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armpirate · 2 days

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Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 19

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy.

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 13 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Those four days were like hell.

It didn't matter how many times they came across each other on the common landing, or how he tried to smile at her every time their eyes met. Her answer was always the same: silence. Putting all of her strength to simply ignore him and just be as friendly as she could, while trying to fight that side of her that was urging her to make a comment that'd unchain the bickering between them like it had been happening since he moved into the building.

She was convinced she needed to get out more. It could be that sudden need only came from the fact that she could be feeling lonely, which was a relief for her. At least that was better than even thinking of her liking Jungkook somehow.

Her steps were stopped as she approached Donna, Alma and Jackie, regretting her decision on getting closer to them as soon as she was getting herself to do it. She had already tried many times before, and it was always the same thing. It wasn't that she didn't like them, she just wasn't able to click with them, there wasn't anything they could have in common. But being fair with herself, there was nothing she had in common with the group of friends she hung out with when they were able to.

—Oh, Y/n —Donna called her from afar, lifting her hand to motion her to walk to them—. Come sit with us. We're taking a sip of coffee.

As usual...

One thing about Donna, Y/n would never find her at her desk, she was always in the cafeteria or somewhere in the resting areas of the office -which made her wonder how she managed to write her articles, and do her research when she never worked in her workplace.

Not like it mattered, but it just made her curious.

—Look who's joining our dark side —Jackie giggled, smiling so wide that she could see her light pink gums.

—Well, I'm quite busy usually —Y/n answered, carefully sitting on the free chair in front of Donna—. I'm currently working on some coverages, I'm also still working on my article...

—Oh right, the one you couldn't tell anyone about? —Donna interrupted her, smiling.

—Yeah, that one —Y/n nodded.

—How long has it been since you started working on it? I guess they should be hurrying you up to publish it —of course she was going to drop that type of comment.

—Well, I'm taking my time. I've had some problems getting inside the biggest issue...

—Maybe you should change it and write about something else —Y/n's tongue was trapped between her lips when she was interrupted by Donna's advice filled with poison—. It's just an advice from a more experienced colleague —she tried to justify when the other two glanced at her.

—Don't drop it —Alma encouraged her—. Were you given a due date?

—No, no —her head shook—. I was even told to take my time to make it as perfect as possible.

—Then that's it! —Jackie clapped— Take it easy. And if you need help, just tell us. I'm good with photographs, so if you ever need a good shot, just let me know.

As much as Y/n was grateful for Jackie's kindness, she couldn't imagine her and her colorful clothes among the type of crowd that was formed by those boxing parties.

—Yeah, we're here to help —Alma seconded—. I know we didn't get close, but we love to help and enlighten you whenever you need it —she assured, placing her hand over Y/n's—. And Donna can also help you, right?

—Right —she forced a smile—. Of course.

There was no lie in admitting Donna was forced to say she was going to help, when at first she just wanted to mock Y/n -for some reason she didn't care about-, but there also was no point in focusing on that when two people she never gave a chance to were being so nice and good to her after barely spending any time together, despite sitting two desks away.

After that, she was able to look at the rest of the day in a different way, she felt happy, her mood went through a high boost after talking with Jackie and Alma, and not only because they encouraged her to go on with the article -which she had no idea how she'd continue writing after she dumped Jungkook. She also felt like a whole new possibility was opened after speaking to them, like she had a new place to go to whenever she felt like work was getting to the best side of her. It made her feel like she drew a safe line between them and her because she felt attacked, when they both were accepting and friendly.

It was amazing the effect one small detail could have on the other things. She didn't care about how crowded the subway was, or how tired she felt to walk back home, she just didn't mind it.

Just like she didn't mind finding Jungkook waiting for her in front of her door, while he stared at her doormat.

He was going insane.

Jungkook couldn't understand what was happening, but he was sure he couldn't go on that way. If anyone else had told him before that he'd be looking for someone else's attention, waiting for the exact time to meet up with her, he'd have cackled in the loudest way possible.

It was so bad that even Jimin noticed the change in him.

Normally, his attitude was chill and careless. Their dynamic worked because his friend was too emotional, and Jungkook was the one that lacked that sense. His nickname as they both grew closer together was Iron Man, but those few days he walked around like he was missing something.

He kept checking his phone, for no logical reason -because the only times Y/n had texted him was to tell him to lower the volume or shut up. But he still looked every once in a while, thinking her message would find its way into his device.

He was missing her, and he just couldn't accept it. Jungkook needed to solve it all out before it went worse, and the only way to sort it out was to have her going back to her petty responses and bad looks. He was convinced the only real problem was the fact that he wasn't the one rejecting her. That was it.

—What are you doing there? —she sounded tired, dropping the smile that adorned her face the second she set foot outside of the lift.

—I need to talk with you.

—Again? —she sighed— What is it now? They'll come to check your router? Will the plumber show up?

—Seriously? I come to speak with you and you only think that I want something from you? What image do you have of me?

—The image that you earned with passion —she answered immediately after.

Jungkook looked away, tilting his head as he tried to find the words to speak. Sentences were mixing together, the sounds were rolling around his tongue, and he was sure that he wasn't going to be able to form a proper phrase while she looked at him that way.

—Okay, then —she finished, turning to her door to open it.

Jungkook stopped her from closing the door behind her by speaking again, placing his palm on the exterior door knob, earning another exhausted sigh from her.

—You can't ignore me.

—Excuse me? —she chuckled, raising both of her eyebrows at the order.

—We're neighbors, you just can't act like I'm not living next to you.

—Unfortunately, it's a reality. That's why I have no other choice but to pretend you aren't there.

—I know I've done things wrong, but... let's make it up?

—No —she firmly said, crossing her arms on her chest.

—Is this because of the article? I told you I was going to do it.

—It's not because of the article, it's because of the way you dealt with the whole thing —she confessed—. You just can't ignore people when you don't want to do something, you speak with them. That's what adults do.

—So would you have accepted my decision if I had told you that I didn't want to help you? —he fought back— You mean you wouldn't have acted annoying and petty about it.

—No —she answered again—. I probably would've get mad. But I would have been on the wrong because I can't force people into doing things I want —she explained—. That's not the problem now, because you always find a way to make me mad and make it valid.

—Y/n...

—Didn't you want me to leave you alone? —she cut him off— I'm leaving you alone. Live your life, do your things... But don't bother me or I'll make you regret it —she threatened, pointing her index finger at him—. Get lost now.

—How can you tell me to get lost?

—Well, like I've just done it now —she shrugged—. It's a two-word sentence, pretty simple to say and understand.

—Okay, I'll tell you why I didn't want to do the article.

—That's literally not what I said —she mumbled.

—... but you can't judge me.

—Too late —she rested her arm on the door frame.

—This goes back to some time ago —he exaggerated the move of his hand—. An ex, that wasn't really an ex, cursed me. She promised I wouldn't have a stable relationship, and it had been working until now. I went to a tarot reader, and she confirmed everything that was happening, until she told me that a woman would come to break the curse. She said that I'd fall for her after she appeared, and told me that it'd be made through some work. You showed up in the middle of nowhere, you're the only woman who's still in my life when the rest of the flings disappear the morning after, and you're the only one I was going to do some work with.

Y/n completely lost the plot of the story at the mention of a curse. She couldn't believe he really believed she was going to fall for such a lame story. But it was even crazier that he spotted her as his savior, or the person that would break the curse. What fairytale did he escape from?

—So I wanted to avoid you, because I didn't want that change to happen —he continued—. I'm really happy with the way my life is going right now, okay? I don't need anyone to put everything upside down.

—Wow, you're really creative with excuses —she tilted her head—. Ever thought of leaving boxing and becoming a writer?

—I'm telling the truth.

When she was going to speak, he sighed loudly, throwing his head back while causing her eyes to open wide in surprise to the sudden sound coming from him.

—Okay... —she smiled nervously— So how does that curse break? With a real love kiss? Maybe a magic spell? Oh, I know, the power of love!

—It doesn't seem like you're taking it seriously.

—Look, I don't know what excuses you've made up to get girls to forgive you, and I have no idea how they could've worked, but all of this is a bit too much.

—I'm being honest.

—Sure you are —she shrugged.

—And it's also an explanation why you reject me every single time.

—Because your attitude can't be a valid explanation to you —her eyes squinted at his comment.

—It now makes sense!

Y/n just couldn't go past the fact that Jungkook did in fact believe the story he was telling her, and even was able to find some sense in something that seemed to be taken out of the wildest fantasies he could've read about -if he had read any book at all. At first she just thought he was recurring to his long list of excuses to justify his actions, and that only made her angry, with the only wish to crash the door against his face while he spoke. But the longest he went, the more she was convinced that the man in front of her needed psychological help. Urgently.

—You're scaring me a bit —Y/n admitted, looking around for the nearest exit to ask for help in case she'd need it.

—It's weird you slept with me a second time, but I guess the curse works differently since we see each other every day? Now it's one of those moments where I wished Carly didn't block me so I could ask her —he kept thinking out loud, moving his eyes away from her and losing the focus of the conversation.

—That many blows on your head have officially fucked up with your sanity —she mumbled, seeing her neighbor having a full on conversation with himself—. Instead of wasting money on a tarot reader, why don't you pay for a good therapist?

—Y/n, it's serious. My ex-girlfriend went crazy after I cheated on her —Y/n scoffed at that detail—, which isn't relevant now, and she cursed me before leaving my house. What was what she said? —his eyes moved to the top of his head as he tried to bring back the exact words Carly used— Something that I treated people badly, and that I was going to suffer the same thing or something like that.

—Are you hearing yourself? How do you pretend me to believe you, for fuck's sake? —Y/n insisted, controlling her big wish to roll her eyes in front of him.

—How many times have I lied to you?

—Do you really want me to answer that question? —her ironic tone was challenging, making Jungkook regret that question almost immediately.

—I promise I'm telling the truth.

—Okay, let's say I believe you. What do you want me to do with that information? —her lips puckered, before she continued speaking— Everything's okay, and everything you do is valid, only because you were cursed for not being able to keep your dick in your pants?

—But...

—You were cursed because you are a fifteen year old trapped in the body of a twenty six year old, and you aren't able to keep a woman exactly for that reason.

—Well, look who's talking, are you going to call me immature? You?

—Are you going to attack me?

—No, I'm saying that someone that drills a hole in a wall, because of a little noise, can't speak of others.

—A little noise?

—You're just as immature as me, but you disguise it with that serious facade thinking you're fooling anyone. Spoiler alert: you don't.

—Spoiler alert? See how you're a horny teenager? The only reason you don't want to commit to a relationship is because you have the Peter Pan syndrome.

—Here comes the smart ass with her bit of information taken from the short research she does for her articles... And what if I have the Peter Pan syndrome?

—You're nearing thirty, as much as it hurts you.

—I know, and do you know how attractive that is to women? I'll be a bomb when I turn forty.

Y/n rolled her eyes again, almost giving up the argument because there was no way any bit of common sense would kick inside his brain.

—I can't believe I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you right now.

—Because you like me, as much as it hurts you —he mocked her—. And the only reason you're willing to believe the curse thing is because you want to give me a free pass.

—No, the only reason I'm pretending I believe you is because I don't know if you're going to have a psychosis and do something crazy.

—Look who's coming up with an excuse now —he chuckled.

At that point her hand was tickling, reviving how it'd feel if she crashed her palm against his face. She could lie and justify herself by saying she did it in her defense because her neighbor's brain wasn't working right, which at that point wasn't really a lie.

—You could only wish. At the end of the day, I'm not the one scared of falling —she defended herself.

For the first time, Jungkook was the one nervous and speechless, opening his eyes a bit wider and parting his lips to speak, but not letting a word come out from them.

—You're sure because you haven't spent enough time with me.

—That means I'm so attractive that you fell for me barely spending any time together?

—No, that's not what I meant.

—But that's what you said —she rushed to say, keeping him from going on speaking.

—I'm sure that if I spent more time with you, I'd probably end up sick of you.

—Yet you had the chance, and you didn't take it. That's a bit contradicting —she fought back.

She left him stuck, between two options that he couldn't escape. One was a lie, and the other one was the brutal truth, and he was still fighting to confirm what belonged to each one of them.

—Don't worry though. There's no way I'd ever spend any more time with you than what we already did.

Y/n shouldn't have tempted the universe that way, and dragged it to a challenge that she wasn't going to like.

Not even a second after that sentence left her filthy lips, a huge noise interrupted their casual bickering, making them wonder what was happening.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

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heartshapedmisery · 3 days

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CHILDISH BEHAVIORS

The last practice and argument that led to your final day with the Ferguson International Tennis Academy.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ language, heavy arguing, nothing else really idk this is kinda just background stuff lol

taglist ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @elaci @depressedgothgrl

author's note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ hope you guys enjoy! I promise the reader isn't an asshole she just has a very fiery personality lol. also i don't know if made this clear or not, but this series takes place after the events of challengers and art and tashi are divorced! (i love my girl but it just wouldn't make sense for this for them to still be married.) lmk what you guys think! :)

PROLOGUE, LUCK OF CHAMPIONS | Art Donaldson x fem!reader, Challengers (2024)

New Rochelle, New York. 2019.

When it came to your life outside of tennis (which truly held very little validity in your mind), you never considered yourself to be an aggressive person. And you would attest that others would agree, and they would, but the second you got a racket in your hand and you stepped out into that box, it was almost as if you were a completely different person.

You don't intend to be hard-putting, but you simply have always been that way. Tennis dominated your entire life; ever since you were a kid, you had no desire to pursue anything that didn't involve hitting a ball with a racket. Somehow, this fueled your need to be competitive. To win every game, because in your mind, if you didn't, it held no value.

Though it was a toxic way of thinking, it kept you on your toes. It pushed you even harder to become the best, and eventually after strenuous time and effort, you did.

But your desire to be superior seemed to overtake your love for the game, which alarmed your peers and coaches. It was unhealthy.

"No one can devote their entire being to this sport and still remain human," you had been told, but it all seemed circumstantial. You wanted to be great, and you knew you could be great. But how could you get that without pure dedication to your craft?

You can't.

"Slam that damn racket again and you're out of here!"

You could feel the blood pumping through your ears as your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, your fingers white-knuckling your racket.

Coach Ferguson, the man you had trained with for the past year, stood irritated with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head at you. Even through the darkness of his Ray Bans, you could see the piercing, disappointed look you had become all too familiar with.

"Would you rather me chuck it at him?" you pointed it in the direction of the trainee you had been practicing with. "Because that's what he deserves for the way he keeps serving me a weak ball. I keep having to scramble for the damned thing."

The young trainee stood sheepishly, taking the ridicule from you without a word. You practically spit the words at him, heat rising in your chest just as the reminiscence of it.

"Watch your tone when you're talking to me," Ferguson barked and pointed a taunting finger at you. "You're here because of your talent, not because I enjoy the pleasure of your company. You would've been gone a long time ago if you were."

You hated to sound egotistical, but you were by far his best player. His words didn't scare you. At least, they didn't yet.

"Oh, boo hoo, like that's going to hurt my feelings," your tone was laced with sarcasm. "Just let me get back to this, will you? I promise all of your precious rackets will be safe."

You dismissed him as if he wasn't the one who wrote your checks every month. It almost made him laugh.

"My office. Now." he told you sharply before turning on his heel and leaving, waving off the trainee to go collect the tennis balls you had been hitting and taking them back to the locker rooms.

You contemplated if you wanted to ignore him or obey his orders, before doing the latter and following him down the path to the main building.

The cool AC hit your face refreshingly as you walked through the lobby, your eyes leisurely watching the TV that was playing old rerun matches behind the front desk.

Donaldson v. Richards. 2012.

The match undoubtedly intrigued you; your appeal was centered toward Donaldson, mesmerized by his powerful backhand and effective open stance. He glided across the court with ease, scoring points left and right with a demeanor that almost came off as bored.

You only allowed the game to hold your attention for a moment before you followed Ferguson into his office like a troubled delinquent making your way into the principal's office. In a sense, the situations weren't all that different. You still slumped down in the chair across from his desk with a sour look on your mouth while he gave you a disapproving look.

"(L/N), I hate to do this to you, but this," he gestured to your uninterested and bitter attitude, "Isn't working anymore."

You weren't sure what to say. You had expected him to rip you a new one, not talk to you as if he were about to kick you to the curb. Was that what he was doing?

"i don't understand," you said simply, an uneasy feeling stirring in your chest.

"You haven't won a match in over a month, your temper is out of control, and you're ripping people's heads off left and right. It's not healthy and I don't think this is the right place for you right now."

The words flowed from his mouth so easily, almost as if he had been itching to say it to you for a while now. It was what you needed to hear, but you just didn't want to listen.

"What? You're seriously not kicking you out, are you?" you snapped, standing from your chair.

"I'm not kicking you out. I'm asking you to take a break. This isn't goodbye forever, just for a little bit. Take a year off, get yourself back in order, and then we can renegotiate a new contract for you."

Your stomach dropped farther the more he spoke, an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment washing over your senses. Yeah, you could be a little over the top sometimes, but you never thought you would be asked to leave.

"You can't do this," you tried, but Coach Ferguson simply shook his head.

"Remind me, who's name is on the sign out front?" he asked rhetorically. "I can, and I will. This is what's best for you right now, even if you don't agree with me."

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you didn't let them. The last thing you needed was to be crying like a baby and look even more unstable than he already thought you were.

"The US Open is right around the corner, if I stop training now I won't be able to qualify in August."

He gave you a helpless shrug. "You should've thought about that before you started losing all these matches. As of right now, you're right at the cutoff for qualifying. If you were to try for it now, you'd have to work twice as hard to earn your spot―which I don't think you're capable of doing."

His words felt like a knife to the heart. He used to tell you he would always believe in you, that he'd always be there for you when you needed him.

So much for keeping his word.

"That's bullshit and you know it," you snapped.

"You're not making this very easy for me."

"Good, because you shouldn't even be doing it in the first place!"

He simply shook his head, resisting the urge to bark back a snide response. "Get out. Right now. You're being childish. I'm not going to sit here and argue with you."

He pointed to the door, unable to meet your eye as you scoffed in his face. You couldn't believe him.

"This is all I can do for you right now. Either take my offer or leave."

You didn't want to give in to him. You didn't want to give him that satisfaction after he had made you look like a complete fool.

"Fuck this." was all you could muster up, tightening your fist relentlessly as you stormed out of his office and down the hall, not sure where you were headed but you knew it would be far away from here. You felt like a child throwing a tantrum and you hated it because you knew he was right.

