felt in the presence of this prim woman was like a spark to a fuse. His iron control had kept him in check when dealing with the townspeople, but something about her, this prim woman, got under his skin. Frustration filled him to the point that he thought he might explode, the tension and desire rising to a pitch that was almost unbearable.
His intentions had originally been to stay far away from you, but now he found himself pulled close by a force he could not resist. Hands gripping your waist, he pulled you closer until you were pressed against him. His mouth came down on yours, covering it in a hard kiss. “Maybe you need a to be shown,” he murmured, his words coming out in deep and breathless. It made the moment even more intense, his desire for you growing with each passing second. He couldn’t keep himself from kissing you again, his lips exploring yours in a passionate, urgent way that left you feeling completely powerless.
You froze as he gently and passionately moved his lips over yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his long, thick eyelashes, how they brushed your skin. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you firmly against his muscled body, causing you to let out a deep gasp.
As soon as your lips opened, he took the opportunity to probe inside with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough. You trembled, feeling a strange heat deep inside, growing more and more intense. The pleasure became so strong and powerful that it frightened you, not knowing where this might lead. If only you’d known to buy some lingerie this morning before you left to the Kent property....
There was something powerful about the way his lips felt, their firmness bringing you to a state of ecstasy. You could taste his heady flavor, and his tongue was caressing yours with an intensity that invited you to play. But beyond this physical sensation, there was a warm and musky scent drifting from his body. Your breasts pressed up against the taut muscles of his torso, causing the tips of your nipples to tingle in an exciting yet embarrassing manner.
You opened your eyes in sharp disappointment when he pulled away from you. But his intense black gaze was unwavering, like he wasn’t finished with you yet. “Come on girl, kiss me back yes?” he breathlessly pleaded, his tone suggesting he was far from satisfied.
“I don’t know how,” You confessed, still bewildered to what he had just done to you...and you enjoying it.
His eyes fluttered, “Here, I’ll teach you,” his nose nuzzled yours.
He pressed his lips against yours again, and this time you parted your mouth to accept his education. He explored your mouth and demonstrated a pressured patterned that you began mimicking and returning to him. His kisses this became further demanding, filled with panting.
You suddenly felt a frightening excitement explode through your body, growing beyond simple pleasure and transforming into a ravenous hunger. The sensations coursing through you were no longer merely pleasant but overpowering, your heart racing wildly as it hammered against your ribs. The heat within you was unbearable, an intense blaze spreading through you, leaving you panting and aching for more.
Looking into his eyes, you realized that he had felt the same burning desire that was overtaking you now. You were stunned by the revelation, and it made you feel even hotter. You uttered a soft, unconscious sound as you moved closer to his body, unable to control the sensations he had unleashed inside of you. The yearning was unbearable, and you wanted more of him, his experienced touches making the sensations overwhelming and irresistible.
You had never believed it could be like this, such an intense and overwhelming desire. You had been told that some men could be crude and cruel, but those warnings had never prepared you for the intense sensation of burning desire. You had always made the sensible choice to avoid flirting or attempting to attract a boyfriend, yet, here you were, wanting a man to do those very things to you.
The men you had encountered during your time at college and in the workplace had appeared to be normal, not lecherous sex fiends. You felt comfortable around men, and even considered a few of them to be good friends. But you did not consider yourself attractive, or at least, not enough to attract the opposite sex’s attention.
Men had never scrambled to get dates with you or even managed to acquire your phone number. As a result, you hadn’t been exposed to the intense sensations of a man’s embrace and touches, nor the throbbing sensation of his manhood pressing against your thighs. You hadn’t realized how much more you needed, the feeling of his hands roaming your body awakening a hungry desire that grew within you with every touch.
You instinctively locked your arms around his neck and moved your body against his, feeling the waves of frustration and desire increasing within you. The desire was a blaze consuming your body, empty and aching, hungry for more. The new sensations were a flood, your mind overwhelmed by the feeling of your nerves being assaulted. You didn’t know how to control it, the tidal wave of sensation growing with each movement made against him.
Clark jerked his head back, his teeth locked as he relentlessly brought himself back under control. Black fire burned in his eyes as he looked down at you. His kisses had made your soft lips swollen. Your eyes were heavy-lidded as you opened them and slowly met his gaze.
The desire was plain on your face, a look that suggested he had done more than kiss you. You already looked dishevelled, as if he had taken you in his arms and claimed you. In his mind, he had. He wondered how pretty you would look with a ball gag between your teeth. Despite your delicate appearance, you had moved against him with a voracious hunger, your body moving and seeking more.
He knew with the state of your mind, he could take you to bed right now. You were desperate for him, hot past the point of reason. And yet...he decided that it would be best if he would wait for you to make the conscious decision to be with him. Your inexperience was clear, and he’d even had to teach you how to kiss. The thought was suddenly cut off when he realized just how inexperienced you were. You were a virgin, and it was not fair for him to take that without your full consent.
The notion left him dumbfounded. It didn’t seem possible that you could be so innocent, yet there you were, gazing up at him with eyes that were both innocent and full of desire. Your body was pressed tightly to his, your arms locked around his neck, and your legs slightly opened to let him nestle against you. You were waiting for the next move, as you did not know what else to do. Before him you had never even been kissed. No man had touched your soft breasts or your tender nipples. No man had ever shared his love with you.
He swallowed the rock in his throat that threatened to choke him, his eyes still locked with yours. “Alrighty now, missy, that almost took a dangerous turn.”
You jerked away a little, your eyes fluttered, “oh, really?...”
Slowly, because he didn’t want to drop you, feeling how much your knees might collapse under you, he let you slide down to find your feet. Your sweetness would be the death of him...figuratively and literally if you tried to accuse him of something wayward. He was a fiend, a criminal, a man charged with possibly one of the worst crimes known to man. And you were the new miss innocent school teacher coming to talk to him about Lara only for it to almost become a shit show of either moans or wailing squeals.
You should never have come her. The people of Smallville had a knack for gossiping. Lord knows you’d find out the truth eventually and then you’d never want to associate with him again...
So he released you, despite the overwhelming desire to drag you onto his bed and educate you to all there was to pleasuring a man and yourself. Still wrapped around him like a human scarf were your soft arms. Your fingers had tangled up into his dark raven mane. You almost appeared unable to let him go, drunk on new founded lust. He reached up to take your hands and move your arms away from his body entirely.
The softest sound of disappointment left your wet lips...was he rejecting you now? Had you done something wrong...
Your eyes looked up at him in a desperate plea to continue...but his eyes were staring away and over your shoulder.
“I guess I’ll come back later then?” Came a new, young and feminine voice interrupting your blood rushing thoughts.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
HELPLINES:
If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.
Australian Helpline Services
UK Helpline Services
American Helpline Services
India Helpline Services.
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You know when a character just really hits you and you just can never ever let go of them. No matter how long its been since you watched the show or even hate it or hate what the show did to that character, you still just think about them. I'll be 90 and still haunted by this character
#its yearning time for a fictional character#best boy who deserved the world but got nothing#pour one out for him lads#me
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Good Boy
The first time you called Kento a good boy, his mouth was between your thighs on the sofa, three fingers thrusting inside you, tongue and nose stroking between your folds like your taste would wash away his terrible, awful, no-good day.
Your hips bucked up off the pillows against his mouth, and you gasped, tugging Kento's messy blond hair at the roots; "oh fuck...Kento just like that, don't stop, fuck...such a good boy."
With a sharp intake of breath, and a shuddering moan, Kento came down his thigh, cock leaping in its confines, pyjamas soaked and sticking to him as you reached your peak, thighs clamping against his head. Stunned, Kento raised his head, staring at you in reverence with glistening eyes and a pink blush across his cheeks and nose.
"Kento, did you-- I didn't even think you were close--" you breathed, still panting, and Kento blushed harder. You giggled, a hand over your mouth. With a wicked look in your eyes, you tugged Kento's hair, to pull his face back to your pussy, "but you are a good boy."
Kento shivered again, mortified by how sinfully sweet it felt, to be called a good boy after such a dreadful day.
Ever since, his every bad day could be improved by your softly whispered praises.
Between your legs, his back was against your chest in the bath. You stroked his aching length with soapy hands, squeezing at the tip, wet little sucks coming from the water as your fist swirled around his cockhead. Kento gripped your legs, the sides of the bath, his blond head rocking from side to side as he moaned, a low, desperate, gravelly sound.
Your tongue traced his ear, nipping gently, and Kento shuddered, his orgasm close, but not yet there. He just needed something...something more...something different.
"Please," he begged, hips bucking involuntarily into your soft wet hand, "please..."
You moaned ever so gently into his ear; "I want to see you twitch while you cum...good boy." Kento groaned, long and steeped in ecstasy, almost blinded by pleasure as his orgasm hit like a starfall. You swore you could cum from the image of him alone, convulsing against you, white-knuckles gripping the bathtub, gasping, cock jerking warm spurts of his seed into your hands.
Another day, sat at his desk, his head in his hands and trying to contain his throbbing headache, you sidled over to him. He gave only the briefest hesitation when you sat in front of him, your skirt tucked up around your waist, pushing his papers aside. The briefest parting of your legs showed your panties wet, all for him, pushed to the side of your poor clenching pussy.
You pulled Kento to you by his tie, and by the time his lips met yours, he was already feeling fire and spice run down his spine from the intoxication of you.
Gripping him close, as he necked you like an eager virgin, you felt the insistent push of his cock against your puffy lips, and rocked your hips forward to invite him in.
Broad hands clasping at your arse, fingertips bruising, Kento saw a burst of petals and stars as he sank into the plush heat of you. He stayed this way, cockwarmed, as you stroked the day off his shoulders, rocking him, hushing him with his cock twitching deeply inside you.
Your hands worked into the knots of his mountainous shoulders, feeling the aching muscles roll and ripple under your fingers. Kento couldn't help but buck into you, moaning desperately into your neck, trying to stop his thrusts chasing your pussy away. He barely pulled out, just needing to be deeper, closer.
Your hand trailed off his shoulders and to his tie, and you spun it around gently so it trailed down his back instead of his chest. Giving it one slow, choking tug, you whispered to Kento; "you deserve all the best things in the world, my Kento...my good boy."
Kento choked against his tie, his knees almost buckling as he came, biting into your neck with a strangled growl, cum pouring against your cervix, and he bucked like it was his first time inside you.
He was shaking and sated and doe-eyed as he nuzzled your neck, always so happy to be your good boy, when the work he did never complimented him for his efforts.
#jjk#kento nanami#jjk nanami#kento nanami x you#nanami fluff#kento nanami x y/n#kento nanami x reader#higuruma hiromi#jujustu kaisen#nanami kento smut#nanami is so precious#nanami headcanons#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#nanami kento x you#nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#pseudowho#pseudoqueue#pseudowho's Masterlist
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hello sweetheart, i read your prompt list and saw this one "hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway and my heart melted, i don't know if you already did this, but can we have something like that with our sweet but grumpy eddie? 🤍
ty for requesting! — eddie doesn't know why you're avoiding him (fluff, ditzy!reader, 0.9k)
Eddie lost sight of you ten minutes ago.
You were squished between Robin and Steve on the loveseat last he saw you, giggling into your solo cup while they belted Total Eclipse of the Heart to you — at you — over the music and in their best Muppet impressions.
He only remembers it so vividly ‘cause he was jealous. Not jealous because you were subjected to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum’s drunken antics, of course, but jealous because you were with them. And so, so far away.
Now you’re gone, and he misses you like a stray dog — aggressive and hungry and hurt. He walks up to Steve in the kitchen just the same. Hair wild. Button eyes glittering. Slightly reluctant.
“Where’d she go?!” he shouts over the music, half-muffled into his drink. He uses the plastic cup like a shield ‘cause he doesn’t want people to know he’s missing you. The metalhead freak from the wrong side of town isn’t supposed to need the ball of sunshine from the suburbs.
But alas.
“Uh, I don’t know,” Steve slurs, half-distracted as he pours himself a drink. He doesn’t need Eddie to tell him who she is. There’s only one person in the whole world he’d go looking for. “She went outside with Robin, I think—”
Eddie spins on the worn heel of his sneaker before the words can properly leave his mouth. He ducks through the bustling, drunken crowd and finds you sitting lonesome on the porch outside. Prettier than the full moon and all the stars in the velvet black sky combined.
He walks to stand beside you, shoes thunking heavy on the wooden deck. You tilt your chin to smile brightly up at him while he slips a cig into his mouth. He cups the stick as he lights it. Pretends that’s what he came out here for. Not to see you, of course.
Definitely not.
“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he mumbles beneath the cigarette in his mouth.
“Robin just left,” you answer plainly, half-shy.
“Why didn’t you come find me?” he asks with an air of nonchalance, still trying to play it cool. ‘Cause there’s nothing less metal than yearning.
You shrug. “‘Cause you were busy?”
It’s easier than telling him that you thought he wanted the space. Or that you actually spent the whole night aching to hang on his side — too scared of embarrassing him in front of all his friends to act on it.
You know who you are just like you know who he is. Bubblegum pink doesn’t always go well with black. It gets in your hair. Makes everything go all sticky. It’s an acquired taste you know Eddie’s still getting used to — too much of it, and his stomach will start to hurt. So you figure it’s best to keep your distance.
You just didn’t think he was as grieved by it all as you were.
Eddie scoffs. I’m never too busy for you, he wants to say. He might’ve if he wasn’t such a coward. Instead, he blows smoke from his lungs and jokes, “I wouldn’t call keeping Argyle from crowd-surfing in the living room busy, sweetheart.”
A laugh tumbles from his plush lips. The golden sound falls over your skin like stars. You smile absentmindedly back at him as you rise from the creaking rocking chair. You plant your feet ahead of his and smooth your palms beneath his leather jacket, over his warm sides.
Eddie meets your twinkling eyes with narrowed chocolate ones. “What?”
“Hug?” you ask in a mousy voice.
The boy laughs like he’s too cool for affection, though he’d be lying if he said your offer doesn’t have his chest sparkling something fierce. He flicks the cig to the ground — sheepish gaze going with it — before snuffing it out beneath his sneaker.
“Clingy much?” he scoffs.
You nod with a proud smile.
Eddie’s chest swirls with an unfamiliar feeling. You’re strangely brave about all this — affection and love and all things sweet enough to make him gag.
It makes him feel like he can feel brave, too.
He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you with all the intensity of someone wanting to swallow you whole. You hug him back just the same. “I missed you,” you murmur with your cheek squished against his chest.
“Then what’re you avoidin’ me for, huh?” he teases, chin bobbing against your head.
You pull slightly back to squint at him. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“You’ve been hangin’ out with Steve and Robin the whole night,” he grieves, hiding his sincerity behind boyish theatrics. With a feigned pout that feels totally real, he says, “And you didn’t even sit next to me when we played Never Have I Ever.”
“I thought you wanted the space,” you confess in a hushed voice.
His face screws up like he’s tasted something sour. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know…” you shrug. “You always talk about how much you like being alone and stuff, so—”
“Well, yeah! I like my space— just not from you!”
It’s likely the least metal thing he’s ever said.
“Oh,” you hum, mouth contorting into a sheepish beam. “Well… Sorry.”
“Yeah. You should be,” he scoffs, mostly joking. He pouts softly and pulls you back into him again, nosing at your hair until his chapped lips brush your temple. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright?”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.
▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.
▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.
most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.
reader / tav is always gender neutral!
▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.
ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel
no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.
❈ ASTARION ;
Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.
Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.
And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.
You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.
Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.
In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.
You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.
Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.
"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.
"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"
Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.
Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.
Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.
"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."
"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."
"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."
He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.
"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."
❈ WYLL ;
it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.
For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.
You liked getting under his skin, after all.
You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills
Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.
It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.
He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.
Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.
Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.
It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.
And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.
Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.
"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."
He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.
"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."
You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."
You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."
It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.
"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.
"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."
You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.
"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"
"Sorry to disappoint."
He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.
Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.
❈ GALE ;
Gale is always the poet, never the muse.
He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.
But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.
When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.
He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.
When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.
It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.
But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.
Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.
Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.
It has a special effect on Gale.
In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.
"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"
"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."
The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.
He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"
"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.
He's glad he's alive. To feel you.
"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."
He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.
❈ SHADOWHEART ;
You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.
You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.
Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.
Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.
Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.
Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.
She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.
She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.
You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.
Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.
She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.
You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.
She loves you more than she cares to admit.
"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"
Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.
"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"
She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.
"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"
"I think it more often that I say it,"
"And you always think to call me that?"
"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"
Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.
"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."
Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.
"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."
You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"
❈ KARLACH ;
Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.
She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.
Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.
Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.
Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.
And you always explain them to her afterwards.
You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.
The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.
With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.
You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.
She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.
"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."
"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."
Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.
"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"
"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"
The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.
"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."
"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"
Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.
With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.
It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.
"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.
You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"
❈ LAE'ZEL ;
The Githyanki do not fall in love.
It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.
For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.
You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.
Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.
That you'd wait for her.
Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.
Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.
But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.
"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"
You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.
A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.
"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."
"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."
"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."
"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."
"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."
She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest
"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"
You return her smile in kind.
"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."
"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."
The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.
▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.
this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!
anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !
#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#astarion x reader#wyll x reader#gale x reader#shadowheart x reader#karlach x reader#lae'zel x reader#writing tag#waah. i love them all
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Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.
And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.
They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--
Steve Harrington is his bed.
They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--
They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.
They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.
Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.
Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.
Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.
They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.
After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.
He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--
"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.
"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.
Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.
Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or
It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--
Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.
Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.
He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."
Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."
They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.
There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.
"Stop," he whispers to Steve.
Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.
"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."
"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"
"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."
"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."
"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."
"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.
"Then we'll deal with it together."
"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."
--
Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.
A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.
Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.
They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.
"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.
"Hey yourself."
"It's Bi Visibility day."
"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going
"I want to come out."
He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"
Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.
"How do you want to do it?"
He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.
They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.
Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.
The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.
Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.
He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"
"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.
"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"
Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#actors steve harrington and eddie munson#costars#hooking up#fluff#costars to lovers#idiots in love#feelings confession#coming out#bisexual steve harrington#it's not bi visibility day but i liked eddie using it as a come on#famous steve harrington#famous eddie munson#i don't totally know what this is
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my name. | nishimura riki
PAIRING ▸ nishimura riki! x reader
GENRE ▸ detective! au, fantasy! au, high school! au, s2ls, romance, fluff, angst, humor, SLOW BURN
WC ▸ 15.6k
SUMMARY ▸ you supposedly get transported to a different world, where you encounter niki. apparently, you already existed here. note: past tense. so now you’re stuck in an alternate universe and technically, you’re supposed to be dead.
AKA after facing the truth, you come to the realization that someone was definitely trying to kill you.
AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of death!!!, a murder mystery/whodunit, profanity, mentions of suicide, depictions of murder, a few curse words, violence, blood, dead bodies, some gorey stuff, kissing, nothing too harsh, excuse any typos/misspellings...
wow... i can't believe it but it is finally out... it's been a long time coming lol. with losing several family members and hospital visits over the past year, i wasn't sure if this was ever going to get released. thank you all for your endless (fr) patience and support. happy reading ❤️
a faceless figure stretches out a hand towards you.
you squint but for some reason, you still can’t make them out. the longer you stare, the more you realize it was a person—a blurry vision of a faceless boy. considering the matching uniform to yours, he must’ve gone to your school …was he your classmate?
you frown. you’ve never seen anyone like him in class before. you stretch out your arm, fingertips barely grazing his-
the sound of the school bell ringing causes your eyelids to fly open. you groan, yawning and getting up from your seat by the window by default.
it wasn’t a nice nap—just one that left you feeling groggy, unsettled, and strangely incomplete.
you pack up your stuff quietly and leave the classroom alone, not bothering to look for your friends. as you walk down the stairs, you hear your classmates chattering about the weather.you glance outside.
it was a dreary, unwelcoming kind of rain—part of the reason why you fell asleep earlier in class—and you suddenly feel the urge to get home. as soon as possible.
you weren’t sure why, but it wasn’t just raining. it started to pour, especially hard, on this spring day. you want to think that was what made your mood all miserable and forlorn.
not to forget the fact that you didn’t have an umbrella, leaving you no other choice but to throw your hood on and tighten the strings of your hoodie over your school uniform. not exactly the most stylish look, yet it was comfortable enough for you.
you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion, but you felt out of place, like for some weird reason… you didn’t belong here. like you belonged out of this circle, away from this life and world.
that feeling always came up when it started to rain, and you always tried your best to suppress it. but it was particularly strong today.
you shrugged it off though. those “phases” weren’t uncommon, right?
though you made it halfway out the school grounds by yourself, hyein and hanni catch up to you as you walk. you give them a half-hearted smile, “hey.”
it doesn’t take much for them to notice your off behavior. hyein eyes you.
“you okay, y/n?”
you debate internally, reminding yourself that they’re your friends. you can trust them, rely on them. you’re allowed to do that. even more so, aren’t you supposed to do that?
but the words that come out of your mouth suggest otherwise. you shrug, “it’s nothing. it’s just been a weird day, you know?”
they share a glance before turning back to you, sympathetic smiles on their faces. hanni pats you on the shoulder, “yeah, we get it. you should get some rest at home, y/n. we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“be careful on the way back! the rain doesn’t look like it’s stopping soon.” she calls out before they continue, leaving you behind—still as soaked as ever.
you wave before sighing, gripping the straps of your backpack tighter and making your way towards the train station. the sound of the rain almost makes you fall into a daze as you go about your way. all your school stuff and clothes were definitely getting soaked, which probably meant an oncoming cold, but you could’ve cared less.
the only thing that mattered was going home and sleeping off this weird feeling, so it could become tomorrow and you didn’t have to be in this situation anymore.
the train station is strangely busy, you figure the downpour was making everyone go home sooner. you bypass several people, almost getting your soaked and stained shoes stepped on several times. all while muttering quiet “excuse me’s” to practically everyone and anyone who cared to listen.
after what seemed like ages, you manage to make it to your train. although, the large crowd surrounding the entrance effectively prevents you from getting anywhere.
you mutter a curse, trying to navigate through the waves of people. you just barely get on before the doors begin closing. letting out a huff in relief, you lean back against the door and slowing yourself a moment to close your eyes in peace. all the seats were obviously taken at that point, so you had no choice but to stand. that’s fine—you end up drifting off anyway.
you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. or why you feel even more exhausted when you wake up. but the robotic voice announcing your arrival makes your eyes automatically flutter open. you feel your body getting pushed and shoved around as everyone tries to get out all at once.
so you grit your teeth and tug down your hood further until you can finally get out. you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings, too focused on not getting knocked to the ground. when you finally stumble out of the crowd onto the station platform, you try to collect yourself while shaking your head. then you frown,
wait a second-
something solid knocks into you from the side, a rough oof! escaping out of their--mouth?
you’re knocked onto the ground, bottom first. pain shoots into your palms that tried (and failed) to catch your fall—and obviously, your butt as well.
you groan, eyes flashing in annoyance at your unknown assailant. looking up, you stop at the sight of the… boy in front of you.
you really have no idea why, but a question immediately pops into your head—
have you met before?
you don’t voice it, but it lingers in the back of your mind. the boy—as far as you can tell, he looks around your age— simply stares at you. he’s in a strikingly similar uniform.
a flicker of recognition passes in his eyes before you watch his expression grow flabbergasted. he continues to stare at you for a solid minute, while you only stare back in confusion, still on the floor.
“it’s rude to stare, you know.” you finally state with a furrowed brow as you quickly gathering your bearings.
his only response is a blink.
it's like the two of you are frozen in time, everyone else getting drowned out in the moment.
you frown, narrowing your eyes at him. “hello? did you hear me?” you repeat yourself and this time he snaps out of it.
“y-you’re not supposed to be here.” he gets out shakily, looking around while his hand runs through his dark locks in distress. you cross your arms, “what do you mean? this is my stop…”
you falter when you remember what you saw earlier. when you got off the train, you took a quick glance at the signs and posts. yeah, this definitely wasn’t your stop.
that wouldn’t have been a huge issue- if it wasn’t for the fact that you never missed your station, no matter the circumstances.
“no!” he exclaims and you flinch at the outburst. the boy glances at you again, and this time you involuntarily shiver at the unreadable look in his eyes.
“you’re…. you’re supposed to be dead.”
your mouth drops open.
“what a great first thing to say to someone you just bowled over. not even a sorry..” you mutter off, suddenly finding the strength to get up and wipe your hands.
the boy takes a step back away from you. curiously, you take one forward, towards him. he gestures a hand at you almost aggressively.
“you’re dead. you died. i swear-“
you hold out your hands in half desperation and half exasperation, “i dunno if this is some dumb prank or something i missed, but i hate to break it to you. i’m not dead. i’m literally right here in front of you. i think i would know if i died or not. i’m-”
again, that feeling of being out of place washes over you. this time it steals your breath away.
the strange boy shakes his head. “there’s no way. i know exactly who you look like.”
his next words make your blood run cold.
“you’re exactly like y/n y/l/n—who died a week ago.” he looks you up and down again, hands curling into fists.
“who are you? and why do you look just-?”
“because that’s who i am? my name is y/n! now, if you would excuse me.”
you hold up a hand, you didn’t have the time or patience to deal with weirdos on the street. it did struck a little odd that he knew your name, but then again he must’ve gone to your school and heard of you somewhere. the only thing that unsettled you was his reaction.
it just seemed too real, like he couldn’t have been that good at acting.
he grabs your arm to prevent you from leaving. all he does is shake his head again like he’s just trying to reassure himself. you’re about to protest, so utterly confused at what’s happening-how you missed your stop and why this strange boy is saying that you’re dead. none of it makes sense.
his face looks pale and grim, and you’re sure yours look exactly the same. “you can’t be y/n. and yet, here you are right in front of me.”
“i will scream like a little girl for help if you don’t let me go at this-“
“p-please. this isn’t a joke. you can’t be here. we need to get out of here—where everyone can’t see you.”
before you can even splutter a response, he drags you off.
you can call me niki, his words echo in your head.
his name rolls off your tongue unfamiliarly. in his states of panic—to which niki kept slapping himself and you kept denying that you were a hallucination—
you ended up introducing yourselves and deciding to find a better place to discuss. more like, niki decided. you soon began to regret that decision.
all you wanted to do was go home, but this persistent kid you’ve never seen before wouldn’t let you or your conscience go. maybe it was the weird feeling from earlier, but you have the urge to at least hear him out. but when you walked out of that train station behind him, everything was wrong.
you don’t know how to describe it. it was right but… at the same time, it wasn’t.
to begin with, you ended up at the wrong station but it led you to the right street to get home. the streets name were the same, but the stores weren’t.
and the bus stop—the bus driver that had worked there for fifteen years, the one you had greeted for fifteen years, suddenly became an entirely different person. he never missed a day, no matter what occasion it was.
things weren’t right and you had no idea what was going on.
following niki, you get lost in your thoughts. you shake your head, clapping a hand over your forehead. maybe… you’re just in a weird dream. a really realistic one, because none of this made sense. it wasn’t raining anymore either, which would’ve been fine, excluding for one tiny detail: the streets were completely dry. judging by the strength of the rain earlier, it really shouldn’t—no, it couldn’t have dried up that fast.
It wasn’t physically possible.
you could easily navigate your way around this area because you lived here all your life. and yet, it felt like you didn’t live here. not when this random stranger (only on a first name basis) keeps insisting that you died.
niki—or whoever—leads you to a very familiar library, the same one where you spent hours studying for your finals. you head in, feeling a bit better hearing the familiar entrance chime. you walk ahead of him to take your spot by the back corner. the fact that this place was essentially the same gave you some comfort.
niki seems surprised, but he doesn’t say anything, only taking the seat across from you.
“okay.” you start, glancing at the boy with wary eyes.
“if whatever bs you’re spewing is true, explain.”
he raises his eyebrows.
“me? explain?”
you nod and he scoffs, “i think you’re the one who should be explaining. after all, you’re the one that’s supposed to be dead-“
“i’m not dead.” you grit out, rolling your eyes.
“okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender, “but you still need to talk.”
you sigh, rubbing your temples.
“what do you want me to say? that i got soaked, took the train home, overslept, and then missed my stop? then, i bumped into a weird boy-”
he shoots you an offended look, which you ignore.
“-who keeps telling me that i died. oh, and the more and more i stay here with you, the more wrong everything gets?” you barely get the last word out before niki leans in, eyes focused intently on you.
the closer he gets, you more you begin to malfunction. you unconsciously hold your breath, alarm and confusion evident in your eyes. his hand reaches out, slowly, to your head. your body freezes.
his fingers catch a drop of water at the tip of your hair. “sorry. that was bothering me.”
you exhale, glaring at him. “are you serious?”
“yeah. are you?”
“no,” you deadpan, “i’m a ghost and i’m haunting you. of course i’m being serious!”
he gives you an unconvinced look and you roll your eyes, “i’m y/n y/l/n. we live an hour away from the capital. my house is two blocks away in the neighborhood with the broken fountain, and right now we’re at the library that doesn’t open on thursdays.
you harshly tug off your suddenly dry hoodie, displaying your school uniform.
“and by the looks of it, we go to the same school.”
his eyes widen as he leans in closer to study your uniform. you shrug away, caught off guard. then you frown, “but i’ve never seen you before at school. how do i know that you’re not some imposter? that you somehow stole a uniform to get something from me?”
he rolls his eyes while you gaze at him suspiciously.
“obviously not, because that’s dumb.”
you scoff.
“i live here. why would i go through all the trouble to steal a uniform to get something from you? besides, what would i need from some-“
he glances at you and you tense,
“-kid like you? you’re the one who came out of the train looking so suspicious, it’s like you appeared out of nowhere,” he counters.
you place your palms flat on the table, “okay, it’s obvious we aren’t getting anywhere. we both don’t have answers and we’re not even close to one. all i know is that i’m alive,” you shoot him another look, “and that i somehow ended up here. now, can i go?”
there’s a brief pause before niki speaks up, slowly. “i already told you, you can’t be seen. come with me. and keep the hood on.”
you roll your eyes. who was he to boss you around?
he grumbles something along the lines of- “don’t want to be seen walking around with a dead person.”
the only reason you listened was partly due to fear that you would lose your way in this familiar, yet unfamiliar place. except, you know exactly where he’s taking you. because it’s the same neighborhood you live in.
“wait,” you call out, “this is where i live.” you point to your house, and niki grimaces.
“i know. there were police here for days.”
you stop, unsure of what to say or do. police? at your house? when?
you stare at your supposed house, suddenly dark and empty. what in the world happened?
“come on,” niki calls out and you move to catch up. you’re starting to think niki may be telling the truth.
soon enough, you make it to an unfamiliar house about a street down from yours. as niki unlocks the door, you take the opportunity to study him, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen him before. but when he turns to you, you clear your throat and look away.
“this is my house,” he tilts his head while opening the door.
you like the fact that it’s messy. it felt much more homey because of that. it was also a lot bigger than yours, filled with fancy and intricate things. to which you assume this niki guy has more money than he has yet to admit. he tells you to wait in the living room, and he soon returns with a stack of books.
you pause, “yearbooks?“
he nods, “yeah, our school’s.”
strangely enough, most of the covers are different than yours at home.
but everything else is the same, like the name and logo. he pulls out this year’s yearbook and flips through before stopping at a page.
“that’s me,” he points to the picture of him and you tilt your head, frowning.
“huh. so we are in the same year. but i’ve never seen you in my yearbook—or at school before. i swear i would’ve seen you at least once before...”
you rub your temples, this whole situation was making your head hurt. none of it made sense. you study his picture, why in the world did he actually look good in his yearbook photo? your eyes shift toward his name,
nish—
he turns the page before you can finish reading, only to get distracted by seeing familiar classmates in your yearbook. niki stays silent as he flips through pages and you continue to point out your friends and classmates and stare in wonder at the unfamiliar ones-
ones that you’ve never seen before in your life but somehow their faces are printed on the page, in the same grade and same school as you.
just like niki. you were actually speechless.
eventually, he stops flipping eventually and looks at you. you catch his eye and glance down at the page, immediately catching on. you breath hitches.
“no way—”
“—and there’s you.”
it is you. you can confirm, it’s a photo of someone who looks exactly like you. but… it’s not you.
almost everything is the same, your face and clothes. your hair was cut shorter, and your smile wider for the picture. you were even wearing makeup, for crying out loud. you can only stare at the photo.
according to niki, this you is dead?
you look up at him, stomach churning. what in the world was going on?
the silence lasts until niki finally speaks up with a hesitant tone. “i might be tripping, but have you ever heard of… alternate realities?”
you shake your head firmly, “don’t even get me started on that-“
he cuts you off, “i know, i know. but just hear me out.”
you have no choice but to internally whisper a quiet plea of help. he scoots closer,
“wouldn’t it make sense? there’s really no other explanation. maybe it’s because i watched that spider-man movie recently, but you being from another world would explain how you’re alive right now—when in this world, you’re dead. plus, all the similarities and differences that you mentioned can be chalked up to different timelines—the butterfly effect and stuff like that.”
you don’t know what to say.
could it actually be?
what other explanation could there be?
“please say something,” niki mumbles and you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
“okay. okay. fine. say the whole multiverse crap is true. then how did i even get here? how did i—”
you do air quotations,
“—switch dimensions to another world?”
niki shrugs, “no idea.”
he scratches his head, “it’s weird to think about but i mean, maybe there’s a reason why you came here.”
his voice suddenly gets lower and you shiver, “you know, the timing’s a bit weird that you showed up right after the other you passed away.”
you clear your throat, “let’s not think about that right now. we should probably focus on the whole me being dead thing, right?”
“what?”
you glance at him questioningly, “what?”
niki raises an eyebrow. “what’s there to focus on? you died.”
you don’t have to rub it in my face, you mumble under your breath.
“shouldn’t we be focusing on how to get you back to your world?”
you roll your eyes, “sure, but still, i kinda want to know how i died? i think i deserve to, you know, so maybe i don’t make the same dumb mistake back home.”
“-if you ever get home,” he corrects and you huff.
“whatever, just tell me. we don’t even know if your dumb alternate reality theory is right.”
“okay,” niki rubs his hands nervously and you wait in anticipation.
“well, it actually happened last thursday.”
you swallow. why was your heart rate picking up?
“at school. on, uh, the rooftop. no one witnessed it, and the cctv was broken so we don’t have any exact answers. but from what I’ve heard,” he gives you a cautious glance,
“the police are about ready to call it a suicide.”
at first, you think you misheard him. but the hesitant gaze and pause proves you otherwise.
at first it doesn’t hit you. but then suddenly you feel sick to your stomach. your hand grips the table for support as you try to take it all in.
you?
a suicide at school?
what about your family, your friends-
“no,” you whisper, shaking your head. “i… i would never-“
you slam your hands on the table, “i know myself. i would never do that.”
his face is grim and sympathetic, which you can feel the dislike churn in your stomach at that. “i’m really sorry… that’s the current situation. it kinda blew up at school, but everything’s still so recent that nothing is confirmed yet.“
unspoken words linger in the back of his head, that he questions if he should say it or not.
that niki really didn’t know you that well, that you were just another classmate of his. one that he passed in the halls without a second glance back. that the you in his world-
was just a stranger to him.
yet seeing you, desperate and alive, right in front of his eyes. he doesn’t know what to do or say. so niki watches you bury your head in your hands. and he waits.
it’s only a couple of minutes later that you look up. his face morphs into one of surprise when he sees your determined expression.
“niki,” you state carefully and he nods, waiting patiently.
“are you sure that i-i did it?”
you can’t bring yourself to say the word but niki gets it. he sighs,
“no. no one’s sure. but from what i’ve heard, the police haven’t found any other motives so… a suicide seemed most likely.” the more and more niki talked, the more unsure he got.
your face hardens.
“so there’s no proof? the police aren’t doing their freaking job and investigating?”
his eyes widen—surprised at your sudden outburst—and you sigh, voice falling to a whisper.
“did i really commit suicide? and why do i care so much?”
something warm falls over your hand and you jump, glancing up.
even for only a split second, his hand covers yours in a sympathetic attempt, “i’m sorry y/n. i wish i had answers but i really don’t know…”
despite the awkward look on niki’s face and overall awkward situation, his words strangely comfort you.
you bite your bottom lip. “i-i have to get to my house.”
he stiffens, “what?”
you stare at him, eyes sharp, “if no one else is going to do something, i at least have to.”
you need to. for yourself.
niki scoots closer, “y/n, you can’t just-“
“i know. but i need to know. something just-ugh,” you rub your face in frustration, “something doesn’t add up. i have to check. it’s like i can feel it deep within me.”
he sits there wordlessly. when you don’t get a response, you stand up. niki splutters, “w-where are you going?”
you cross your arms, “without or without you, i’m going to my house.”
he slaps a hand to his face in frustration. “just how stubborn are you?” he mumbles. you hear it and yet you decide to ignore him.
“thanks for the help i guess,” you give him a (weak) half-smile before turning towards the door
“wait! you’re being serious?!”
his desperate voice calls out and you internally debate if you should listen to him or not. slowly, you turn back around, “yeah. do you need something?”
“no, but you do— a plan. especially since the police closed off your house for investigation. plus, most of the evidence would have been taken already.” he clasps his hands together behind his back.
you shrug. “okay, and? i’ll still find a way. i have nothing to lose. i’m not even supposed to be alive.”
he groans loudly and you raise an eyebrow.
“idiot. i’m trying to say that i’ll help you. i-i want to help you.”
“i didn’t ask,” you raise your hands in mock surrender. annoyed, niki puts his hands on his hips.
“sure, but i know plenty of things you don’t. this is my world. so, are you gonna accept or not?”
“you wish you did,” you retort, yet you can’t help the small smile that grows on your face, “but… i would appreciate it. just be grateful that i’m accepting your dumb theory from a spider-man movie as of right now.”
niki gulps at the sight. it was the first time he saw you smile since you met. at least, the first smile he saw from the you of an alternate universe.
“whatever you say,” he holds out a hand,
“miss imposter.”
you take it gladly, harshly. “don’t call me that-“
“my name is y/n y/l/n.”
you spin around in niki’s chair, having went up to his room to figure out your so called master plan. niki (respectfully) offered to let you stay in his room for the length of your “visit.”
to which you almost punched him.
but he explained that there were no extra guest rooms and you were still technically dead, so hiding in his room was the best bet as to not raise any questions. you could take the makeshift bed in the corner of his room as to not raise suspicion. you were surprised yet grateful.
“i’ll grab extra blankets and pillows. and i’ll sneak you food and whatever you need.”
“what about clothes and toiletries?”
he yawns, “easy. i’ll steal some from my sisters.”
you feel bad, but you realize you have no other choice. you were literally stuck here.
a part of you still wondered if this was a dream. a horrible one, at the least. but while you were stuck here, might as well make the best of it. niki graciously offered and you had no choice but to accept. you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation.
“so basically, i’m like a secret pet you’re hiding from your parents?”
“technically… yes,” niki rubs his hands together, and you can only watch the mischievous expression grow on his face.
“but i like to think that you’re like eleven. you’re different—you’re special, like her.”
you hold back a laugh at the words.
clearing your throat, you try to play it off. “from stranger things? your world has that show too?” he lets out a scandalous gasp and this time you giggle.
“of course, dude. what kind of world would i be living in if i didn’t have stranger things?”
“apparently a horrible one,” you snort.
after the whole living situation was sorted out, you returned to your investigation.
“so you’re saying the police taped off my house for further examination?”
“uh, yeah? that’s how it works?” he raises a brow.
you stuck your tongue out at him, “okay, smartass. then how do we get in?”
“clearly, there’s only one way: sneak in.”
“i don’t think this is a good idea?” niki whisper shouts at you and you shush him.
the sun was barely setting. if anyone knew you, they knew you really couldn’t be deemed as patient of any sort.
niki watches you struggle up the tree in your backyard.
obviously, going through the front door was a no go. luckily this house looked pretty much the same as your house, at least from the outside. you knew your parents weren’t home judging by the darkness. you wondered if they were staying with other family.
or were they at work? so soon after your death?
you grimace, now was not the time to be getting in your feelings.
the best (only) option was jumping the backyard fence and going in through your bedroom window. leading to your predicament now.
you exhale heavily when you find a place to rest, gripping the tree with all your might in hopes that you don’t fall
you glance down at niki.
“can you make it?”
he scoffs,
“easy.”
it was easy— easy for you to watch niki struggle to get up to your point.
you were sort of scared the tree wasn’t going to support both your weights, at the way it was trembling slightly. niki makes it though, by the time the sun is well down.
you can see him sweating heavily and your nose scrunches in amusement,“easy, huh?”
“yeah, for you just standing there and watching me. we don’t have all day, grandma.”
“don’t call me that,” you mutter while stretching out towards your window.
niki’s eyes widen.
“be careful, y/n.”
“i got it,” you stretch out a leg to the ledge and your sweaty hands begin to slide from the bark, most likely from exertion.
without even thinking about it, niki places his hands around your waist to stabilize you. you don’t notice in your concentration to not fall to your death. you certainly didn’t want another dead you.
your foot clicks the lock, and with a grunt you’re able to push the window open.
“you got it?”
“yeah,” you breathe out, clumsily making your way in. you reach out a hand for niki and he takes it, maneuvering his long body in through the small window.
finally, you can breathe.
it’s the first time you have the luxury to desperately wish that you were home right now. your real home. you certainly didn’t mean this home, the empty and cold looking one locked up for the police’s investigation.
after catching your breath, you get up to examine your surroundings. you weren’t not sure what you were expecting. this was the other you’s room.
all you can think is, at least this y/n was much cleaner than you.
a part of you feels like you’re invading someone’s privacy. but then you realize that it’s literally your own privacy that you’re invading, with the addition of niki. you actually can’t believe the absurdity of the situation.
at first glance the room looks pretty normal, an average teenagers room. not what you expected for yourself, but there’s not much you can see. you turn to niki,
“there’s no shot we’ll get caught right?”
he gives you another sympathetic look, “we’ll keep a look out for the police, but i heard your parents were busy with your other family and funeral preparations, so it wouldn’t be them catching us.”
“oh.”
the air feels so glum, you clear your throat to move on. “guess we should look around?”
he nods and begins to snoop around.
“wait,” you call out hesitantly.
niki cocks his head and you cough awkwardly.
“it’s still my room, so like, be careful with what you look through.”
he rolls his eyes. “yeah. i got it.”
you gaze at the photos on your shelf, displaying your happy family and friends. it just made you acknowledge how precious they were. it made you miss your friends and family at home even more.
you’re appalled at the books you read. you shake your head, seriously? you take out one of the books-
“ten days to love,” you voice aloud with disgust written across your face.
you weren’t one to judge, but what kind of cheesy romance novels were you reading?
niki opens your closet and you turn at the sound. your eyes widen-
wait a second,
your closet with clothes? possibly including…. more personal things?
you dash over in desperation, praying that niki hasn’t already seen something that he shouldn’t.
“don’t!”
his wide eyes meet your panicked ones, shocked at the sudden change of events. he doesn’t move until you push past him, blocking the door from his view.
“you didn’t see anything, right?” you stare at niki desperately and he furrows his eyebrows.
“no? am i not supposed-“
“no reason. just being cautious. we can, uh, open it together.”
you carefully examine your belongings inside before deeming it safe for niki’s eyes. you let out a sigh of relief.
he gives you a weird look and you shoot him an exaggerated smile.
“you can proceed!”
he mutters something under his breath as you continue your search on the other side of the room. it didn’t seem like there was anything of importance on the shelves. but, after careful examination, you see a glimpse of something. pushing past some folders, your face morphs into a stunned one.
you pull out…
a pink teddy bear with hearts? why would this be in your room?
and even more so, why was it hidden?
niki calls out your name and you turn around. your mouth drops open.
“a box of chocolates?“
he scoffs, “yeah. stuffed behind some clothes in your closet for some reason.”
“it’s not even the good brand,” you mutter.
niki laughs, “maybe you had secret admirers from school?” suddenly, you give him a suspicious glance.
“what makes you say that? you sure you weren’t one of them?”
he side eyes you, “trust me, you wouldn’t catch me within five feet of you at school.”
you walk over to shove his arm and he only laughs harder. you huff, suppressing a smile on your face as you turn away. but you keep niki’s comment in the back of your mind.
after a solid thirty minutes, you can feel your resolve waning. there was no sign indicating that you felt suicidal. at least, none that you found after the police probably scrounged through everything. some stuff was suspicious—
like the teddy bear and chocolates. and some lavish perfume and makeup in the drawers. that just wasn’t your style. but you supposed this world’s you was just different.
just because you weren’t particularly into those things didn’t mean another you couldn’t be.
“did i have a diary? what about my phone?”
niki frowns, “the police would’ve taken it. it’s their evidence now.”
you suddenly get an idea, and it’s probably wasn’t a good one.
“hey, niki?” you call out. he hums in response.
“what day and time is it, currently?”
“uh…” he checks his watch, “sunday. 8pm. why?”
“when does the police station close?”
dummy, most people would say--why would the police station be closed?
luck seemed to be on your side, because you knew especially well from complaints by locals, that your local police station did actually have a curfew. and you could only hope it was the same here.
niki scratches his head, “in ten minutes? why are-“
his mouth drops open, “no. no. no.” you shrug and he shakes his head adamantly, “y/n, there’s no way that we’re going to sneak in.”
you dust off your hands, “i’m all ears for any other ideas you have.”
you have him at that and he falls silent. after a couple moments, he speaks up albeit hesitantly. “well… i might have a way.“
you grin. “onwards, then.”
“wait, so how did you manage to get access again?”
he coughs, “my friend jungwon is the son of the police deputy chief… so i may have called in for a favor.”
“he managed to sneak in with his dad’s keys and get the files to my case?” you finish.
he nods.
“illegally?”
he nods again.
you tap your chin, “would we get arrested if we got caught?”
he shrugs, “probably.”
“good thing i’m not from this world.”
perhaps secretly hanging outside this jungwon’s house was not the best idea, either. he rolls his eyes before offering the file to you.
“do you want to open it?” to your surprise, his voice comes out quite comforting and soft.
you gulp, “i guess i should.”
you feel sick for the second time that day. luckily, the photo didn’t show too much. not that it made it any better. it was still you, dead.
you had to look at yourself and imagine yourself in that situation. you cover your mouth and niki immediately takes the file away from you. he watches worriedly as you shake your head.
“i’m fine. i-is there anything else your friend managed to get?”
“are you sure?”
“yes.” he doesn’t protest anymore at the tone of finality in your voice.
niki pulls out a bag with your name on it. taking a deep breath in, you open it. you shuffle through some things hurriedly until niki speaks up.
“hold on a sec,” he softly places a hand on your arm to stop your actions.
“we should be careful. someone could notice that we tampered with the evidence so we need to be very careful when putting things back. plus, we have to give it back to him as soon as possible—we don’t want them noticing that your stuff is missing.”
you curse, “that’s right. we can’t risk taking anything.”
“then what?”
you pinch your nose bridge, “we snap pictures and hope it’s good enough. unless we want to take another field trip here.”
you manage to snap a few pictures and go through a few things. you catch a glimpse of your diary and flip to the most recent page. it was about a week and a half ago, and-
it wasn’t finished. you skim through it, reading boring stuff about how your day was and how you met-
you squint.
the rest of the words were scratched out, harshly, with a black marker. seeing how it was getting late and dark, you can’t make out who’s name it was even with your phone flashlight. you wonder, could it be-
your thoughts are interrupted by niki.
“y/n, i think we need to hurry and head home soon. the longer we stay out, the greater risk we’re at for getting caught. oh, and i found your phone.”
he holds it up and the extremely glittery case makes your eyes hurt. you eye it. heaving a deep breath, you prepare yourself to open your phone.
but when you click the power button and nothing happens, you groan. you try again, and again, holding it down for seconds but the screen remains black.
“the phone’s dead.” you sigh again and niki bites his lip.
“maybe we should give up. we can ask jungwon another time,” he suggests
you nod wearily and he closes the box. as he gathers everything, opening his phone to text his friend to come back out, you glance at the time. it was quite late for a school day.
“that’s right, you have school tomorrow?”
he groans, “yeah. i guess you’ll just have to stay home in my room. no one will go in while i’m at school, so you don’t have to worry.”
you nod, “okay.”
it felt weird knowing you were supposed to be at home, in bed and preparing to go to school yourself the next day. instead, you were stuck in another world—in a stranger’s room, forced to hide since you were supposed to be dead.
were you considered missed at home? did anyone notice? call the cops?
more like, if anyone cared?
while you get ready for bed in niki’s bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror.
yes, you affirm, you’re alive.
you’re staring back at yourself, dressed in one of niki’s oversized shirts and basketball shorts.
but the image of your dead face flashes in your mind and you immediately squeeze your eyes shut. you breathe heavily, hands planted on the sides of the sink.
everything’s fine. you will get back home. things will figure themselves out. you’re okay. you’re breathing and-
a knock on the door makes you jump.
“y/n? everything okay?” niki’s voice sounds out hesitantly, “it seemed like you were taking a while so-“
the door swings open.
you stand there, face emotionless. he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. niki tries to keep the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head, but it won’t seem to go away.
“goodnight, niki.”
you slowly walk over to the temporary bed he’s set up on the floor for you. he blinks,
“night, y/n.”
it’s surprisingly comfortable, or maybe you’re just so exhausted you don’t seem to care or question anything anymore.
you hear light footsteps padding to turn off the lights.
in the darkness, your eyes close. but your mind is awake.
you know his is too, judging by the sounds of quite shuffling every couple minutes or so.
“niki?” you say quietly.
another shuffle.
“yeah?”
“this may sound weird, but have you noticed anyone that looked particularly sad?”
there’s a pause.
“about you?”
“yeah, but not like the typical sadness. like, anyone who seems to have changed drastically after hearing about me? let’s say,” you swallow, “any guys or friends of yours who seemed particularly upset or affected?”
niki rolls to the other side of his bed so that he faces you, but in the darkness he can only see the outline of your figure.
“y/n, what are you trying to say?”
you tug the covers over yourself a little tighter.
“nevermind, niki. have a good day at school tomorrow, and don’t worry about waking me up. you won’t be able to.”
“wasn’t planning on it,” he snorts.
you fall asleep with a faint smile still lingering on your face.
the next day at school, niki struggles. he struggles when it’s supposed to be another normal day, and all he can think about is you.
especially about what you said.
niki never paid much attention before to his surroundings, there was no reason to. but now he keeps an eye open.
he eyed anyone who passed by your locker, empty desk in class, anyone who mentioned your name. but the fact that you mentioned guys specifically, made him confused.
why did it matter if a guy was upset? a lot of people were shocked and sad at the news. niki shook his head. he didn’t get it.
meanwhile, you stayed at his home.
thinking.
thinking about yesterday. somehow everything that happened was all just yesterday. you took the train and ended up here. then you found out you were apparently dead.
you spent what felt like hours scrolling through the photos you took and waiting for niki to come home. all while eating snacks that niki left for you graciously.
you don’t even know what time it is when you hear the door begin to open. you scramble to your feet before realizing that there was a chance it wasn’t niki.
you go back to your hiding spot, shrinking underneath the covers. next thing you know, the bedroom door flings open. you tense.
however, a call of your name allows you to let out a sigh of relief. you hop up, “niki!”
he grins, looking rather cute in his ruffled school uniform, backpack slung off one shoulder. you stop yourself, horrified at your thought. at your face falling, he cocks his head. “what’s wrong?”
you laugh awkwardly, “nothing! nothing at all!”
he gives you an unconvinced look but doesn’t press further.
“you must’ve been bored without me.”
that was the niki you’ve come to know (in the span of a day or so). sarcasm drips from your lips as you laugh dryly, “sure.”
but you knew he was right and he knew it too.
“i spent the day looking through the pictures, but i couldn’t find much else,” you frown.
“same here. today was pretty normal, no one seemed any different than usual…”
“i mean, the mood has been somber ever since you,” he pauses, “left. but nothing out of the ordinary.”
you seemingly deflate, but niki perks up. “i talked to jungwon and he said he’s going to try and get your phone next time. we can only hope that someone charges it or that we can charge it ourselves.”
you nod, “that’s good.”