You were quick and silent as you cleaned out your locker since it was the only way you could keep yourself from bursting into tears. You felt ashamed; after all of your hard work and dedication to this academy, this was what you got in return. It felt like a kick in the gut, but it was what you needed in order to realize that you were better than all of this.

Deep down, you knew you were capable of making it to the US Open. You were going to prove it. How? You weren't completely sure. You were without a coach and you were all alone, which was something you never thought you would have to admit to yourself.

You needed a plan; Something to tie together the loose ends that had unraveled within the past hour. So, the second you got home to your apartment two blocks from the academy, you scoured the internet for a saving grace.

Phil's Tire Town Wildcard. New Rochelle, New York.

March 17th, 2019.

APPLY NOW!

Bingo.

#art donaldson #challengers #mike faist #art donaldson smut

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thisapplepielife · 2 days

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Written for a @astrangersummer.

Imagine the Stars

Max sprawls in the grass, and closes her eyes. Not that it matters. Dark is dark. It just feels less overwhelming when her eyes are closed. Like things are still the same, even if they really aren't. Not at all.

It's all just noise at his point: the doctors, the specialists, all saying that she might get her sight back, or at least some of it. But they don't seem sure, are only guessing, she knows that, and she's not betting on anything right now.

Because they don't know, can't know, how it actually happened. So, finding a treatment might be impossible. It's probably pretty damn hard to fix magical wounds by mortal means.

But it's fine. Whatever. It kind of has to be, since she doesn't really have a say in the matter. She's gotten used to it. The sunglasses and the cane. The constant babying by all her friends. Steve Harrington hovering, mothering, worse than ever before.

She's not alone. Almost never is. But she sure feels isolated a lot of the time.

Lucas reads to her, but it's not the same. She wants to hold the book in her own hands, let her eyes skim across the text, taking in, or ignoring, as much as her brain is in the mood for at the moment.

El paints her nails, but Max can't see the shock of color, so does it even matter? She gets no joy out of it, not really, but she thinks El does, so she lets her continue. Because it hurts nothing.

They're all laughing off in the distance right now, and she can pick out all of their voices, imagining them just as they were the last time she'd seen them all.

The last time she'd seen anything at all.

She needs to think about something else. Something more manageable.

The grass. The grass under her is soft and almost cool, and she stretches her arms out, grasping two fistfuls of earth, squeezing. And she feels grounded. Centered, once again.

It's daylight. Mid-afternoon, with the sun beating down overhead. But to her, it could be night. The sky could be the clearest blue, or the darkest red.

She believes it to be the bluest of blues, these days.

But in her own private cover of darkness, she can also picture the night sky. The same inky, dark blue-black sky that her dad used to point out the constellations in, looking overhead, when she was a little girl. Him, giving their names, their shapes, tracing the paths in which she was supposed to be able to see them.

Max would look, would study the stars, and while she could find the Big Dipper, that was about it. Could see the double stars that make up the second point in the handle. Could trace the outline of the whole constellation with her finger.

But more often than not for the others, though, she'd just pretend to see what he so easily could. Her dad knew them all, and always told her she'd be able to see them too, when she was older. Now she's older, and she most definitely can't.

And she may never be able to, not now.

So, she does the next best thing. She pictures the handle of the Big Dipper, counting the stars until in her mind's eye she can see little lines tracing around the stars, stitching them together into something bigger. Something different. All the parts connecting themselves together, making up a bigger whole.

She did that, too, she knows. In that attic. She sealed her own fate for the greater good.

And she'd do it again, even if she wouldn't be happy about it.

They killed Vecna. Not immediately. Not until after there were victims, and damages that may never be undone.

But they're free of that terror, now. Hawkins, and hopefully, the whole goddamn world.

The world is blue, not red.

And because her friends finished what they started, it's safe for her to lay in the grass, soaking up the sun, while she imagines the stars.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌌

#a stranger summer #week five #prompt: constellations #stranger things #max mayfield #max mayfield gen fic #stranger things s4 #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: a stranger summer

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lunarharp · 4 months

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"Found out" set in kind of a made-up chapter where the girls are in trouble, or something.

#witch hat tag #orufrey #i hate having a strong cinematic image in your mind for months..working hours on it..& at the end looking you have to be like “Sure. :/"#i'm especially unsatisfied with the beginning and the end and how i can't get eyebrows to work as i want #but i dont care any more... this is probably the comic that has given me the most trouble ever i just dont care #i barely even care whatsoever if anyone even sees this..Ugh..but at least i can move on to the next era now #i'm just annoyed i cant get out good enough my image of qifrey flinching bc he thinks oru will hit him but then he is not hit #i feel like sensei will do something along these lines. i want to see what she will do.#there are also other variations i have in my mind. i just want to know #i just don't want it to happen with qifrey on his deathbed or something. but it possibly will. I DONT EVEN KNOW.#i have another very cinematic image in my mind for something sort of along those lines which i will do soon. it never ends...#btw after this is probably my fics. yeah.... i think it has to be my fics. jasmine sort of goes along these lines #i need that space for dialogue. look - i'm a writer. this is HARD for me. so i am really glad i had the space and freedom of words #to process all the feelings. but i tried to get something out in a quick visual space too. <- me defending myself to myself at cai court #anyway going along the lines of 'Jasmine' - they talk this out and argue and cry and oru pushes the hat at him and tells him #why not just erase every memory i have of you then. That would be easier for us all wouldn't it?#they kiss and sob and kiss and lie outside in the flowers for many hours in that one. and then there's 'Deep End' where it turns out #way way way way more time and words is needed for this actually and that's upsetting for everyone.#the destruction of the hat is certainly another path to take. Can you make this work without that hat going up in flames?#something you have always had and have been clinging to will have to be destroyed. You have to lose something now. This is the crux qifrey #I CANT GET IT OUT IN ONE COMIC!!! I CANT DRAW IT OUT!!!! I NEEDED THOSE FICS!!!! PRAISE WORDS!!!! whatever im going to have dinner now

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hemmingsleclerc · 5 days

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It's Over┃max verstappen

summary: where they bellieve max cheated on kelly with a famous singer his age but instead of the fans reacting badly,they celebrate?

maxverstappen x fem!singer!reader

ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧ ༘✰ ༘ ˚ ˚ ༘ ‧₊˚𖧧 ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧

Max has always been in the public eye, both on and off the track. His relationship with Kelly Piquet, the Brazilian ''model'', had been the talk of the paddock for years. Their 9 year age difference has been the topic of conversation and criticism everywhere, but it didn't seem to bother Max… at least not until now.

It all started at an exclusive party after the Monaco GP. The drivers mixed with celebrities of all kinds: singers, actors, models, athletes, etc. Among the crowd was Y/N, a world-wide known singer, nine-time Grammy winner, selling out full stadiums and breaking record after record. Lewis had met her a few years earlier at the Met Gala and they had become close friends so it wasn't surprising to see him listening to her music before a race.

Max was also a fan of Y/N's music and their paths had vaguely crossed at some events. But that night was a little different. They were seen together several times, sharing laughs and whispers that seemed too intimate for only being friends. The paparazzi, always being everywhere, managed to take several photos that would make the Internet go crazy for the next days.

In one particular photo, Max and Y/N were seen standing close to each other, with their faces inches apart, lost in conversation. Another photo captured the moment in which Max caressed Y/N's cheeck with a smile. The final image, which would become the most commented image on twitter the next day, showed Max with his arm casually around Y/N's shoulders as they left the party together and then got into his car holding hands.

The next morning, social media was blowing up. #MaxAndY/N was trending worldwide on twitter. Fans of both Max and Y/N couldn't contain their confusion and excitement. The most popular question was: Had Max finally left Kelly? Was Y/N the new woman in his life? Or was she the other woman?

f1_gossip

Liked by 1,593,694 others

f1_gossip WHAT THE HELL?! This morning a celebrity gossip account published these photos of Max and singer and songwriter Y/N where they are seen very close together! Did we miss something? Since when did Max leave Kelly??

username It's about time Max found someone his own age!

username I never thought that my two worlds collided

username did he cheat???

username HE DID IT!

username Y/N WHAT?!?!?!? 😭😭

Meanwhile, Kelly had been noticeably absent from the party as she was in LA on one of her many trips, which only fueled the breakup rumors; her silence on the matter was interpreted as confirmation. Fans speculated that Max had grown tired of her constant traveling and her indifference to his, and also the factor of their age difference. They believed he had found solace in Y/N, who shared her young energy and passion for her life and career.

Y/N's fans, known for their loyalty, received Max in a good way. They filled their comments on social media with messages of support and excitement.

Days turned into weeks and neither Max nor Y/N addressed the rumors directly. Instead, they continued to be seen together at various events: dinners, concerts and even a charity gala where they were photographed holding hands.

f1_gossip

Liked by 837,583 others

f1_gossip we got new photos of max and yn at the party after the monaco gp! What do you think about this? An anonymous person close to Kelly apparently said the couple had broken up months ago! but they haven't confirmed it

username kelly deserves better!!!

username I really feel that we cannot nor should we give an opinion on the matter, we do not know what happened between Max and Kelly......

username they look so hot

max_updates

Liked by ynlnupdates, f1_gossip and 947,583 others

max_updates STOP THEY'RE LITERALLY SO CUTE! Max and Y/N a few weeks ago outside a restaurant with friends!

username Is nobody address the fact he cheated and she broke a relationship?

username pls max and kelly had been already over for months really, she was only with him for fame

username they look sooo damn good

username 🥹🥹

ynlnupdates

Liked by max_updates, and 986,743 others

ynlnupdates max and y/n tonight!

username he looks so happy 😭🫶🏻

username they are so good together 😍

username PARENTS!

username fucking weird

f1_gossip

liked by 937,492 others

f1_gossip Kelly posted this story a few minutes ago finally speaking about her and max!

username lol ''remain good friend'' girl, he unfollowed u a month ago

username she's really trying to make it seem like Max is still talking to her😭😭

username god heard my prayers 🙏🏻

username max literally just said they hat they had already broken up months ago, grow up

username exactly! he didn't cheated at all!

Finally, in an interview after a race, Max broke the silence.

f1_gossip

instagram

max_updates

liked by 1,492,495 others

max_updates In case you didn't already know, this is a yn ln,singer, songwriter and director, max's new gf, we really can't blame Max for falling for this beautiful and talented woman y'all.

username mommy?

username oh my god she's beautiful

username Oh-

username new wag alert!!!!

username I can't wait to see her on tha paddock

ynlnupdates

liked by 1,583,964 others

ynlnupdates meet max verstappen, 3 times f1 world champion, redbull driver and boyfriend of our yn 🫶🏻

username OH HE'S HOT

username I can't wait to see him on a concert of her's

username❤️😭 I LITERALLY LOVE HIM AND NOW HE'S DATING YN!?!??!

ok I hope this is not messy, I literally finish writing this at 3 am yesterday😭

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loveinhawkins · 3 months

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ao3

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

But then Steve continues, his voice turning distant as he heads to the back of the store—“I don’t care what the goddamn handbook says, the radiator’s goin’ on full blast,”—and Eddie realises he hasn’t actually been noticed at all.

Not by Steve, at least.

Robin Buckley is standing by the computer. She’s checking her watch; Eddie can see the thought cross her mind, that he should’ve been out of class over an hour ago, like she was.

All of a sudden, he feels uncomfortably aware of what he must look like: drenched from the rain, dripping water onto the carpet.

“Hey, Munson. O’Donnell got you working overtime, huh?”

Eddie fakes a laugh. He doesn’t know Robin that much—but still just well enough to know she doesn’t mean anything by it.

So he nods and rolls his eyes, concocts a story about an unjust detention; he even embellishes it with a pinch of truth as he brings the video tapes out from the shelter of his jacket. Says that his last-ditch attempt at improving his grade before the holidays was offering to return the videos O’Donnell rented for her classes.

He doesn’t mention the fact that he stayed behind voluntarily. That he spent all that time staring down at a perpetually unfinished essay, gripping his pen with an all too familiar desperation. That kind of honesty somehow feels more embarrassing than lying; it always has.

Robin takes the videos from him. “Okay, tell me if that works,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm; she’s joking, Eddie reminds himself, but not in a mean way. “Because I’d be returning, like, so many library books if…”

She trails off with a frown, eyes on the computer screen. Glances to the stack of video tapes before punching in something.

Eddie doesn’t mind the wait; it’s only now that he’s really appreciating just how cold he is. He shakes some water off his jacket sleeve, fingers numb, and realises too late that he’s creating a puddle on the floor.

“Uh, sorry for, um. Dripping,” he says awkwardly, but Robin doesn’t seem to hear him; she just keeps frantically tapping on the keyboard.

Outside, the wind picks up even more, throwing rain against the windows.

There’s the creak of a door swinging open somewhere in the back, followed by a voice calling, “What’s up?”

Eddie startles—he almost forgot that it wasn’t just him and Robin in here. He watches Steve sidle up to the register.

“It’s this stupid—“ Robin gestures to the computer with frustration. “It keeps going all, you know, aaaah.” She draws out the sound, wiggling her fingers.

Surprisingly, Steve catches Eddie’s eye with a wry look. “Technical term,” he says, deadpan.

If Eddie didn’t know that he was the only other person in the room, he’d think that surely he’d been mistaken for someone else.

Not that he thinks Steve would ignore him outright; it’s just that they’ve not got much history—no fleeting camaraderie forged from sitting next to one another in class. Sure, they crossed paths as much as anyone did in Hawkins, Steve a recurring figure in Eddie’s peripheral; he knew of his existence, obviously, it’s Steve Harrington, but nothing more than…

A collage of all the times Steve’s picture has appeared in the school newspaper flickers through Eddie’s mind. Okay, but that was because of The Tigers, and the swimming team, and—anyone would’ve noticed that—

His justification is brought to a halt at a particularly fierce howl of wind; Robin flinches so badly that she knocks the video tapes onto the floor.

“Just the wind,” Steve says quietly.

As he speaks, he gently nudges Robin out of the way with his hip. Picks up the fallen tapes.

And to anyone else, it might seem kind—and nothing more.

But there’s something almost imperceptible in the way Steve does it, Eddie can’t get away from that fact: a meaning behind the words that he can’t grasp.

Then he hears Wayne’s voice in his head—son, you know fine well when something’s none of your damn business—and tells his curiosity to quit it.

“Sorry, it’s still not working,” Robin says, giving the computer one last thump. “I can, um, write you a receipt? To prove you returned them? So O’Donnell doesn’t get all…”

Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Robin gets a pen out of her shirt pocket and writes a receipt, triple-checking the movie titles as she does so.

Eddie thanks her as she hands over the paper. Catches himself hesitating.

There it is: the familiar prickle of discomfort, not knowing what else to say. Jesus Christ, isn’t that a failure on its own? Another year at school, and you’d think he’d be somewhat closer to other students, just from the sheer amount of time they’ve spent together in the same four walls. And yet, he’s starting to feel more distant than ever.

Granted, there’s Hellfire, but on bad days even that chafes, not that he’d ever admit it. Like he’s playing a part far bigger than who he actually is.

Eddie expects to just walk out without another word being said. In fact, he’s bracing himself for the cold again, almost at the door, when Steve inexplicably speaks up.

“Are you actually leaving?”

Eddie turns around. Steve’s leaning by the desk with his arms folded, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie’s half-convinced there’s a joke he’s not getting.

“Uh, yeah?” he says. He tries to ensure that ‘what the fuck else am I supposed to do?’ goes unheard, but from the way Steve’s eyebrows rise, he doesn’t think he succeeds.

Steve gives a pointed, dubious look outside. “Dude, you wanna drown out there?”

Eddie rocks back on his heels. There’d be a time where he would really snap back at that (the first time he flunked out, maybe), but now he’s more caught off-guard.

So he just glances outside and says, “Ideally, no.”

Steve gives a slight huff of laughter at that, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m just saying, man, I’m not gonna be driving till it clears up. Thought I was gonna need a canoe just to get into the parking lot.” He turns to Robin as if looking for agreement, stacking the tapes Eddie returned as he adds, “I said that when I drove you in, right?”

“I dunno, I’ve had crazier journeys,” Robin says.

Steve rolls his eyes like she’s made a corny joke—but he’s grinning like he just can’t help himself.

Eddie watches with a flicker of amusement rather than irritation, which catches him unawares. If he was honest, he’d felt drained not even a few seconds ago. But seeing Steve and Robin’s back-and-forth sparks an unexpected urge to respond in kind.

“Since when were you the spokesperson for road safety, Harrington?”

Robin snorts.

Steve shrugs. “At least wait until it’s not so brutal out there.”

And what brings Eddie up short is that, despite the dry tone, Steve sounds sincere. It leaves him struggling for an acceptable reply.

Before he can work one out, Steve steps to the side and pushes a swivel chair with his foot, right into Eddie’s path.

Eddie sits down in silent bewilderment.

He braces instinctively for an unbearable awkwardness, but it’s not so bad: Steve and Robin just continue working. It gives him time to try and dry his jacket off, at least, and when that ends up a lost cause, he turns to noticing the background noise in the store.

There’s a TV overhead playing It’s a Wonderful Life; George Bailey and Mary Hatch are about to Charleston right into the swimming pool.

Steve wanders into his eye line, scanning the aisles with a clipboard. Eddie doesn’t actually know how long he’s been there. He’d kinda got caught up in watching the movie. Steve seems to notice that; it’s gone too quick for Eddie to be sure, but his lips might’ve quirked, as if in approval.

“Hey, d’you want me to take your jacket? I’ve got mine and Robin’s on the radiator in the back.”

Eddie does his best not to stare. It’s a habit he’s still not shaken off: waiting for the other shoe to drop when anyone apart from Wayne is so… so…

“Didn’t realise this place was a hotel, Harrington.”

Despite his misgivings, he shrugs off the still damp jacket; Steve’s already stuck his hand out for it.

“Not everyone gets this treatment, Munson. You just haven’t annoyed me yet.”

“Then what am I doing wrong?” Eddie returns flatly.

This time Steve’s smile is obvious.

“Don’t move my scarf off the radiator!” Robin calls as she wheels a trolley of tapes.

“What do you take me for?” Steve says.

He disappears into the back again, returning empty-handed when the phone rings. He mutters at it before he picks it up, “Yeah, of course you still work,” and it’s not endearing, Eddie tells himself. It’s not.