“but, don’t you have work to do? what about your family?”
you realized you didn’t see or even hear of them yesterday.
“oh, they usually stay late at the dance academy—me included. but my grades haven’t been good recently, so they’ve been forcing me to go to home and study…”
you tsk as niki gives you a sheepish look.
“you know, while we’re waiting, i’m not too bad at studying myself. what do you need help with?”
niki rolls his eyes, “thanks, but no thanks. i don’t need another person on my back about my grades.”
instead, he falls back onto his bed with an oof.
“don’t worry, i’ll manage. let’s just talk about our next step.
“step? as in, my case?
“yeah,“ his eyes glint, “i have an idea.”
you were starting to believe he was getting more invested in this than you were.
“okay—shoot.”
what was the worse thing he could suggest?
“we should sneak you into school-“
your eyes practically bulge as you gape at him. “excuse me? weren’t you the one saying i was going too far with sneaking into my own house and you want me to do what?”
niki gets up, placing his arms on your shoulders to calm you. strangely enough, it did.
“hear me out first—we sneak into school at night, bust open your locker, and see what you have. that’s better than waiting for jungwon.”
“don’t you think the police would have already looked through my locker?
“well, he looks around nervously, “as far as i’ve heard, the police were already mostly convinced the case was closed and didn’t care to check. but, what can i say? rumors are just rumors.”
you purse your lips. what did you have to lose? being in a different world made you much more reckless than you would have ever thought. but that didn’t mean you were going to be stupid about it.
“fine.”
niki winces at your tone, but you speak up,
“how in this stupid multiverse crap am i going to break into my own locker? and with cameras all around school?
he smirks and you raise an eyebrow.
“i didn’t miss a whole chem lecture for nothing—“
confused, you give him a look as if to say, what in the world are you talking about?
“who said we had to know the combination?” he takes out a pair of keys form his pocket.
you gasp in awe, clasping a hand over your mouth.
you gaze at him with wide eyes for a second, causing him to look at you questioningly.
“you’re actually being smart...”
his confused expression immediately changes to one of irritation.
you stand up straight again, “how did you even get those keys? and what about the cameras?”
he winks and you glance at him, trying to remain expressionless. if there was anything you noticed, it was that niki was actually quite attractive. it made you wonder if he was popular at school…
“it’s a secret. don’t worry about it.”
“you sure have a lot of secrets, niki. like, is niki even your real name?” you squint accusingly.
niki chokes on his spit, “how in the world did you know?”
you falter. “huh? it isn’t?”
he clears his throat, “anyway, i have to get up early for school tomorrow.”
you eye him but decide to let it go. niki shrugs, “usually i’m up playing games, but you look like you need the sleep with those eye bags. you aren’t surprised.
“tomorrow night,” he says shortly after. “i’ve got a plan—you just have to trust me.”
turns out said plan was dumb, but you really had no other choice.
niki made some lame excuse to his teachers about staying late to study- and his teachers, being utterly shocked that he offered to study, immediately agreed to let him linger.
meanwhile, niki would sneak you in, wearing one of his old uniforms that was too small for him so that just in case, no one would question anything. along with one of his totally inconspicuous baseball caps to hide your face and hair.
you sigh, you couldn't believe you were sneaking into school through the boys bathroom. you groan while maneuvering through the window. niki shushes you, causing you to stick your tongue out at him. he raises his hands playfully and you resist the urge to smack him.
on your way to jump down from the window, your left foot gets caught on the ledge. you stumble forward, expecting to be met with the revolting bathroom floor face first. instead, perhaps now was the time to thank the universe (in this case, his universe?) for niki’s quick reflexes.
he inhales, catching you by catching and pulling you towards him instead of the ground, essentially into his arms.
instead of faceplanting into the ground rather foolishly, you fall into his strangely soft and warm chest. you let out a barely discernible squeak, unable to respond due to the pounding of your heart.
after a couple of seconds—that felt like forever— niki lets you go with a shake of his head.
“my god y/n, i had no clue you were this clumsy. please don’t ever do that again.”
please don’t ever make me sneak into a nasty teenage bathroom again, you wish you could retort.
you shake your head quickly, lips pressed thinly together. don’t get distracted, you remind yourself. “yeah-thanks. let’s uh, just hurry.“
you don’t have time to wonder what would the consequences be if you got caught by cameras or anyone else while niki leads you down the familiar hallways.
“how do you know which one’s my locker? i thought you said we didn’t really know each other?“ you eye him suspiciously.
he scoffs, “don’t get too excited. mine’s just a couple lockers down so i was bound to see you at your locker by some point.”
he hands you the keys and you gratefully accept—your hands slightly trembling. you didn’t know what to expect.
niki watches from behind, and you can feel his warm breath on you occasionally, causing you to shiver.
with a slight click and creak of the rusty locker door, the locker opens. you hold your breath at first glance. it’s…. normal?
normal as in any average high schoolers locker one would expect. what catches your eye first are a couple of photos of you and your friends.
on deeper inspection of yourself (it was still weird to imagine and even weirder to see) you see a twinkling, intricate chain around your neck. maybe you were tripping (again, but mentally this time) or that necklace you had on seems really expensive?
“there’s no way,” you suddenly gasp and turn to niki with wide eyes.
“what?” niki starts to panic, “what is it?”
“am i actually loaded in this world?”
niki pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. “jesus, you scared me. i mean, you didn’t seem like it.. who knows where you got that super expensive, luxury brand necklace? it looks familiar…“
you try your hardest not to roll your eyes. of course, niki would know.
“how much are you talking?”
he taps his foot on the floor, “well, my mom and sister likes that brand. that specific necklace is specially made since it’s a seasonal limited edition, so it’s somewhere in the thousands-“
you truly forgot how rich niki’s family was, you think with a half joking tch and a shake of your head. niki glances at you, impressed.
“-whoever gave that to you must’ve really cared.”
you frown, “sure… or maybe i just really worked hard to get it for myself?”
he’s shoots you an amused look, “you wanted to get yourself the valentine day’s collection necklace?
“what?”
you feel your heart rate begin to pick up, “are you implying what i think you are?
“yes?” he responds with a raised eyebrow, “someone must’ve been really in love with you to gift you that. maybe your parents or friends?”
then niki pokes your side playfully, “-or a secret admirer?”
you don’t answer his question, regardless of if he was being serious or not. you peer into the locker again, “but where is it? it’s so valuable i’m certain we would’ve seen it in the police’s evidence…”
suddenly, niki grabs your wrist. that’s when you hear the footsteps. you turn to him with wide eyes as he mouths for you to hide. panicking, you look around in desperation before he pushes you—
straight into the locker.
your own locker.
you know you should be freaking out over getting caught, but you could only wonder—could this be considered a crime?
in the dark, stuffy locker, you see a glimpse of niki’s silhouette run past through the tiny openings of the door. just barely a second later, you hear more footsteps. squinting, you able to discern a familiar, yet weirdly unfamiliar guy. your eyebrows raise.
no way. park sunghoon was in this world too?
you hold your breath when you hear him call out, “is someone there?”
really, curse niki for shoving you in your own locker. yet it was also a smart move as no one could see into your locker, but you were able to see out.
“sorry. that was me, pres.”
it was niki’s voice.
you can barely see his relaxed demeanor appearing to face sunghoon.
“i was staying back to study and catch up on work—you know already,” he adds hastily.
sunghoon nods coolly, “i was just checking. making sure everything’s good before leaving.”
niki was a little too good at acting, you questioned how often he had done this to those around him. he fake salutes, “i promise to clean up after i’m done. no need to worry, class president.”
“alright, see you later.”
you have a sigh of relief as sunghoon turns to leave.
but you swear, for a split second, his expression changes as his eyes fall on your locker.
your heart rate picks up. did he notice you?
however, sunghoon leaves without a second look back.
you frown—what was that?
after waiting a minute to be safe, niki quickly lets you out. only to be greeted by your displeased face and crossed arms.
“that was the only thing i could think of in the moment!” he immediately defends himself.
“seriously? i could’ve-like-“ you trail off and niki smirks.
“see? nothing bad would’ve happened.”
“doesn’t change the fact you stuffed me in my locker. it’s not even mine, for crying out loud.”
“whatever. just be glad you didn’t get caught by park sunghoon, our school’s super rich, smart, and handsome-“
“i know him from my world. he’s irrelevant, let’s continue on.” you wave him off.
you can’t help but compare him to niki. niki was way more genuine and… boyish in a way? he felt real. you preferred that. not to mention he had a much more tolerable presence, you supposed.
everything else in the locker was useless. random crappy notes, perfumes and hand lotions, along with the pictures you already inspected were the only things that decorated your locker. no sign of that ridiculously expensive necklace.
you rub a hand over your face in exasperation. “that’s it…”
one thought still lingered in the back of your mind. where was the necklace?
“hey, y/n, i think we should get going soon. the lights are going to turn off soon-they’re automatic and we didn’t bring any flashlights.”
you sigh. next time.
it feels like you’ve hit a dead end. by the end of the week, niki has caught up on his studies. you were surprised to find that he was quite dedicated to school, even if it didn’t seem like it.
the days that niki came home with a pile of schoolwork and other duties, you went out to think—with one of niki’s hoodies and a mask on. but the times you spent with niki since you couldn’t go out much, mainly at night, were nice.
tutoring him at subjects he was struggling in, learning new dances together (and learning how talented he really was), simply being around him was enough to distract you from your impending crisis.
niki always came to keep you company and bring you food. you really were his eleven.
niki was gaming while you sat off to the side, watching him play. you admired his side profile, the shine from the bright computer screen enhancing his features, the furrow of his eyebrow as he focused.
he yells as his character dies and you can’t hold back your laughter, “you kinda suck-“
all of a sudden, you hear a knock on the door.
“bro, you good? i swear i heard another voice-“
the door handle begins to turn.
you and niki share a look of panic.
your first instinct is to dive and roll, underneath niki’s bed. you ignore the fact that it’s as dusty as you’d expect for a teenage boy’s room and hold your breath.
“mom said dinner is ready. also, what’s with all the noise? it sounded like someone else was in the room with you.” a girls voice—niki’s older sister, you presume.
“nope. just me.”
you cringe at the fact that niki’s voice is octaves higher. it wouldn’t be that much of a problem if his voice wasn’t as deep as it normally was.
“it was just probably the video i was playing.”
“…sure,” you hear his sister’s footsteps as she leaves and shuts the door behind her.
you let out an exhale of relief.
“y/n?” you hear soon after.
“under here.”
you turn to see niki’s head peeking down underneath the bed.
you meet his curious eyes. cute.
“jeez.” he holds a hand out and you gladly accept it, letting him pull you up with ease. huffing, you dust yourself off.
“jeez, indeed. who knows what horrors you’ve been hiding under there.”
“hey,” niki defends himself, “i’ll have you know i am a very clean person and don’t-“
“oh really? then what’s this?” you hold up the sacred item, jerking your hand back as he reaches out to snatch it.
“hey! haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”
he lunges again as you laugh, just keeping it out of his grasp. however, you feel the bed frame hit your legs, and you gasp.
you fall back, niki over you on his bed. he must’ve underestimated his arm-span and overestimated yours.
niki lands over you with a soft grunt, eyes wide. you peer up at him wordlessly. his arms catch him, but it’s still so close you can feel his hair tickle your forehead.
is this what the movies mean when your heart… skips a beat?
niki snaps out of his trance, “s-sorry,” he hastily gets up. you cough, trying to dispel the stuffy atmosphere.
“so, uh, i had an idea.”
“yeah? what’s up?”
“i was thinking we look at the evidence again. i just want to double check something.”
“come on,” you take niki’s hand. it was habitual by this point.
“you got the charger, right?”
niki nods, taking it out of his pocket.
it was risky asking niki’s friend to retrieve the evidence for you again, but you needed to confirm your suspicions. or, hit a dead end.
when niki returns, carefully holding a plastic bag (and dinner, your grumbling stomach reminds you), your eyes zero in on one thing.
“thanks. i know it must be hard for your friend to sneak behind his dad’s back like that.”
“it’s fine,” niki shrugs, “i promised to buy him lunch for the next week.”
you snort as you take out “your” phone and plug it into the charger.
“okay. now we wait.”
niki looks at you expectantly, and you only stare at him back. subconsciously, a hand raises to your face. “is there something wrong?”
he shakes his head while looking away sheepishly, “nothing, nothing.”
you open your mouth to question him further, but the phone screen flashes. you scramble to open it. thankfully you were able to use your own face id.
as soon as you scroll through your messages, your stomach sinks. you raise a hand to cover your mouth.
“what?” niki jumps up, “what did you find?”
you open the photos app, which only confirms everything. you drop the phone, and that’s when niki sees it.
“oh my god.”
“don’t even-“
“i was secretly dating park sunghoon?!”
you cup a hand over your mouth. “i think i’m gonna be sick.”
niki scoffs, taken aback. “b-but how? you- and him-?”
you rub a hand over your face. “don’t ask me. but the valentines gifts and necklace were so suspicious, i started wondering… i just didn’t expect it to be him.”
niki notices the sour expression on your face.
“oh. you don’t like him?”
you shake your head vehemently, “bro, not even if he and i were the last two people on earth.”
you think about your world’s sunghoon and almost shudder. he was selfish, arrogant, could but would never keep a girl for more than two weeks. yet the whole class still loved him and you never understood it, never understood the appeal of him.
besides getting bro-zoned, niki relished your words.
“good to know.”
“i wish i didn’t,” you sigh.
but that was besides the point. you still didn’t know how it all added up. did sunghoon—unfortunately, your boyfriend in this world—have anything to do with your death? did he really get you that expensive necklace?
and as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t rule it out. thinking as rationally and fairly as possible, suicide was likely-as much as you didn’t believe it. you couldn’t rule it out simply based on a feeling. plus, his expression when he passed by your locker lingered in your mind.
“so, now what?” niki watches you carefully.
“you’ve heard of the saying, keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?”
“yeah,” he cocks an eyebrow, “why?”
“well, i’ve got a task for you.”
niki has never spoken a word to your friend group in his entire life. the most he’s ever done was send a cold look their way and pretend not to know them out in public.
he had nothing against them—nothing against your choice of friends—but he preferred not to associate with your group. he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he just didn’t vibe with them.
and yet here he was, talking to your “friends” because you asked him to. he sighed, the things he did for you.
danielle looks him up and down with her arms crossed. “why are you asking about y/n? since when did you care about them?”
“please,” he sighs in exasperation, “i just need to know if anyone disliked y/n or was acting suspicious around them.”
haerin steps up, an annoyed frown on her face. “there’s no one. can’t you tell this is a touchy subject for us? now, leave us alone.”
she grabs danielle and walks off, angrily whispering into a distressed looking danielle’s ears.
niki wants to punch someone. besides the fact that surrounding people were catching onto his conversation and whispering about the interaction, he essentially got nothing out of it.
you were also at a dead end. after scrolling through hundreds of disgusting texts and photos of you and sunghoon, there was nothing remotely suspicious. plus, you had to give your phone back to jungwon soon before anyone noticed it was missing.
everything seemed normal. everything was normal. normal until this world’s you suddenly died.
the only lead you had was the missing necklace. and yet where were you supposed to find it? it could be anywhere—in the police’s hands, with sunghoon, most likely gone.
you couldn’t even go out on your own, you felt like a hopeless rapunzel trapped in her tower, desperately wishing for answers and freedom. it was starting to get to you. the stress, homesickness, and most of all, loneliness.
you throw your phone to the side and bury your face in your hands, trying your best to focus on your breathing. you almost don’t realize how long it’s been until you hear a faint call of your name.
“y/n? y/n, what’s wrong?” niki drops his backpack and rushes to your side.
his eyes carefully examine your body, checking for who knows what. you slowly lower your hands, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained face.
what scared niki the most was the lost look in your eyes, a deep and dark pool void of any emotion.
“niki… i don’t think i can do this anymore,” your words float out carefully, like a whisper of the wind.
“i’m trying my hardest, but it’s so frustrating. i miss my home, i miss my life. i miss myself.” as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel yourself break down. and right as you do so, niki reaches forward to wrap you in an embrace.
“i want to go home,” you whisper in an small voice.
his heart almost breaks at the sight. you sounded like a little kid—you looked like you were a little kid again, as small and curled up you were when he found you. in his eyes, he saw a lost child looking for their parents, their guidance and their own light in the world.
he resolves to never be the cause of your pain again.
niki holds you for the entire night as you cry and drift off to sleep.
you wake up with a headache and a dry throat. you feel hungover, although you’ve basically never drank alcohol before.
somehow, you’re not sure exactly when, you ended up in niki’s bed. as soon as you’re able to sit up, your eyes fall on the clock on the bedside table.
11 am. niki must be at school still, you note.
you wonder what he’s up to, if he was being a good student while you were stuck all alone at his home, skipping your own school. you wonder what life is like back at home. did time even pass?
niki heads home as soon as the bell rings. he wanted to see you, to comfort you and reassure you. he wanted you to be okay.
when he knocks on his own bedroom door and there’s no response, he frowns. all there’s left is a pink sticky note on his desk.
went out for fresh air. don’t worry and don’t look for me.
niki immediately drops his stuff and runs out. he goes to the train station, the bookstore. he even goes back to school, for crying out loud.
he’s breathless and exhausted by the time he’s arrived back home. niki knows his family won’t be back. it was competition season, which meant the busiest time of the year for the other dancers. you were the sole reason he attended school at this time of the year, studying hard instead of skipping and dancing 18 hours each day.
he’s scared.
niki hasn’t felt this feeling in a long time—he can only recall the time where he was six and went to disney world. his older sister was pressuring him into riding one of the larger roller coasters, and he felt that sickening nausea fill him as he looked up at the towering structure.
he almost gives up. he basically has, until he notices something strange. his balcony door is unlocked, and he always kept it locked for safety purposes.
tense, niki reaches out and slowly turns the handle. what greets him is certainly not what he expected.
you sit on the balcony railing, hanging over the edge quite precariously with your feet swinging. one slight mistake and you would fall.
you stare down at the passing cars, cloudy and dreary skies showing you it was soon to rain.
niki stares at you, and you turn around at the sound of the door to stare back, not a single word exchanged.
then you finally break the eye contact, glancing down at your stilled feet. “i wasn’t going to do it.”
he silently moves closer, hopping next to you on the railing as well. “okay.”
you don’t see the tender way his eyes travel over you. your voice is quiet as you speak up, “you don’t have to say anything.”
“okay,” niki repeats.
it’s not said in a sarcastic way. it’s not sad, either. it’s just..... soft. soft and understanding enough to make a blanket of comfort fall around you, to make it known that niki’s presence is here by your side.
suddenly, the rains starts and niki asks if you want to go down. you slowly nod and he helps you safely off the railing before opening the door for you guys go out in the rain.
the rain doesn’t stop.
and niki doesn’t stop either. he grabs your hand, dragging you along with him haphazardly.
“where are we going?” you ask breathlessly.
“out. like most people our age. we’re still kids.”
“wow, i had no idea,” you mutter sarcastically.
he holds back a smile of relief. good to know you were still your usual self.
“you need a break. you’ve been so caught up in this case, you need to rest.”
“but-“
“come on,” he leads you on, “relax. it’ll give you a clear mind, so we can come back with a fresh start.”
you’re hesitant until he pulls up at an arcade. “what if someone sees me? what if they-“
niki places a finger over your lips, silencing you. “we’re here to have fun like everyone else and not give a crap about anything else. now, are you gonna play or are you gonna get your butt kicked by me?”
a challenge was a challenge.
you laugh at niki’s rambunctious side, yelling as he tries to cheat during competitive games and fight over the better toy gun.
“just so you know, i technically won.”
you playfully shove him, “in your dreams. you’re just saying that because you don’t want to-“
you get cut off by the loudest (and most embarrassing) grumble of your stomach. you both look down at your stomach. you look back up, petrified.
niki almost cackles, “i guess that’s a sign.”
“it’s not my fault i fell asleep before eating yesterday,” you pout.
“what do you want to eat?”
“anything. i’m serious.”
niki watches with a fond smile as you quite literally inhale your food.
“eat any faster, and you’ll make a new record.”
you flip him off as he laughs, putting more food onto your plate from his. you can only watch wordlessly, feeling your heart warm. after you finish eating, niki takes your hand again. you glance at him questioningly.
“there’s one last thing i wanted to do,” he mumbles while avoiding your gaze.
“how’s this one?”
you scrunch your nose in distaste at the sight, reaching to place red devil horns on niki’s head.
“i think this one fits you more.”
as he grumbles, you laugh.
“fine, but i get to choose yours.”
he ends up picking a frog headband for you—which you complain to no avail. his reasoning was, “you remind me of a frog. like the princess and the frog.”
you splutter, “but that means-“
“yes. i’m the princess.”
“obviously,” he adds.
in the photo booth, you sit awkwardly. niki cocks an eyebrow.
“i’ve never done this before, so…"
instead of teasing you like you originally assumed, niki only brings you closer. he wraps an arm around you while posing for the camera. you’re frozen, even as the countdown starts. you can barely manage a smile as the camera flashes.
“what now?”
niki glances at the screen, “we still have three more pictures. what poses do you want to do?”
you’re at a loss for words.
niki leans closer again. he makes a half heart with his hand as he looks at you expectantly. “how about a heart pose?”
“o-okay.”
you never felt so suffocated in that photo booth. and yet, you’ve never laughed harder. you’ve never been so happy in your life with someone else.
“hey, this photo came out good!”
“but what happened to the first one?”
you both lean in to get a closer look at the photos that printed, and you end up feeling niki’s breath on your cheek.
it was warm. it was nice to have someone so close to you and still feel comfortable. it was nice to know you were close enough to someone to feel that way.
it was something you had never felt before.
“..-y/n?”
“huh?” you snap out of your trance.
“i said, you can keep this copy.”
you look at the pictures and then at niki. “what? no, it’s fine-“
“i said keep it,” he forcefully shoves the photo into your hand as he quickly heads over to the cashier to pay.
you stand there for a minute, looking at the photos. you guys looked happy. you guys looked good…together. like you were a real couple, or something. you internally chide yourself while taking off your headband. what a silly thought, you brush off.
on the walk back home, you feel utterly satisfied, humming as you match your pace with niki’s.
“when we arrive, i’ll let you in through the back, just to be safe.”
“whatever you say, mr. responsible.”
he ruffles your hair and you swat his hand away in annoyance.
that night was the first night you’ve felt content. almost like you could stay here—like you belonged. you stare up at the dark ceiling, reflecting on the days events.
“niki?”
you hear his bed shift. “yeah?”
“i just wanted to say thanks. for everything. you’ve been providing everything for me, all while helping me on my case. i’m grateful for everything. i don’t know how, but i promise to pay you back one day.”
“what’s with the sudden sappiness?” his tone is teasing, but light. he clears his throat to add, “but yeah, of course.”
“i dunno, i guess i’m just not used to this type of treatment back home.”
“what? what do you mean?”
even in the dark, you can feel inquisitive stare on you.
“i mean, i’m usually left on my own since my parents are working. and my friends, well, they’re nice and all…”
“but you don’t feel a true connection?” he finishes, and you roll over.
“yeah. i don’t really know what my friends are like in this world. who even are my friends? do i even have any?”
niki grimaces.
“uh, yeah. i don’t know if they exist in your world, but have you heard of danielle? and haerin?”
“nope. what are they like?”
he shifts again, and the bed creaks. “you see, i don’t really talk to your friend group. it’s nothing personal, i just don’t want to associate with them.”
“dang, maybe it really is just a me problem, in every life too.”
you hadn’t thought about hanni and hyein since you got here. but danielle and haerin were two new leads. a new start, perhaps.
now that you had more information from niki, you started your research again. specifically, insta-stalking.
your specialty.
niki hands you his phone with a suspicious look when you casually ask for it. you pray he doesn’t hear the sound of blood rushing in your ears or the pounding of your heart.
as he goes to do his night time routine, you quickly tap on the instagram app and search up danielle’s name. it doesn’t take long for you to find her account since niki followed her. checking to make sure he didn’t come out of the bathroom, you scroll through her feed.
and your heart stops when you see it. in the corner of a photo—a picture of her and haerin posing at school in front of their lockers.
that’s your ridiculously expensive bracelet on danielle’s arm. you’re sure of it.
you felt yourself grow nauseous as you quickly turn off niki’s phone as soon as you hear the door turn.
“hey, are you okay? you look like you just saw a ghost..”
you blink and smile, peeking at him innocently, although the dread grows in the pit of your stomach. “huh? no. what are you talking about?”
“what were you doing on my phone?”
you look away sheepishly, “trying to see if i could call my mom?” maybe niki’s acting skills were rubbing off on you.
“oh, and?”
you shake your head, a fake grim expression plastered on your face.
that night, you lay awake staring into the darkness. when you hear niki’s soft snores, you sneak over to his bedside table to retrieve the key. you know you shouldn’t, but you felt this was something you needed to do alone.
you feel like you’re on the edge of the cliff, about to jump into the water. the adrenaline filled you, you were right there-
it was so close.
the next day, you have to pretend everything is okay. you smile when niki greets you good morning, even peck him on the cheek when he tells you he has to stop by the dance studio for the night.
he visibly blushes, stuttering on his words, “w-uh, w-what was that.. for..?”
you shrug, “i’m just proud of you for getting your grades up. it’s your first time back dancing in a while so have fun, okay?”
he nods, beaming as he squeezes your hand goodbye. as he leaves, your smile fades. it felt too normal. it felt too right to imagine having a life with niki, like this everyday.
and knowing what you knew now, it was wrong. it was wrong from the start, and yet you couldn't help yourself fall even deeper. you had to get back into the right mental state. you couldn't keep deluding yourself.
it was time to confront the truth.
you can’t believe you’re sneaking into through the school boy’s bathroom again. the locker key safely stored in your pocket, you find danielle’s locker. the same one from the photo she posted.
this had to be the one. you can only hold your breath and hope as you unlock it.
you quickly scramble through all the stuff, looking for the shiny bracelet. you don’t find it, but when you go to close the locker door in defeat, a crumpled up piece of paper falls onto the floor.
you huff, taking it and opening it up. it’s a picture of sunghoon, you, and danielle, all smiling as you three posed for the camera. but it wasn’t just an ordinary picture—there was a big, red “X” scribbled over your face, with the words “finally done” written next to it.
and hearts next to sunghoon’s face.
horrified, you clap a hand over your mouth.
during a break at the dance studio, niki doesn’t expect to open his instagram app and see danielle’s instagram show up on his recently searched. frowning, he taps on the account. he never cared to pay attention to danielle, so why was her account the last thing searched up?
just out of curiosity, he scrolls through her recent posts.
and then he sees it. something that is so hard to miss. it’s so strikingly familiar.
he rushes home. when niki bursts through the front door, he doesn’t expect to find you missing. and when niki notices his old school uniform and cap gone, his heart drops.
you sit on the floor next to the lockers with your head buried on top of your knees. you’re sure you could get caught, but you don’t care.
the crumpled picture feels heavy in your pocket.
you stay there, staring at the walls until you see the moon shining brightly outside one of the windows. you haven’t eaten or drank anything the whole day. you’re not sure how long it’s been.
“y/n!”
great, now you were hearing things as well?
furious footsteps stomp towards you.
“why did you leave without telling me? you could’ve gotten caught-it could’ve been dangerous?!”
“n-niki?” your eyes widen.
before saying anything else, he pulls you up to your feet.
“why would you come to school without me?”
for some reason, his words sting. you cross your arms, “what? like i can’t take care of myself?”
he groans, “that’s besides the point! if someone saw you—“
“i don’t care! so why do you care so—“
a sound from down the hall cuts you both off. you turn to niki in panic and he curses. “the custodian comes on weekends to clean.”
you hold back a yelp as niki grabs your wrist and pulls you along in the opposite direction.
he pushes through a door and turns to the left. you don’t stop until you’re inside the.. natatorium?
“why are we-“
“there are no cameras here, unlike in the school building. i thought you would’ve known that.”
after he speaks, there’s an awkward silence.
niki sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “well, are you gonna tell me?”
you feel the frustration flow through your veins, “and what about you? you tell me why i have to let you know my every location? why i feel like i can’t take care of myself, l-like a sick, old dog who can’t go anywhere or do anything? i’m sick of it all!”
“you don’t understand,” his voice raises, and you interrupt him, getting closer and closer to him.
“you’re right, i don’t. i don’t understand why you helped me in the first place. you say that you barely knew who i was, yet here you are acting like you care! like you cared about the dead me!”
at this point, his face is so close to yours, you can feel your breaths mix as neither of you back down.
“i do care! of course i care! about you, standing right in front of me!” he clenches his fists. your eyes linger on a single vein on his neck that sticks out due to the intensity. the fire burning in his eyes, your trembling voices, it all makes you falter.
you don’t know what you asked. you know the truth. niki always cared—more than cared. he always went out of his way to search for you, like the day on the balcony and today. he wanted to find you, he wanted to have you in his life,
you realize it now. to put simply, he wanted you.
and this was the first time you felt wanted.
you don’t know what else to do, so you lean in and close the gap to kiss him. and if anything, niki immediately pulls you closer to him.
when you break apart for air, his dark eyes still staring deep into yours, you think he’s gonna lean back in again. but you hear a faint voice sound, growing louder. your eyes both widen. the janitor.
without a second thought, niki pushes you.
he does it lightly, although it’s still enough to make you lose your balance, and for a second you stare back at him, betrayal evident before you fall backwards—
straight into the pool.
your eyes just barely peek open in the water, and then there’s a splash accompanying yours a few seconds later.
he easily swims to you, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his once more. it was a much different experience from just a few seconds ago.
you stay entwined like that together, eyes squeezed shut, until you actually can’t breathe anymore and you have to smack niki’s arm. you both rise to the top, heaving water and air.
after a few seconds of coughing and gathering your bearings, niki’s raspy voice fills the air.
“at least he’s gone. i’ve always wanted to do that.”
you roll your eyes, splashing water back at him in revenge for pushing you earlier. “seriously? after we got almost got caught? we could’ve drowned!”
you splash him again, “also, you could’ve given me a heads up!”
he grins, wiping the running water free from his face. “and where’s the fun in that?”
you shake your head in amazement, “you’re actually an idiot. i can’t believe you, niki.”
“an idiot who saved us from getting caught.”
after returning home together, you sit and enjoy the peaceful silence as niki dries your hair. your mind can’t help but replay the last few moments, from finding the picture at school to kissing niki, and then finally get pushed into the pool. specifically, the kissing part.
growing sleepy at the soft and warm feeling of niki’s hands running through your hair, you almost don’t hear him when he says, “all done.”
you thank him and he looks around awkwardly.
“what is it?” you squint at him.
“well, i wanted to apologize. i didn’t mean to make to feel that way. i was just really worried about you, and i felt hurt you didn’t tell me why you snuck into school again today. did you not trust me? did i do something wrong?”
you soften, eyes falling to the floor.
“i’m so sorry, niki. i didn’t mean to lash out on you. of course i trust you, i just wanted to do something for myself for once. without needing your or anyone else’s help.”
you exhale, “the reason i left today was for this—“ you take the damp, crumpled picture and unfold it as best as you can.
niki’s hands fall to his side. “oh god.”
“it was danielle. she took my bracelet and i-i think she wanted my boyfriend. i know it has to be her.”
“w-what? but how?”
you shake your head. he goes to hug you.
you feel tears brimming at the corner of your eyes, but you won’t waste any tears on her. you pull back to look at niki, with a determined expression on your face.
“you have to catch her and make sure they get what they deserve.”
niki stares at you deeply, “are you sure? because if you are, i won’t stop.”
he wonders why you say you and not we.
at that, you falter.
“no. i never be sure because she is—was my best friend and i will always hold that guilt in me. but you have to do something about it.”
niki’s hold around you tightens, “and what about you?”
you smile, albeit sadly. “you know i can’t stay here, hiding away forever. i don’t belong here. i already existed in your world, and at some point, i have to leave soon. i can feel it.”
it was the same feeling as when you first came here. that day you felt off. the feeling that you don’t belong anywhere, but this time, you feel fulfilled. complete. like you were ready to go back home.
“it’s not something i can explain, but i know it,” you look at him with determined eyes.
and he looks back at you with pained ones.
niki is able to convince jungwon to get his dad to reinvestigate the case again. the picture is given up as evidence, and danielle and haerin are taken in.
the day they confessed out of guilt, you and niki celebrate by sneaking onto your school’s rooftop. the same place where it all started.
it’s a cold and windy night, but you could care less about getting sick. because it was your last day anyway.
you didn’t tell niki, but you had a good feeling—like the world was patting you on the back and saying, “you worked hard.”
the two of you watch the stars, snuggled up and reflecting on how your lives came to be like this. wondering how far away apart your worlds were.
you kiss niki’s cheek, wishing to remember the feeling of being in his arms forever. his scent, his touch, his warmth, you wish you could keep all of it. you smile at him, willing back the tears.
“there was a reason i bumped into you that day, of all people. there was a reason you came into my life, and i came into yours, niki.”
he bites his lip, “y/n... you changed my life. every day with you was better than the last.”
if this was a dream, you wouldn’t want to wake up. you trace his face, so it will remain ingrained in your mind forever, even when you go back to your world.
“what will happen when i leave?” you whisper.
“how will you even get back home?”
you shrug, “i don’t know how, but i know that i will.”
niki laughs, “that’s the y/n i know.”
as he kisses you once more, a star falls across the sky.
the next day, you find a ticket in your bag. a train ticket.
you don’t recall having bought one, and you don’t question niki. you only ask him to take you to the train station.
while walking hand and hand, you reminisce on the past month or so. “will we still remember this once you go back to your world?”
your body trembles, “i don’t know.”
“then… will i ever see you again?”
you don’t want to meet his eyes, because you know you’ll cry.
yes, you want to say. instead, you say, “ i don’t know.”
niki wipes a stray tear on your face. you don’t even know how you reached your stop already.
“this is it,” he says.
but neither of you move.
“don’t worry, even if i don’t remember you, you’ll always be in my heart. we’ll meet in your world,” he reminds you while the tears start falling down both of your faces.
“don’t forget that there’s another me out there to annoy you. you just need to search hard.”
you sniffle, playfully pushing him away as you furiously blink away the tears that blur your vision. you needed to soak up the sight of him as much of him as you could.
“i promise i’ll find you again.”
he holds onto you until the very end, until you slip out of his grasp once more.
crossing the platform into the train while giving him one last, slow wave was painful. the last thing you can think of is the fact that you never knew. you never asked for niki’s full name. his real one.
you never knew niki’s name.
and then everything fades into nothing.
that’s the last time niki ever sees you. the train passes by in a flash, blowing his bangs across his face while he tries his best to keep that fake smile on his face for you—all for you before you go.
then, you’re gone.
in those seconds as the train passes, niki knows exactly why he did it. why he helped you through all of it, through everything together.
all because you were there in class. you never looked at him, but he looked at you. he saw all of you, everyday—even if you didn’t know it. all your quirks and habits that he couldn’t help but find cute. you made his days interesting.
but he was the coward for never approaching you. that was his fault because one day, you weren’t there anymore.
and he had to pretend like nothing happened. on the outside, that’s how it was. even if he felt the slightest connection, tiniest pull towards you, you were still strangers.
you were strangers until you knocked into him on the train platform.
niki had to be selfish. he thinks it could have been fate that he saw you again, but now he’s just left with the lingering regret and feelings. those memories flash past like the train does. they come and go in the blink of an eye- a split second.
when the train is gone, niki frowns and wonders why he’s standing there.
he also wonders why it feels like there’s a piece of his heart missing.
after that, he attends your funeral in his world. it was an open funeral to everyone who wanted to come- classmates, friends, and him. niki didn’t even know you that well, but he get this unexpalaniable urge that he should go- he needs to go. he brings flowers and gets to see you one last time.
when niki sees the picture of your serene face, he can’t help but get this sense of peace, like everything’s resolved.
and then he’s free.
epilogue...
you sigh, trudging along the walkway on the way to work. looking at your surroundings, you were getting major deja vu. but at this point, you were used to having episodes like that.
there were many, many times where some things simply felt so familiar. but it was like your memory was wiped and you couldn’t remember why. some times you had flashes of an adventure, a feeling of mystery, a boy.
ever since some day in high school, it just happened. and from then on, you’ve always felt like something was missing. or wrong. you can’t tell. it became a part of you, to the point where you almost forgot about it. that feeling of misbelonging, being just out of reach. it’s strange, like a weird occurrence that makes you want to open your third eye or whatever to find out more.
even after graduating, it never left you.
you being so lost in your thoughts, fail to notice when you bump into someone coming off the train you were about to get onto.
“i’m sorry,” you quickly apologize, but you soon falter when you meet eyes with sparkling brown ones. weirdly enough, they draw you in.
they were familiar, you’ve certainly seen them somewhere. the moment lasts for a while, with the two of you standing still in the middle of the passway, staring at each other.
you slowly smile, extending a hand. “i apologize if i’m mistaken, but have we met before?”
he stares at you too, confused yet enthralled.
“i-i think you may be mistaken,” he starts hesitantly and you begin to apologize.
“are you sure?“ you quickly introduce yourself, “and you?”
you swore you were not such a desperate person, but you couldn’t help it, not this time and definitely not in front of this particularly alluring guy.
“me?”
he takes a quick glance at you before taking your hand with a small smile.
“my name is nishimura riki.”
first i wanted to say thank you for reading! this was a rough time coming, and i wanted to apologize for the long wait. this has actually been a wip of mine for years and i finally was able to finish it with riki after months and months of writing. this past year has been the worst one so far, but i'm just grateful to still be here. just feeling super appreciative for those who stuck with me and waited patiently. thank you. can't wait to see you guys again soon with the next oneshot (hint hint)!
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#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#niki x reader#niki x you#niki fluff#niki imagines#niki scenarios#nishimura riki x you#nishimura riki x reader#enhypen au
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╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞
part one - part ii
➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.
➪ Everything seems to be going right and life seems amazing, at least to the others..not for you.
➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando
➪ this came to me as I was running a high fever, stop judging me..i also needed a charles fic here, No lando in this one yet, Charles ain't a real good partner and google translate is my bestest friend
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charlesgirlies
liked by 456 others
charlesgirlies Charles and Zoë in y/n's story today 🥰
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cahlossainz oh
chilisainz oh my god I'm dead 😭
↳ bott_ass bestie same
charles16 she needs to keep feeding us dad Charles please!!
leclerc_16 volunteering to be his baby mama
lanlan Zoë is just the cutest little bean 🥰
↳ charlesgirlies she is! 🥰
lanlan lil cutie like her mom :)
charlesgirlies and her dad!
charloslesainz y/n living my dream life 😭
landoscar I just know zoë has Charles wrapped around her finger
yukisan didn't know y/n and charles were together let alone have a kid 😂
↳ clsixteen have you been living under a rock? It was a big scandal when they were seen together 5 years ago?? 😭
yukisan I'm new so i dont have all the lore, just thought they were friends because they both come from Monaco 😅
leckerkcharles y/n the predator and her victims
mrsleclerc love that there's still people in the comments being mad about them dating 💀
↳ carlandooo for real it's been 5 years people and charles is not little sauber Charles anymore 🤡
charlesgirlies people be acting like y/n is 40 years older than charles
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y/nusername
📍 Sicily, italy
liked by charles_leclerc, noellepicard and 369,989 others
y/nusername babes big day out 🏖
tagged: noellepicard, manon_roux
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noellepicard she's a little mermaid 🧜🏻♀️
charlesssss I can't, she's the cutest 😭
charles_leclerc princesse ❤️
↳ charloslesainz stop it, he's such a girl dad imma throw up
hamilt44n man is made to be a dad honestly
manon_roux lucky to have the prettiest girls in the world with me 🥰
↳ joris__trouche je n'ai pas reçu mon invitation? (i didn't get my invite)
y/nusername probablement parce que je n'en ai pas envoyé :) (probably because i didn't send one)
joris__trouche comportement inacceptable (unacceptable behaviour)
charles_leclerc Joris est une des filles maintenant 😂 (joris is one of the girls now)
y/nusername Je devrais lui acheter une mini-jupe et des talons hauts pour nos prochaines vacances :') (should buy him a mini skirt and some high heels for our next vacation)
manon_roux j'aimerais voir cela se produire 🤣 (i'd love to see that happen)
joris__trouche j'aurais l'air sexy et tu ne peux pas le nier (i'd look sexy and you can't deny it)
sharl16 no idea what they're saying but I agree 😭
landoscar her little feeties 🥺
leclerc_16 am I the only one who finds it strange that they haven't been together this summer break?
↳ carlosleclerc they were bestie, they spend time together with friends in Monaco last week..they're both on their girls and boys vacation..pretty normal
leclerc_16 oh I've missed that part..still something feels off
carlosleclerc I mean y/n gave birth to their daughter not that long ago and its probably not the best idea to fly with a new born/baby all around the world. I'm sure they're fine..
leclerc_16 mmm you're probably right, would hate to see them split up though
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y/nusername posted to their story
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y/nusername
📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco
liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 327,888 others
y/nusername juste toi et moi à l'infini, petite fille 💗 (just you and me to infinity, little girl.)
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noellepicard 😍
yourmumsuser mes anges ❤️ (my angels)
charloslesainz 'just you and me' doesn't sit right with me lmfao
↳ thurthur my god it's just a caption 💀
landoscar for real they're always reaching for things
thurthur they always trying to start shit and it's getting annoying and repetitive
clsixteen never seen such a cute kid 🥰
francisca.cgomes need to meet her soon!
↳ y/nusername your always welcome!
bananaclerc cutest little bunny 🐰
manon_roux mon lapinou ❤️ (my bunny)
joris__trouche mon petit monstre ❤️ (my little monster)
↳ hamilt44n stop this kid is so loved 😭
sainzleclerc feeding the delulu fans with that caption
↳ charlesgirlies it's literally just a damn caption!!!
sainzleclerc I know but the crazy charles girlies haven't seen them together in a while and don't forget Charles hasn't mentioned zoë in a while.. things add up in their heads 🤡
charles_leclerc mes princesses ❤️
↳ y/nusername 🥰
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y/nusername posted to their story
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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728
Lando taglist: @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2
let me know if you want to be taken off the taglist
#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc#lando norris#lando x reader#charles x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc fanfic#lando norris fanfic
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make it up
chris sturniolo x fem!reader
summery: your situationship gets in the way of your fun at a pool party, especially when it’s with a flirt who you leave no other choice but to make it up to you.
warnings: smut..don’t let the cute cover fool you lol, sub!chris, lowkey both him and the reader are toxic, fem!receiving, face sitting, missionary, unprotected sex, i think that’s all
a/n: this was a struggle to write and i think it took years off my life but that’s okay!!
4.2k words
love, sienna <3
it was practically impossible for you to focus on anything other than the way that Chris looked, standing there with his chest exposed and his swimsuit hugging him in ways that make you woozy. you aren’t official, so it takes everything within you to not go and let the world know he’s yours, but he is.
you and Chris both lack a sense of commitment to romantic relationships, it’s what makes your situation so much easier to navigate. there’s a level of trust within your dynamic because you both want the same thing out of it. there’s also spoken rule of not seeing anyone else, a rule you’ve both obliged to for the past few months.
a pool party isn’t necessarily something you were yearning for, but Chris insisted that you come along with him, and you weren’t one to say no to him very often.
the sun is beating down on the comically large backyard, your scalp feeling hot and a few sweat beads trickle down your neck as you pour yourself a drink at some pop up table.
this wasn’t entirely… your crowd, but you do have a few people you’re somewhat friends with which you are more than thankful for as you create small talk near the table.
Chris has put his focus on playing volleyball in the pool with a bunch of his random friends, his wet hair falling on his forehead before he runs his hand through it so he can see the net better.
you mindlessly talk to the people around you before very quickly growing bored with the effort-fuelled conversations about the weather and whatever new couple just broke up.
it feels a bit un natural to be standing around in two small pieces of fabric that are vibrant against your skin while being completely above water. so you set your random plastic cup down and walk towards the clear splashing water that’s surrounded by concrete walls.
you opt to sit along the edge, keeping a close eye on Chris who couldn’t help but notice your presence immediately.
maybe the reason you work so well with him is because you’ve known him for such a long amount of time. he was your lab partner in junior year chemistry and as annoying as you may have found him at first, he was funny, and it was his goal to be constantly putting a smile on your face.
it wasn’t long after until he was putting more than just a smile on your face—and god was he addicting.
you let your feet sway in the slightly cold water while you rely on your wrists to keep you upright, in full view of the blazing sun.
if you weren’t going to be having a blast the least you could do is create a few tan lines.
the boy across from you tries his best to stay focused on the game, but he can’t help but pay attention to the incredibly flattering swimsuit that rests on your body as your skin glistens in the heat. your thighs squished together on the cement outline of the pool with small droplets of water dripping down them has him insanely distracted to say the least.
“cmon Chris focus up!” a plea can be heard from some random guy who stands next to him, furthest from you but still very aware as to where Chris’ head is at.
everywhere but the game.
he shakes his head, leaving you a small, playful smirk before looking back to the poorly set up net towards his eager opponents.
you watch for a while, eyes fixated on the way his tongue darts out of his mouth to coat his lips. his full focus on the same is weirdly attractive.
his back muscles are outlined perfectly in the sun. you want nothing more than to have your hands scratching helplessly over them with your nails.
soon enough the ‘game’ comes to a close, bringing your head back to reality.
Chris swims over, situating himself between your legs and placing his cold wet hands on the base of your knees. “hi” he looks up at you, blue irises highlighted in the immersive light pouring down on him.
you laugh slightly, wrapping your bare legs around his smooth back. “hi pretty boy did you win?”
“were you not watching?” he inquires, wiping stray water droplets off of his freckled face. he leans in slightly closer as if he’s telling you a secret. “definitely lost but they’re too drunk and they fully believe that i won so i’ll let them believe what they want”
another small laugh escapes your lips when the mentions of the sport remind you of a memory. “do you remember third period gym class when i accidentally served a volleyball directly at your face?”
he rolls his eyes playfully in response, a bead of water dripping down the side of his neck. “course i do, you apologized for like a week straight”
“not my fault you were walking around the halls with a black eye! i felt bad” you defend yourself passionately.
“well it actually was your fault but” Chris just schooches you slightly closer to him. hands pulling you in by your lower back so that your plush thighs make contact with his sides. “it was cute when you felt all bad and shit”
you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, fingers delicately running through the hair sprawled on the back of his head. “how much longer do we have to stay?”
“you act like a pool party is a chore” he laughs softly. “give it another half hour and then we can get ready to leave”
before you can say anything in reply you hear a familiar voice call out your name. “hey come over here! we’re shotgunning right now”
you don’t entirely want to go, your time would be much better spent with the boy in between your legs but he’s not your boyfriend, and it would feel wrong to cancel on people wanting to do something with you for him. even if just looking at his face is more than enough to keep you occupied. “i guess this is my sign to go socialize”
he fake frowns dramatically, slowly guiding his fingers up your legs until they make contact with your upper thighs. “okay lover boy i have to get up” you mutter out, fighting every urge to close the space and bring his lips to yours.
most people know you have something with Chris, they just aren’t entirely sure what. the two of you flirt constantly and tend to stick by each others sides at gatherings but usually pda is off the table for your own sanity.
today you were just a lot more needy for any form of contact with him, and you can’t be bothered at this very moment to hide from the world.
it is however annoying to constantly be answering questions about you relationship status. most of the time it’s easier to have them completely oblivious rather than curious.
so you stand up, gently taking his hands off of you before placing your feet on the cement and walking over to the girls who are standing in a patch of grass with drinks in hand—not without feeling Chris’ eyes glued to your back.
“hey you ready?” a girl asks, dark brown braids draping over her back as she hands you a colourful can.
“yeah i am, someone have a coin for me?” you ask, reaching over for the random girl that hands you the circular copper coin.
the group does a countdown and after the number one you immediately crack open the can and tilt your head back, allowing the fruity liquid to stream down your throat.
after a moment of relentlessly swallowing, you release the tin from you lips and crush it while wiping the drink off your lips.
a girl beside you practically spills her drink everywhere and you laugh with her momentarily, enjoying the small moment. this is before something catches your eye.
Chris at the back of the pool with a girl standing uncomfortably close beside him. it’s obvious to everyone around him that her intentions are anything but innocent.
people flirt with Chris all the time, he’s hot. but the way she’s practically straddling him in the chlorine water and the fact that he’s done nothing to deny her advances? you’re sick.
“hey isn’t that your boyfriend?” a random girl across from you asks, going to the table to grab a slice of water melon and handing one to you. assumingely feeling bad for you.
you shake your head, taking a bite of the flavour fruit before replying. “not… technically. but he knows better than to pull some shit like that in front of me”
she laughs softly, rubbing your arm sympathetically. all you can do is hope it’s not pity.
“what’s your name again?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from the heart wrenching sight across the still water that fills the pool. Chris hand now on the girls lower back as she talks to him about god knows what.
“maria” she replies, reaching for a bottle of sunscreen from her tote bag that rests on a random pool lounger. “and you?”
your name lingers on the tip of your tongue as you refocus your gaze onto your man who’s sitting there with a smug smirk on his face. he’s clearly amused at the girl who puts in full effort to get him interested in him.
“y/n” a fake smile forms on your face before you begin to walk towards the pool. “please excuse me while i go deal with that fucking idiot” you spit out, earning a gentle laugh in reply.
“you’re too hot to let a man like that walk over you” she adds as your back now faces her.
it’s clearly bothering you and you can’t sit back and do nothing anymore. someone clearly needs to learn a lesson.
your feet walk before your mind can even fully comprehend what’s happening. it’s un deniable that you’re in a hurry to get Chris the fuck out of that pool and your body language speaks for itself.
he sees you walking over, detaching his hands from the girl who know holds a clueless expression on her pretty little face.
“hate to break up your fun but we’re going, Chris” you mutter out, looking down at the pair as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
the girl immediately gives you a nasty look in return. “i’m sorry who are you?”
you roll your eyes, Chris now walking towards the pool ladder as you continue the petty conversation. “i’m his girlfriend”
she laughs. “really? because he told me you guys are just friends. might wanna sort that out before you get all possessive over someone who doesn’t feel the same”
there’s no point of explaining yourself to this random girl who is in full belief that she’s in the right. besides, you’re more mad at him than you are at her.
————————————————————————
“do you beg for your other friends like this?” you question, finger placing light pressure over the familiar patterned swim shorts. you’re standing over him, knees brushing against the mattressinserting your complete control in the dynamic.
it’s slightly later now. a golden hue shooting its vibrant light through the bedroom window as a helpless boy lays below you, propped up by his elbows so as to still look up at you.
he breaths out, shutting his eyes closed as if to somehow focus on anything other than the pads of your fingers and the touches they’re applying to him. “fuck no”
you let out a soft, menacing laugh at his innocence. it really is admirable how effortlessly you’re able to get him like this, his hips squirming restlessly against the soft blankets that rest below him.
as much as you’d love to be completely angry with him, it’s much more enjoyable to be petty. and besides, he’s got lots to make up for.
you hover over him, your hands placed next to his hips while your head dips down to his exposed neck. there’s remnants of marks you’ve left behind recently, something that girl from the pool consciously chose to look past. “you like it when i mark you up?” you whisper into his ear, chills immediately trickling down his spine while blood rushes to his growing length.
he just nods pathetically. there really is no point in arguing with you, he knows you’re right. it’s hilarious how he portrays himself to the world, like he’s some big tough guy who gets all the girls. last time you checked tough guys aren’t whimpering pet names in your ear while you tease them, maybe you’re wrong.
you take your time. getting lost in placing small kisses along his jaw, making a point to leave behind a noise with each one. it’s obvious he’s trying to hold back, it’s not easy for him to be like this but he knows he cums the best under your touch.