And no, he isn’t listening in to the phone call. That’d be… that’d be stupid. It’s just that the movie isn’t all that loud, so he can’t help but…

“Hello, Family Video? Oh, hi, Mrs Wilcox, how are… Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.” Steve listens to whatever’s being said on the other end. His eyes find the TV, and then he’s silently mouthing along to George and Mary singing, ‘Buffalo Gals.’ “Oh, are you kidding? No, no, stay inside. It’s not a problem, I can just—yeah, of course. I’ll push it back to after the holidays. Yeah. Yeah, you too. Thanks for calling. Enjoy the movie!”

He hangs up, absentmindedly humming. Eddie quickly looks away.

He notices then that he’s sitting right on the edge of his seat like an idiot. He makes an attempt to sit back—be normal, just be fucking normal—but there’s a rigidity he can’t quite shift, that’s been stuck there probably since middle school, when the cafeteria was full of whispers, did you see the new kid? There, the one with the buzz cut.

“Steve, you off the phone?”

“Yeah. Hey, Rob, if I forget, could you make a note to extend Donna Wilcox’s rental? I’ll do it when we’re back, if the computer’s—”

“Sure, sure. Um, so—”

“Oh, God, what?”

Robin grins, a mixture of sheepish and teasing. Eddie stays put. Has she forgotten he’s here? Should he move? Leave? Yeah, he should leave, they’re not gonna notice… He’ll grab his jacket, slip away; the weather’s not that bad—

“I’ve got something for you to—”

Steve waves his hands in disagreement. “Nope, we said we weren’t doing presents!”

“It’s not really a—my grandma wouldn’t listen, Steve, it’s, like, more of a punishment, honestly, just—just wait there.”

There’s a clatter as Robin rushes off, scattering some more tapes off the trolley. The employee door slams shut behind her.

Steve tsks to himself, but picks up the tapes again. As he bends down, he glances over his shoulder with a brief ‘what can you do?’ sort of expression—which forces Eddie to consider the fact that he hasn’t been forgotten.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He settles for an attempt at nonchalance: sticks a foot out to spin the chair ever so slightly, just side to side, and says, “So, uh, is this job just throwing tapes on the floor?”

“Yeah, we take turns,” Steve says without missing a beat.

He scoops up a tape, twirls it deftly before slotting it into place on the shelf. Eddie should probably find it annoying.

He doesn’t.

In the silence, he tries to lose himself in the movie again, at least a little bit, but he can’t manage it—feels too aware of himself, the creak of the seat as he moves even the tiniest amount, the restless fidgeting that he doesn’t even want to be doing, but knowing that never helps him stop—

“Ta-da!”

Eddie turns in time to see a blur of red; Robin’s just thrown something at Steve, who catches it easily—of course he does, Eddie thinks, but he can’t pretend that the thought comes from a place of resentment, not even inside his own head.

It’s a sweater. Steve unfolds it with a cackling laugh; there’s not a trace of the artificial veneer of high school in the sound.

Unlike you, whispers a nasty inner voice.

Steve’s still laughing. “Robin, this is the best—”

“Shut up, no, it’s so bad.” Robin hoists herself up to sit on the desk. “Grandma did the actual work, all the bits that are messed up are from me—”

“You knitted this?”

Steve beams. Eddie notices that there’s an endearingly crooked tilt to one of his incisors.

And then Steve’s glancing around like he’s checking no-one else has come into the store. He ducks out of view of the windows, but is still very much in Eddie’s view as he throws off his work vest, yanks his shirt up over his head, and…

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s been flung back into the claustrophobic space of the school locker rooms, the dread of changing for phys ed. The voice in his head gets louder: don’t look, don’t look; they’ll know.

But Steve doesn’t seem to care. He just leaves his shirt in a heap on the floor, wincing overexaggeratedly at the cold, and practically dives into the sweater with a boyish glee.

He laughs again; the sleeves are far too long. “I love it.”

“You do?” Robin says, and while she’s playing up her dubiousness, Eddie can hear how she’s pleased underneath it all.

“Uh, yeah!”

The back of Steve’s hair is ruffled from how eagerly he put the sweater on—but instead of fixing it, he focuses on artfully rolling up his sleeves.

Eddie should look away. Should, at the very least, attempt to appear like he’s zoned out, in a world of his own.

And yet…

Despite everything, he watches Steve Harrington with all the silent, rapt attention he usually reserves for movies.

Moth to a fucking flame, Eddie thinks, resigned.

“Suits me, huh?” Steve says to Robin; he does a stupid little move, one hand on his hip, like he’s on the front cover of a magazine.

“And you’re modest, too.”

“You just don’t know style when you see it.”

Steve’s at the desk now, nudging one of Robin’s feet playfully, before turning round to lean against the corner again. “Hey, Munson, what do you think?”

Eddie finds himself fighting the instinct to reply with something undeservedly cutting. He’d just be trying to cover, anyway, using barbs to conceal what the question makes him feel: something akin to the franticness when confronted in class with a test he hasn’t studied for.

And he looks. Really looks—his heart slowing, the initial panic from the flash of bare skin fading away.

Steve’s right; the sweater does suit him, in all its homemade charm. The shade of red is flattering, brings out his eyes: maroon, if Eddie had to put a name to it, although he suspects that the colour’s actually got nothing to do with it, more the way Steve holds himself—a quiet, certain confidence that’s always been out of Eddie’s reach.

He inwardly gives himself a shake as Steve and Robin keep waiting on his response.

This isn’t school, idiot; they’re not trying to catch you out.

“I’m hardly an expert on high fashion, Harrington,” Eddie says—thinks he just manages to pull off the lazy, unbothered drawl.

“Well, you have a look,” Steve says faux delicately, like he’s being incredibly generous.

Eddie cracks a genuine smile; it sort of weakens the whole aloof thing he’d settled on, but he surprisingly doesn’t care all that much.

“Damned with faint praise.”

Steve scoffs as if to say touché. His gaze catches on something outside, and Eddie wonders if it’s an actual customer, if it’s time for whatever all of this is to stop.

But all Steve does is poke Robin’s foot and add, pointedly singsong, “Rain’s stopped.”

“So?” Robin asks.

“I think it’s in between storms,” Steve says sagely. “Like, we’ve got a little window before more rain hits.”

“Great, Steve, I’ll love waving that opportunity bye.”

Steve tuts. “Rob, I’m saying we should ditch. Come on, it’s been dead all day. We can be home early and warm, it’s, like, single-handedly the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Better than when you won the championship game? Eddie thinks—wisely keeps that strictly to himself, because he’ll admit following Hawkins High’s basketball results on pain of death.

Robin looks torn. “I don’t know, Steve, what if—”

“Who’s gonna tell?” Steve says, gesturing around at the empty store. He nods at Eddie, says sarcastically, “Oh yeah, Eddie Munson, known snitch.”

“You flatter me,” Eddie says. He surprises himself at how easily it slips out, like for once, there was no need to overthink it.

“See? Rob-in,” Steve wheedles, “come on, I’ll cash out. You and your grandma could knit for hours.”

“Shut up,” Robin says fondly. “Fine! Quick, quick, I’ll flip the sign.”

The whole thing resembles a military operation, with how speedily Steve and Robin manage to close the store. Eddie stands up and moves the swivel chair out of the way, but feels almost exposed without it.

Steve’s just finished at the register when he catches Eddie’s eye. He snaps his fingers, “Oh, shit, yeah,” and yells over his shoulder to Robin in the back room, “Hey, pick up Munson’s jacket, too!” Then he’s stuffing a couple of tapes into a backpack. “Want one?”

Eddie blinks, confused. “What?”

Steve wiggles one of the movies in demonstration before zipping up his bag. “I always take some home. As long as you have it back by, uh,” he waves a hand vaguely, “some time in the New Year, whatever.” He clicks his tongue. “Damn it, forgot to turn this off…”

It’s a Wonderful Life falls silent.

Through the whir of it rewinding, Eddie speaks almost without meaning to. “Can I have that one?”

Steve looks up at him in faint surprise. “Sure. Hang on, I’ll just find…”

He ejects the tape and passes it to Eddie. It’s still warm from being played.

And then the case is being handed over, too—there’s scraps of paper folded in the corners, rolls of receipt in Steve and Robin’s handwriting: games of tic-tac-toe and movie recommendations.

As Eddie puts the tape inside, a thought occurs to him. “Wait, uh. Were you gonna take this one home, too?”

Steve’s folding up his discarded shirt and vest. He smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think there was something shy in it.

“Oh, nope. I—” He laughs under his breath. “I have it already.”

The back door bursts open to reveal Robin all wrapped up in a scarf. She throws Eddie his jacket, jangles some keys and imitates Steve’s half-singing when she announces, “I’ll lock up.”

The wind’s thankfully died down so the contrast from inside to the parking lot isn’t terrible—though that’s probably helped by the fact that Eddie’s jacket is warmed right through from the radiator.

As he gets to the van, he expects that Robin and Steve will already be out of the parking lot. But when he slides into the driver’s seat, he sees Robin’s the only one actually inside Steve’s car; Steve’s half-in, half out, one hand on the roof.

“Safe journey, Munson!”

And maybe it’s just how Steve’s voice is anyway, but it sounds like it’s more than just a platitude. Like it means something.

Eddie honks his horn in reply. He lets Steve drive out first—his car’s parked closer to the road—and absentmindedly drums his fingers on the VHS case in the passenger seat.

This was a fluke, he tells himself. Like a movie being played in last period, the curtains drawn—how it always feels kind of like a dream.

Still, he drives home warm. Thinks in a gentler voice, one that sounds like Wayne—a reminder that not everything is a trap waiting to spring shut on him.

#featuring the anxiety of growing up gay in a small town #quiet magic in the last day of school #realising ‘oh i think i finally get who you are.’#eddie munson fic #pre steddie #steddie fic #steve and robin #eddie and robin #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie

1K notes · View notes

wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 11 months

Text

Eddie is gushing about Steve to Robin and he mentions how it's so fucking metal the way he never shies away from danger. Like, quite the opposite, he literally jumps right into it without a second thought!

And suddenly Robin remembers how Steve wanted to be tortured by the actual real Russian secret service if it meant that his then friendly coworker who he never saw outside of Scoops would be at least a little bit safer. And she notices for the first time how Steve always makes sure that everyone is safe before he leaves a dangerous place - how he makes sure to always be the last one - and she thinks fuck.

(She feels so fucking bad. He is her best friend. Her soulmate. The person who knows her best and vice-versa. How has she never noticed this before?!)

They start paying closer attention to him, then. Neither like what they see. Steve's eyebags grow bigger with every day that passes. He doesn't eat a lot. He can never say no to others, no matter how much it inconveniences him. And when Robin and Eddie gush about what an awesome person he is, he gets an uncomfortable expression on his face and denies it. Robin had never noticed how most their interactions were self-deprecating jokes until now, either.

They need to stage an intervention.

The next time Steve walks through the doors of Family Video, Robin and Eddie are ready. They lay down all the facts and propose a simple deal: either go talk to a professional, or they will explain everything to the rest of the party and they will force him to talk to a professional. It will end the same way no matter what he chooses, might as well take the path with least resistance.

The only thing that sounds worse than paying a stranger to talk about his feelings is to be forced to talk about them to his friends, so he agrees.

He doesn't think it will make a difference, at first. It's not like he is allowed to talk about monsters and other dimensions.

The first session is awkward. But Robin and Eddie always look at him with such worried and expectant looks and he cannot bear to burden them in any way, so he starts opening up more. He can't talk about the time he almost got eaten by Demogorgons in a secret supernatural underground tunnelsystem, but he can talk about the time Billie almost beat him to death. He can't talk about the secret Russian operation beneath the mall, but he can talk about almost dying in the "mall fire". (His memories of his time there are all scrambled because of the drugs, anyway. It is more about the 'near-death' thing and never being able to feel safe, which he can talk about)

He doesn't mean to talk about his interpersonal relationships at first. But then his therapist cautiously asks him about his parents, and before he knows it he is spilling beans he didn't even know needed to be spilled. He talks about how he only seems to be friends with people who went through traumatic experiences with him, and what does that say about him? He talks about when he first realized that other kids are not left behind by their parents for months at a time. He finally starts unpacking the whole Nancy situation and realizes, wow, turns out he isn't nearly as over the whole thing as he'd hoped. (There are a lot of tears).

He seamlessly fills session after session, and at first he doesn't think that it makes much of a difference. Until the kids meet him after he is exhausted from a double shift at Family Video and beg him to drive them somewhere or other, and he can say no and not give in without fearing that they will cast him aside.

(Robin and Eddie are smug when they also notice the changes, but Steve supposes they have earned it this one time.)

#steve looking at an oceans worth of issues:#“oh man i sure hope i have enough problems to justify paying a professional”#and then has the audacity to act surprised when he doe #pen.#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #stobin #steddie #stranger things drabble #steve harrington drabble #stobin drabble #steddie drabble

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biboomerangboi · 1 month

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My friend was watching the show for the first time and they brought up a misconception that I think we see a lot in fandom. So I want to talk about The Gamblers Den and specifically this scene in particular:

My friend genuinely wondered what Hua Cheng would do and then when they heard his explanation they were even more confused:

They basically messaged me saying, wait Hua Cheng would have made the bet. He bets people’s lives and some how Xie Lian is okay with that. How???

And to anyone else who’s thinking the same thing or falling for the Demon King vibe Hua Cheng is trying to sell here I am here to tell you, you have all been duped.

What’s import to understand is that Ghost City actually came from making one of Xie Lian’s ideas work:

Xie Lian is talking about a specialised market here, a place where the common people couldn’t just stumble into without reason and that’s what Ghost City is and The Gambers Den is the foundation of it. While Xie Lian didn’t say hey go gamble, Hua Cheng is taking a risk and playing into his greatest strength and then showing of for his crush is the most dramatic way possible when talking about it.

For Hua Cheng the house always wins! Literally. Or at least what he wants the bet to be will always happen. His luck is just that good. If the gambler wins it’s genuinely because Hua Cheng let him.

In the Den he is acting as Judge and Jury with Xie Lian as his moral code but he can’t just turn down the deals. If he does then these people could go to less safe options (looking at you Qi Rong) to get what they desire which negates the reason he built Ghost City in the first place.

Hua Cheng has to let these people play by his rules if he wants to follow his Gods wishes. So he has to be creative and look at loop holes, phrasing and Xie Lians most important teaching finding the third path.

For this moment specifically giving the options I think Hua Cheng would have taken the 20 years of his daughter’s life. Why you may ask? Well the phrasing is easier to manipulate. While the eradication of his competitors is pretty well laid 20 years of his daughters life is pretty vague.

Option 1) Hua Cheng could take her away from her shit father and put her in an apprenticeship and marry a man of her choosing since her hand is now her own to decide since Hua Cheng doesn’t want it.

Option 2) She has to work in Ghost City for 20 years and is married to Yin Yu in name only (because Hua Cheng can’t have a wife at all or he won’t win Gege) then gets pleasantly divorced and giving a severance payment after 20 years.

Option 3) He could decide life is a vague term and after she dies she has to spend 20 years in Ghost City and matchmake a future marriage between her and another ghost.

Option 4) He could decide what she has to do with the next twenty years of her life which could include an actual good marriage and education. Where she has to worship his shrine and be only his devotee for 20 years.

Option 5) He can literally say I’ll collect when I decide and never cash in.

He can do anything because the wording is so fluent and for Hua Cheng debater and Civil God Killer it’s probably easy. He’s not a demon king, he’s a crafty trickster spirit basically a fae lord.

He’s playing the system and he’s winning that’s what Xie Lian figured out and why he supports it. He knows Hua Cheng well enough even back then to trust that he would make the right decision because he believes in Hua Cheng and he’s right too.

#Hua Cheng literally tore out his own eye to spare innocents because of Xie Lian he’s not messing around here #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hua cheng #xie lian #hualian #heaven official's blessing #tgcf meta #Hualian meta #Hua Cheng meta #heavens official blessing #zee rambles #zees 2am posts

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just-jordie-things · 8 months

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crushing - takuma ino

word count: 3k warnings: i think none summary: ino's not great at making moves and you're not great at picking up on them. either way, you're undeniably crushing on each other. a/n: this is my first ino fic! i don't usually post something immediately after finishing it but i really wanted feedback on this one before i wrote bigger n better fics for him :3 ___

Takuma Ino was not a desperate man.

At least he hoped he didn’t come off that way whenever he crossed paths with (y/l/n) (y/n). He really hoped he didn’t. Because every day he spent at Jujutsu Tech, he went out of his way to ‘accidentally’ bump into her as many times as possible.

His personal best was twenty-five. That day he’d stayed well past sunset to finish the paperwork he’d neglected, but he still stands by his choices.

Nanami claimed that if he had a crush on the young manager, then he should just ask her out already, but Ino didn’t think it was that easy. Not because he was nervous- of course not! He just wanted to be certain that she would agree to go out with him before making a move. That wasn’t a ridiculous notion, was it?

It wasn’t ridiculous. It just meant things moved… slowly.

“Ino, hey,”

(y/n’s) drawn out of her conversation with Maki when she sees the Grade Two Sorcerer approaching in the hall. There’s a soft smile of familiarity on her face, unlike the student beside her who rolled her eyes and slumped against the wall, knowing that it would take twice as long to have her paperwork looked over. This wasn’t the first time Maki had witnessed the perfect distraction that was Takuma Ino. It was already the fourth time this week, and just like every other time, (y/n) fell for it right away.

Just as he approaches the both of them, a look of confusion flashes across (y/n’s) face, and she tucks the forgotten paperwork against her chest as she tilts her head at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Yokohama? I thought you were assigned to that Grade One curse with the whole…” She pauses as she makes an indefinite shape with her hands, “Explosive thing?”

“I’m about to head out for it now, but, you know,” He shrugs his shoulders, a smile forming on his face the longer he looks at her.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her he’d done a cartoonish double take, which unfortunately Nanami bore witness to. She’d been walking and chatting animatedly with Ijichi- who seemed less passionate about the conversation but was an attentive listener nonetheless- and every time he’d seen her since, Ino felt the same lurch in his heart that was the desire to linger near her just a little longer.

Before he could finish his thought, Maki was speaking up first.

“You just wanted to show up late?” She asked dryly, her expression anything but amused by the sight of young love.

“I’m not late,” He chuckles nervously, shaking his head. “I just wanted to stop by my good luck charm before I left” He claims with a little more confidence before he grins at (y/n).