“who the fuck do you think you are pulling that shit in front of me? do you know how embarrassing that is?” you spit out, hands placed on your knees as they try desperately to relieve the tension that formed in your arms.
he just rolls his eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel while a stupid smug smirk pulls at his pink lips. “it’s getting really old when you do this shit. you only act like you’re in love with me when you’re jealous”
“in love with you? wow that’s rich. maybe i just didn’t wanna watch you suck face with some random girl in a musty ass pool” you argue. deep down he’s probably right in what he’s saying. you aren’t very good at showing emotions towards him until he shows interest in anyone that’s not you.
“please” he whines as your mouth creates suction on his collarbone, notably leaving more marks to add to his scattered collection.
his words are in vast contrast to those he was spewing on the car ride home, much less bratty.
you smile into his chest, hands running up his sides only causing more squirms in response. “please what? cmon be a good boy and use your words for me”
the way his chest rises and falls at his neediness already has you feeling the need to close your own thighs together. you need friction more than anything and your body is begging you for it.
“just touch me please, i need it” his voice practically shakes through the words. regardless of how annoyed you are with him, you immediately do as he says, palming through the thin damp fabric.
“so worked up for me already Chris, you like when im on top of you like this don’t you?” you coo into his ear as your hand moves menacingly across his length. he’s already completely hard under your touch and the combination of your words almost makes it painful how badly he wants you. “but i’m not sure you deserve to cum after the shit you pulled earlier”
his hips buck up slightly as the palm of your hands lifts from his sensitivity. “mmh how- how can i make it up to you?”
you hum, as if deep in thought. in reality you already know exactly how you want this to go, he just needs to be the unsuspecting pawn in your evil game of chess. “i don’t know…. im pretty mad at you baby”
“i’ll do anything, please i need you”
his consistent begging is like music to your ears and the last thing you want to do is press pause. your mind wanders when you think about all the things he could provide you in order to make up for his foolish mistake.
his hands.., his thighs—you even consider giving in right away and allowing him to have sex with you right here and now. but it wouldn’t be as fun to give him what he wants right away, and his toxic little mouth should really get put to better use.
you speak low, only furthering the anticipation for what he needs most right now. “i think you need to be shut up. that mouth of yours is mine yeah?” you run your finger over his lip, pulling his bottom lip down lightly until he replies to your question with another eager nod.
your lips meet with his, your tongue immediately attaining dominance within his mouth before you bite down gently on his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from the boy.
the strings of your bathing suit are the only thing holding you back from the pleasure you’re aching for. “Chris baby can you help me?” you bring his fingers to your hips so as to guide him to where you need help.
he gets to work right away, untying the strings and immediately causing the bathing suit to slip off of your body to leave you exposed in his line of sight. “you’re so beautiful” his voice leaves behind an innocent compliment.
your lips turn into a smile at his praise as you pick of the wet fabric that lies beneath you, tossing it to the floor that resides besides the bed. “thank you” your fingers trail up his bare chest as your legs straddle him. you make point of sitting down just slightly on his dick, enough to make him wanting more but not enough to provide him any real pleasure.
slowly, you shift higher up his body until you’re aligned with his pretty face that looks up at you with eyes fuelled with worship. “you gonna make me feel good?
he nods again, hands lifting from the sheets to your thighs to pull you onto him before you can get another word in. it’s clear how desperate he is to make you feel good and it only makes you want him more.
Chris places a few teasing kisses above where you want him, having his fun with taking his time before you sit down on him.
it begins slow, his tongue licking a stripe through your folds before focusing on your clit. he’s sure to make sure your weight is fully on him, the pressure of his pink muscle pressed against you is intoxicating.
eventually your hips begin to rock sensually on his mouth while his lips create a suction on your throbbing clit, only proving to build the pleasure you’re experiencing below.
“mmm such a good boy for me Chris. you always know how to make me feel so good” your praise only causes him to increase his speed, giving you exactly what you want. “i’m the only one that gets this- fuck. no other girls can have your tongue the way i do”
you can’t help but fuel your own ego at your situation with Chris, proudly expressing how grateful you are for him while placing subtle jabs at anyone who tries to interfere.
the pace increases. soft moans leaving your lips while his hands squeeze your ass into him, only increasing the pressure of his tongue more.
you’ve quickly forgotten about earlier. your thoughts flooded with the the sensation of his soft lips on you as his tongue inserts itself into you, curling upward.
you fall forward, your upper body becoming weak at the overwhelming speed of his tongue switching from curling into your wetness to sucking on your puffy clit.
a loud sigh escapes your lips as his fingers rub small circles on your lower back, his mouth doing all the work. it’s impossible to stay still, and his tongue makes your body move in a rhythm against his face. hips grinding hungrily into him as you approach your high.
“so good fuck, i’m close baby” you moan out, and you can almost feel his lips curl into a smile under you at how easily it was for him to make you unfold, but he quickly resumes his rhythm on your clit, desperate to give you what you need.
your stomach tenses as your orgasam overtakes you, thighs squeezing his brunette curls that rest between your legs, his tongue working you through your first orgasam.
eventually his mouth slows before you pull yourself off of his face. the sight below could almost make you cum again, his flushed cheeks and messy hair along with the wetness dripping from the corner of his mouth.
god you really do love having him like this.
you swing our leg off of Chris, laying on the bed horizontally next to him. a puzzled expression replaces his hopeful one, he’s not entirely sure what you’re getting at by laying next to him.
you speak after another moment of confusion passes by. “what’s taking you so long? thought you wanted to cum?”
he sits up practically right away, moving his body to hover over yours. you can tell he’s not entirely sure this is what you’re asking but you quickly confirm his suspicions with a short kiss, your hands immediately reaching for the waistband of his shorts. “i need to feel you”
it’s like a lightbulb goes off in his head and he’s immediately more excited than he is confused, hands dropping down to assist you with pulling down the damp bathing suit that keeps him from you.
the sight before your eyes is mouth watering but you can’t give in, still attempting to remain dominant. his dick is clearly exhausted from waiting so long, remnants of pre cum dripping down the veins that surround it.
“make it up to me Chris, i don’t wanna be mad at you after this” you demand, his hands finding your knees to spread your legs open, your centre still leaking slightly from earlier acting as a perfect lubricant for him.
“yes ma’mm” he spits into his hands before spreading the warm saliva over himself, stroking a few times before aligning himself with your entrance.
it begins slow, he always allows you to adjust to his size momentarily, just sinking into you and starting off with lazy, sensual thrusts. his face is aligned with yours, the plush pink colour on his cheeks showing just how badly he needs this—how badly he needs you.
“you fill me up so well baby fuck” you moan out, his pace inside of you increasing slightly as his tip has no problem brushing over your sweet spot.
he leans in, leaving a few wet kisses to your bare neck before whispering in your ear. “i’ve been so bad, let me make it all better”
before you can mutter out some form of a reply his hands travel to your thighs, lifting your legs so that your knees are aligned with your head. this new position only makes the feelings of his thrusts feel deeper.
he quickens his pace, hips moving in a rhythm that causes nothing but small whimpers and moans to leave your lips.
a smile tugs at his lips at your current state, your tits bouncing in the thin bathing suit fabric and your mouth in an o shape at the constant pleasure he’s inflicting onto you.
the strength of his hands on your thighs only further help push himself into you, hitting your g-spot relentlessly. Chris knows you well enough to know when you’re close, your eyebrows furrowing and your walls closing in on him, so he takes that as a sign to bring one hand down in between you.
the pads of his fingers find comfort on your sensitive clit, rubbing light circles as the pace of his hips hasn’t let up once. “fuck Chris you’re so good” you moan out, hands gripping onto the sheets beneath you.
he leans in to your ear again, voice slightly shaky as he avoids the urge to moan. “do you forgive me?” his hand moves quicker against your clit, practically begging you for a simple ‘yes’.
“mmh i-“ you throw your head back, orgasam approaching quickly.
“i need you to say it pretty girl”
the new sense of confidence behind his voice only further turns you on, your orgasam hitting you like a brick before you can even prepare yourself. “yes! mm i forgive you Chris”
at your words he continues slamming his hips into you, using your release as leverage to come to his own high that he’s been holding back for awhile.
suddenly he pulls out, giving his dick a few pathetic pumps as he releases onto your bare stomach, head thrown back and eyes shut in pleasure.
he practically plops in bed beside you, the two of you completely exhausted from the day and the events that transpired moments prior. “i’m so sorry, fuck i was stupid” he groans out, bringing his hand to his forehead to rub at his skin.
“it’s okay, we’re both kind of idiots sometimes” you giggle, placing a small kiss on his cheek before sitting up. “we really need to shower now though, we stink of chlorine”
a/n: hope you enjoyed lol i’m gonna take a break from writing on my page for a while due to burn out and such but i will still be contributing to collabs
if u haven’t read @greatooglymooglyyy or @luv4kozume fics today go do that now those are some of my fav ppl and writers on this app and they deserve all the love!!
taglist:
@lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut @lustfulslxt @69isabella69 @dracoflaco @mattslatinagf @raekensluver @worldlxvlys @greatooglymooglyyy @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss @imwetforyourmom @sturniolololover @immuneweed @its-jennarose @taco-taco-posts @luverboychris @gracealwaysdisgrace @gamermattsgf @mattscoquette @nervoussagittarius
#🌺 — triple threat event!#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut
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technically the first proper introduction into the charles and blitz world despite how much we talk about them!!
series masterlist
.
“If you die, can I get your Pista?”
Charles lifted his head, shooting you an unimpressed look.
“What? I just thought we should cover all bases,” you defended, knocking your shoulder against his.
You knew exactly what was going through his head. You knew he was overthinking the whole thing, making up the worst assumptions and how it could affect the time he would have to take off training. You knew he was working himself up like he tended to do, falling silent and allowing his only company to be himself.
It was the exact reason you insisted on coming with him.
“And out of everything I own, you want my car?” Charles questioned, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah well, you treat that thing like your baby—minus the parking skills,” you said with an innocent smile spread across your face. “Surely that makes me a step-mother or some sort of parental figure.”
“The way your brain works amazes me every day,” he murmured with a shake of his head.
“You love me,” you sang, nudging his shoulder once again and, this time, he lifted his arm to wrap it around your shoulder.
“Unfortunately, I do. Even when you’ve started planning for my death before I go into surgery,” he mused, but you could hear the underlying hint of fear. The one he didn’t really want to admit, but the one that you saw as clear as day anyways.
“Everything is gonna be fine,” you reassured him and lightly squeezed his knee. “Who else am I gonna look down on the top step of the podium if not you?”
He rolled his eyes. “It is truly a miracle I love you.”
“I’m the best thing in your life and you know it, Leclerc,” you countered, poking his side.
Charles’ face softened. “Yeah, you are.”
“Charles Leclerc!”
He turned to look at the nurse who was waiting for him by the doors, a kind and welcoming smile on her face. You watched the way his face dropped a little, the way his body tensed against yours and you squeezed his knee again.
“You’re coming back to me, Charlie. It’ll be fine.”
…
“Tu es si jolie, mon amour.”
*You are so pretty, my love.
“English, Charlie. My French is lacklustre at best.”
“Tu es l’amour de ma vie!”
*You are the love of my life!
You sighed deeply, taking a glance at the boy in the passenger seat of the car. He had a lovesick smile on his face, his cheeks flushed pink and a little bit of drool on the edge of his mouth. He looked adorable—and fucking hilarious if the pictures you sent to his brothers were anything.
However, since the second he had woken up from the procedure, Charles seemed adamant on only rambling your ear off in French. No Italian or English to be heard. Just French. Just the one damn language that you were hopeless in, despite the many years you knew the Monegasque.
“J’ai hâte de t’épouser,” he sighed dreamily as he stared at you with an expression that made your chest tighten.
*I can’t wait to marry you
“I don’t know what you said but me too, buddy,” you said as you reached over to softly pat his thigh.
However, the boy was one step ahead of you and quickly grabbed your hand to intertwine with his own.
“Regarder!” He giggled, holding your joined hands up proudly. “Nous sommes connectés pour toujours maintenant!”
*Look! We are connected forever now!
“You’re so lucky you’re cute,” you commented, fighting the odd urge to bite back a smile even when you had no understanding of what he said. “I might need to call your mother if you keep up this whole French act.”
“Oui, appelle-la! C’est aussi ta famille, mon amour!” Charles nodded.
*Yes, call her! She is your family too, my love!
“You know, these embarrassing videos don’t work if even I don’t understand them,” you added, shooting him a look but he just smiled back at you, and you couldn’t really be mad at that.
.
#charles leclerc#formula one#f1#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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Lonely with you | Azriel
summary: it seems like everyone's found their mates, except you. On a sleepless night you turn to your friend, in hopes that being alone, together, will feel slightly less lonely.
words: 1.5k
warnings: fluff, feelings of loneliness, thirsting over our boy az and his thighs, kind of just a drawn out drabble, some angst, generally just softness, Azriel with a book needs a warning in and of itself, very slight jealousy, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, PINING
notes: haven't written in years, and never befor for Azriel, or anyone from acotar, so bare with me. Not sure what I think of this, nor what the future might hold, but I had some time off uni and this idea that I just couldn't seem to get out of my head. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
part 2
You knew what picture was waiting for you in the living room of the House before you even rounded that corner. The distinct sound of pages turning, the hint of whiskey in the air, and him.
That scent that was just so distinctly Azriel it almost made you forget that echoing emptiness in your chest.
The sight that greeted you as you entered the room belonged in a museum, or at the very least at the front of some Day Court scribe’s lecture hall, being studied by the brightest minds in Prythian. You wanted to commission Feyre to paint it from your memories so it could be immortalized, even if just for your eyes. Because by the Gods, it was mesmerizing.
Azriel sat – no, sprawled across one of the couches, those thick, muscled, sweatpant-clad thighs so deliciously, invitingly, teasingly spread apart. The book in his hand was not one you recognized, but then his taste in literature was slightly more… sophisticated than yours. But that just made it all so much more enticing didn’t it? The thought of this gorgeously dark, winged male consuming deep, meaningful art? It would make any sane person fall to their knees.
The hazel of his eyes didn’t show any sign of surprise as his gaze met yours. He knew you were coming, most likely courtesy of the shadows leisurely curling around his shoulders. Cauldron, was he a sight…
… And your friend. Unfortunately.
“Are you just going to stand there all night or will you eventually move?” Right, right. How long had your feet been rooted to the floor? Judging by the humorous tone of his voice and that boyish sparkle in his eyes, probably a tad too long.
Forcing your body to take a step, and another, you tried to think of something – anything to say.
“Sorry, I–... I just didn’t expect you to be here is all,” liar, “I guess you caught me by surprise”. It wasn’t the best excuse in the world, but with the situation at hand it could have been a lot worse. Like, a lot. Besides, it’s not like you could have told him the truth.
Sorry Azriel, it’s just that I have been desperately yearning for you for the last couple of years and seeing you like this, looking all boyfriend-y, has me nearly swallowing my own tongue because of how perfect you look. I am just humiliatingly obsessed with every single little thing you do, as well as horrifyingly lonely to a default. In a non creepy way, of course.
… You would rather free-dive off the dining room balcony before ever admitting that to him.
His brows furrowed as he observed you, like he could see the lie written across your face, before humming lightly, almost as to himself. He reached a hand out to the glass resting on the coffee table and brought it to his lips, taking a sip of the amber liquid inside. Your eyes were trained on his mouth as he lowered the glass. Trained on the candlelight reflected in the alcohol wetting his lips. Those shiny, pouty, full–
His tongue slipped out and delicately swiped across his lower lip, licking off the remnants of the whiskey from the glass in his hand, and it took everything in you to not whimper at the sight.
Cauldron boil you.
Needing something to ground yourself, you made your way over to pour yourself a glass of whatever Azriel was drinking and collapsed beside him on the couch, trying to roll that stubborn stiffness out of your shoulders.
”Can’t sleep either?” He asked you on a slight chuckle.
“No, not with them going at it like bunnies,” you sighed, “how is it even possible for Cassian to… you know? I mean, not only is it day after day, but all night, non-stop? You need– I mean not you specifically, I don’t know anything about your sexual habits, just– just males in general,” oh Gods, “you– you need to rest, at some point – right?”
Azriel took in your flustered state, and pursed his lips as if to keep from laughing. His amusement did not help your case at all, only making the heat crawl further up your neck, your ears positively aflame.
“I guess the mating bond has its perks,” he surmised, and you couldn’t escape the huff that exited your nose.
That damned mating bond. The very one the Mother seemed to be handing out left to right lately, to everyone except you. And Azriel. But unlike you, he was a damn catch and could have anyone he’d like.
“Am I an absolute wench for being jealous of Nesta? And Elain? And Feyre?” You whined as you threw your head back on the couch.
“Not at all,” Azriel’s raspy voice comforted you, easing the tightness in your stomach. You still felt like one though; Nesta was your best friend and you were happy for her, but still–
“It’s just so unfair! They were born like, yesterday! I have been suffering through a mostly miserable existence for over five centuries now and I have never even come close to a connection like they have,” you rolled your neck, “I am over the moon for them, don’t get me wrong, and I hate to make their happiness about me–“
“But being alone around people who… aren’t, can be very lonely,” Azriel finished and your heart clenched as you looked at him. Beautiful, kind, caring Azriel. One of your best friends, and the male you were hopelessly, devastatingly in love with.
Knowing he, too, was hurting was painful in itself, but also slightly comforting. Knowing you weren’t alone in your loneliness.
“You’re in pain,” he mumbled, and you opened your mouth to answer, but you couldn’t. Because it wasn’t really a question was it? “Your shoulders,” he noted, “they’re tense.”
“Oh, it’s fine, really. Nothing to worry about, just a small kink,” you tried to brush it off, but he looked at you with such intensity it made your whole body tingle.
“No it’s not,” it was like he could see right through you, “No, you have been worrying your neck ever since you sat down.” He pondered a moment before he sat up a little straighter beckoning for you to move closer. “Come on, let me help you with that.”
Your mouth fell open.
Was he insinuating he wanted to rub your back? Your half naked, barely-nightgown-clad back. With his hands. Those magical, beautiful hands. Oh Gods.
Your attempt of a protest died in your throat at the slight raise of his eyebrows. He was not to argue with.
He marked the page he was on and placed his book down on the table in front of you, his eyes not straying from you once. Like he was afraid you would bolt if he looked away, even just for a second.
In his defense, you very well might have.
A shaky breath released from your lungs as you put your glass down and readjusted your position on the couch until you were situated between his legs. With your back facing him, you carefully pulled your hair over one shoulder to give him better access, trying to block out the thoughts of how incredibly warm those bite-able thighs of his were.
The warm calluses of his hands on your skin set you ablaze, and as he carefully started to massage out the knots in your upper back you swore you could have melted, then and there.
You couldn’t help leaning in to his skillful touch. You also couldn’t help the breathy groan that escaped you as he started to work on a particularly tense area.
Or how your heart rate picked up as you heard what you swore was Azriel’s breath hitching in response.
You basked in the intimacy of the moment, fully enjoying all of his undivided attention.
The gesture, the moment, it all felt so domestic and comforting that the constant emptiness in your chest started to close over. Even if just for now. Even if it was all borrowed; a lovely, elusive fantasy – you let yourself feel whole.
You barely registered his hands slowing to a stop, or the new found looseness in your shoulders. Barely registered as his hands slid down your arms and slowly tugged you back towards his chest.
Not until you were engulfed in his warmth, his arms wrapped around you did you realize how well you fit together.
Like two pieces of a puzzle.
“Be lonely with me tonight,” his breath tickled your ear, “please.”
You knew it probably wasn’t wise. That tomorrow, when all of this would be gone, the hurt would resurface. The loneliness even heavier than before. But you couldn’t get yourself to care. To tell him no. Tell yourself no.
Instead you burrowed deeper in his embrace, closed your eyes, and even if just for tonight, you let his warmth fill the void in your chest.
Until that void had been replaced by a vibrating, golden, glow.
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fluff#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#a court of thorns and roses#azriel fanfic#azriel imagine#lonely with you
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No One Fucks With My Baby
pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller (based on established back story from my oneshot Who We Are)
description: everyone now knows that you are joel's girl. when you're working a busy night at the bison, a newbie stirs up a bit of trouble. joel handles it the only way he knows how and you thank him the only way you know how.
word count: 3.8k
warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, drunk old men who harass reader, joel fucks them up, mentions of blood, glass breaking (?), voyeurism, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, pet names
author's note: this fic is dedicated to the birthday girl @ilovepedro !!! happy birthday sweet nini, I love you so much! thank you for helping me edit this, but more importantly, thank you for being a wonderful friend. you make the world a better place. love you always <3
after the amazing love I got on "Who We Are", I decided to add to the universe. let me know if y'all want more! xoxo, gracie
“Didn’t know they made jeans that low cut!”
You were used to stupid comments made towards you by drunk men. But now that Joel has made it known, you are his, a lot of the men in Jackson kept their advances to themselves. The gentleman at the end of the bar must not know that your big ole’ scary boyfriend was positioned in a booth with Tommy and your father across the room. His eyes had been locked on you for most of the night, and every time he and the guys needed more drinks, he’d be the one to grab more.
You turn to the drunk man, who had to be your father’s age. He’s practically drooling at the sight of your ass in your favorite jeans. The summer air was not a good combination to a normally humid bar, so you had been wearing less and less clothes behind the bar. You were sporting the jeans and a tighter tank top than usual, mainly because you knew Joel would be around and you loved driving him wild when the shirt rode up on you.
“You’re gonna catch flies if you don’t close your mouth,” You joke, pouring whiskey for another patron, “Don’t think you’d like the way that would taste.”
The man slams down his glass which causes a couple people to look down at him. You don’t even glance in his direction, knowing if he’s mad, he can take it up with every man in the Tipsy Bison.
“I don’t take too kindly to sarcastic little sluts.”
Your heart stops. You calmly place the whiskey bottle down beside the shot glass you were pouring into and glance towards the red faced prick. You hear the conversations subside around the room while you lock eyes with the guy who’s bold enough to talk shit to you.
You know Joel’s already standing up from his spot at his booth, but you move quicker. You position yourself in front of him, leaning over the bar, your eyes raking down the pathetic boy in front of you.
“Pardon?”
He swallows, realizing how quiet his surroundings got. “I s-said I don’t take kindly to sarcasm.”
You click your tongue, a newfound confidence surging through your body, “I don’t think that’s all you said. Somethin’ about me being a slut?”
“Listen, girl-”
His boots are loud against the hardwood as he approaches you and the man. He stands scarily close to the barstool where the man sits. You don’t break eye contact though, wanting to handle this situation yourself.
“It’s ma’am, to you,” You cut him off, “I think it’s best if you leave.”
“I haven’t finished my drin-”
Joel reaches around the guy and grabs the whiskey glass from in front of him and slams it on the floor. The guy immediately starts to tremble, shaking like a little leaf. You crack a smile before whispering one final thing to him.
“Think you’re finished, buddy,” You flick your eyes up at Joel, who’s fury is written all over his face, “Mind walkin’ him out, baby?”
Joel grabs onto the guys shoulder with a bruising grip, “Would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”
He rips the guy from the stool, not even making sure the guy finds his footing. You ignore the shuffle outside and return to your pouring. You feel like your heart may beat out of your chest, but you’re relieved it was handled before Joel got even more handsy with him. You grab the shot glass and hand it to the fellow that was sat by the drunken fool.
“You got Miller wrapped around your finger,” The guy, who’s name you think is Aaron, says. He was a regular and frequently stopped Joel to talk about morning patrols. You smirk before snatching a rag off your shoulder.
“Yeah, he’s so wrapped around my finger that he’s gonna clean up all that broken glass.” You joke, wiping down the condensation ring the glasses left on the wooden table top.
You hear some footsteps approaching and when you look up it’s Tommy. He’s shaking his head, a grin playing on his lips.
“Where’s the broom? Joel seems busy putting that guy in his place.”
You furrow your brows as you reach for the broom, “What do you mean?”
“I just sent your Dad out there because it sounded like some rustlin’,” Tommy explains, grabbing the stick from you to begin sweeping up the shards, “I’m sure they are handlin’ it.”
Before you can get nervous, you hear the front door swing open quickly. Your Dad and Joel walk in and you can tell Joel is pissed and a bit rattled. You navigate your way around the bar and glass, reaching their booth as soon as Joel sits down. He’s cradling his right hand in his left, hissing in discomfort.
“What did you do?” You say, reaching out for his hands. There’s two gashes that litter his knuckles, only bleeding slightly. You shake your head when he pulls away from you.
“Nothin’ baby,” he mumbles, “Just taught the guy it’s not nice to talk to ladies like he did. He walked off with a bloody nose and busted lip when he started talkin’ shit back.”
You roll your eyes, catching your Dad’s glare.
“Did you break it up?” You press, wanting more of an explanation.
He shakes his head, “Nope. Joel can handle himself. I did tell the guy when he was walking away that if he talked about my daughter like that again, he’d wouldn’t be able to walk away cause he would have a bullet between his eyes.”
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms under your chest. “I swear to God…”
Tommy approaches the table, his task of cleaning glass finished. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, “You okay?”
“I’d be better if the men in my life weren’t insane,” You joke, nudging Joel’s arm as he inspects his knuckles.
Tommy laughs and sits back down across from your Dad and Joel. While he makes jokes with your Dad, Joel is silent and stirred. You can tell he’s bothered by something more than handling some asshole who called you a name. You decide against pestering him more, allowing him to settle back into conversation with Tommy and your Dad.
You give him a quick peck on the cheek and return to slinging drinks.
-
“Thanks for staying while I lock up,” You say to Joel as pushing in the last barstool, “And thanks for earlier.”
He is propped up on one of the middle pillars, his shoulder resting on the wood while his arms and legs are crossed. He was still being quiet, not giving into conversation. You approach him, your eyes trained on his arms. He was wearing a t-shirt for the first time all summer, which made you feel some type of way. His arms were tanned beautifully and toned. His biceps were perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of the gray t-shirt.
“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”
You glance up at him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Tell me what’s got you all bothered.”
“It’s nothin’,” He uncrosses his arms and reaches out for you. You know it’s not nothing, so you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him forward. He looks a bit surprised.
“It’s somethin’, so you better tell me what happened.”