She laughs at the comment, and Maki can’t help but roll her eyes just a little bit. Typical. Surely she’d swoon over the flirty comment and then drop it completely, just like she always did.

“Yeah yeah,” She mused, just like Maki expected. “Go, don’t get yourself in trouble again. I don’t think Nanami will keep vouching for you”

“Sure he will,” Ino waves a dismissive hand, but judging from the way he’s already turning away and breaking into a jog, (y/n) and Maki can see through the nonchalant act. “But it’ll be quick! I’ll have the shortest report ever for you!” He hollers from down the hall.

(y/n’s) still chuckling once he’s out of sight. Maki huffs in aggravation.

“I can’t believe you lead that guy on. You’re gonna have to let him down easy if you don’t want him to have a stroke”

“What?” (y/n) shakes her head at the student’s accusation. “I don’t lead him on, we just get along”

“You lead him on” Maki deadpans. (y/n) holds her paperwork a little tighter against herself, and the defensive action doesn’t go unnoticed.

“This isn’t appropriate, I won’t allow for this to be a silly rumor of some s-”

“Gojo Sensei says that he’ll never make a move unless you do it first” Maki shrugs.

All professionalism flies out the window in an instant as (y/n’s) face goes blank, her eyes blinking wide as she stares back at the student in utter disbelief.

“He did?” She mumbles.

Maki nods in confirmation.

(y/n) glances around herself to ensure their conversation would be a private one, before shuffling forward and lowering her voice.

“Well… what else did he say?” ___

To say that (y/n) had a bit of a crush on the Auspicious Beast Summoner would be an understatement. From the day he’d fallen in front of her- literally, he fell down half a flight of stairs and she’d rushed to make sure he was alright- there was something exciting about him. He was so kind, and funny, and he so obviously went out of his way to talk to her that she slowly found her heart fluttering more and more whenever he was around.

All this time she’d thought he was just friendly, and was eager to have a companion at Jujutsu Tech that was his age. Why else would he spend so much time around a manager when there are much cooler, much stronger people around? It was no secret what he thought of Nanami, and while (y/n) was proud of her work, she simply couldn’t compete with the skill of a sorcerer.

Usually she wasn’t one to listen to rumors, especially from a source like Gojo Satoru. He may have been a friend-of-sorts to her, but that didn’t mean (y/n) trusted him for a second. Gojo was a good guy, but he was the kind of guy to stir the pot when he was bored, and playing matchmaker was just a game to him. So despite everything Maki had told her, she didn’t necessarily believe it. She was just curious, that’s all.

And the only reason she was headed off to Ino’s office after being notified he’d returned from his mission was just to address the rumors, that’s all. She was doing him a favor by letting him know what the other sorcerers were gossiping about. There couldn’t possibly be an ulterior motive laced in there as well.

His door is open when she reaches the small workspace, but he doesn’t seem to notice when she appears there, leaning into the door frame while she takes in the crude office.

Calling it an office didn’t even feel correct. There was a desk and a computer, and a semi-comfortable looking rolling chair that Ino was sitting in. He hadn’t realized there was a visitor at the door seeing as he had his head hanging over the back of it, his mask pulled down and his hands pressed into his face. (y/n) had to bite back the chuckle that threatened to come out of her, assuming there was more to report in his paperwork than he’d assumed and was now overwhelmed by it.

With a soft tap of her knuckles on the doorframe, (y/n) makes her presence known.

“Need some help?”

Ino jolts up so suddenly his chair is sent backwards, rolling away from the desk and tipping out of balance too, but he’s quick to steady himself, staring at her sudden figure at his door with wide eyes. It’s the only part of his expression she can make out, seeing as he’s still got his mask pulled over his face.

“(y/n)!” He greets her louder than he intended, but he had yet to shake off his surprise in seeing her. A fond smile tilts the corners of her mouth, unable to be helped as she watches him awkwardly scramble in his seat. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to consider leaving if you were crying under there” She teases, finally stepping foot into the room. Her eyes wander the bare gray walls, a slight frown taking over at how empty the whole space feels.

“No, I’m not-” Before he continues, Ino’s quick to yank his mask off his face, pulling it off his head completely and dropping it on his desk. “What brings you here?” He changes the subject completely, his eyes never leaving her figure as she wanders around the room as if looking for something.

He realizes then that she’s never seen his office- not that there was much to see, as she was coming to find- but nonetheless it’s odd that she’s the one approaching him for once. It was always Ino searching around the halls of Jujutsu Tech for her, not the other way around.

“So empty,” (y/n) comments quietly, and he’s not sure if she was talking to herself or him. “You don’t like to decorate?” She asks, this time turning to him.

“I’m not in here very much,” He admits, a sheepish smile on his face. “I take most of my paperwork home. If I’m here I’m not usually in the office”

“Yeah,” (y/n) smiles softly, ducking her head to hide the way her face warms up. “That’s cause you’re usually trying to bother me”

She doesn’t see it, but Ino’s face lights up. He bears a wide grin and his eyes gleam with excitement. She was acting quite out of character today. Usually he was the one teasing her. This was a real treat.

“Bother?” He repeats, standing up from his chair and rounding his desk to lean against it, completely ignoring the half-written report on his computer that he hadn’t hit save on in a while. “I don’t seem to remember ever bothering you”

She rolls her eyes, finally looking up at him, and Ino thinks he could combust from excitement. She’s blushing, which he’s not sure he’s ever seen before, and he can tell she’s fighting back a bigger smile behind the small one she shows him.

“Well what would you call it then?” She asks, still struggling to bite back a grin that mirrors his. So much joy poured out of him it was difficult to fight the way it took her by the soul and forced her to feel nothing but warmth and butterflies.

“Obviously I was romancing you,” Ino replies without missing a beat, surprising even himself with the blunt truth. Besides the way her eyes round into saucers, (y/n) doesn’t really react to the statement. “Not my fault you’re a hard person to flirt with sometimes” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, and then tucks his hands into his pockets.

(y/n) blinks a few times, staring him down like she was suddenly an expert in body language.

“I am?” She asks, a small laugh escaping her at the suggestion. “Because maybe I didn’t know you were flirting” She says with a shrug of her own.

Ino gapes back at her, unable to keep up with the chill facade when she says something so ridiculous.

“What do you mean you didn’t know?” He asks, and she laughs again, finally losing the battle to the grin on her face. “Was I not obvious enough? You know that even Gojo was trying to get me to-”

“Yeah, I know,” (y/n) says quietly, but it’s effective in getting him to shut up. “One of his students might’ve told me some rumors they heard from him” She explains.

“What!?” Embarrassment floods his features. “Who? I want names-”

“Can’t, teacher-student confidentiality and all” She teases.

She’s learning it was quite fun to not be on the receiving end of the playful banter. In the past it was always Ino with the perfect quip or joke to have her flustered for the rest of the day, even if she wouldn’t show it. Knowing he was actually incredibly easy to mess with felt like knowing his weakness.

“You’re not a teacher” He deadpans. She laughs again.

“Well, I actually came to let you know that certain sorcerers here were spreading rumors to slander your good name,” She tells him matter of factly. “But it appears those rumors are actually true, so they’re not really rumors, huh?”

Ino rolls his eyes, but it’s in no way directed at her. He makes a mental note to bring this up to Nanami to add to the very long list of grievances caused by Gojo Satoru.

(y/n) steps close to him, linking her fingers together behind her back as she finds the courage to hold eye contact with him.

“Why didn’t you just ask me out?” She asks.

He hates that she tilts her head to the side just so. She did it on occasion when she was confused about something, and Ino’s sure that she’s not even aware that she had that tendency, but every time she did it he was so overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her that most of the time he had to completely walk away from her.

But they’re in his office, having a conversation he really didn’t want to walk away from. If he ran now, there would be no coming back from it, and his intrigue in how she felt about him outweighed the aggravation she caused him when she looked that pretty.

He’s staring at her without saying anything, and he knows it’s been a few seconds too long to be comfortable, but it’s hard to care. She’s close enough to him that he can smell her perfume and see how every strand of hair falls over left shoulder and he can’t help but take in every pretty sight of her.

He once swore he wasn’t a desperate man, hence his patience in waiting while he tried to figure out how she felt before he made a move, but standing here now, what’s one promise in the grand scheme of life?

So he leans forward off his desk a bit, desperation getting the best of him.

“Would you have agreed?”

She raises her chin, the apples of her cheeks getting rosy in color despite her trying to play it cool.

“I asked you first”

“I asked you second”

That had her bursting out in laughter, hands falling to her hips.

“Oh, real mature!” She says through a fit of bubbly giggles.

It’s cute. It was so cute in fact, Ino just couldn’t take it anymore. The fun banter he’d tried to establish had now warped into his own personal hell.

And hell didn’t even have any boring office decorations, no succulents, no photo frames, not even a calendar.

“Just answer the question,” He says, and it comes out as more of a plea than he means for it to, but he doesn’t bother trying to compensate for it, or taking it back. “Would you have agreed to go out with me?”

He has a hopeful look in his eye that only seems to gleam more with every second that passes without her response. (y/n) softens, the warmth in her chest spreading throughout her entire body and making her melt like putty. It was almost pathetic, how quickly this little crush she’d harbored for the sorcerer had grown into something more genuine than she’s ever felt for anyone before.

“Yeah,” She answers simply, quietly, barely nodding her head along with her confirmation. “Yeah, I would have”

The smile he wears is so sweet and pure that she’s mirroring it in a heartbeat.

“Okay,” He thinks he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t hurry this up, so he rushes the next string of words out so fast (y/n’s) lucky she managed to understand him. “You wanna go out then? Tonight? For drinks? And then maybe dinner?”

She’s laughing as she nods, her hands nervously fiddling together.

“Okay,” She repeats, rocking back and forth on her feet just once. “But you should finish your report first. So, call me when you’re done?”

He wants to protest, but he knows she’s right. So as he hands her his phone to add herself as a contact, Ino mentally starts going through what he has to finish so he could get through it as quickly as possible.

She’s still grinning when she hands him his phone back, already eager for the day to be over.

“I’ll be quick, promise” He beams back at her as she makes her way out of his office.

“You pick where we go for drinks, and I’ll pick where we go for dinner,” She decides, lingering at the doorway for just a moment longer. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect” He’s back in his chair and clicking away at his keyboard as he writes nonsense into his report.

(y/n’s) gone with a little wave and a blush that only burns brighter the further away she gets. She just hopes she doesn’t run into anyone in the meantime.

Ino tries to work on his report after adding some meaningless fluff of things that didn’t really happen, and weren’t really necessary for the report. He really does try.

For five whole minutes.

But then he can’t help but open his phone to check on the contact (y/n) had just made for himself, and seeing the little orange heart emoji she’d added next to her name has him swooning way too hard- over an emoji, at least. But that’s what she reduced him to, mush.

(y/n’s) just reached the front steps of Jujutsu Tech when her phone starts blaring her ringtone in her pocket. She makes a face at the unknown number calling her, but it’s washed away as soon as she picks it up.

“Would you believe me if I said I finished already?” Ino’s speaking right away, without so much as a greeting.

She giggles into the receiver, because no, no she doesn’t.

“That’s quite impressive work” She praises.

“I think you’ll come to find I’m quite an impressive guy!” He responds, and then quickly follows it with, “Not in, like, a douchebag way though!”

She fights the urge to laugh any harder, not wanting to put him through any more embarrassment than he’s already suffered today. They still have an entire evening ahead of them, after all.

“Of course not,” She murmurs softly. “Meet me at the front steps, then? We can go into town together”

And when Ino’s there in under a minute, trying desperately not to show how out of breath he is, she doesn’t tease him for it. Not until later in the night after a few drinks in, anyways.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#pls give me feedback on this <3 #takuma ino #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino imagine #ino x reader #ino imagine #takuma ino jjk #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #ino takuma fluff #takuma ino fluff #takuma ino x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff

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rosyblooom · 19 days

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right person, wrong times | cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: a random day each year across 11 years, as they go from practically strangers, to more, to less, and again. (~4.3k) a/n: inspo from 'one day' !! been struggling with writer's block, so sorry in advance if it's rough lool

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

One day in 2018

Y/N glanced across the crowded room, picking out one familiar face amidst the sea of strangers: Pascale. Their families went way back, but with Y/N's parents splitting when she was just a toddler, she'd spent most of her life in Spain with her dad, Switzerland for boarding school, and rare trips to Monaco to visit her mum—hardly ever crossing paths with the Leclerc's.

But today was different. She found herself in Monaco attending a family gathering to finally meet Pascale's sons properly. She couldn't recall the last time she'd spoken to them, but Pascale had insisted today would be the day, especially since her recent move here.

Across the room, Charles stood, his posture slightly hunched as his mother whispered in his ear, urging him to check on Y/N. "Please go see how Y/N is doing. I'm not sure if she'll remember you, but just introduce yourself and keep her company for a while," Pascale pleaded, fixing him with a hopeful gaze. "Please."

"I don’t even know where she is or what she looks like."

"She's at the bar," Pascale replied with a smile. "She's the pretty one—you won't miss her."

"Very helpful," Charles chuckled, shaking his head before stepping back. "I'll make my way over now."

It didn't take long until he found himself at the bar. Surprisingly, his mother's brief description proved accurate, as Y/N stood out for her beauty—quite a departure from the faint memory he held of her.

Drawing closer, he flashed a warm smile and extended his hand in greeting. "Charles."

Y/N shot him a quick, assessing glance, her eyes flitting over his unruly hair and black attire, before meeting his gaze. "Not interested," she dismissed, her attention already wandering back to the room.

Chuckling at her abruptness, Charles shook his head. "No, no, I wasn't trying to... I'm not here to make a move, I wouldn't."

Y/N turned towards him, her curiosity piqued by his response. "Ouch," she teased, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "So you think I'm ugly, then?" Her lips curved slightly as she awaited his answer.

Heat crept up Charles’ neck, and though he couldn’t see himself, he could sense the warmth spreading across his face. With a nervous stammer, he began, “Wait, no! That’s not what I meant—What I’m trying to say is—”

“Relax,” Y/N interjected with a sympathetic smile. “I’m just kidding. Nice to see you again, Leclerc. It’s been a while, huh?”

Charles let out a long breath, his tension easing slightly. For a moment, he studied Y/N with a discerning gaze, as if attempting to unravel her mystery; she was undeniably peculiar, yet undeniably intriguing. “It has been a while,” he finally acknowledged, nodding slowly.

One day in 2019

This marked Y/N’s first ever Christmas market in Monaco. She had wanted to attend last year’s, but the winter season had always been her least favourite. This time last year, it was simply too cold for her—no matter what the news claimed, she was freezing. But today wasn’t half as bad. Sure, she was bundled up in about three sweaters under her hoodie, which she wore beneath her jacket, but well, you could say she was sensitive to weather.

“Y/N?” a voice suddenly erupted from behind her, pulling her attention away from the gigantic, decorated Christmas tree and towards Charles, who now stood before her, holding two steaming mugs.

Y/N narrowed her gaze, appearing lost in thought. “Sorry, do I know you?”

Charles shook his head and sighed, his breath forming a white cloud in the chilly air. “Right, of course. It’s been a year, so it makes sense for you not to remember me…”

“I'm just joking,” Y/N grinned, nudging him cautiously to avoid any spills. “You’re too easy.”

Charles’ mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes widening for a moment before he chuckled, “Okay, I’m not going to believe anything you say from now on.”

"Good idea," she nodded with a smile. Y/N's gaze then drifted down to the two mugs in his hands, and she inquired, "Am I right to assume that one of these is for me?"

A puzzled expression briefly crossed Charles' face, his brows furrowing slightly, prompting Y/N to gesture towards the cups.

As if suddenly remembering, he exclaimed, "Oh, right! I thought you might want something warm, and who doesn't like hot chocolate, right?" With that, he offered one of the drinks to her.

"I sure do." Y/N took the cup, cupping her cold hands around the hot glass, immediately feeling the stiffness melt away from her fingers. The hot chocolate wasn't nearly as scalding as she had anticipated—it was just right, and she savoured each sip, briefly closing her eyes in contentment. When she reopened them, she couldn't help but remark, "Sweet, just like you."

As if someone had turned on a gas stove, heat rushed to Charles' face, though this time he was fortunate; the weather was already giving him a rosy complexion due to the cold.

But Y/N still noticed, and she smiled. "Don't go getting soft on me now," she teased, bumping her elbow into his arm.

Without really thinking, Charles muttered, "You're not making it easy…" His words slipped out, and with their proximity, Y/N heard him loud and clear. Even though it wasn't the first time she'd heard a comment like that, the fact that it came from Charles sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

"What was that?" Arching a brow, Y/N glanced up at him sideways, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Nothing… Do you want to get inside though? It’s a little too cold for me."

“It’s my first time here,” Y/N said, hooking her arm around his, ignoring the sudden tension in his muscles. “Don’t want to get lost,” she explained, glancing up at Charles, who didn’t object and instead simply nodded. “Right, yeah.”

“So? Lead the way then.”

“Alright, alright,” Charles obliged, skilfully manoeuvring through the crowd, with Y/N beside him.

One day in 2020

“Is this seat taken?” The question caused Y/N to freeze, her forkful of ratatouille dropping onto her plate. She swallowed the remaining food in her mouth and swiftly swept the napkin off her lap, dabbing the corners of her mouth until she was sure there were no traces left.

“Not at all,” she finally responded, turning towards the voice. “I should warn you though—” But the moment her eyes met the familiar pair of Charles’ blue ones, she stopped mid-sentence.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if the rest of the table didn’t exist, as neither of them spoke, both too captivated by the other's presence. With a crooked smile, Charles broke the silence. “You were going to warn me about something?”

Y/N couldn't quite explain why, but the sight of his smile immediately lifted the corners of her mouth, while her stomach somersaulted with a flurry of emotions. She pushed aside the sensation and simply laughed, resting her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands. “Just forget it,” she mumbled against her palms, loud enough for Charles to hear.

A gentle breeze wafted over her, carrying a familiar, clean scent of laundry detergent that Y/N had come to associate with Charles. Somehow, it immediately calmed the strange fluttering in her stomach, prompting her to lift her gaze again.

“Hi,” she finally greeted with a smile, reaching for the glass of wine on the table.

“Hey,” Charles nodded, settling back in his seat.

They lingered like this for a while, Y/N's gaze fixed on the side of his face while Charles casually surveyed the room, exchanging greetings with a few acquaintances. Squinting slightly, Y/N blurted out, “Are you stalking me?”