He huffs, fanning your face with his breath, “That asshole said some shit about us and it set me off.”
You squeeze him a bit, “What did he say?”
You can tell he does not want to repeat it, but you were not going to let it go.
“How I’m an old man with a young girl. How I’m old enough to be your dad.”
You feel sick to your stomach at the idea he had to hear some asshole say that. You look down between you, shifting your weight onto your other foot. You started to feel clammy, unsure of a good response that would reassure Joel.
“He’s just some asshole. What does he know?” You manage to sputter.
Joel’s shoulder’s sag, “He’s not wrong, though, baby girl. I’m an old man with a younger girl.”
You push away from him, scanning him up and down. You are pissed that he’s even bringing this up again, after all this time.
“I’m a grown ass woman, Joel. A grown ass woman with a grown ass man. Just because there’s time in between us doesn’t mean we aren’t old enough to make decisions for ourselves.”
His lip curls, “I know baby, I am just saying that sometimes we get odd looks cause of the age difference. I really don’t care anymore… Just caught me off guard, is all.”
You fold your arms, “You put him in his place, right? He’s not gonna come around here sayin’ shit again?”
“He’d be stupid to come near you again. Think I got my point across.”
You feel like you owe him something. You had a couple ways you could repay him, ensuring that he never thinks about those stupid comments again.
You use your arms to press up your bra a bit, your cleavage more highlighted with the gesture. Joel’s eyes trail down, the scoop neck giving away your suggestive movement. You step closer again, wanting to be in his space.
“My man…” You trail, your eyes falling to his agape mouth, “Makin’ sure everyone knows I’m his.”
He nods slowly before his hand creeps around your waist, “What are you tryin’ to do, girl?”
“Nothin’,” you click your tongue. “Just thinkin’ of how I could repay you for handlin’ that for me. You hurt yourself defending my honor. I owe you.”
“Don’t think of it that way. You don’t owe me anything,” His fingers start to creep down to the curve of your ass. “But, I would love to see what you had in mind.”
“Oh, you would,” You hum, your arms unfolding to wrap around his neck. “Let’s start by walking back to your house.”
Instead of responding, he dips his head and peppers kisses down your neck, taking his time letting his fingers wander around the skin on your lower back and hips. Your skin feels like it’s on fire with every press of his lips.
“Fuck,” You sigh as you try to bring him closer to you, but he’s not letting up on your neck. He’s suckling spots near your collarbone, groaning as you react to his every move. You knew at this point, this whole situation was in his hands and not yours.
He lifts his head slowly, letting his bottom lip drag across your skin, “How ‘bout this… How ‘bout I take you right here over this bar? Maybe that asshole is nearby and he can hear how well I give it to ya.”
His proposition sends you into a spiral. You and Joel have had plenty of sex in different places, but the bar? And he wants others to hear? Usually he’s telling you that your moans are for his ears only, and while he wants you to be loud for him, you’re usually too timid to actually vocalize your pleasure.
You place your hands on his expansive chest, “You want to fuck me here?”
He beams down at your question before he whispers, “I want to fuck you everywhere. Here, your bed, my couch, the shower. Hell, I’ll take you at this bar while people watch.”
“Jesus, Joel,” You huff, almost dizzy from the statement.
He brings his hand up to tilt your head back so you look at him. When your eyes meet, he brings the hand up around your neck and to the nape, right where your spine starts.
“God, I need you, sweet girl.”
You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, Joel brings you in for a passionate and eager kiss. He’s feverish, his hands now wandering down to your ass. He starts to walk you backwards towards the now abandoned bar top. You knock into a couple chairs, but his arms keep you from tripping. His hands are propped on your ass, navigating you to the edge of the bar top. When your back is pressed against it, he starts to shove his thumbs under your waist band. He pulls away from your lips to push down your jeans, letting them pool on the floor.
“Spread your legs,” he grumbles, “I want to taste you.”
You do as you’re told, shaking your jeans off your ankles and spreading your legs. Joel falls to his knees like a man starved. You note his devilish smile when you do as you’re told.
“I thought I was repaying you,” You choke out as his hands roam over your flesh. He chuckles darkly before pressing a kiss to your right inner thigh.
“Lettin’ me get between these legs with my tongue is repaying me,” He clicks as pulls at your panties. He slides them to the side, getting a great look at how wet you are already. Your knees feel like they may give out any second just from the anticipation, so when his mouth finds your entrance, you rest your elbows on the freshly wiped down bar.
Joel exploring you in this way was nothing new, but every time he went down on you, it was thrilling. He was simply so fuckin’ good at it. You never had a man take his time eating you out, desperately wanting you to cum straight on his tongue.
The vibrations from his groaning sends shockwaves down your legs, causing them to shake. Joel’s hands are the only thing keeping you stable because even your elbows are slipping from the bar top. The suckling noises coming from him are obscene, especially because you’re standing over the bar at your work. You cannot help but try to balance yourself so you can grind yourself down onto his eager tongue. Before you can really get started doing that, he pulls away, his wet lips glistening under the overhead lights.
He sticks his pointer, middle, and ring finger into his mouth, slathering them in his own saliva. You watch him carefully as he brings them up to your slit, adding to the slick that’s already there.
“I want you to cum all over my fingers before I bend you over this bar,” He practically moans. “Can you do that for me, baby?”
You can barely speak as his fingers slowly slip in and out of you, “Y-yes.”
“Yes what?” He adds another finger, curling them as he pumps in and out. Your head is spinning, watching his other hand spread over your lower stomach to hold you against the bar. You know what he wants, but you can hardly get the word ‘yes’ out, let alone the name he loves you calling him. You try to breathe in and center yourself, but the fire in your tummy burns bright.
“Y-yes, Sir. Please m-make me cum.”
He latches his lips around your clit as he speeds the strokes of his three digits. You grab onto his dark curls to hold him there to ensure that he doesn’t stop putting all the pressure right there. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you cannot help but scream out in pleasure.
He grabs your hips, not caring about your recovery. His dick is rock hard in his blue jeans and it makes you giggle in satisfaction. Joel has fucked you in so many different ways, but you do not remember a time he fucked you over counter.
Your upper body is laying flat against the wooden bar, your hands gripping onto the other side to steady yourself. You hear his zipper go down and then his hands are back on you. Your panties are stretched to hell already, so he practically tears the fabric off your lower body without any resistance. You chuckle at how vehement he is. He spreads your ass cheeks as he slips his cock between your closed thighs.
“Gonna need you to spread some more for me, sweet girl,” He mutters, smacking one of your cheeks lightly, “God, you’re so perfect.”
Your cheeks burn, “Yes, Sir.”
You do as you’re told, spreading your legs for him. When you do that, his dick prods at your clit, before easing into your entrance. You and Joel fuck raw, so when he opens you up, you feel every vein and ridge against your walls. He’s thick and it always takes you a minute to adjust to the feeling.
“So fuckin’ tight.”
He retracts back and inches forward again, letting you take in every inch of him. You grab onto the edge of the bar harder, your grip growing tighter with the action. He rests his grip on your hips, using them as leverage as he sets a steady pace. The moment his pace picks up, it’s like the motion pushes all the air from your lungs and you huff out louder. It only encourages him, but instead of keeping you in that position, he grabs onto your shoulders and lifts you up. You are lifted up to his chest, flush with his clothed upper body. He reaches around your arms and grabs onto your breasts through your thin v-neck.
“J-Joel,” you nudge him with your free hands, “Let me take it o-off.”
He slows his thrusts and lets you pull your shirt over your head. Instead of unhooking your bra, Joel takes the liberty to do it himself. The straps drop off your shoulders and you peel the padding off your chest. His hands instantly cradle your breasts, kneading them as he jolts forward to continue fucking you. His thumb and pointer pinch and tug at your pert nipples.
“Mmm,” He hums, “Only I can fuck you this good, huh?”
You whimper at his actions, “Only you, Joel.”
“That’s right.”
With that, he slips himself out of you, causing you to whine at the empty feeling. He moves you around like a rag doll, turning you around to face him.
Joel’s eyes are dilated and his hands are moving quickly to lift you off the ground and press your lower back into the bar. You place your hands on his shoulders, knowing exactly what position he wants you in.
He picks you up so seamlessly. It’s like when he’s horny or angry, he’s super strong and practically indestructible. He will probably complain how his back hurts later.
Your knees fold over his forearms, perfectly spread open for his taking.
You are so wet that he slips right into you. He uses the bar a bit for leverage as he fucks up into you, the angle completely sending you into a spiral. His eyes are perfectly trained on your chest, watching your tits jiggle as he drills into you.
“Most perfect thing I ever did see,” He remarks between strokes. Your nails are digging into his shoulder, right above a scar he got a couple years ago when he was out on patrol with your dad. You remember it was the first time you saw Joel shirtless. He was sitting next to your Dad in the infirmary, getting stitched up from getting caught on a sharp tree limb. You remember thinking how tan and beautiful he was back then.
Now you’re gripping onto his shoulders years later, his dick ramming into you and hitting you in all the right places.
Life is so mysterious and wonderful.
He bites his lip, putting all his focus into making you cum before he does himself. He’s a giver and for that, you’re extremely grateful. No man has ever put in as much effort. Before Joel, you did not know you could cum more than once in a single session. A couple months ago, he could not help his insatiable taste for you and made you cum 6 times.
His thrusts begin to falter when he feels you clenching around him, the fiery thrill building in your stomach. Your legs feel like jello, but as soon as the orgasm hits you, they stiffen in his grip.
“F-fuck Joel,” You whimper, stuttering at how good your body feels as your come down unravels. This orgasm is way more powerful, making you practically vibrate in Joel’s arms.
He fucks you through the feeling, his finish quickly approaching. When he’s finally finding his own release, he slips out of you before he can cum inside you. You two had an agreement that he could only cum inside you if you explicitly say he can. Since you didn't even think about it, you watch as his seed spills all over your pelvic bone.
When you two catch your breaths, he gently places you down on the ground. He steadies your wobbly legs by holding onto your naked waist.
You realize you are smiling like an idiot, completely blissed out on how good Joel made you feel. You find your footing, picking up your pants nearby. You don’t even bother with the material that used to be your underwear.
You hear Joel behind you fixing himself up, zipping his dick back into his jeans. You pull on your pants, leaving them unbuttoned. You grab the material on the ground and ball them up. You prance over to Joel, his eyes raking you up and down.
“You can keep this,” You joke, pulling at one of his front pockets. You tuck the panties into his pants, smiling widely.
“‘M just gonna add them to the collection,” He replies, gripping onto the point of your chin.
When he tilts your eyes up to meet his, your heart flutters at the action. He’s so beautiful with his fine lines and wildly untamed peppered curls. His eyebrows are furrowed as he contemplates your expression.
You finally say it. Those three words that you had been meaning to say for months. The words that you had never said to another man ever. There was a distinct moment about 2 months ago, after you had dinner with him and Ellie, where you almost said it while helping him with the dishes. It was that steadying of your heart, a moment you felt most at peace with someone. He made you comfortable. He made you feel safe.
“I love you, Joel.”
He drops your chin, his eyes soften at the statement. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Your anxiety starts to creep up your throat. Maybe you should not have said that. Fuck.
“I-I…”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” He says in almost a whisper before he takes your right hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. “‘M sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”
Your body relaxes, reassured by his answer. You did not have any doubts about your feelings for Joel, but your mind could not help but over analyze every little thing he ever said to you, forcing you to assume he may not feel the same way.
He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a long kiss onto your knuckles.
“Let’s get you home, sweet girl. I gotta get up for patrol tomorrow.”
#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfiction#joel last of us smut#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x reader#joel miller tlou#the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#gracieheartspedro
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Ice stained with blood
Synopsis: His ice cold heart was only for you
Pairing: Yandere figure skater x ex figure skater turned manager! reader
Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others, yanderes
notes: im proud of this, way too much
reblogs and comments are appreciated!
Yandere Figure Skater! who thought nothing of you when he first saw you, people came into the world and barely lasted the first two months, he expected the same from you - a nobody who’d stay a nobody.
Yandere Figure Skater! Who was proved wrong when you quickly gained enough skill to rival him, even people who joined years before you had yet to reach his level.
Yandere Figure Skater! Who realised you had put in so much work, because this was something your parents sacrificed everything for to give to you, unlike him who would gladly skip training to go hang out.
Yandere Figure Skater! Who notices the glares you give him when he shows up late to practise and is let off easily when the coaches yell at you for making even the smallest mistake. He knows damn well how much it annoys you and boy does he love the way your face fills up with scorn.
Yandere Figure Skater! Who didn’t even bother to learn your name until he was paired with you to represent the nation, who for once saw you smile, a smile so bright it almost melted his ice cold heart.
Yandere Figure Skater! Who was a pain in the ass to be partners with, everything you did, this man would criticise you but god forbid the Coach say anything to you in front of him, he’d make sure the Coach would resign from the verbal lashing they’d get.
Yandere Skater! has been in a lot of competitions and doesn’t get nervous before performances and he knows you do, so when you rush off to the washroom he doesn’t think much of it.
Yandere Figure Skater who sighs, glancing at the time again, you had gone to the washroom and had yet to return, your time to perform was nearing and he could hear the coach trying their best not to lose their cool. He was well aware that the coach was itching to scold you but they wouldn’t dare, not in front of him.
Yandere Figure Skater who was going to tell his coach to sit down instead of pacing around and annoying him but was interrupted by a familiar piercing scream from the direction you went. Never in his life had he ran this fast, never has his heart pounded so hard in his chest.
Yandere Figure Skater whose heart dropped to his chest when he saw you on the ground, clutching your ankles, tears pouring out of your eyes. He wasted no time rushing towards you, shoving the pests that crowded you instead of helping you.
Yandere Figure Skater who picks you up, rushing to the infirmary while demanding you to tell him who the hell did this to you. Whoever it was, would fear his wrath, he’d make sure they’d beg for death.
Yandere Figure Skater who tries to comfort you during your recovery only for you to end up lashing out at him at how this was all you had, how much you sacrificed for this, about how he had no idea how devastating it was to almost have everything and then have it ripped out from your hands.
Yandere Figure Skater who doesn’t get mad at you, assuring you, you’d get to return one way or another, he’d make sure of it. What you didn’t expect was to be brought back as his manager. What initially was painful for you, to see what you had lost, eventually turned into a comfort, the rink, the crowd, the various competitors in the noise, you found a solace.
Yandere Figure Skater who asks your opinion for everything, after all, you're his manager, you know best. If anyone wants him to do anything, they’d have to talk to you and you would have to agree to it.
Yandere Figure Skater who shuts down every newspaper that dares speak ill of you or your retirement. He has the influence and he will use it and the reporter who published the article will be dealt with .
Yandere Figure Skater Who dedicates all his wins towards you and only you, everybody else is irrelevant.
#octo writes#tw yandere#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere oc#yandere scenarios#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x willing reader
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lovesick┆gojo satoru
୧ genre: fluff
୧ wc: 1.4k
୧ synopsis: megumi is sick with a common cold, and gojo is simply lovesick for you.
Gojo Satoru convinces himself that he's not jealous.
How could he feel such a prickling and burning sensation in his lower tummy, slowly rising towards his heart making his blood boil and face grow hot just because you're nursing eleven-year-old Megumi back to health? The same little rascal that he had previously gotten into a spat with over something stupid and it doesn't help that the brat's sticking his tongue out and pulling down his lower eyelid taunting him.
But of course, you're too busy doting over sweet and innocent Megumi to notice. Too preoccupied with fluffing the pillows for the young boy to rest his poor head on, gently tucking him in with a cozy throw blanket, putting something on the platinum screen with the promise of brewing him a ginger-honey tea to make him feel better.
No matter how much Gojo tries to ignore Megumi, his facial muscles twitch and contort on their own in utter dismay and his Six Eyes zeroes in on the couch-ridden boy with his lips curling into a deep frown before sticking his tongue back at him.
"Come on, Satoru. Be nice to him, he's really sick." You say as you start the kettle and reach for a mug from the cabinet. Gojo's forced to acknowledge that Megumi wasn't faking the snotty nose and loud sneezes, but he still doesn't like the idea of losing to one smug child and giving him the satisfaction that he's secured his revenge which is your devoted attention. Maybe Megumi knew that his guardian would go a wee-bit insane being treated as a second thought but Gojo will never admit that it's working.
"Hey honey, you know what? I don't feel so good either. Here, feel my forehead." Gojo takes your hand and places it over his forehead to check if it's warm to the touch and he makes sure to do his best impression of looking pathetically sick—droopy eyelids, jutting his lower lip into a pout, and slumped shoulders to get your sympathy.
"Satoru, you feel perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with you."
"I swear I'm not feeling well. My throat feels weird and scratchy, my body feels flashes of hot and cold, my head is pounding and it's killing me, and.." Gojo tries to convince you that he's experiencing every symptom he could think of and you knew he was determined to be sick. Between your "uh-huh" and "right" you decide to humor him as you follow his explanation and tried your hardest to hold back a smile when he throws in an exaggerated detail or two.
"Alright, you big baby. We can't have you feeling sick now, can we? Can't have the strongest sorcerer out of commission for long, hm?"
"Nope, that'd be very bad. As long as you drop everything and pour all your attention on me, I should get better in no time. No pressure or anything, but the world does kinda depend on it~" Gojo flashes you a toothy grin then quickly remembers that he's supposed to be sick and feigns a cough or two averting your knowing glance.
"Hmm, okay I'll see what I can do. Now come here, let's get you all nice and comfortable so you can get your much-needed rest and get well again." You lead him to your shared bedroom and reflect the covers back for him to climb onto the mattress and ensure he's warm and cozy as you pull the comforter over him. For someone who's supposed to feel horribly ill Gojo sure can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. "You seem a little too happy to be sick, don't you think?"
"Just glad that you'll be the one to help me get back my strength is all." Through his fluttering lashes, he sports the most innocent and angelic expression he can muster and you can't help the soft giggle given his stellar performance up until this point.
"Alright, if you say so. I'll get you something to eat, okay? I'll be right back."
As you're turning on your heel to head for the door, Gojo pouts and protests. "Wha- No sweet kiss to hold me over? You might be a while and I'll get lonely since you're not here to keep me company."
"Aw, sorry baby. But you know there's no kissing until you're all better. Can't get myself sick now that I have to look after you and Megumi, right? I promise you I won't be long."
"...Not even a forehead kiss? :(" He murmurs under his breath as he watches your back to him and eventually disappears into another room. Once Gojo's left to his own devices, he wonders how long it would take you to complete your task on hand. He fiddles with his thumbs and counts the passing minutes. One minute becomes five, five becomes ten, then ten becomes twenty and he suddenly cannot bear to be apart from you much longer and checks on you.
"Sweetheart, what's taking you so long? I thoug-" And there he stumbles across the answer to his own question. Megumi is being spoon-fed rice porridge by you because he claims that his arms are too weak to do it himself and you couldn't leave him starved in his condition. Gojo appears crestfallen and disgruntled in the throw blanket draped over his lanky body and with a small huff he grumbles, "So that's what you've been up to. Fine, fine I guess it's up to me to take care of myself, huh?"
"What's wrong with him? Is he sick too or something?" Megumi asks nonchalantly as he watches his mentor's dejected form return to his bedroom to sulk. You gently shake your head and offer the young boy a soft smile, but you do feel a little bad that your husband has been acting unusual lately hence his needy and clingy tendencies.
"He's just going through a phase, but don't you worry about him and focus on getting better, okay? I'll find a way to make it up to him."
When you enter your shared bedroom with a platter of breakfast in your grasp, you found Gojo hiding under the covers in an attempt of giving you his silent treatment. You place the serving tray of food on the nightstand and situate yourself on the bed beside him, smoothing your hand over his covered shoulder as he's laid on his side with his face away from you. "Satoru, my love, I've brought you breakfast."
With a soft shrug of his shoulder, he responds with a strained hum but you know it's just him being melodramatic because he could never truly be mad at you. "Do you wanna tell me what's on your mind? I'm all yours if you come on out from under the covers."
Gojo shifts his body weight around and tufts of white hair start to peek as he gradually pulls the blanket down until you meet his azure gaze and he receives your sweet smile. "Hey there, is everything alright? Did I do something to upset you?" The tender warmth of your hand finds its home on his cheek with a gentle caress and he sighs contently at the familiar touch. You're patient as you wait for him to gather his thoughts, your fingers moving to his soft tendrils in soothing motions and he inches closer to you.
"You've never done a single thing wrong ever. You are perfect," he begins slowly. "I just missed you and ever since I got back from my mission you were too busy with the kids (Megumi and Tsumiki) that we haven't had any time together and I just wanna be with you." Gojo confesses as he's playing with the hem of your shirt, feeling a bit vulnerable to look you straight in the eyes. "Oh, and another thing... I'm not actually sick I only said that so you'd notice me more."
"Thanks for being honest with me. And I knew that you weren't sick. For someone who's supposed to be good at anything he tries, I'm glad that you turned out to be a pretty bad liar."
Gojo's face heats up at that and he unceremoniously buries his face in your lap from embarrassment, as muffled words of "Oh, so you knew. I thought I was pretty convincing" managed to reach your ears.
"Tell you what, how about we have ourselves a nice picnic this weekend? Just the two of us, I'll find someone to watch the kids. And I think maybe spending an afternoon in the sunshine will do us some good. What do you think?"
Gojo suddenly lights up at your proposal. "I think you're wonderful for planning the perfect date."
"You're sweet for giving me so much credit." Your soft laughter quickly melts his heart and he returns your affections, feeling a little more in love with you as you're both sharing a moment together. "I love you."
"I love you so much more, my sweet angel."
#a lil extra: megumi makes an origami turtle signed 'truce?' to which gojo responds with his own 'truce' and all is right in the world again#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x you#jjk imagines#jjk x reader#jjk gojo satoru#gojo satoru#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru fluff
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Daddy?- M. Verstappen
Max Verstappen x fem! Reader
Request: Max finding out that he’s gonna be a dad and then wearing his daddy shirt
Warnings?; Fluff, pregnancy announcement, kissing, cursing, talks of anxiety and worry, lightly proofread, i apologize for any errors!, ending isn’t the best im sorry
You knew the shirt was the perfect way to tell him the second you found it online, after years of jokingly calling him daddy after a tweet you’d seen early in your relationship this was the best way.
However it was no longer a joke and within a few months he’d actually become a father, your little boy or girl soon to be welcomed into this world.
You set everything up while he was at training, in a pretty white box you placed down your original test next to the ultrasound you’d gotten at the doctors a few days ago before covering it up with the shirt.
Putting some pretty white flowers in a vase you set them next to the box, getting the tiny cake you’d ordered ready in the fridge.
You waited until you heard his keys fidgeting with the lock before jumping up and making your way to the front door.
“Hi Schat, everything okay?” He questioned at your unusual greeting.
“Mhm, have something i wanna show you.” You smiled reaching a hand out for him to grasp.
“Okay.” He nodded sliding his free hand in yours and dropping his keys into the bowl my the door.
Letting you guide him into your large kitchen max stayed silent, his eyes admiring the way your hair flowed and the pretty white dress you were wearing hugged your body.
Stopping at the counter your turned around smiling at him brightly, “are you ready?” You asked softly and he could hear a hint of worry in your voice.
“Yes.” He laughed.
Moving out of the way you revealed the box, max looked at you a little confused at the sudden gift.
“If I knew you were getting me something I would’ve gotten you a gift on my way home.” He grumbled, hating when you spent money on him and didn’t allow him to repay it somehow.
“Just shush and open the box.” You laughed.
Max mocked you with a laugh before opening the box, his laugh echoing through the room as he read the shirt.
“A daddy shirt? Who put you up to this.” He smiled looking down at you.
“Pull it out of the box and you’ll see.”
He shook his head before pulling the black shirt out of the box, his bubbly demeanor calming down in seconds at what sat below him.
Picking up the ultrasound he brought it close to his eyes, making sure he was seeing things correctly.
“I-is that…are you-are we pregnant?” He spoke looking down at you.
“Mhm.” You nodded, lip stuck between your teeth in anxiety.
“Oh my god..we’re having a baby?”
“Holy fuck we’re having a baby!” He smiled, thick arms wrapping around your body as he lifted you into the air.
Your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms went around his neck. All the anxiety you’d felt moments before washed away the second his arms went around you.
“I can’t believe this.” He whispered into the crook of your neck.
“Me either.” You laughed, leaning back slightly to wipe the tears that had fallen.
He held you for a few more minutes before setting you softly on your feet and dropping to his knees, his hands rolling up your silky dress to reveal your stomach to him.
“Hi Schatje this is your papa speaking, we’re so excited for you, me and momma can’t wait to meet our little lion.” He spoke softly, his lips placing pecks along your skin.
Standing to his feet Max pulled you into him, his lips locking with yours pouring all his emotions into the kiss, this one was different then his usual strong and dominant kisses.
Pulling away he pressed his forehead against yours, “I love you so much.”
“I love you more, daddy.”
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#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen#formula one fluff#formula one fic#f1blr#f1 fluff#f1 imagine#f1 fic#requested
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who needs cupid’s bow?
pairing: bff!haechan x (f) reader
genre/warnings: bff2l, suggestive, lots of sexual innuedos but no smut, fluff, a teaspoon of angst, mc & hc are oblivious to each other’s feelings and jaemin calls them out on their bullshit, mutual pining
summary: Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.
word count: 11.1k
a/n: inspired by down for you by kehlani, boyfriend by ariana grande, and serial lover by kehlani. another oldie but i kinda like it… kinda. as always, feedback is appreciated!
It’s safe to say that Cupid is your mortal enemy (Or immortal—whatever. Nonetheless, you aren’t the biggest fan of him.)
You don’t know why, but for some inexplicable reason, he always makes you fall in love with the wrong people. Such as Lee Taeyong from eighth grade, or your failed relationship with Kim Jisoo from your biology class in high school — a pretty girl, but you were as compatible as Mentos and Coca-Cola. Hell, there was even Jung Sungchan from senior year, who you naturally drifted away from during an exam period. They’re all chapters in your book now, but you’re currently stuck on the one about your best friend, Lee Haechan.