Charles burst into laughter, quickly composing himself and leaning towards her. “In my family's house?” he countered.

Y/N nodded in satisfaction as she took a sip from her drink. “Excellent point,” she conceded.

Gently settling the glass down, she redirected her attention to the untouched forkful of food and remarked, “Can I just say, you have to try this, it's so good.” She gestured towards her barely touched plate. “I don’t know what Pascale put in this, but this is the best ratatouille I’ve ever tasted.” Y/N grabbed her fork and extended it towards him, but noticing Charles freeze, she quickly swallowed her words, saying, “Oh, sorry, I know some people are a little iffy with sharing—”

Before she could retract the fork, Charles' warm hands suddenly enclosed around hers, halting her movement as he guided the fork towards his mouth, taking a bite, and nodding at her with a smile. “It’s been my favourite since I was a little kid.”

Y/N whispered softly, her voice barely above a murmur, yet close enough for them to hear each other perfectly. "A man of taste huh?" Her gaze drifted from his eyes down to where his hand still lingered around hers, now tracing soft circles across her skin.

Charles followed Y/N’s line of sight, quickly clearing his throat when he realised what he was doing. He withdrew his hand, causing both to avert their eyes, suddenly finding interest in everything but each other.

The last thing Charles wanted was to make Y/N uncomfortable, and as for her, she simply didn’t want to blow things out of proportion—see something where there was nothing. For all she knew, Charles was like that with all his friends.

A few moments passed, filled with surrounding chatter, before they both spoke up at the same time.

“Do you want to go—"

“So, do you have any other—"

Laughter erupted between them before Y/N smirked, “Because I’m a lady, you first.”

“How kind of you,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Are you free next week? We could maybe grab lunch or something.” Before she could respond, he added, scratching his neck, “I would offer to cook, but unfortunately, cooking skills don’t get genetically passed down.”

Ignoring the beat Y/N was sure her heart had just skipped, she simply smiled and leaned forward, chin propped on her hand. “You mean a date?”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

Her rapid nods confirmed everything before her words even formed. However, just as Charles’ lips broke into a broad grin, Y/N’s expression suddenly fell as she remembered, “Wait, no, I can’t. I’m travelling to Spain tomorrow to visit my dad. And then after that, I’ll start my internship in New York City.”

Charles sank back into his chair, though his face didn’t betray the disappointment he felt. “I see,” he sighed.

“Rain check?” Y/N asked. She wanted a date with him, to see if they’d hit it off on that level. The only problem was the timing, but she knew her feelings didn’t fade quickly. If they had to wait, then so be it. She was ready to do so. Laughing, Y/N added, “Seriously, I still want that date.”

“Rain check it is,” Charles nodded. “Congrats on the internship though, that’s amazing. Maybe I can come visit, and we’ll—”

The sudden clanking of glass interrupted him, causing both to turn their attention to the woman standing at the end of the long table.

Without breaking eye contact with the woman, Y/N leaned in closer to Charles, her lips accidentally grazing his as his gaze fleetingly dropped to her lips before he refocused on the woman, who had now dropped her glass onto the table.

Y/N whispered into his ear, to which Charles simply nodded, suppressing the sudden surge of desire coursing through his veins.

One day in 2021

Y/N walked through the Paddock with a sense of detachment, like a deer caught in headlights. The US Grand Prix had come to an end, and Max Verstappen had emerged as the victor. It wasn’t exactly what she had hoped for, but she didn’t feel any strong emotions about it. What occupied her thoughts, however, was the meeting spot she had arranged with Carlos.

Pausing in her step, she pulled out her phone, deciding to cut straight to the chase and call him directly. The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity until the sound was abruptly cut off by a long beep, indicating his automated voicemail.

“Not even personalised,” she scoffed, hanging up, tossing her phone into her bag, and continuing, resigned to the idea of either wandering aimlessly forever or eventually finding Carlos.

However, she didn’t get far before colliding with someone. She stumbled backward a bit before regaining her balance, and as she looked up, her eyes widened in recognition.

Charles stood opposite her, his expression shifting from shock to a warm smile, though his eyebrows remained slightly furrowed. “Hi,” he breathed, the warmth of his breath reaching and spreading across Y/N’s face. “You’re… here.”

Y/N’s gaze swept over his tousled hair, a few strands sticking to his forehead adorned with tiny beads of sweat, some trailing down the sides of his slightly flushed face. “You’re sweaty. Very sweaty,” she blurted out, immediately regretting her awkward observation. But it had been a year since their last exchange, so it was understandable that things felt a bit awkward between them.

A few chuckles escaped Charles, immediately bringing a smile to Y/N’s face. “Thanks, I didn’t notice."

She exhaled a laugh, and then Charles added, “Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” Shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun with his hand, he squinted at her. “Can I ask though, was this meant to be a surprise or something?”

“Ah, Charles, you’ve met my friend, Y/N,” Carlos interrupted from behind as he came to a stop beside her.

Y/N smiled awkwardly. “Uhm... Carlos actually invited me, so that's why I'm here."

“You two know each other?” Charles inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“My dad lives in Spain, remember?” Y/N reminded him, shrugging. “Our families are pretty close.”

“Right…” Charles nodded, though he couldn’t shake off the slight hint of disbelief in his voice. After all, he knew Carlos was dating someone already, so he wasn’t sure why he felt that way. And as for Y/N, she was free to do as she pleased. After all, that date they had talked about last year never even happened. They had no history, no reason for him to feel jealous.

But he did anyway.

Wanting to diffuse the sudden tension settling between the three of them, Y/N exclaimed, “But it’s good to see you again. And you did really well. Congrats on P4, seriously.”

Charles smiled, and for the first time today, it was genuine. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with P4; he had wanted a podium finish and had come close to it. But for some reason, if she was happy, so was he.

“Thanks—” His smile faltered when an arm snaked around his torso, his girlfriend Amélie taking her place beside him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Without wasting a second, his gaze shifted to Y/N, just in time to catch the way her eyes widened before she swallowed, her expression now impassive.

Shock and confusion swirled through Y/N’s body. She hadn’t expected Charles to have a girlfriend, so when she felt her heart crack slightly, it made sense. But she wasn’t going to show it—at least, not purposely she wasn’t.

Charles furrowed his brows as he regarded the girl standing in front of him. A pang of guilt nagged at him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why: they were never anything more than friends. And judging by the way neither of them had kept up with one another, you could barely even call it that.

Maybe they were more like strangers with a couple of good memories and unfulfilled promises?

“You alright, mate?” asked Carlos, pulling Charles out of his reverie.

Clearing his throat, Charles replied, “Yeah, yeah... Uhm Amélie, this is Y/N, my… friend.” The word came out almost as a question, but he pressed on. “Y/N, meet Amélie, my girlfriend.”

Charles wasn’t sure what he expected, but Y/N’s cheerfulness was definitely not it. “Hey,” she smiled and waved.

Slowly, tensions began to dissipate as all four of them became engrossed in conversation—though in reality, it was more like three. Y/N found herself too preoccupied with the realisation that Charles had a girlfriend now. It was a simple fact, yet it carried a weight: it meant he hadn't spent the year turning down people left and right, like she had, in hopes of a maybe.

One day in 2022

"Y/N, thank God you’re here!" Amélie's voice echoed the moment Y/N stepped into the living room, causing her to freeze in her tracks. "Uh, hey?" she replied, her eyes scanning the partly decorated room before settling on Charles, who sent her a small wave.

She raised her brows and forced a smile, though it faltered quickly—she and Charles had grown apart. Truthfully, Y/N had contemplated not showing up today; faking an illness or something and making sure to stay at home for a few days—Monaco was too small to risk being accidentally spotted.

But she came.

She came because Charles called.

Two days ago, he had called her in the middle of the night, asking if she was planning to fake being sick to avoid seeing him. And he was right—exactly what Y/N had been contemplating. So, when her first phone call with Charles in two years challenged the very idea in her mind that they had grown apart, it confused her. After all, she was sure she was a blank page now, yet he still seemed to be able to read her.

Snapping out of her daze, Y/N watched as Amélie paced erratically, her brows furrowing with every step. "What's going on with her?" Y/N asked, turning to Charles for an explanation.

He chuckled, approaching her. "It's the cake," he explained. "Amélie ordered it, but now it needs to be picked up sooner than planned because they're closing earlier than usual for some reason. So, now we have a problem, obviously."

"Why don't you just go pick it up?" Y/N leaned into him, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes still fixed on Amélie, who was now engaged in a fervent phone call.

"Apparently, I'm too clumsy."

"You are."

Charles chuckled, but his laughter was cut short when Amélie suddenly gasped, her eyes darting between Y/N and him as she rushed towards them. “Okay, guys, everyone will be here soon. If I stay and finish all this off, you two can quickly go collect the cake. So, if one person drives and the other holds it really tightly, that should work, right?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N chimed in.

“I agree,” Charles added.

“Alright,” Amélie beckoned them out of the living room and towards the front door. “Go on.”

“I love you,” Amélie said, leaning in for a kiss. But as she moved closer, Charles instinctively turned his head, causing her lips to land on his cheek instead of his mouth. His gaze had shifted to Y/N, who stood in the front yard, seemingly fixated on the grass.

“Yeah... love you,” he muttered absentmindedly, his attention still captivated by the girl just a few feet away from him.

Normally, Charles had no issue displaying affection for his girlfriend in front of others, but Y/N made it difficult. Whenever she was around—whether at family gatherings, parties, or Grand Prix events—his eyes always seemed to gravitate towards her.

“Please, don’t take too long!” Amélie shouted as the door slammed shut.

Amidst the occasional chirping of birds, a palpable silence settled between them. Y/N stared into the distance, while Charles observed her from the corner of his eye, noticing subtle changes since their last encounter. Her hair, for instance, was slightly shorter—a minor detail, yet one he couldn't help but notice.

With a loud clap, Charles gestured towards his car, parked discreetly to the side. “That way.”

Following his lead, Y/N entered through the passenger seat. However, as the car sprang to life and its dashboard lights flickered on, Charles let out a frustrated groan.

“What's wrong?” Y/N inquired.

Charles shook his head for a moment, muttering, “I told him to fill up the gas…”

“Oh,” Y/N exhaled, resting her head against the soft leather headrest. “So, what now?”

Charles' eyes lit up with excitement as he sat up eagerly, turning to face her. "We've got some old bikes in the shed, so if you want to—"

"You want us to ride rusty old bikes, while carrying a cake?" Y/N interjected, her serious expression quickly giving way to laughter.

"...Yeah?"

Y/N narrowed her gaze, appraising Charles for a moment before rolling her eyes and pushing the door open. "This is so going to backfire. I can't believe I'm doing this."

Charles couldn't help but smile as he watched Y/N exit the car. He had a feeling she wouldn't turn this idea down, and he was glad he was right. It meant that despite the years, things hadn't changed too much between them. She was still the same Y/N he knew, and he hoped he was still the Charles she was willing to have a date with.

"Don't tell me I'm going to have to do this by myself now. You coming or what?" Her yell pierced through the car, prompting him to jump out and hurry towards the shed.

By the time he finally reached the shed, Y/N had already claimed a bike—and surprisingly, it was his. Charles used to guard that bike fiercely when he was younger, not allowing anyone, not even for a few minutes. But now, as he watched her mount it, he felt no trace of that possessiveness, not even a hint.

Perhaps it was because he had outgrown that childish behaviour, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, he couldn't deny the genuine happiness that bubbled up within him at the sight.

Now, if it were Amélie riding his bike at that moment, he wasn't quite sure he would feel the same way.

“Race you to the bakery?” Y/N grinned mischievously.

A wide smile immediately spread across Charles' face. “Sure, once I get my hands on a bike.”

“No,” she retorted, already starting to pedal. “You snooze, you lose.”

Racing to grab Lorenzo’s bike, Charles jumped on it, yelling, “Cheater!”

When he finally caught up to her, Y/N was no longer riding her bike but pulling it alongside her, causing him to slow down beside her. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you riding?” One corner of his mouth curled upward as he fixed her with a knowing look, coming to a full stop. “Oh, did you finally realise that cheating isn’t the way to go?”

“Says you,” Y/N retorted, though her chuckles rang loud and clear as Charles fell into step with her.

“Anyway,” she pointed down at her bike, “the chain’s come loose. So yeah, I was right, this was a bad idea, and Amélie is going to kill us, and poor Pascale won’t have a birthday cake.”

“Wow, don’t be too optimistic now,” Charles teased, earning an elbow to his side. “We’re not too far from the bakery now, so I say let’s not worry until we get to the ‘how do we get back home in time’ part. What do you say?”

Y/N turned to Charles, her eyes lingering on his features longer than necessary. “Okay,” she finally nodded, “sounds like a plan.”

But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. In the time she spent gazing at Charles, he had been doing the same, unwilling to move on from that moment quite as quickly as she had.

Stopping in his steps, Y/N continued a few more feet before finally noticing his hesitation and halting her movements, turning back. “Do you want Amélie to murder us?” she joked, but her humour faded when she saw Charles’ serious expression remain unchanged.

“Okay, what’s the matter—”

Charles cut her off with a sigh. “Why don’t we talk anymore, Y/N?”

“What do you mean? We’re talking right now.”

“Come on, seriously,” Charles walked up beside her.

Y/N just shrugged, her mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert. “I don’t know…”

“Well, I don't either, so can we please just start over then?” Charles proposed, his tone tired of the tension and the walking on eggshells. It was too much when all he wanted was to be close to her, to laugh like they used to before everything went haywire.

Y/N looked off to the side, musing over his words for a moment, before meeting his gaze again with a small smile. “Okay, fine, I guess.”

“Wow, you seem really excited,” Charles remarked, flashing a wide grin.

“I really do, don't I? Now, if you don’t mind,” Y/N started walking again, “I really do not feel like being killed today, so let’s fucking go.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

2:31 ──────ㅇ────── 4:45

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heich0e · 30 days

Text

"hey."

the bed beside you dips a little as touya nears, crawling under the blankets on his side, but you don't look up from the puzzle book in your hands—you're just about to finish your crossword, and your brain is already feeling sluggish as you fight the call to sleep. instead you hum, so that he knows you heard him.

"are you... have you...." he can't seem to get the words right, and grunts a bit, like he's frustrated with himself. "you worried about aoi?"

that makes you look up.

"no," you reply to him, eyes scanning over his face. "should i be?"

your three year old daughter aoi is the picture of health—or at least, as healthy as children can really be, considering they seem to be magnetic poles towards which germs naturally gravitate. she's a bit bossy, in spite of her age, and has her older brother and papa (and you for that matter) wrapped around her little fingers. but she's a good girl, mostly kind, and exceedingly bright for her age.

you don't have any reason to worry about her.

at least you don't think you do.

at your side, touya's face is lined with frustration; a furrow creasing the centre of his brow, and his lips turned down into a pensive little frown. he has a book in his hands, you notice. his thumb is stuck between the pages as if to mark his place, but you can't see the cover from the way he's holding it.

"touya?" you prod him for more information, setting your own puzzle book aside.

"she sucks her thumb," touya finally says, though he seems reluctant to share that worry with you. when he finally meets your gaze, you see anxiety swimming behind his eyes. "is that normal?"

you laugh lightly in relief, your head hanging slightly as any real fear in you retreats. "yeah, touya. that's normal."

"are you sure?" he insists, "because this book says that kids suck their thumbs to comfort themselves. why would she need comfort?" he holds up the book in his hand, and when he does, you see that it's a parenting book. you've never seen it before, so he must have bought it recently. the image of touya scouring the shelves at your local bookstore for the right title in the childrearing section is remarkably endearing to conjure to mind.

"touya, baby," you push yourself up on your side of the bed, crawling over to him. you ensconce yourself atop his lap, taking his face in your hands. you meet him nose to nose. "put the book down."

"but it says—"

"i know what it says," you don't let him finish. "and it's probably right—kids do lots of things to comfort themselves, and they do need comfort. and maybe thumb sucking well into your developmental years is even bad for you, but aoi is only three. she's still so little. it's perfectly normal for her to suck her thumb occasionally."

touya seems to soften a bit in the wake of your reassurances, but not relax entirely. he leans his face into the cup of your palm, letting you bear the weight.

"look, if it continues on for too long, or gets worse, then we'll talk to the paediatrician. and we'll talk to aoi, too—because if something is bothering her, we'll make sure she knows she can always tell us. but right now, she is just a perfectly normal, happy three year old, who just happens to enjoy sucking her thumb. okay?"

touya's eyes flutter shut, and after a quiet moment you lean forward press a kiss to the spot where a divot of frustration had earlier creased his brow.

"we're doing a good job, touya," you reassure him, brushing some strands of his soft white hair back from his tired face. "you especially."

not a perfect job, because the longer you trek along the path of parenthood, the more you've come to realize it's a fallacy. you know there's no such thing as a perfect parent. you know no one gets it right one hundred percent of the time. but there are lots of parent who are doing their best—who are trying to be better—and you know that you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who's trying harder to do just that than touya.

touya's eyes open once more. the eyes both your children inherited. the blue you named your daughter after. his gaze is soft—vulnerable in ways that once seemed impossible with the man in front of you—as he peers up at you.

"you think so?" he mumbles softly.

"i do," you answer just as gently as he'd asked, before dipping down to kiss him properly this time—not on his forehead but at the centre of his lips.

touya's hands reach for you eagerly, reciprocating your kiss with an equal enthusiasm, and the parenting book slips from his grip and goes tumbling to the floor with a thud!

both of you freeze, pulling apart from your passionate embrace until your lips rest a hairsbreadth away. your breaths are panting. your heartbeats are thundering in your chests. both of your gazes are fixed firmly on your bedroom door.

neither of you move.

"do you think it woke them up?" he whispers after a terrified moment, his tone heavy with anxiety.

"no, i think we're okay," you answer, your voice equally strained.

but still, neither of you dare to move again, still petrified in place, waiting to hear the telltale pitter patter of little feet along the floor.

after a few more tense beats of silence stretch between you in the stillness of your bedroom, a laugh bubbles up from the pit of your stomach and slips through your lips in spite of your best efforts to restrain it. poised frozen halfway up the back of your shirt, touya's hands pull you a little closer, and he chuckles quietly too. you tilt your lips down to meet his again, giggling into the kiss as touya uses his grip on you to reverse your positions and pin you down to the bed underneath him.

"try to be quieter this time," you chirp up at him breathlessly as his hands travel down your body, but you're smiling too widely for the jibe to have any real bite at all. touya rolls his eyes as he dips down into your space, his lips ghosting over yours again in an almost-but-not-quite sort of kiss.

"i'll do my best," he mumbles.

(but you already knew that.)

#touya x reader #papa touya #todoroki touya x reader #bnha drabble #bnha writing #writing

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endless-ineffabilities · 9 months

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there's hope for us yet - (1/2)

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader

After being overpowered by Baylan Skoll, Ahsoka and the reader find themselves in the World Between Worlds, each confronted with a version of Anakin. The reader meets the Anakin she fell in love with. Or, still loves.

masterlist ▪︎ part two

"Hello, stardust."

Two words. Two simple but poignant words to send you out of orbit. Wherever you are.

You had opened your eyes to an endless picture of the galaxy, stars and planets as far as you can see. Planes of light acting like pathways, one of which you found yourself lying down on.

Then you stood, head light.

And then you hear him.

Anakin.

You swear there is nothing else like it, the sound of his voice which used to be your very anchor.

"Impossible." You whisper, before finally turning around.

There he stands, as real as the last day you saw him. Donning his dark Jedi attire, blonde curls atop his perfect face.

"What did I tell you?" He tsked at you, shaking his head fondly. "Nothing's impossible."

"I'm dead, aren't I?" You take a step closer, as he walks towards you. This must be heaven, you want to add, but that seemed too hopeful. Desperate.

Heaven, after all, would always be with him. Anakin, who was lost after the duel on Mustafar.

"Do you really think that, stardust?" He reaches you, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. "Look around."

So you do. But truth be told, you don't want to look at anything else apart from him.

"Another... realm," you try to figure it out. "You've mentioned this, haven't you? Obi-Wan talked of a realm that encompasses all realms. All of time and space."

Anakin hums in approval, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. "If in here I still have you... then here is all there ever should be."

You feel tears pricking at your eyes, trying hard to fight them off. He swoops in at your rescue, bridging the gap between you two with a searing kiss.

It feels real, you think. And it must be, because how else can it make your entire being ablaze. His lips are softer than your memory serves, the sweet taste of him ingrained like a branding. Ani, Anakin. Your Anakin.

His tongue snakes past your teeth, begging for more. His hand tilts your head back to gain leverage.

"My stardust," he whispers against your skin, when he pulls away to drag his lips on your cheek. When he repeats it, his words take on a different tone. "My stardust. Mine." He nearly growls at the end, the sound of it low and grating in your ear.

The Force shifts. Where you felt uncertainty and hope, now you feel something darker. Something's not right here.

"Where is Ahsoka?"

"That's nothing you should concern yourself with." Anakin steps to your side, one hand toying with your hair. When he is behind you, you feel his breathing on the back of your neck, just imploring you to give in. "What matters is us, stardust."

"This isn't real." You shake your head. "At least, this is not my time, my current path. I have to go back. We have to find Ezra."

"This is real." His arm wraps around your shoulders, pressing your back to his chest. "You wound me, stardust. Do you not want me? Just like this?"

"I can feel you," you step away from him, immediately deflated at the lack of contact, as wrong as it may be. "and you're not really my Anakin, are you?"

He chuckles, low in his chest. There is nothing friendly about the gesture. "I am who I have always been meant to become. This is me. This is the man you love."

"No." You circle each other, akin to predator and prey, and you're not sure which one you are. "The man I love ..." you raise your voice, resolve weakening, "... is dead."

A moment hangs between you, filled with silence, but electrifying all the same. He holds you in his steel blue gaze, and for just a second, you can believe that he is truly yours. His mouth curls up in that familiar smirk, his eyebrows raise toward the center.

Please, he seems to say, this is me. I love you now, as I always have.

But the moment passes, and a gloom casts over his expression.

"Fine," he sneers. "Have it your way, stardust."

And the world falls all around you.

Everything is burning.

The Clone Wars rage at all sides, smoke filling the air and impairing your line of sight.

Anakin was by your side one second, the next he was lost to you in the midst of all the fighting.

You think you can hear him calling your name, but it seems so far away. Your main focus is on the open wound by your ribs, sustained from a blaster shot, staining blood through your white tunic.

You groan due to it all, but the familiarity of the pain somehow dulls the sensation.

I've been here before.

Anakin calls your name, much nearer now, and soon enough he is right in front of you. Face contorted in a mixture of rage and relief.

"Stardust!" He yells. "I told you to stick with me. Why do you never listen?"

"It's not my fault! I was..." Pain shoots through you, bringing you to your knees, and you press your hand against your side. "I was sidetracked by all the..."

"You're hurt. Kriff's sake, stardust. How can you do this me?"

"To you? I'm the one injured here."

He babbles on, inspecting your wound with precise movements. "I don't know what I would do without you. You can't get hurt, do you hear me? I would not be able to fight in these wars. You have to be alright."

His sincerity tugs at your heart, and you reach for his face. He takes a deep breath, pressing his nose against your palm.

"I'll be alright, Ani," you try to calm him down. "Nothing a little bacta spray can't fix."

"Right," he reaches inside his pocket, revealing the spray case. The immediate relief you feel as the solution comes in contact with your wound makes you sigh deeply. "This should tide you over until we get you to a medic."

"Snips alright?" You look around, trying to catch a glimpse of his young Padawan.

"She's alright," he confirms, helping you up with one arm firmly around you. "Worry about yourself for now, okay?"

"Are you alright?" You completely ignore his sentiment, giving him a once over. Well, what are you thinking? Of course he's alright. Anakin can face a thousand belligerents on his own and come out unscathed.

He pauses, a smile encroaching upon his face.

"Oh, stardust." He sighs, moving in front of you, and holding your face with both hands.

An explosion erupts from behind him, billowing fires. The atmosphere is red, an intense haze of destruction looming over the scene. There is screaming from all sides. Cries of attack and defense.

But Anakin only has eyes for you.

"I'll always be okay, as long as I have you by my side."

You remember this moment. You remember how you clammed up, and merely nodded in response. The gloom of battle like an assault to your senses.

Say something. But you can't, because you didn't.

Anakin presses a kiss to your forehead, and your eyes close.

And then he is gone.

I will always be with you, Ani.

But it is too late.

Always.

This is just a two-parter, and the next part will be sad/angsty, so brace yourselves. He is Darth Vader, after all.

update: part two is posted!

#anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #ahsoka #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine

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ja3yun · 2 months

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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.8

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, fingering, rose toy, multiple orgasms, confrontation, ynhee's mum (she's a warning all in herself), anything else lmk! ch. 8 synopsis: the weekend of nationals is finally here and there's a buzz in the air but of course, nothing can run as smoothly as you plan. sunghoon lets you in on minhee and his private conversation, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place. wc: 13.6k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! i cannot believe melting point ends NEXT WEEK like wdym :( this chapter really explains everything you need to know about the story and everything w the mum so this is an important one <3 thank you all so much for the love. as always i really value your feedback/comments/likes/reblogs. nothing makes me happier than reading your theories and comments, thank you so much! pls enjoy.

Heaving your case, you start to wonder if you packed too much for the weekend. It’s not like you meant to cram in 6 different outfits, 3 pairs of shoes, and every piece of makeup you own - you just wanted to be extra prepared; that and you’re indecisive.

It’s finally Nationals weekend which means everything the boys have been working so hard for is here, only 2 days away. Technically, they should have been in Seoul already but you had a prelim exam today so they both waited for you to be finished before heading out.

The decision wasn’t your favourite, considering they’re missing parts of the press conferences and extra training but they assured you it was the easiest scapegoat out of travelling with the coaches and answering the usual ‘ideal type’ and ‘boyfriend’ questions that get thrown at them.

Considering they were top athletes, you would think the reporters would have more intelligent questions. Sunghoon had told you the last press event he did, the reporters just decided to try and ask him questions he knew would make him look arrogant and cocky with both women and on the ice.

It irks you how everyone has this preconceived perception about the man you love who would bend over backwards to make people happy. He says it doesn’t bother him and therefore it shouldn’t burden you but that's your man and he’s being slandered over news websites, it’s only right you get a little annoyed.

You can hear Sunghoon now as you think about it, telling you “at least I can back up my massive ego with a first place”, and he’s right, but it still doesn’t make you any more okay with it.

Presently, you’re walking down your campus path to the main road, on the way to meet both Minhee and Sunghoon. Somehow, you’ve managed to convince them to drive to the competition together. It took Minhee more convincing than Sunghoon, his biggest objection being you and your boyfriend all over one another.

There’s a mastermind plan to your reasoning; you want them to get along and forcing them in a close proximity for more than 3 hours seems like the best way to do it. Well, you’ve convinced yourself it’s the best way. Plus, you can try and pry out of them what they were talking about the other day in the coach’s office.

Looking ahead, you see Sunghoon and Minhee talking, or rather bickering about something.

This might be harder than you thought.

“You are NOT driving my baby, she doesn’t need your hands all over her,” you hear Sunghoon say, arms crossed in defence.

“Come on, man! It’s a 3-hour drive and you look tired. I’ll take the wheel and you go for a sleep in the back,” Minhee retorts, pleased with himself for his reasoning; yet, Sunghoon doesn’t budge, adamant that your brother will never get the driver’s seat.

It’s oddly refreshing to see them argue about something so trivial and not try to tear each other’s character down. They’re nipping at one another like friends do. You and Rina have had your fair share of minisode arguments about throwaway things like this so seeing them do the same makes you smile.

However, you will stop it, just in case Sunghoon gets too riled up - you know how he can get when it comes to his car. You spilled the tiniest bit of your blueberry juice on the seat and he nearly crashed into the traffic light. He’s very dramatic and overly protective.

“Mini, if you drive, I’ll just make out with Hoon in the back the whole drive there,” you laugh.

Your boys turn around at the sudden sound of your voice, both wearing different expressions. Sunghoon’s face upturns into brightness as he sees you, his arms come undone, and his body visibly relaxes. He looks as handsome as ever with his hair styled and smart-casual outfit; grey-collared sweater with black pressed trousers.

Minhee on the other hand is disgusted at the thought of you climbing all over your boyfriend for hours on end. He’s wearing some jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket, it’s his typical choice but he suits it.

Taking your luggage, Sunghoon whispers a ‘hey’ into your lips as he kisses you tenderly. The display of affection only makes Minhee fake gag, “Suddenly, I don’t want to drive anymore,” your brother scoffs, yielding his earlier argument in trade for some peace from the love parade.

You let out a light laugh, moving from Sunghoon to hug Minhee, “You’ve made the right choice,” the airiness in your voice matches the contentment you feel as he hugs you, ruffling your hair in the process.

While Sunghoon puts your case in the boot, grunting about how heavy it is, you take the opportunity to warn Minhee, “Please be nice to him, okay? I want you both to get along.” It’s a simple request but the seriousness in your eyes conveys everything Minhee has to know.

"I'll tolerate him," he pinches your cheek and offers you an understanding smile when he notices your harsh expression, "Okay, I promise I'll be on my best behaviour." He enters the car with hands raised in faux defence.

You knew he'd behave even before you warned him, but you had to do it since the temptation to fall back into habit might be too strong for both of them. That is why Minhee isn't the only one whom you are warning.

As you walk up to Sunghoon, he closes the trunk with a soft thud, "Can you try getting along with Mini today? It'd mean a lot to me if you guys could at least give friendship a shot," you gently suggest.

"I'll do my best to make us leave here best buddies," Sunghoon replies with fake enthusiasm, "But baby, I gotta tell you, the drive here wasn't great. Did you know he sticks his foot up on the seat? Made things pretty uncomfortable for my girl," he says, giving the car's rear a pat, still bothered by Minhee's lack of respect for the second most important girl in his life.

Your brother wasn’t always the best at reading a situation and considering it’s the first time he was in Sunghoon’s car, he should have been a little more gracious. But he’s Minhee, that’s just how he is.

“Did you tell him not to do it?” you ask, looking through the back window to see the back of your brother’s head.

“Obviously, he just ignored me,” Sunghoon feigns a pain in his heart, “It was tragic.”

His dramatic act earns him an eye roll and no reaction, “I will tell him if he does it.”

With the promises sealed up with one more kiss, you both clamber into your respective seats, ready for the long journey ahead.

The roads are busier than normal, a traffic jam on the motorway is going to add an extra 25 minutes to your time. You don’t mind it, given you're not the one driving, but Sunghoon is getting impatient, the fingers on his left hand tapping on the wheel while his right hand subconsciously grips your thigh, using you like his personal stress ball.

Minhee couldn’t be more relaxed, his body has somehow managed to lounge himself over the back seat, phone in his hand as he plays house flipper.

“We should put on the radio or something, might make this go in faster,” you suggest, already reaching for the screen. None of them complain, too busy in their own worlds to notice. This car drive was supposed to bond them and so far the only conversation they have had was to text the coaches and let them know they would be late; hardly riveting.

The speakers quietly play the sound of Sza’s Kill Bill which has both of them bobbing their heads. Even just the addition of music has made the car feel less awkward.

You don’t want to force them to be friends but you also want to say you tried to meld them together in some capacity. These two men are the most precious people in your life and if they don’t get along, your plan to hang out together will be foiled. Even worse, your secret scheme to have Sunghoon over for Christmas dinner would also be ruined. Christmas is already tense enough never mind adding in two people who can’t even speak to one another.

The next song that plays makes Minhee sit up sharply and you whip your head around to look at him.

Maybe it's the way she walked

Singing the song at each other, you and your brother showcase your sibling brain cells by belting out your joined karaoke song. It was unintentional and you don’t remember specifically how it happened, but one day One Direction’s Best Song Ever became the song you would sing together at every function, both of you staying up late to learn the dance and all the dialogue lines. Minhee swore blindly that he would make a better Liam/Leroy than you but you proved him wrong pretty quickly.

The abrupt change in atmosphere jolts Sunghoon to look at you both wildly while you both sing loudly. He does note how Minhee can actually sing and you, well, you’ve got spirit. The smile on his face gradually gets bigger, the happiness between the siblings infecting him.

And we danced all night to the best song ever

We knew every line, now I can't remember

He hasn’t seen you get this excited in a while, the pressure of keeping too many secrets from too many people had a weighted effect on you, yet, now that’s gone, you look as light as a feather, enjoying your life free of guilt and shame, a life where you have Minhee by your side and him on the other.

If it’s the last thing he does, he will make sure to become friends with Minhee by the end of the weekend.

The makeshift choreo you and Minhee created for the verses comes back easily, both your arms flapping around the place, hairography and all the rest of it. The laughter filtering through Minhee’s singing makes you feel like you’re finally home.

Minhee extends a metaphorical microphone to Sunghoon, attempting to draw him into your shared joy. It's not a conscious effort, but rather a natural inclination to include him in this moment, making him feel like a part of the Kang family, even if just for a song. There was also a tiny bit of him hoping Sunghoon had the worst voice out of the three of you, giving him something to slag him about.

“Nope, sorry, I don’t sing,” Sunghoon protests, moving his focus to the ever-so-slowly moving traffic.

“Come on, Hoonie, you know the words! You already told me you were a Louis girl,” you chuckle, also holding out your pretend microphone to join Minhee.

With the Kang siblings eagerly awaiting his participation, Sunghoon relents, quietly joining in the singing. His voice isn’t loud, he’s cautiously singing the song with you and Minhee, letting you both take the lead on it. He appreciates the effort Minhee made to involve him but this is also clearly you and Minhee’s joint thing, he doesn’t want to intervene too much.

However, that’s not sitting with any of you, “Sunghoon put some chutzpah into it!” Minhee encourages.

Minhee is trying his best, the once subconscious act is now intended, he wants you to know he’s trying to get along with your boyfriend despite their past. You deserve that much.

There’s a glimmer of amusement in Sunghoon’s eyes as he gets sucked into the infectious energy of the moment and becomes more vocal. What neither you nor Minhee expects is for Sunghoon’s voice to be as good as it was. You had heard him sing maybe once in the shower but you weren’t paying attention, not like now. Now he has your full attention, leaving him and your brother to harmonise together.

As Niall's part comes on, Minhee playfully nudges your arm, signalling your turn to sing, a cue you eagerly follow. At that moment, the confines of the car seem to expand, enveloping you all in a bubble of pure bliss and laughter. It's something you want to etch into your memory, a snapshot of unfiltered happiness that you'll treasure forever.

The final lines of the song resonate through the air, and a sense of contentment settles over you all, transforming the cold winter morning outside into something warm and inviting, much like a spring day.

Minhee reaches over and pats Sunghoon on the shoulder, offering him a genuine compliment. "You've got a set of pipes on you, mate," he remarks, devoid of any tension, prompting a surprised look from you.

“Thanks, you’re not that bad of a singer either,” your boyfriend relays.

“Nah, it’s just singing next to her I sound like Adele or something,” Minhee pokes fun at you like always, clearly amusing Sunghoon because he just laughs and nods along. Honestly, if making some lighthearted jokes about your singing is the thing that makes them friends, you’ll allow it.

The rest of the car journey is now filled with chatter, mostly you and Minhee reminiscing about your upbringing, telling Sunghoon all the stories that embarrass one another while he drives you closer to the city.

Sunghoon enjoys the way you two interact, it shows him why you were so determined not to hurt Minhee for all those months, putting aside your own happiness for him. Whenever competitions happened, he got to see you and Minhee’s relationship from the sidelines and that made him a little envious.

Ice skating has always been so lonely for him with no time to make friends with fellow skaters because his mum would be pulling him away to go home or keep him on the ice while everyone else went to get a sweet treat after training. His mum made him so lonely that she was the only one he could rely on.

That was until now. Jay and Jake were always there for him but it’s harder for them to understand since they aren’t in the sport directly, whereas you and Minhee both have grown up in the same gruelling surroundings as him.

Sunghoon’s jealousy grew the more he saw Minhee, the loving sister, the nice coach, even a little less toxic of a mother, granted his opinions of her have wildly changed now that he knows everything. But even with that, Minhee seemed to have it all - he had everything Sunghoon wanted.

He would trade in every trophy for a little stability, for his dad to still be alive, to have someone devoted to him no matter what. That’s why when he saw you all those years ago, he knew you had to be in his life.

The hatred he had towards your brother stemmed from his mother’s toxic whispers planting little nuggets of rumours and lies to make him hate Minhee, yet, as he looks at both of you now, he knows it wasn’t hatred, it was envy. And when Minhee said he couldn’t ask you out when he was a teenager, it fuelled anger in him for hogging you.