It seems like you’re Cupid’s mortal enemy, too. You and Haechan are always side by side, down one another’s throats, there’s no way his arrow could have hit you and missed Haechan.
Perhaps, it’s a hole you dug yourself in. Via mutual friends, when you were seventeen, you met Lee Haechan — jock, senior, and the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. There was an instant connection between you two, all it took was a convo at a party about coincidentally both failing the same math exam, and you quickly became friends and close enough to pour out your heart into little rants whenever there was something personal bothering either of you, and you needed an outlet. You liked him because he understood you. He was patient witth you. You see, you aren’t the best at communicating how you feel, and he never makes you feel bad about it.
You remember breaking up with your then-boyfriend, Jung Sungchan, and while you weren’t heartbroken since you saw it coming and all the love had evaporated by then, you were devastated that you no longer had someone to kiss. That being your main concern made Haechan laugh. He thought it was the most you thing ever.
“Can I kiss you, then?” you asked, a little grin on your face, although you were very serious. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, kissing your best friend. He has pretty lips, and it isn’t like it’ll mean anything, you think. It’s just one kiss.
Haechan scoffed, biting off the last remaining piece of his Tootsie Pop off the stick. You’re kidding, he thinks. Why would you seriously want to kiss him? And after breaking up with your now ex-boyfriend? The wound’s still fresh. “You wouldn’t dare.”
To Haechan’s surprise, you dared.
He tasted like chocolate, exactly like a Tootsie Pop, as expected of him. You didn’t mind, though. You never do. It was fun, you liked the way Haechan held you in his lap and kissed you back with fierceness, and he still kisses you with that same passion, like there’s no tomorrow.
And that’s the problem.
Fast-forward four years later, you’re still best friends with Lee Haechan, only this time you’re in college, and have the fattest, most gigantic crush on him. Somewhere along the way, those lines between love and friendship were blurred. It’s impossible to pinpoint when, but you fell deep and hard for your best friend.
And the worst part? You doubt he’ll ever reciprocate those feelings.
One kiss turned into more than you can count on your fingers and toes.
Should you continue making out with your best friend who doesn’t reciprocate your romantic interest in him? Probably not.
Are you still going to, though? Absolutely.
“Y/n, I’m going to kill you,” Haechan states as he stumps inside the dining room. His hair is tussled since he’s just waken up from a nap, but you like this raw side of him. He looks gorgeous, and despite him basically threatening to murder you you still want to kiss him.
“Romantic,” you deadpan, training your eyes back on your laptop. It takes everything in you not to stare, but if you want to keep your feelings low-key, you need to follow a couple of rules.
“I know you took my Tootsie Pop. Where is it?”
You smirk a little, but it quickly fades into a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, and you both know it. You aren’t the only other person in the house, but Jungwoo, Haechan’s stepbrother, is asleep and wouldn’t cut his nap time short to do something as stupid as stealing the last of his brother’s favorite candy. That leaves you. As his best friend, you’re the first person to know Haechan turns murderous over those stupid lollipops, and that he’s the last person to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop. In your personal opinion, they’re not even that good. But he’s loved them ever since you’ve known him.
“We’re best friends, y/n. I know when you’re lying,” he remarks, and doesn’t give you the chance to answer before he persists, “where is it?”
There’s only one way out of this.
Run.
Haechan follows almost automatically, and in spite of being barely awake he obviously has the upper hand because he’s always leaned more towards the sport-y side. This doesn’t deter you though, because you have a getaway plan.
In your attempt to somehow outrun a man that used to do track and field, you make a beeline for the backyard door. He’s not going to outrun you in the grass in slippers, you think as you turn to see if he’s caught up on you. You’re in the lead, albeit barely, with your body almost being in arms reach. You try to pick up your speed, and once you reach the door you hurry to turn the knob. Except, there’s one, itty-bitty problem.
The door is fucking locked.
And you already know you won’t have time to open it, so you cave in to defeat, whirling around with your hands up in a surrendering pose. Your plan’s backfired; you’ve been caught.
“Oh, I’ve got you now,” Haechan says cockily. He has you—hook, line, and sinker, and at this point you aren’t even upset. You can’t be upset. His eyes are on you, and his body is close to yours, dangerously so.
“Okay, you win. Happy?” You mumur.
“Not until I get my Tootsie Pop back,” he shakes his head, “now where is it?”
Smiling, you shrug. Of course, you know where the candy is, but he’s either going to have to win or pry the answer out of you.
Then, he steps even closer, and your heart starts pounding in your chest twenty times faster than your feet were against the hardwood. This isn’t your first rodeo, you’ve made out with your best friend countless times, yet the anticipation gives you a rush, like you’ve never done this before. It makes you feel like a teenager in love all over again — seventeen, young and head over heels in love with the man closest to you.
He’s back you into the door, and you can’t keep your eyes off his lips. Beautiful, plush, soft, and your eyes flutter shut as you prepare to feel the same skilled pair against your own, closer, and closer, and closer—
Crunch.
“I fucking knew it!” Haechan yells, jolting your eyes open. You aren’t even given the opportunity to register the situation before his hands are digging into your back pocket, retrieving his fortunately unharmed Tootsie Pop.
It feels like he’s gone before you can even blink, and realizing he’s slipped back into the hall, you begin to follow him into his room. “Hey!” you yell, and he doesn’t say anything, just looking up at you from his gaming chair with that damn candy hanging from his mouth, “why didn’t you kiss me?”
“Why’d you steal my Tootsie Pop?”
Okay, that was stupid, yes, but there was a particular goal in mind which was reached, even if for a short-lived moment.
You frown, “I wanted your attention.”
Haechan shakes his head, laughing. “C’mere.”
Somehow, those words never fail, making you melt and slip into his lap effortlessly every time. You’re like Jell-O to his voice, to his touch, to his whole. You’re a goner, some would say, and a part of you is alright with never coming back if it means you get to feel all the weird, Cupid-y emotions he makes you feel.
At this point, you don’t think you’ll ever stop kissing Haechan. In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve both been in relationships, hence putting the make out sessions on hiatus. They were never really long though, because you’d break up with them and inevitably find your way back to one another in the end.
His fingers guide your chin up, and once more your eyes flutter shut as his lips unite with yours. Haechan kisses in a manner that contrasts with the soft feeling of his lips. He always starts off gentle, but there’s a hunger that overcomes him as he stands up and pushes you against his desk, rough yet graceful and holding you so firmly, like you’re glass, but he wants to break you. And when he shatters you into all those tiny pieces, you don’t care. You want him to glue you back together and do it all over again. He’s intoxicating, he’s an addictive drug, but he tastes like candy, and you can’t stop coming back to him. He feels like home, the place where you belong. The place where you can be one-hundred percent, authentically you, safe and whole, more than the general perception than you. And fuck, does he kiss like the damn devil himself.
You were silly for ever believing it would only be one kiss.
Jungwoo thinks that for people who are trying to keep their not-so relationship-y relationship under wraps, you two are very loud.
Speaking of which, and despite the nature of your relationship, you and Haechan haven’t even discussed your label. You know that you aren’t friends with benefits—you haven’t crossed that line, but to be honest, those lines have been starting to look blurry for a while—but you also aren’t in a relationship. You see other people, you fuck other people, and when other people ask if you’re dating, you both deny it immediately. You’re just best friends, you both say each time like some rehearsed line, even if it breaks your heart to hear him friendzone you.
Karina and Mark even have an ongoing bet about you two. Karina is one-hundred positive there’s something going on, whereas Mark is probably the only person in the world that wants to give you guys the benefit of the doubt.
“For heaven’s sake, I can’t get any type of sleep around here,” Jungwoo rasps, leaning against the doorframe, “I really hope you guys don’t do this shit when Dohwan’s here.”
His judgmental eyes practically bore into your soul, and you thank heaven that you don’t have to worry about keeping this secret from Jungwoo, even if he would probably appreciate it more if you did. He finds you in a rather interesting position, straddling Haechan’s lap as you press kisses into his collarbone.
It’s all Haechan’s fault, really. Three years ago, Jungwoo made the mistake of walking inside Haechan’s bedroom without knocking, accidentally finding you two making out in a very touchy way on his bed because a certain someone didn’t think to lock the door. Not only did you ruin his quote-unquote innocence, but his perception of you forever, and ever since that ordeal, Jungwoo has never opened his stepbrother’s door without knocking. This time, it just so happened to be wide-open.
You bite your lip, feeling bad. Kim Dohwan is Haechan’s halfbrother of whom he babysits whenever available (and you like to tag on, because dealing with children is stressful and Haechan’s already stressed enough), and on weekdays Jungwoo has to wake up from his nap earlier to pick up the kid from school and bring him back home, then leave for work. You were too loud and disrupted the poor guy’s nap time.
“Oh,” Haechan says the syllable blankly, not too sympathetic, “did we wake you?”
“Of course not, I usually wake up at 2pm and take extra longs showers to start my day,” Jungwoo deadpans, “but whatever. I’m heading out. Don’t forget to go grocery shopping today.”
“Noted,” you and Haechan say simultaneously, gazing at one another and stifling giggles when you catch each other’s gaze. Jungwoo smiles at you, then flicks off his brother before parting.
When you’re both all alone again, a few seconds pass before Haechan’s eyes do that thing where they twinkle every time something catches his interest (or perhaps that’s the in love side of your brain making you see things.)
“Hey, you coming to Chenle’s Valentines Day party Monday?” You don’t know why he’s even asking, you follow Haechan everywhere he goes like a lost puppy. Maybe he’s discreetly asking you out. “Unless you’re actually busy, by the way, I hope you know you’re going. And maybe you’ll find some single pringle interested in a relationship. You can’t just kiss me forever, you know.” Oh. Well that eliminates that thought.
A part of you is yelling at you to decline, to lie and say that you actually have a dick or pussy appointment scheduled for the 14th, yet another is weak, in spite of you being aware of how this works. First of all, Valentine’s Day parties are mainly for single people who don’t have anything better to do, and each time one of you go to one, you end up meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. You know that’s more than likely what he’s going to do, and you aren’t strong enough to watch him flirt with other people.
You know how to put up a good front, though, so you’ll fake it until you make it.
“We can do a lot more than kiss,” you suggest with a wink.
Haechan grimaces, “No thanks. Now get off my lap.”
You frown, but climb off his lap nonetheless. “Wow,” you drag dramatically, “You’ll make out with me for what feels like hours, but sticking your dick in me is where you draw the line?”
“Precisely.”
You gasp in faux offense. “Oh, come on. Sex doesn’t seem so bad. Like, think of it as my pussy giving your dick a nice warm hug.”
Haechan’s at a lost for words, his face bright red. How do you even come up with this stuff? “Oh my god, are you coming or not?”
You joke, “I thought you said sticking your dick in me was where you draw the line?”
He shoots you a glare so sharp you’re sure that if you were still on his lap, he’d be barely resisting the urge to shove you off. You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up, though.
Haechan groans exasperatedly, leaning back his gaming chair, “Y/n, seriously!”
“Fine!” resisting your best friend is literally impossible, you conclude, because you have officially caved in to his request—or, more or less, demand, rather, “fine, fine! I’ll go!”
“Great,” he grins with satisfaction, beaming with his thirty-two teeth, and you even see little gleams of smiles in his eyes, “anyway, Dohwan’s gonna be here soon, so let’s get ready to go shopping.”
You furrow your brows. You have a solid twenty minutes left, and all you really need to do is slip on your shoes.
“I need more Tootsie Pops,” Haechan adds, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.
And you roll your eyes. “We’ll get you some more Tootsie Pops, but you better not ditch us for the candy aisle!”
“Of course, not,” he smiles, not even trying to sound or appear convincing. “I’d never leave you guys.”
That’s exactly what he does.
You aren’t even remotely surprised, though heavily disappointed when he announces in the middle of the thankfully empty cereal aisle that he’s going to find Tootsie Pops, managing to run off before you can even protest.
Gripping the shopping cart, you avert your gaze from the Cinnamon Toast Cruch boxes to his figure, almost missing him jog onto the following aisle. You shake your head, a small smile tugging your lips. If it were the end of the world, Haechan would stock up on those candies before he would even think to consider water.
“Auntie Y/N,” you aren’t quite adjusted to being addressed as an aunt, but you aren’t against it either. You have the image all put together—rich, thriving, and the kids adore you, “do you love my brother?”
That was perhaps the very last question you expected the six-year-old boy to ask you. Your eyes are a little wide, but it’s a kid, you remind yourself, so you shouldn’t be worried. But shit, then again, if a first-grader can figure it out, you’re fresh out of luck.
“Why do you think that?” You crouch down to be eye-level with him, having a feeling there’s some misunderstanding here. Dohwan’s bright for his age and doesn’t let anyone forget it, but you’ll be damned if he’s sniffed you out.
He makes a face. “I saw you kiss him, just like mommy and daddy do. And my mommy and daddy love each other very—” he stretches the vowel, and you can’t but giggle, “—much! That’s why they made me!” then he gasps, and you fear what it means, praying he doesn’t ask what you think he will. “Will you and my brother have a baby, too? I wan’ a new friend!”
On second thought, you think you’d rather he would’ve asked you what you thought he was. You nearly have a heart attack in the middle of the aisle, yet still, Dohwan gazes up at you with his innocent, sparkly eyes. You assume it’s in the blood; Jungwoo doesn’t have them, and he isn’t blood-related to Haechan, but Dohwan partially is, and the twinkle is promiment.
Calmly, you reply, “Don’t you already have a lot friends?”
He does, you both know it. You vaguely remember pulling up to his sixth birthday bash and being in shock of all the little kids jumping and flipping on the Spider-Man bouncy house. You haven’t been surrounded by that many children since, hell, probably since kindergarten.
“Yeah, but I wanna be a big brother,” he folds his tiny arms and pouts, “It’s not fair Hyuck and Woo get to be big, but I don’t!”
With minimum success, you manage to stifle your laugh, stretching out your arms to bring the little boy in for a hug, “You’ll be big one day. Trust me, you don’t wanna rush it.”
“And strong like Superman?”
“And strong like Superman,” you reassure, all smiley and convincing. “Now let’s go check up on your big brother, he’s taking too long.”
Dohwan rocks from side to side as he walks, murmuring some Nickelodeon TV show theme song, and you push the cart until you’ve reached your designation.
Quickly, you regret acting on your impatience. The scene taking place at the back of the aisle is anything but comforting—Haechan’s talking to some girl, whom of which is literally throwing herself onto him, and you can’t help but notice the way he wallows in the attention. For fucks sake, all the attention you give him and he doesn’t even give a fraction of it back! Then here comes this random girl from your campus.
Sometimes, you think about how you could do everything she’s doing right now—twirl your hair around your finger, be touchy with him, giggling girlishly at everything he says, funny or not—and yet he wouldn’t bat an eye, because you’re best friends and nothing more. Kissing each other breathless is already normalized between the two of you, what’s a little flirting.
Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t kissed your best friend that day. You’re both too comfortable, everything is too weightless. I love you, Haechan says it back without a thought. C’mere, he calls and pulls you onto his lap or cuddles you to death. Fuck, he—on very rare occasions when making out goes a little too far—groans into your ear, groping you a little. Scratch that. It may be weightless on his end, but it isn’t on yours, and everything has an everlasting effect on you.
“Auntie?”
When you look down at Dohwan, your gaze is so, so tired. Your eyes do the talking; you can’t move your lips.
He hugs your leg. “I love you.”
His face is pure, innocent, but he reads you so perfectly. The corners of your lips turn up, and you ruffle his hair, “Love ya, too. Let’s go get your brother, alright?”
He bounces eagerly, and you both begin to stroll down the aisle until you’re beside Haechan. You’re in a selfish mood today, so you think of some remark to make in the process.
“Nice Tootsie Pops, Bowlcut,” you mask your tiny emotional breakdown with a joke, “Hi, Faith.”
“Hope,” she corrects, evidently annoyed by your presence, though she doesn’t state it outright. “My name is Hope. And… bowl cut?”
“Interchangeable,” you dismiss her correction carelessly. In all honesty, you already knew her name, but you’re feeling like a bitter bitch currently, “and yeah, in high school Haechan had this hideous bowl cut that he—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Haechan grumbles, “that was four years ago!”
“And I’ll never forget,” you’re smiling blissfully, nostalgic. “Anyways, what’cha two doing?”
“We were catching up, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen Hope here,” you hear Hope snicker at this, and something about it is extremely off-putting. He turns to her, “So, I’m in a bit of a time crunch. Could I have your number?”
Ouch. Right in your face, literally.
She giggles some more, typing her number in his phone, and you try to focus on Dohwan so that you don’t cave into your desire to knock her upside the head. There’s already so much on your plate, you don’t need an assault charge.
She smiles, all bubbly and giddy. You know jealousy isn’t a good look, but it’s still pissing you off. “See you around?”
“See you around,” Haechan replies. She hugs him, not forgetting to shoot you a look from across his shoulder as she does, and only once satisfied does she turns on her heel, sashaying away.
“Didn’t know pussy was on the shopping list,” you sneer, relieved once she’s finally gone. Her presence was suffocating.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “at least I’m actually trying, I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m cuffed down and—holy sh—I mean crap! You’re so quiet, I forgot you were here,” Haechan jumps, only noticing Dohwan when he pokes at his leg. “And don’t you dare make a cuff joke, y/n. Not in front of the kid.”
You yell in that defensive tone which is a tell-tale sign you’re lying, “I wasn’t gonna!”
Haechan gives you the look.
The we’re-best-friends, I-know-when-you’re-lying look.
And that look is utterly withering, so you decide you’re accepting defeat. “Okay fine, maybe I was thinking about it, but I wasn’t actually gonna say it. Not with him around.”
Haechan snorts, like you said something funny, but in reality he just doesn’t believe you. “Yeah, alright. Let’s finish shopping.”
You don’t argue, but there’s a lingering thought in your mind as you push the cart, rattling around in your brain still.
When he’s cuffed. Hmm. You can’t speak for him completely, but you both know how that one goes. When you get into a relationship, you think the person is great and they serve as a nice temporary distraction—that is, until you’re bored and realize no one will ever compare to Haechan, and especially not in the kissing department. So you break up, and then you go back to making out with Haechan, solidifying your suspicion that no one will ever replace your best friend. It’s the reason you don’t do relationships anymore, you feel bad for using people when you know it isn’t going to change a thing. It never does.
As far as your knowledge extends, things aren’t too different with Haechan. You and him don’t push things, you don’t pry too deep. There’s some unspoken boundary, and you know when to drop things. That’s why you both say the same thing each time you ask one another why you and whoever it was that you were previously seeing broke up—it wasn’t working out.
Like a moth to a flame, Haechan always finds his way back to you too, because apparently you’re the only person that can keep him tied down. You don’t think that’s the case, though. Your problem is you’re in love with your best friend, no matter how hard you try to suppress the feelings. His problem? You can’t be sure, but you’d guess commitment issues.
Whatever it is, and as selfish as it may sound, you want it to stay. He isn’t yours, but you like the comfort of knowing that he isn’t anyone else’s, either.
If Cupid had a human counterpart, it would be Na Jaemin in reincarnated form. He may not have wings nor a bow and arrow, but he does have dedication and a gigantic mouth.
“I can’t believe you called me over here for this,” you stand in an effort to leave, but Jaemin pulls you back down by your wrist, so you sigh, accepting that you’re stuck in the cafe and in the middle of a Jaem-terrogation.
“Not so fast, Sonic. You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t have all day, you know, I have other people’s business to be in,” he admits unabashedly, and you snort at his honesty.
Jaemin is an extremely shameless, extremely straightforward individual. He knows what he wants, how to get it, and the only time he’s afraid of letting someone know what he’s chasing for is when it interferes with his goal of obtaining said desire. He loves all things drama and gossip, and these are the lengths he’ll go to squeeze information out of you. No wonder he’s one of the writers for the campus newspaper.
“I don’t have feelings for Haechan,” you fiddle with your fork. “And even if I did, why would it matter? Haechan doesn’t have feelings for me, either.”
“Forgive me, but you’re a fucking dumbass,” Jaemin concludes, and you gasp in dramatic offense. “Why would I be here if he didn’t like you back, y/n? You know that he hasn’t had anyone over in two weeks? There’s like, three things at the top of Haechan’s list of shit he needs to survive, and that’s you, Tootsie Pops, and sex. Yet he’s gone two entire weeks without it. He likes you, really fucking bad.”
“Golly gee, Haechan hasn’t fucked anyone in two entire weeks. He must be head over heels in love with me,” you deadpan, ignoring how Jaemin rolls his eyes in response. “Be serious, Jaem. He literally got this girl’s number the other day. The man said himself that he doesn’t want to stick his dick in me. There’s nothing going on.”
Okay, so maybe Haechan is a raging sexaholic. Maybe he’s been a little horny recently. And maybe contact-full makeout sessions have been a reoccurrence in the past two weeks, but none of that matters, and he typically has extreme self control. Fresh as yesterday, he was definitely trying to get into Hope’s pants. It’s weightless, everything between you. It means absolutely nothing, and you’re trying to come to terms with the possibility that it never will. You wish your friends would accept the fact, too.
At least they don’t know you and Haechan make out, and have been for the past four years. They’d be insufferable, and you two would absolutely never hear the end of it.
“Y/n, please. Your biggest competition is those damn Tootsie Pops.”
“And if you told him that he had to live without me or the candy, he’d choose them over me any day.”
“Actually, he’d tell me to fuck off—and stop asking him stupid questions. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m speaking from experience,” Jaemin grins, “I pushed the question until he gave me a proper answer. He chose you, by the way.”
You groan into your hands, “Unless you have some other evidence to provide besides this stupid question and him not getting laid in two weeks, you’re wasting my time here, Cupid.”
Jaemin sighs, “I thought I could pressure you into admitting your feelings—”
“I don’t have feelings for Haechan!”
“—that you deny having, but I guess taking the high road doesn’t work. Don’t worry, I still have plan B. I mean, you should be worried, but it’s whatever.”
You blink. “Plan B?”
He ignores you, standing up and preparing to take his leave. You’re still curious about whatever his alternative, backup plan is however, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to tell you.
“Jaemin!” You shriek. “What are you talking about?”
“February 14th, Chenle’s party,” he answers vaguely, swinging his bag over his shoulders. “Be there, or be square. Whatever that means.”
He exits without another word, leaving you dumbfounded and with a sudden dread in your chest. They don’t… know, do they? No, of course not. How could they? You’ve been keeping this secret for nearly four years, and the only people that know are Jungwoo and Dohwan.
Great. Another reason to dread the fourteenth, and despise Cupid—and his human counterpart, your actual mortal enemy.
“I know you like Regina George, but the dress code is Cady Heron.”
Bummer. You didn’t exactly plan on attending as a sexy bunny in fishnets and knee-high boots, but you don’t intend on wearing a Party City outfit, neither. It’s only the 6th though, so you still have a week and some change to outfit plan.
You frown, “Why the change? None of his past parties have had much of a dress code.”
“Because Chenle is also stuck babysitting his baby brother on Valentine’s day while his parents are having a date night,” Haechan answers. “I’m not saying you have to dress like a prude, but don’t dress like a slut, either.”
Ignoring the insinuation behind his words, you don’t miss the fact he said also. “What do you mean also? Don’t tell me…”
“Exactly what you think. Dad is whisking my stepmom away on a romantic evening date to only God knows where, and Jungwoo is busy with his girlfriend, so me being the sole single-pringle in the family gave him the bright idea to have me baby sit,” he explains, though he doesn’t seem burdened by the task. “I don’t really mind, though. It’d be one thing if I planned on getting some pussy that night, but no one’s smashing at a party where there’s children. I hope not, at least.”
You wince at that. You hope not, too. It’s a setback that you have to re-plan your outfit, but on the plus side, Haechan can and will help you decide this time, even if you have to force him.
So that’s where you find yourself a couple hours later, your bedroom a mess as the aftermath of the meticulous care you’ve put into your self-styling. You’ve narrowed it down to two outfit selections; option A, the white crop-top with the cute pink pants; or option B, the pretty and red mini-dress with stilettos. It’s a little embarrassing that hours of your indecisiveness have led you to this conclusion, but you want to choose the perfect outfit that’s also not overbearing.
“And I have to help you why?”
“Because you’re my best friend, and that’s what best friends are for, duh.”
Haechan’s favorite thing about your place is you have all his utmost favorite games—and that literally everything there is like a piece of you, from the decoration to the smell of your perfume bottles you keep in your bathroom. He’d never tell you that, though—so he wasn’t too enthusiastic about being interrupted from his video-gaming session. But then, he realized he gets a special preview of your Valentine’s day outfit, and Haechan loves the way you dress, probably an abnormal amount. Slutty or prude-y.
“Then what’cha waiting for? Strip for me, princess,” he demands jokingly. It isn’t normal for you to feel bashful by anything a guy says, but everything is so different with Haechan. It’s the littlest, simplist things that drive you over the edge, that make you want him in ways you probably, scratch that, definitely shouldn’t.
And all the questions, assumptions, and rumors regarding your nonexistent relationship with Haechan aren’t exactly unwarranted. You two flirt and touch an abnormal amount, and while it’s common knowledge that Haechan is a touchy person, and you’re a natural flirt, people say it’s extreme between you two.
That makes you laugh. When it comes to the tension between you both that people speak of, you wish you could see what they see.
“You want to watch me strip?” You’re genuinely surprised, only the other day he seemed repulsed by the thought of you naked. “That’s new. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute.”
Haechan rolls his eyes, silently confirming what Jaemin told you at the cafe, but you shake the thought away, refusing to let it spur you on. It doesn’t mean anything. “Anyways. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl. Now, you gonna strip or what?”
“I’m stripping, I’m stripping! Relax, Liam Payne!” It’s really nothing he hasn’t seen before, because Haechan’s seen naked girls, and he’s seen you half-naked before, so neither of you actually care. You peel off your top, slowly and in a strip tease sort of way and look him in the eye, giggling once you catch him shaking his head. You don’t repeat the movement with your shorts though, simply taking them off and picking up your new shirt to slip it off the hanger.