Your love and kindness shouldn’t be confined to your brother.

But like you said the other day, Minhee was scared to lose you and Sunghoon understood that feeling all too well now.

Enclosing your hand in his, Sunghoon threads his fingers with yours, longing for contact after his brain even thought about you not being with him, even for a second.

You twist your neck to look at Sunghoon, fondly smiling at him. Watching his eyes shake, you know he’s thinking about something that requires your touch; he always did this, no matter the issue big or small, like having you there was enough for him to brush through the knots in his brain and sort it out.

It felt so amazing to be so needed and loved like this.

Minhee interrupts the silent show of love and points out the windshield, “Looks like they know we’re coming,” he sighs as reporters hover outside the hotel entrance, cameras hanging at their sides while they chat about nothing.

Sunghoon and Minhee are used to this but today is the day they’ll make a spectacle over them. For the first time in history, the two rivals are arriving together and not just that, they’re both a day late. It’s the perfect opportunity for them to sniff around and fabricate some sort of story, you’re just scared of what.

Pulling up to the front of the hotel, the reports poise their camera to get the money shot, they don’t know they’re in for a goldmine,

“Remember, head down, no comments, and just get in there,” Sunghoon instructs, earning a scoff from your brother.

“Nah, you can do that, I’m the pleasant prince, I pander to my audience,” Minhee smiles proudly.

This is where they differ in so many ways, how their brands set them apart. You have to say, you’re surprised Minhee is keeping the Princess Diana brand your mum created considering he hates it so much. Then again, it has created more opportunities for him regarding public events and ads.

Your mum was a witch but she knew what she was doing.

It does pose the big question: where is Mum? Is she already here? There has been zero communication between both of you since the phone audio incident, it was sickening to look at her for too long, not that she was home a lot of the time anyway.

However, right now isn’t about her.

“I think Sunghoon might be right, Mini. They’ll hound you about why you and Hoonie are together,” you put forward, hoping he sees your point. But Minhee is Minhee, he loves being in the spotlight.

“It’s all good, Bubs. I got this,” Minhee pats your head, trying to bounce some reassurance into your brain.

Sunghoon is quick to jump in, “No. Minhee, you keep Y/N safe. There’s no way they won’t push and shove for a picture and if one of them touches her I swear to god, Minhee, it’ll be your head on the hotel pole,” his voice is strong and shoulders are wide and sturdy as he speaks.

You suppress the urge to bite your lip as Sunghoon talks, trying not to give away how much his protectiveness turns you on, although, as much as you’re trying to focus your face on staying neutral, your pussy is meowing out for him, the pants you're wearing sticking to you a little.

“Don’t tell me how to protect my sister, okay, I’ve been with her my whole life, you’ve only got a couple of months under your belt,” Minhee retorts, tone annoyed at the accusation that he would do anything other than put your safety first.

If there was one thing that would make them argue, it’s over you.

“Guys, let's just focus on getting into the lobby, okay? No pandering, and no punching,” you point to them for their retrospective warnings. You seem to be intimidating enough because they fall back from their tense gazes and start to unbuckle their seatbelts.

When you step out, the cameras click rapidly, a few flashes getting in your eyes which Minhee’s hand reaches over to protect you from, one hand wrapped around your shoulder and the other covering your eyes. The shutters are more intense once they see Sunghoon coming around from the other side of the car.

A few gasps and ‘whoas’ can be heard as your boyfriend catches up to you both. As soon as that happens, all hell breaks loose.

Sunghoon! Are you finally changing your ways?

Minhee, did you steer Sunghoon away from his reckless life?

I’d watch out, Minhee, Sunghoon might be after your little sister next.

The last one creates tension between the boys on either side of you, as soon as you’re mentioned they both want to physically leap over and slap the journalist silly. You don’t like the inclination either, the idea that Sunghoon would just use you for his own gratification.

Did the reporter say it outright like that? No, but all three of you knew that’s what he meant.

Minhee gracefully bows and smiles as he leads you through the reporters, thanking the ones who respected your need for space.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, remains cold, his look as frosty as usual, displaying little tolerance for the paparazzi's intrusive behaviour. Despite his apparent displeasure, he followed his own advice: keep a low profile and push ahead.

Once the chaos subsides, Minhee gently withdraws from your side, placing a comforting hand between your shoulder blades as he guides you further into the foyer. The interior wasn’t anything fancy; adorned with beige walls, plush couches occupied by guests, and a reception desk manned by two staff.

“Are you alright?” Minhee’s concern was palpable as he peered into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort or vision loss. The flashes were extra bright today.

You shake your head, offering reassurance, “I’m fine, it wasn’t too bad, certainly could have been worse.”

The hotel staff promptly retrieves your luggage from the car, each of your party expressing gratitude. Minhee also hands them a tip, slipping in a signature wink as he did so.

Sunghoon huffs beside you, stroking the back of your head, “Fucking ridiculous. They’re acting like they haven’t seen us before,” he states, the patting of your head getting rougher the more he thinks about it, “Heard one of them call us Blades of Glory.”

Minhee lets out a loud laugh, clapping his hands in amusement. The other boy didn’t find anything funny about the situation.

The receptionist checks you all in, a room for you and Minhee, and a room for Sunghoon. He had a double room to himself since his mum wasn’t coming.

One thing Sunghoon refuses to speak about is his relationship with his mum, as far as you’re concerned, they haven’t spoken since the argument a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes when you look at your boyfriend when he is training, you wish he had her there. He assures you it’s for the best but you do mourn it a little, hoping they could patch up their relationship and start anew with him as her son, and her as his mother; no manager roles and athlete, just family love.

Sunghoon isn’t so sympathetic to the situation. Sure, he misses having her around but that’s just because it’s a habit, plus, she was his manager and having to navigate everything on his own was becoming overwhelming, but he’ll manage.

Sadly, he doesn’t even miss her as a mother figure.

Luckily, you’re all on the same floor just 4 doors apart. Once you reach your respective rooms, you kiss Sunghoon, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. His hands run up your back, accidentally picking up your jacket and t-shirt in the process, the feeling of his fingertips leaving a warm trail in their absence.

Sunghoon smiles into the kiss, dipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you. He could do this all day, and some days he has, but this time you have your brother impatiently waiting for you both to untangle yourselves.

“Enough, that’s disgusting,” he retches, fake poking a finger down his throat, “Are you guys always like this or is it your attempt at torturing me?”

Pecking Sunghoon’s lips one more time, you plant your feet back on the ground and face Minhee, “You’re so dramatic. I can kiss my boyfriend whenever I want to,” you sarkily reply.

“Not in front of me you can’t,” he mumbles, face holding an expression of disdain for you and your boyfriend's PDA. He doesn’t protest further, instead unlocking your room and waiting for you to get inside.

Hugging you from the back, Sunghoon leans down, “Come to my room tonight? And the night after, and the night after,” between each request, he kisses your neck, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

The butterflies in your tummy never settle when he’s around and the love in your heart only gets stronger, “I’ll pop in tonight but I promised Minhee I would spend the night before Nationals with him, it’s kind of a thing we have.”

Before every big competition, you and your brother pick a TV show, grab a few face masks and play smash or pass with the cast. You came up with it randomly one night and it stuck ever since, helping him to relax and you to eye up whatever Song Kang drama you manage to persuade him to watch with you.

Nodding, Sunghoon smiles, spinning you to face him, “Sure, makes sense you guys would have a ritual or whatever,” there’s a tiny hint of sadness in his voice which throws you a little.

“I can ask Minhee to swap it to tonight?” you propose but Sunghoon shakes his head quickly.

“No, no. Do your sibling stuff-”

“You’re welcome to come,” Minhee’s voice interjects behind you. It’s strange how quickly Minhee is accepting Sunghoon into your routines and quirks; first it was the song in the car and now this, “You don’t have to but it would suck for you to be on your own the night before a competition.”

You want to ask what happened to your brother and why a clone has taken over his body, but this is exactly what you wanted, so why fight it?

“I don’t know, seems like your thing, I don’t want to just jump into it,” Sunghoon scratches the back of his hand, a habit he has when he’s nervous. In this instance, it’s cute.

“If I’m inviting you, it’s not you ‘jumping in’ is it? Plus, you get to see your precious girl drool over other men right in front of you,” you nudge your brother's stomach with your elbow before explaining to Sunghoon your plans and that you absolutely do NOT fawn over other men.

Everyone knows it’s a lie.

“Then yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Minhee,” Sunghoon is genuinely appreciative of the offer. He’s never had anyone to do things like this with, usually opting to just rest up and force himself to sleep early.

Minhee nods, “Great, just don’t be all kissy and touchy, it’s gross.”

A ping hits Minhee’s phone and as he reads the message, his once relaxed face turns tense, “It’s mum. Wants to take us out for dinner after the press conference,” he doesn’t bother replying, locking his mobile and stuffing it back in his jean pocket.

You don’t want to go to dinner with her, or even see her. Truthfully, you hoped she just wouldn’t turn up, “Do we have to go?”

The pout on your face is exaggerated, your eyes pleading with Minhee to say fuck it and not go, however, he doesn’t give in to you, “I suppose.”

Looking at Sunghoon, they do that stare again, the same one when they came out from their secret conversation at Belmore. They nod to one another, making you even more confused.

Before you can pipe up and ask, Sunghoon gives you one more kiss, “I’ll see you later, baby,” and with that, he retreats to his hotel room. Your boyfriend was probably your best chance at getting information, Minhee is too strong and wouldn’t slip up as easily, so you leave it to rest, hoping that it’s nothing too serious.

One thing is for certain, you know it’s about your mum.

_____

“Can we steal the soap?” Minhee pops his head around the bathroom door, eyes gleaming with mischief.

You and Minhee are resting up after the press conference. All in all, the reporters asked straightforward enough questions, intrigued by Minhee's secret routine and the promised 'surprise' he hinted at. Of course, you've witnessed the routine firsthand and are eagerly anticipating everyone else to experience it with the same amount of awe as you did.

To your surprise, there were just two questions concerning Sunghoon: one asked whether Minhee and Sunghoon were now friends, and the other asked if Minhee was afraid of his rival. Minhee's reaction to both was a solid 'no', however you think the first answer might change.

You sit up on your bed, rolling your eyes in dismissal of your brother’s question, “No, Mini, we can’t steal the soap.” The one thing about Minhee was that he loved a freebee, and you too honestly but you draw the line on bath soaps that you know no one will use and just collect dust in your toilet back home.

“But if I put it in my case and hide these ones, the staff will need to give us replacements,” he says, showing you the tiny bottle of liquid soap as a way to entice you to agree with him.

"Let me guess, then you'll swipe those too?" you retort, crossing your arms.

Minhee nods eagerly. "Of course!" he says it with such conviction, as if you're missing out on a golden opportunity for more soap.

As you get up, you snatch the bottle from his hand and head to return it to its rightful spot. "I'll just buy you some soap, alright? Let's leave these here. If there's any left, we'll take it home." Sometimes, you feel like you take over the role of your mother when you have these talks with Minhee.

"Fine," he grumbles, flopping onto the mattress. "I'll just ask Sunghoon to swipe me some then."

You whip around at the mention of your boyfriend's name, watching as Minhee starts tapping away on his phone. It's like entering the twilight zone.

"You guys text now?" you ask incredulously, eyebrows raised

“Only for important things,” he mumbles, too busy planning a scheme to get Sunghoon on board with his ideas.

You try to imagine in what world hotel soap is important.

If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that your brother and boyfriend were actually getting along, and not just that, that most of the initiation was from Minhee, you would have cackled in your face. There was no chance in hell of that happening, yet, there is it. All those months of worrying about both of them, the arguments, the fighting, the hatred, all washed away so quickly.

Sunghoon and Minhee aren’t best friends, they tolerate one another; that’s what they are telling themselves at least. Your brother asked for Sunghoon’s number after the conference to ‘keep an eye on him’ but you knew better than that.

Minhee wanted to be his friend because he knew if he did, you would be happy. Everything in his life, he does for you.

A ping sounds from his phone, and a wicked smile spreads across his face, “Ha! See, your boy is on board!” he shows you the text message from Sunghoon which reads ‘If you get the soap, I’ll grab the shampoo and conditioner. We go halfsies?’

“You’re both ridiculous,” you quip, pushing Minhee’s phone away from you.

You can’t deny the warm feeling in your chest as you watch Minhee laugh at his phone, the friendship between them both blossoming in front of your very eyes.

A loud knock on the door startles you both, your hand reaching for your chest at the fright. Was it really necessary for someone to bang the door so ferociously at 5pm, especially when the hotel rooms are already small, echoing the vibrations around the walls?

Minhee stands up, making his way to answer rudely to the person on the other side for almost giving him a heart attack; however, when he opens the door, the last person on earth you want to see barges through your door.

“Ugh, can you believe they’ve put me in a room on the other side of the hotel away from you? Took me 10 minutes just to get here,” your mum huffs, blowing her fringe out of her flushed face. She looks like she’s just run the London Marathon, not walked across a lobby and rode the lift.

It’s amazing how one woman can change the atmosphere of the room. The once happy and carefree vibe you and Minhee were basking in has now been sucked out, replaced with a heavy cloud of anguish.

There’s an anxiety creeping up into your chest as you face your mum for the first time since that day. You were unequipped to handle the situation because of her sudden presence, thinking you would at least have a few hours before she requested you for dinner.

But she’s here, right now, and you have to face this head-on.

She clasps her hands together and spins to face Minhee and yourself, “I have news,” she exclaims, delighted with whatever information she is about to share.

A quick glance at Minhee and you both share the same sceptical expression. He steps closer to you, hoping that you can find some comfort in his presence, which you do but this is also your conniving mother you’re both faced with, anything can fall past her lips, and that makes this ten times more nerve wracking.

“After Sunghoon pulled that god-awful scheme - so sorry, Y/N,” her words speak of condolences yet her tone is anything but sympathetic, “I have found something else.” The delight on her face makes you feel sick. You know Mrs. Park is the biggest cause for this rivalry, so why is she so intent on bringing Sunghoon down to the lowest pits of hell and back?

You nor Minhee have told your mum that you know the audio of Sunghoon was AI-generated, or that you and Sunghoon are back to being as in love with each other as ever, in fact, she might have brought you closer together. Her little plan actually got you and Sunghoon to promise to be one hundred percent honest with each other, especially about your feelings for one another.

Sunghoon meant it when he said he wanted to start fresh, a clean slate, but for him that just meant professing his love to you all over again, determined to make sure you never doubted his true intentions for you ever again. Of course, you did the same, telling him how you would trust him and your relationship before anything else because why on earth do you have any reason not to?

“What are you talking about?” Minhee is the first to speak between you, taking the lead as your bigger brother. He didn’t know what she had up her sleeve but he wouldn’t believe a spoken syllable that came from her mouth; not anymore.

Happily, your mother picks out her phone from her handbag and searches for something. There is a sickening feeling rising in your stomach again, the deja vu washing over you. Minhee senses your unease and rubs your back softly, and as you turn your attention to him, he shakes his head, assuring you that whatever you are going to see will be fabricated.

However, as she passes your brother the phone, you see a video waiting to load and see a familiar-looking lawn.

Oh no.

As Minhee hits play, you see Sunghoon’s fist connect with that boy's face, the same boy that touched you, the night you called him to come get you. The sickness that had stilled before has now reached the tip of your throat, your heart pounding outside your chest only making it boil more.

This is real, this isn’t fake.

The scene in the video is so strange because as you hear your cries for him to stop, you don’t remember it that well. You knew he punched fuck out of the guy but you hadn’t really visually recalled it in your memory, yet, it was like living the feeling all over again.

Your brother watches the video with the same shock and horror as you do, except, he is more concerned by your shrieks in the background. When was this? He ponders to himself, confused as he continues to see Sunghoon beat the boy down. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Sunghoon killed him. Fuck, he genuinely might have as far as Minhee is concerned.

He recognises the boy in the video, having had a few altercations with Yeonjun and his team himself over the years, so he knows that whatever caused this ruthless beating, it was probably something bad.

“W-where did you get this?” you ask tentatively. If your mother has seen it, anyone could have.

With a glint of victory, she answers, “Facebook of all places! I was just scrolling and someone shared it,” she shrugs, leaving you to battle with the information that your boyfriend's attempt to protect you might be the very cause of his downfall. You recall something he said not too long ago,

“Everything wrong in my life seems to be because of your family.”

Sunghoon spoke those words and you knew they were true, yet, you hoped it excluded you, but this just proves you’re just as bad as your mother.

Minhee feels your distress beside him, your body shaking slightly as you continue to watch the video. He doesn’t know what happened or why but he knows you’re traumatised by it. He stops the video, locking the phone abruptly, “Mum, what does this have to do with anything? This is just a video of him punching that guy from the hockey team,” Minhee tries to downplay it, hoping and praying your mum hasn’t already done something drastic with the video.

“I’m taking it to the board, obviously. He can’t get away with causing violence,” your mum speaks. You take the time in the silence that surrounds the room to wonder if she would be so eager to share the video if she knew why Sunghoon was on his knees, beating the guy to a pulp.

Minhee shakes his head definitely, “No, mum, you’re not,” his voice wavers; this is the first time he has stood up to your mum in such a long time. Her claws were usually so deep into your brother that he stood back and took it, but not any more.

“Huh?” your mum asks perplexed, head tilted to the side in curiosity, “Don’t you see, Minhee, this is how we guarantee you the win, they might let him skate but nullify his points. Remember what we have on the line,” she tries to be secretive but you already know what she’s talking about.

“Stop! Just stop trying to interfere with this, with my skating, with the Parks. Just fucking stop.” The sudden rise in Minhee’s voice makes you jump but he is quick to rub your back again, trying to prove his determination to make this right, for all the times he let her puppeteer him into doing her dirt work.

He breathes out, “I told Y/N everything, and I told Sunghoon. We also know that the phone call was fake and that you’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a mother,” his voice is venomous, the words harshly leaving his mouth.

Your mum is silent, not even her breath can be heard amidst Minhee’s speech, “You’ve done nothing but hurt us since dad left, constantly blaming me for putting you in debt, never acknowledging your daughter or any of her achievements. I won’t stand here and let you do this anymore.”

“But Minhee-”

“No, you listen to me. I will win on Saturday and when I do, take all the money you get from this shitty bet and fuck off out of our lives, understood?” You stare at the ground with wide eyes, scared to look up and see the anger in Minhee’s face, his voice being scary enough.