Successfully discreet, Haechan wallows in the sight of you half-naked for as long as he can before you’re slipping on the crop top and the pink pants. Now that he thinks about it, he bought you those pants, and darn do they make your ass look good. Then he realizes he’s thinking about your ass and taking not as discreet looks at it, and shakes the thought away.
“So?” Your voice cuts through the silence. “What do you think?”
He needs a moment to gather himself and recollect his thoughts, because he feels like turning on Destiny’s Child’s Bootylicious and if spoke his mind he would definitely say something he’d regret. Like, I could fuck the shit out of you. He doesn’t think he should say that.
“What do you mean, what do I think? I bought you those pants, I’d be damned if I thought you didn’t look good in them,” Haechan supplies, making you roll your eyes in response.
“Very underwhelming reaction. I wanted you to fall out on the floor and pass out for a few seconds with your hand on your chest,” you pout.
“Definitely not doing all that,” he chuckles. “But you do look good enough for… somebody to do it. Anyways, it’s stripping time again. Get in that dress for me, princess.”
If he doesn’t stop with the pet names you’re going to combust. You hide it though, taking off outfit option A and putting on option B. You feel confident in your appearance, with or without him, but the way Haechan’s practically gawking at you does boost said confidence.
“What about this one?”
Okay, so Haechan’s one-hundred percent biased in his decision—or maybe he isn’t, since he didn’t buy this outfit—though nonetheless, he loves this dress on you. In his personal opinion, you’ll look good in anything you wear, but the way this particular dress hugs your figure perfectly is a bonus. He knows all eyes are going to be on you the moment you step inside Chenle’s house, and maybe he’s going to have to keep you and Dohwan close to his side.
Rather than replying verbally, Haechan walks forward and pulls you into a kiss. His hands dip around your waist, skirting the area until he’s gripping you like he’s afraid of letting go.
And as always, you melt into his lips. Like ice to the sun, or wax to a flame. It’s the umpteenth kiss in your whole lifetime, but Haechan always makes it feel like the first time. Like two love-struck highschoolers, except with a lot more experience. Haechan kisses you like he loves you, and you hate it. You might even loathe it.
His fingers slip down your hips, to your revealed thighs, like he just so happens to know that’s one of your weak spots. Luckily you’ve learned some of his weak spots too, and not really thinking, you don’t hesitate to aim for his most sensitive one - his neck. You can’t get used to how beautiful he sounds as he moans, your lips pressing into his sweet spot and leaving undoubtedly a mark.
“Fuck,” Haechan moans, “you’re my kryptonite, you know that?”
“A kiss is all it takes for you to fold?” You gasp out with a smirk.
“Shut up.”
Your grin widens. “Make me.”
Just as he leans in, about to pin you down to your duvet and kiss the life out of you while you’re thinking that maybe this is the tension people speak of, his phone rings in his back pocket. It feels like snapping out some trance or spell, like a reverse Cupid’s arrow, and he instantly backs off of you.
He takes a look at his phone screen. “I um, I gotta take this.”
Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”
“You look great though,” he comments, and you smile thinly at him as he slips from between your fingertips yet again.
It seems that you’re left all alone, pathetically wet, and wondering if that person on the other line is Hope - but you try to shake that thought off.
Sighing, you flop against your sheets. Love is some extremely cruel, extremely rigged game that only lucky people win, and it seems that Luck has sided with the evil that is Cupid. You’ve been dealt cards, and Haechan refuses to show you his hand. All you can do is watch it play out.
Haechan knew that something was dangerously off when Jaemin bought him a brand-new bag of Tootsie Pops without being asked, and invited you over for a movie night with the guys, offering to open up with you and Haechan’s all-time favorite movie, Mean Girls. He even offered to play The Kissing Booth next! Everyone else instantly protested of course, but the fact he offered in the first place is borderline suspicious.
Sure, Jaemin’s not the devil or anything, depending on who you ask. He’s… kind, and he can be a sweetheart. But Jaemin does nothing for free, and Haechan can’t shake the thought that this is planned bribery. And it isn’t hush-money. Jaemin doesn’t buy silence, he buys words.
By the time Jaemin asks Haechan to help him with the popcorn, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure that something is definitely wrong here. Yet still, he follows him into the kitchen.
“Alright, what’s up man?” Haechan wastes zero time, wanting to get to the bottom of all this. “I know you want something out of me. There’s no other reason you would offer to play The Kissing Booth, or buy me Tootsie Pops for free.”
Jaemin scoffs, but he doesn’t try to front, “Glad you know. Since we’re on the same page, let’s address this thing with you and y/n.”
“That’s what this is about?” Haechan grumbles. “I’ve told you, I don’t have feelings for her!” He whisper-yells.
Jaemin has heard that far too many times for it to be convincing. He’s positive that even Helen Keller herself could tell you two are hopelessly in love. Takes one to know one, he thinks. It seems the three of you must be blind, because you and Haechan are oblivious to your feelings for one another, and it’s painfully obvious.
“And Mary wasn’t a virgin,” Jaemin says ironically, making Haechan roll his eyes. “If you’re not in love with her, then explain what the hell is going on between you two. I know that she’s your best friend or whatever, but you don’t act like it at all. From a fresh perspective, someone would totally think you’re in love.”
Haechan hates that he’s right. It doesn’t make sense the amount of times you’ve gone to public places and had cashiers refer to you as a couple, or elderly people ask you if you’re together. Because you’re not. You’re best friends, and even if Haechan wants to be more than that, that’s his label. And he’s sure he’s stuck with it for life.
“You’re fucking Hope to distract yourself from your feelings for y/n,” Jaemin adds, and it’s a statement, not a question.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Jaemin interjects. “Head over heels, in love with a girl you think doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you’re also being an ass to her, whether you know it or not.”
If Haechan was in a situation where he needed to simplify the reason you two click so well, he’d say chalk it up to compatibility and say it’s because you’re like a mirror of one another. Which also means he knows you, better than anyone else even, and he knows neither of you do the whole catching feelings things anymore. You like to fuck and flirt, and fuck some more, to avoid the fact that you love too hard. If you fuck people whose names you don’t even remember, it doesn’t mean a darn thing that you two make out.
No one really knows about that part yet. But they do know that you like to fuck, and that’s why Haechan thinks that if he’s an ass, then that means so are you. What the fuck is he doing that you aren’t?
Even if he is an ass, what is he supposed to do? He’s only recently realized that damn, he actually does have feelings for you, which is where Hope comes along and yes, he is fucking her to distract himself from you. So what? It’s not like it’s working, he’s still stuck on you, obsessed with the thought of you, craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He still loves you, and it’s so scary because no matter what his friends say, he thinks they don’t know you or your relationship like he does. They think they do, but they don’t.
“I’m not in love,” Haechan lies through his teeth, “maybe I’m in like.”
Jaemin snorts. In like? That’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Not in love his fucking ass. “You’re in denial, that’s what you are.”
Haechan grumbles, trying desperately not to raise his voice so that the others don’t hear him from the living room, “Even if I did like her—and I’m telling you, I don’t—it wouldn’t change anything because she doesn’t like me.”
“You two are the same breed of oblivious and stupid,” Jaemin takes the popcorn out of the microwave, pouring it all into a bowl. He’s even laughing, much to Haechan’s confusion, but he’s apparently unbothered by Haechan’s lack of confession, “but fine. Lie to my face. I still have a backup plan.”
“A back-up plan?” Haechan repeats, lost.
“I just thought it would be nice of me to try and get you to confess before I have to work a Valentine’s day miracle, but unfortunately you two are a match made in heaven—both terribly stubborn,” Jaemin says vaguely, not really answering Haechan’s question, “so I guess we’ll all know the truth at Chenle’s party.”
Jaemin exits with the popcorn bowls before Haechan can even part his lips to ask another question, and he stands there, shocked and unsure of how to react. He’s concerned, though. Jaemin has something cooking (besides the popcorn), and he isn’t sure what, but it’s Na fucking gossiping blabbermouth Jaemin. That means it can’t be anything good.
So apparently when you and Haechan had that heated makeout session the other day, you left a trail - or in other words, you marked his neck the fuck up.
You hadn’t noticed because he covered it up with concealer, but you’re in the middle of another one of those when he stops you, preventing you from repeating your mistake.
“You can’t do that. People will see,” Haechan frowns. You wonder what’s the problem with hickeys. Is he embarrassed? No way. Haechan? Embarrassed? About hickeys? He has much bigger fish to fry.
In contrast, you’re over the moon. Even if he isn’t yours, marking him up makes you feel like he belongs to you. Plus, other people will see, and they’ll know that he isn’t theirs, either. Haechan also has a beautiful neck, you realize as you stare at his skin. It makes you wonder if there’s anything about him that isn’t beautiful.
“Would that be so bad?” You ask. “You’d look sexy all marked up by me.”
Haechan groans, “Do you ever think with your head and not your pussy?”
“I wish my pussy was my head. My head’s just so full of you,” you sigh dramatically.
It’s rare for Haechan to blush, but you somehow manage to make him full-on flush sometimes and you take that as an achievement. It’s partially the reason you love flirting with him so much, he’s so reactive. His reactions are cute sometimes.
“Be serious for 5 seconds,” he whines, and you giggle.
“I was serious,” you insist, “but fine, I’ll think with my head since yours is clearly not working. No one’s gonna assume they’re from me, Hyuck. Just tell them they’re from one of your hoes.”
“I know, but it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s, um…” he trails off.
You’re confused, blinking. If not your friends, then who on earth—oh, for fucks sake.
“It’s Hope,” you utter tonelessly.
“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he wonders why you suddenly sound so dry, and then the whole grocery shopping thing seeps back into his mind. You obviously don’t like Hope, and it’s not just you, really. Lots of people don’t like her. But Haechan needs a pretty face to compete with the image of yours in his head, even if it isn’t winning. “She kinda likes me, and—”
“Do you like her?” You don’t mean to ask so fast. It slips, like your mouth has a mind of its own.
Haechan shrugs. No, he doesn’t like her. He likes you, but he thinks that maybe he can somehow convince himself it’s the other way around. So he replies, “Maybe.”
Fuck. You try not to appear suddenly devoid of life, forcing a cheery smile. “That’s… nice,” you lie through your teeth. “Let me take this opportunity to have one last kiss before I possibly never will again?”
Haechan snickers, to silently say as if. He isn’t wrong for it, either. One kiss is never one kiss with him — never has been, never will be. There’s a reason you both bonded over bombing a math exam.
D-day rolls around, and you’re eyeing your frame in your full-length mirror, smoothing your palms over your dress as you give yourself a quick once-over before the clock strikes 7PM. You look like that bitch, and everyone in that party is going to fucking know it because you’re going to walk in there like that bitch. Fuck Cupid. You don’t need his stupid bow. And fuck Haechan, too. He’s your ride, but he’s gonna ditch you at some point in the party like he always does. It’ll be no different now, and this time, you’ll be the first one to leave.
The chime of the doorbell jolts you from your mental slumber, and you quickly reach for your purse then head towards the door with a heavy heartbeat. You know he’s already seen you in this dress, he chose it for fucks sake, but there’s something else that gets your heart racing—no. You can’t think about him. Fuck Haechan, remember? He’s no good for you.
“Here goes nothing,” you mutter to yourself, palm on the doorknob, “you can do this.”
Haechan’s sucks in a breath the moment you open the door. You look gorgeous. You always do, but in this particular moment, you look better than you ever have before. Those corny romance sayings usually make him laugh with mirth, but he’s genuinely convinced you look better everyday that he sees you. All dressed up like this, or not.
“You look so pretty, Auntie!” Dohwan beats him to a compliment.
You bend down to ruffle the boy’s hair, “Thank you, Dohwan. You look very handsome.” And then you look at Haechan.
He looks handsome as well, unfortunately. Jet black hair, exposed forehead, and his outfit is black with red hearts in the center of the shirt. You try not to pay him too much mind, but your heart and the place between your thighs don’t seem to agree with your mind. He catches you looking at him, and feels a twinge of anxiousness in his heart. Get it together, man, he tells himself. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t get nervous looking at pretty girls. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate about his actions, either, wondering if he should hold your hand, he doesn’t rethink what he should say. It all comes to him naturally.
“Yeah, you look beautiful,” he settles, mentally cursing himself for being unable to think of anything else. He blames you. Ever since you first snuck in his mind, you’ve been living rent-free there, and make it hard to think about anything else sometimes. That’s why he thought that needed distractions.
If you could relay the message to your heart, you’d tell it stop beating. Instead, you mask your emotion, smiling. “Thank you, likewise. Now c’mon, we gotta get there by 7:30!”
Haechan’s saddened by the dismissal, but you don’t catch his face as you walk to his car.
If you ignore him, you can do this.
Haechan cannot do this.
Something isn’t right. It wasn’t right the second he noticed you gave him a simple, rushed compliment, not bothering to make some sexual remark that usually makes Haechan’s cheeks feel like fire. You didn’t even kiss him before you got in the car. And Haechan’s sure you’ve been avoiding him like the plague, scurrying off and getting lost in the red and pink sea before he could even ask you if you wanted to check out the drink menu.
He doesn’t know where you are, and that haunts him. Turns out Chenle is paying Yangyang, Ten and Jisung to keep the kids entertained on one end of the house, whilst the adults do adult-y things on the other. You could be with someone else for all he knows, hell, you probably are. He was practically fuming when he saw some people staring at you as you walked in.
“Uh oh, I think y/n divorced Haechan,” Chenle jokes, and a choir of laughs follows suit.
Haechan grumbles, “A guy can’t miss his girl best friend?”
“Of course, you can,” Chenle drawls, “but everyone knows she’s more than just a friend to you. Like even if you aren’t together, there’s no way you guys don’t have feelings for each other.”
“Right? And they’re so cute together, too. A literal match made in heaven by angel Cupid,” Jaemin agrees, speaking as though Haechan isn’t right there.
“You’re dating y/n?” gasps Karina, overhearing Jaemin much to Haechan’s dismay. Oh, great, she’s as much as a blabbermouth as he is. The whole world’s going to think Haechan’s dating you in five minutes or less.
“No!”
“Yes, he is, spread the word,” Jaemin says, already knowing he doesn’t have to tell her. Karina’s mumbling I knew it under her breath before jogging somewhere.
“You know,” Haechan starts, downing a shot because if he’s not at least tipsy he’s going to die at this party, “she’s been making me watch murder documentaries with her and I’ve definitely picked up a thing or two. I’d be careful.”
Jaemin scoffs, “Please. You’re going to be kissing my ass and the ground that I walk on by the time this party’s over.”
There it goes. Haechan wonders what’s so special about tonight that Jaemin’s been hinting at vaguely. It’s been keeping him on his toes, but he doesn’t ask because he knows Jaemin, and he isn’t going to tell him a thing. The one time this guy wants to keep something secret.
An hour flies by, and Haechan still hasn’t seen you. He’s looked for you, and refuses to believe his eyes are somehow missing you, even though you’re in a crowd. He literally went up the stars and gazed over the railing for a better view, and you were no where to be found. You’ve refused to answer your phone, too, and Haechan doesn’t know what to do. He would just start talking to some random chick, but that’s not what Haechan wants. He doesn’t want some random chick. He wants to be with you. Hold you. Touch you. Kiss you, with no shame, no fear, in front of everyone, and he isn’t in denial about it. He wants you.
And Jaemin is fed up.
“Alright, I’m tired of you moping around drinking like a divorced man. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jaemin suggests. Or commands, but still.
Haechan quirks a brow. “Where there’s nothing but more drinks?”
“Trust me, I’m not letting you drink anymore tonight. You have a wife and a kid to drive home,” Jaemin jokes. Usually he’d deny any sort of relationship with you that isn’t best-friendship, but Haechan simply shakes his head, following his friend and roommate into the kitchen.
Then he sees you, and his jaw doesn’t just drop, but it falls flat on the ground, bounces a little, and comes back down. You’re clinging to Chenle’s side with a confused face, equally as surprised to see him, though not very delighted.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s going on?”
You stare at one another.
“Stop copying me!”
“Stop copying me!”
Jaemin and Chenle stare at one another, then stare at you two staring at one another, and stare at one another again.
“I hate to interrupt your… stare-off, but there’s a reason we brought you two here,” Jaemin interjects, making you two finally split gazes as you stare at him, confused.
“Which is?”
“Which is?”
You glare at him. Jaemin’s success was short-lived, it seems.
“Drum roll, please,” he says, and Chenle begins tapping against the counter, “Dohwan!”
Suddenly, Dohwan pops up from around the corner. He’s on the completely wrong side of the house, and while he’s under adult supervision, you still wonder why he’s here.
You blink. “What’s he doing here?”
Jaemin smirks. “I’m glad you asked. Dohwan tells me he’s witnessing some very interesting sights of the two of you. Go ahead and tell us what you saw, kiddo.”
“I saw Haechan and Auntie y/n kissing, like mommy and daddy do!” Dohwan shares, grimacing in disgust. If you weren’t practically fearing for your life right now, you’d probably laugh at his reaction.
“And how often do you see this?” Chenle adds.
“Um…” the kid ponders, “every time Auntie y/n comes over. I heard them say they wanted to keep it a secret from me, but they’re not very good at it.”
Haechan shoots you a panicked look, and you’re wearing the exact same one. By the time you realize that this is what Jaemin’s been hinting at this whole time, it’s much too late. Your secret has been exposed to the worst people ever, and now they’re definitely going to think you’re dating. 
“Thank you for your input, Dohwan,” Jaemin smiles, then turns to look at you and Haechan. You’re both frozen and stiff, unsure of how to respond. “So, anything to say about this?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Haechan’s quick to say. You hope no one catches the way your face falters with hurt for a split second. “If you want me to be honest, then fine, I will. Yeah, we kiss. We’ve been kissing since high school, but it didn’t mean anything then and it doesn’t mean anything now. We just, I don’t know, do it for fun.”
Chenle deadpans, “So you just kiss for pure, innocent fun.”
“Exactly,” Haechan nods. “It means nothing.”
It means something to me, you think to yourself, and when you notice the silence in the room, you gaze up to see everyone’s eyes on you, Haechan’s a little wide. Oh, fuck.
“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”
“Yep,” Jaemin grins. He was right. “Is there something you want to share with the class?”
Stupidly, you decide to look at Haechan, and he’s re-lost his composure, frozen up and stiff all over again. Your heart is pounding harder than it has been all night. It’s partially the alcohol, but you can feel it in your veins and all around you. It won’t leave you alone, and looking at Haechan, it’s faster, as if to say he’s the one I want.
So you choose to make another decision that you might possibly regret, but you have to get this off your chest. It isn’t news to anyone but Haechan anyways.
“Donghyuck,” you start, and he knows it’s getting serious because you just said his government name. You literally never call him by his government name. “I know we agreed to keep things platonic, and for it to mean nothing, but I want you. Like really, really bad. I think I—no, everyone’s right, I really am, extremely in love with you. If you don’t feel the same I understand, I just had to get this off my che—”
You aren’t given the chance to finish before Haechan swoops you in his arms, reaching for your waist as he pulls you into a kiss. There’s a chorus of cheers from Chenle and Jaemin, followed by a shriek of disgust from Dohwan as he covers his eyes, but you two aren’t trying to hide anymore, you want to scream from the rooftops that you’re in love. Yes, the infamous Lee Donghyuck and y/n know more than flirting and fucking. You’re in love, drunk off of a sip of it and the taste of Haechan’s lips, and god, has kissing your best friend never felt better.
“Let’s give the newlywed couple some privacy now,” Jaemin says with a grin. Gosh, he really is the spawn of Cupid, but you have to thank him. This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for his stupid ‘gotcha!’ plan. “You two work this out.”
The three of them pile out, and you and Haechan part from one another to breathe. You stay in comfortable silence for a moment, his hands slipping into yours.
“Your hands are sweating,” you comment after a while.
“It’s hot.”
“It’s the middle of February.”
“So? Global warming is real, you know,” Haechan shrugs, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his hand is sweating because he’s nervous. He’s accepted that you make him feel all warm inside and his heart feel like mush, but he still isn’t used to not hiding the way you make him feel.
You laugh but don’t press things. “Newlywed couple, huh. Can’t be, you still haven’t popped the question.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, too. “Then will you take my hand in marriage and take me as your illegally wedded husband?”
You hum, pretending to contemplate, “Hmm, I don’t know. You sure you don’t wanna marry a giant cardboard Tootsie Pop cutout? Or what about that girl? What happened to her, by the way, I thought you said you liked her.”
Haechan groans, not really wanting to think about her right now, “No more Hope. Ironically, she’s a lost cause. I had to cut shit with her because she can’t comprehend what a fling is. She wanted a relationship, and you know, I lied to you when I said that I might want her. I didn’t know you liked me back until, like, now, so I was just saying shit in hopes of convincing myself I could stop liking you. That planned failed, though.”
His words lift a massive weight off of your shoulders, and you finally feel like you can breathe now. Take that, bitch, you think with a smirk. She was giggling in your face so hard at the grocery store, but you’re having the last laugh.
You tilt your head. “What about the Tootsie Pops?”
“Yeah, sorry but I can’t give them up as easily. Would you mind a Tootsie Pop bouquet?”
Gosh, this is the man you love. You roll your eyes, but smile as you reply, “You know, you’re like a Tootsie Pop.”
If Haechan were a dog, his ears would perk up right now. “How come?”
“I’ll never know how long I’ll be able to kiss you without wanting to fuck you,” you lean in his ear to purr, voice tickling his neck. You eye it and his lips, and lord knows you can’t wait to finally be able to mark him up again.
“Yeah? Wanna go home, put Dohwan to sleep, and let me take this dress off you?” He grips at your waist, his hand resting there with the burning urge to dip lower. He bites his lip.
“Thought you drew the line at sticking your dick in me,” you joke.
“That was when I was in denial about wanting you,” Haechan whispers, “but now I can admit to myself that even though you amazing in this dress, I wanna take it off of you. Your body’s perfect.”
“I kinda hate the scar on my thigh.”
“Don’t. It provides depth to your character. It makes someone wonder how you got it, the story of how it happened,” he answers, ever so deeply.
“Poetic,” you snort, “can’t tell if you’re giving me Bruno Mars or John Legend vibes more right now.”
Haechan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You said you’d never know how long you’d be able to kiss me without dying to fuck me, right?”
“I never said dying.”
He ignores you, “Then let’s put it to the test, shall we?”
Your lips wind up pressed firmly to his, with your hands on his cheek and his palms on your hips yet again. It’s fiercer than ever, Haechan’s kissing you like he doesn’t want to let you breathe, like he wants to stay in this moment with you forever. He kisses you with love and lust, with passion and desire, with emotion and no more fear in his chocolate-y eyes. You don’t regret kissing Haechan that day. It took a while, but it brought you to this moment where you can finally call him yours. And that one more kiss stuff is bullshit. His lips are yours and vice versa, and as you’re by each other’s side, you’ll never stop kissing him. And he’ll never stop kissing you.
“They’re here!” Karina suddenly bursts into the kitchen, pointing at you and Haechan. “Look! I told you they were dating!”
Oh, god. You totally forgot about Karina’s stupid bet with Mark. Mark looks entirely devastated and surprised, devastated because that’s twenty-five bucks gone from his wallet, and surprised because he genuinely believed you and Haechan have been best friends this whole time. Technically, he isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt to tell them that.
Mark whines, “Oh, c’mon! I really thought you guys were just friends.”
“Pay up, loser,” Karina smirks, and with a pout, Mark pulls cash from his pockets.
Haechan looks at you, and while you don’t say anything, you can tell you’re both thinking the exact same thing. The whole campus is about to know you two are dating. Karina’s for sure going to tell everyone she knows, hell, probably even people she doesn’t know, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of Jaemin raining your business on everyone in his latest report for the school newspaper.
You can’t say that you care, though. This is what you wanted, to unashamedly love Haechan, to be able to state it proudly in front of everyone, to let everyone know, to claim him as yours and yours only. So fuck Cupid. Fuck his bow, fuck his arrow, because this relationship is all a product of you and Haechan’s hard work and dedication.
Who needs Cupid’s bow when you have tasty lips and Tootsie-Pops?
“You’re telling me you’ve been in love with me for the past four years? Oh, you’re a soldier. I would have given up in the first month.”
You snort. Part of becoming Haechan’s girlfriend is the process of telling one another the secrets you’ve been keeping, such as how long you can been in love. Haechan’s been in love with you for a solid year, he thinks, maybe two, but it’s been almost four years for you, on the other hand.
“If only it were that easy,” you sigh. “Trust me, I tried getting over you by getting under other people—how Jessie Reyez of me—but that didn’t work out, obviously.”
“You are too much like me,” Haechan shakes his head. “What made you think we should anyways?”
“You mean, four years ago, or now?”
Haechan shrugs. “Either. Give me three reasons.”
“Oh, brace yourself. I could do a presentation on this. One, we know each other’s McDonald’s orders. Two, like you said, we’re very alike. When have we ever argued over pizza toppings?” You reason. “Three, I can’t imagine kissing anybody else. I mean, we’ve basically been practicing on each other for the past four years. I’m the reason you can kiss so good, it would insane for you make out with other people. Four, I have a fat ass and sometimes I catch you staring at—”
“I said three reasons!” Haechan cries, face blooming red as a rose.
“I could go for a fifth,” you grin, “we’re both terrible at math.”
“Damn right we are,” he mutters. “But that’s what makes us… us, isn’t it? The only reason we’re dating right now is because we couldn’t resist kissing each other after one time.”
He’s right. It practically only took one kiss to fall in love with Haechan. He’s giving you major Dua Lipa vibes right now.
“I know you’re thinking about that Dua Lipa song right now.”
You smirk. “You know me very well.”
He tilts his head. “And what else are you thinking about?”
“That you look like all I need,” you say in tune, making Haechan laugh. “And I just want to feel your skin on mine.”
“Then we should do something about that, right?” Haechan smirks back.
You’re kissing the smirk right off his lips seconds later, and this is where you decide that you just can’t get enough of him. Even if one kiss is all it takes, you’re greedy for more, and more, and more, until both your lips are swollen and you’re both gasping for air.
#haechan smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#nct smut#haechan x reader#nct imagines#haechan imagines#lee haechan smut#nct x reader#nct#nct scenarios
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