It’s unlike your brother to get this angry, you thought the extent of his rage peaked when he confronted you about your relationship with Sunghoon. But this is much worse, more dangerous.

Then again, this is also years of being told you owe your career and livelihood to someone who only uses it against you would also take its toll on you.

Sucking in a breath, your mum moves forward, “What are you talking about, baby boy. I’m your mother,” she tries to soften him up but it won’t work. He’s too far gone in his rage.

“No, you’re not. From this point on, you’re no one’s mum. When you get your winnings, take them and never speak to me or Y/N again. I am sick to the back teeth of you putting unnecessary pressure on me, getting me involved in all this mess with Sunghoon. Not to mention how you’ve been treating Y/N the past few months.”

“You can’t kick me out of my own family!” she protests, all acts of sorrow gone in a flash, replaced with fury.

“I just have. I’m moving out, I’m taking Y/N with me, and this is the last you will see us,” Minhee’s chest is closing in on itself as he finally loses all cool, ready to give your mum everything that’s been waiting for her.

Exhaling, your mum yields, nodding disapprovingly, “You make sure I get my money. You brats deserve nothing considering the life I provided for you both.”

That last sentence confirmed everything you two already knew, it was always about the money. Part of you wonders if it was always about the money, or if that was just something at came along the way. For your peace of mind, you hope it’s the latter.

Despite her ways, you like to believe she did love you guys at some point, and deep down still does.

The tension in the room is so thick, it’s choking you, causing you to clam up and stay silent. You want to say so much; how she never gave you both anything, that it was your dad who set you both up with your lives, how she took away your happiness and put the relationship with the love of your life in jeopardy. You wanted to shout and scream at her, but it was useless. She won’t listen, her face beat red.

Without uttering another word, she goes to leave the room, snatching her phone back, but Minhee isn’t done, “Oh, and don’t think for a second of showing that video to any of the skating board, or else I’ll turn myself in about Sunghoon’s skate and tell the police exactly what you’ve been up to.”

Both you and your mother exchange fearful glances – you, worried for Minhee's cherished career, and your mother, concerned about her potential loss of status and wealth.

Clicking her tongue in irritation, your mother scoffs, shaking her head. "You wouldn’t dare," she argues, trying to convince herself as much as her son.

"Try me. I have nothing left to lose," he retorts.

"You wouldn’t sacrifice your Olympic dreams," she counters smugly, believing she's won the argument.

"I would sacrifice anything for my sister's happiness, a concept you clearly can't grasp."

Your eyes fill with emotion as Minhee's words sink in. Could he really be prepared to give up his dream just to protect you from your mother? To safeguard you from any potential harm. As you lock eyes with your brother, a deep realisation sweeps over you: absolutely, he would.

Your mother walks out of the room in a disappointed huff, leaving behind a heavy atmosphere packed with unresolved tension. Left alone with Minhee, you both silently battle with the weight of the dramatic event that just took place, processing it all in your own way.

As the echoes of your mother's departure fade, a solemn stillness settles over the room, punctuated only by the sound of your shared breaths. You and Minhee exchange a wordless glance, each grappling with the weight of the confrontation that has unfolded.

“The video…you were there. What the fuck was that about?” Minhee questions, his voice not quite accusatory, but still webbed in anger. Honestly, you should have expected it, the bloody scene would be a cause of concern to anyone and after he just said he vowed to protect you, he wanted to know how this situation arose.

"It was a party, about three or four months ago, I think," you begin, weighing your words carefully as you try to gauge how much to reveal to Minhee. Your brother is already teetering on the edge of adrenaline-fueled rage, and recounting the details of Heosun's unwelcome advances towards you doesn't seem like the best idea in the current tense atmosphere.

Minhee listens attentively, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Go on," he prompts gently, sensing the weight of your hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, "There was this guy who wouldn't leave me alone, and Sunghoon came to pick me up, and well, you saw what happened." You lower your gaze, feeling a pang of shame at the memory of the chaos that ensued that night.

Now, with your mother's hands all over the incriminating video, you feel the weight of the burden resting heavily on your shoulders. If she were to show anyone that footage, it could spell the end of Sunghoon's career – all because of the consequences of your past decisions.

Despite Sunghoon's reassurances that none of it was your fault, the guilt gnaws at you relentlessly. It's one thing to hear those words, but it's another to truly believe them, especially in the face of such dire consequences.

Minhee can feel your body tremble and it softens his mood, his brotherly instincts taking charge over his anger. He pulls you in for a hug, scratching the back of your head to soothe your thoughts.

“I would say I’d kill that hockey player if I wasn’t convinced Sunghoon’s already taken care of it,” he chuckles at his attempt to lighten the mood, but your overthinking is taking hold of you, scared for what will happen.

Knowing you your whole life, Minhee knows what your brain is doing right now, “Hey, you aren’t to blame for any of this. Heosun is the one to blame for trying to take advantage of you,” his fingers dig into your scalp as he says the crime out loud. He can’t stand that he wasn’t there for you during your time of need.

However, he is thankful Sunghoon was there.

He leans back to look at you, your eyes glazed over with thoughts. Patting your head, he tries to reason with your mind, “You can’t let mum’s manipulation make you feel responsible for all of this. Sunghoon is a grown man and he made his choices,” he sees his words infiltrating your doubt, like a soldier breaking down the gate to the castle, “He did what anyone would have done.”

You manage a weak smile, grateful for his support even as the guilt continues to run through you, "I know, but... what if I could have handled things differently?" you mumble, the weight of self-blame heavy in your voice.

Minhee shakes his head, his eyes filled with conviction, “Don’t do that, Bubs. You did everything you could, I believe that.”

His words provide a glimmer of consolation amidst the disarray of your thoughts. For a minute, you allow yourself to lean into his calming presence, drawing strength from your brother's support.

You both sit in silence for a while, needing to calm down from your emotions. The whole ordeal has led you away from a pivotal point in his conversation with your mum, something that you wanted to question.

“What if you don’t win?” you pull your head from his chest, looking up at him concerned. If he doesn’t win, there’s no knowing what your mum might do. She would lose far too much money just to let it slide, not to mention the vendetta she probably has against Minhee after his harsh words.

Calmly, he smiles, “I’ve got it covered, don’t worry.” With a kiss on the top of your head, he releases you from his grip. It’s a clear indication that he doesn’t want to push this conversation any further.

But you can’t help but be concerned.

_____

Pressing your key card to the door, you walk in and instantly hear laughter coming from Minhee and Sunghoon. The sound fills you with a sense of relief, worried that your absence from the hotel room to grab some snacks from the shop down the street was enough time for them to start arguing and throwing punches.

You really should have had more faith in them, particularly after the car journey, yet, you still have a horrible feeling that settles inside your chest because it’s all going too perfectly.

Minhee is doubled over, face red from laughter while Sunghoon’s eyes are wide, an incredulous smile smacked across his features. It’s amazing how well they shine together when they don’t have their mothers putting the weight on their shoulders, forcing them into unhealthy competition.

“She padded it so much to impress you, it was hilarious!” you hear Minhee cackle as he speaks as you shut the door behind you. They haven’t noticed your presence, too caught up in the hilarity of their conversation.

Sunghoon lets out a ‘huh’ in realisation, “That’s what that was? I was so confused, I thought she had a reaction to something,” he chuckles, still processing whatever information Minhee was divulging.

The atmosphere is light, making you smile widely as you walk further into the hotel room, “What are you guys talking about?”

Turning to face you, both boys burst into another fit of laughter as soon as they see you. It makes you self-conscious, suddenly making you wish you checked yourself in the lift mirror before coming back.

Minhee wipes a tear from his eye before letting you in on their little secret, “I told him how you stuffed your bra with tissue paper trying to impress him,” he points his head to Sunghoon who is currently rolling on the bed in stitches.

The memory flashes in your mind as your face falls. You were young, foolish, and watched 13 going on 30 a little too much; it was a stupid idea. In your defence, a rumour was circulating that Sunghoon’s ideal type was someone like Irene from Red Velvet and she was so perfect you tried to look like her, stuffed bra and all.

You stand traumatised for a minute as you start to vividly recall the way your tissue boobs must have looked to everyone else, “Oh my…god! Can you guys shut up, I was like 12,” you groan hiding your face behind the bags of starburst and skittles.

“You didn’t even need a bra,” Minhee argues back, clearly enjoying the torment his story is providing you, “It’s my brotherly duty to tell your boyfriend all the embarrassing stories I have about you,” he’s smug, lips upturned in a grin.

Forcefully, you toss his sweets at his head, aiming for pain. But Minhee has fast reflexes and dodges it easily. Out of all the stories to tell, why did it have to be that one? Couldn’t it have been the one where you accidentally vomited all over him after he punched you too hard in the chest or that time you wrote a marriage proposal to Niall Horan and even set a date. Anything but the padded bra.

Sunghoon is still laughing, also reminiscing about that day, however, he isn’t so embarrassed. To be honest, he didn’t pay much attention, and he certainly didn’t know it was to impress him. Knowing it now only gives him more reason to be completely in love with you because even at 12, you wanted to be with him so much you were willing to change for him.

But he never wants you to change. Not ever.

“I honestly can’t believe you thought that would impress me,” he starts to calm down, beaming up at you; however, he is just as guilty for laughing, so you throw the last packet of sweets at his head. He isn’t so used to avoiding flying objects and you hit him straight on his nose, “Okay, ow!” he winces dramatically.

Sometimes you forget Sunghoon is an only child and didn’t have the sibling reflex, “Shit, I’m sorry, Hoon,” you apologise, leaning down to assess the damage but before you get too close, Sunghoon bursts into laughter once again. Slapping his chest you sit next to him, disgruntled.

Once he has composed himself, he sits up and pulls you into his side, kissing the top of your head, “Honestly, I think it’s kind of cute,” he whispers into your hair, trying to ease your brass neck. You can’t help but smile at his words, glad that he didn’t see you as some pathetic little girl.

You fail to understand that Sunghoon could never perceive you as anything other than perfect. Sure, no one actually is flawless, but you’re pretty close in his eyes; you’re perfect for him.

“Okay, I will stop telling stories if you guys stop acting so mushy,” Minhee relents, opening his packet of Skittles.

Tilting your head up, you place a soft kiss on Sunghoon’s lips, just to add a little torment to your brother which works because he’s fake gagging on his bed. He’s so dramatic but you’ll take the teasing over him holding a grudge about your relationship.

“I love you,” Sunghoon whispers tenderly, his hand squeezing your soft side, “padded bra and all.”

“Shut up, oh my god,” you push him away playfully, trying to act annoyed but it doesn’t really work, you can’t stay angry at him for longer than a day - your entire relationship journey has proven that; even when you fight, big or small, you always find your way back to one another quickly.

You don’t mean to think so seriously in such a lighthearted moment, but you can’t help but be thankful for everything that has transpired. There are times you want to start over completely, not lie to your brother, stick up to your mum, skip the whole ‘friends with benefits’ deal and just be with one another completely. But in truth, it’s just made your relationship stronger, both of you releasing that there isn’t a day you both don’t want to be together.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sweets?” he asks in a whisper, petting you with love.

You shake your head, “Nothing, just happy. That’s all.” And it was the truth, you’ve never been more content with anything in your life.

Minhee clears his throat, “Guys, seriously. Glad you’re all in love but can we pick a show now?”

Sunghoon and you shuffle to sit on your bed, getting comfy as Minhee flicks through the TV section on Netflix and when you and your brother both see My Demon in recently added, you both turn to one another, smiling brightly.

Your boyfriend isn’t completely aware of your obsession with Song Kang, but he is about to find out.

_____

As the hours go by, face masks have been done and subsequently making the whole room smell of paella and vanilla, you begin to hear Minhee snoring on the other bed; you’re 5 episodes into My Demon and clearly, he has had enough. Fair enough, it is reaching midnight and he is up extremely early tomorrow, but so is Sunghoon and he is wide awake, not caring about his beauty sleep one bit.

In fact, he has started caressing your thigh a bit too close to a certain area. All night he’s found some way to touch you, either a hug, spooning you, or grazing his fingers over any skin that isn’t covered. Luckily for him, your shorts have ridden up just enough to leave the tops and inners of your thighs exposed.

You push his hand away, “Mini is right there,” you speak lowly, trying to caution him off but Sunghoon couldn’t care less, only tracing up further to your core.

“He’s sleeping,” he argues back as he spares a quick glance to a passed-out Minhee.

Honestly, he was so sick of you melting when Song Kang popped up on the TV, he’s not afraid to admit that he’s jealous. Every time you held in a squeal as the actor smiled or had his top off, he knew he had to get you back to reality, back to the time when all you saw was him. It was childish but he doesn’t bother to worry about that, knowing you like it when he’s a bit possessive and clingy.

You sit up straight to face him, eyes flashing in warning, “He could wake up,” you’re trying to reason with him but his face doesn’t show any sense of understanding of how badly this scenario could end. You’ll do a lot with Sunghoon but fucking him while your brother is in the room is a hard pass. He was insatiable, you always knew it, you just thought he had some decorum when it came to having sex in front of family.

Smirking, Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “With how loud you are, he probably would wake up.” Teasing you isn’t the best approach for getting what he wants, he sees that in your peeved expression, “Fine, how about we go to my hotel room?” he offers as a solution.

With his fingers now dancing along the top of your pussy, you quickly agree, already standing up and pulling him out of the room, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut.

Once you both enter his room, he wastes no time, kissing you roughly like he has been wanting to do since you changed into your little pyjamas. The heat from his body is a telltale sign that he’s ready to just ravish you as soon as he gets you naked.

And that he does, stripping you of any material you have on and pushing you onto the bed. You’re a vision in front of him, some hickeys and bruises scattered over your body from the last time you had sex, which in Sunghoon’s mind, was far too long ago.

With hungry eyes, you watch as he sheds his own clothing, revealing his arousal as he strokes himself slowly. Your breath catches in anticipation, craving the feel of him inside you, the throbbing intensity of his desire mirrored in you.

“I’ve got a surprise,” he says suddenly, licking his lips mischievously.

You lean on your elbows, confused by his words, “What kind of surprise?”

Holding a finger up, he bends down to his suitcase, rummaging through it to find something, only making you more curious, “It’s in here somewhere,” he states more to himself than you, his smile widening as he comes across something, “There you are.”

As he stands back up, you look into his hand and your jaw hits the floor, “Where did you get that?”

Sunghoon stands proud as punch as he twirls the pink rose toy in his right hand, smiling at it happily, “I know a thing or two, Sweets.”

You had your own rose toy at home, literally more prized than the award you won a few months ago. It’s your saviour when you’re too stressed or just craving some release when Sunghoon isn’t readily available. You hadn’t told him about it, so you’re a little shocked he had one.

It also looked much better than yours so you’re going to have to sneak it into your bag before you all leave on Sunday.

Snaking his way to you, he shows you it up close, “Y’know, I used to think these toys were the enemy, taking away something from me,” he pauses, spitting on the top of it, rubbing his saliva into the creases of the rose petals, “But then I thought, it could really be an asset.”

Pressing the power button on, the machine starts to vibrate and suck in air, making you swallow dryly in anticipation. You knew how good it felt when you used it on your own so you can only imagine the power it holds in Sunghoon’s hands.

Sleeking it to your folds, he wastes no time in pressing it directly on your clit, wiggling it around to make sure he has it on your sweet point. As you gasp and fall flat on the bed, he knows he’s found it.

Sunghoon knows how it works but this is admittedly his first time seeing it in action and by God was he glad he stumbled across it on Twitter. The way you’re already wriggling under its suck is causing his cock to jump straight up in arousal. This is such a nice change for him, to see how your tits move from side to side as your body responds to the sensation on your clit, your mouth falling open so beautifully as whimpers escape. Normally, he’s got a different view, his head buried where the rose toy is right now; he’ll need to find more ways to witness you from this angle.

“Hoon! It’s-” You don’t get to finish your sentence as he loosens the toy which only makes it suck your clit up harder. What you were going to say is that it’s already got you close, the mix of the vibration and everything else proving a bit too much.

Typically, when you use the toy back home, it’s a 5-minute job, the flower living up to its hype, and now is no exception. But there’s something even more arousing about your boyfriend being in control of it all. If it got a little intense, you could normally pull it away of your own accord, but with Sunghoon in control, you don’t have that luxury; you need to power through the fire that is burning within your nub.

Seeing you close, he licks and bites his bottom lip, thinking of how he can take credit for some of this climax, rather than congratulations only being on the vibrating machine in his hand. He suddenly shoves three of his fingers into his mouth, gathering his spit onto them before brushing them along your hole.

The rose already has you super wet so it’s easy for him to slide his digits right in, getting to work on finding your spongy spot, the very spot that he always curls into and gets you cumming.

With the addition of Sunghoon’s fingers, your eyes roll to the back of your head, only the whites of your eyes visible. It’s intense and you’re going to cum so hard over his fingers you might genuinely be spent after this one orgasm.

Like a crash, you cry out his name, chanting a few swear words for punctuation as you cum. Your clit throbs and puffs out as you orgasm, only making the toy have more to suck and pulse onto. It’s like heaven and hell all came at once, not sure if the pleasure outdoes the pain or vice versa. To be fair, the pain isn’t excruciating, you just feel yourself being overstimulated by the rosebud and Sunghoon’s fingers which isn’t a bad thing, just takes some time to adjust.

Sunghoon’s fingers thrust into you fast, each time he drags it out, more of your essence is left on the hotel covers, painting them a darker shade of ivory. He thinks it’s a waste, how the bedsheets get to soak up your juices when it should be his tongue, but he can’t change up the pace now, your body speaking the words you can’t. You’re enjoying this far too much.

“Sunghoon, please!” you whine while your body instinctively tries to retreat from his touch to find relief.

“You want something, baby?” he asks so innocently, his fingers still thrusting into you with velocity, “Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

He sits on his knees, looking down at you to wait for your response, one he knows will take all your strength to muster. You’re a sight to behold; eyes screwed shut as you try to work through the overstimulation yet your mouth breathing out loud moans.

“Cock,” is the only word you can say, so drunk on the pleasure that you’re practically dumb in lust, not a thought in your brain other than getting fucked by Sunghoon’s thick cock.

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, “You want my cock?” your boyfriend’s ego is already big but when he gets you into bed, it increases tenfold. He adores that you want him and his body just as much as he wants yours.

“Fuck, yes, Hoonie, please,” you beg, trying to remove both his hands so he’ll just slip into you.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he says huskily, his heart swelling in his chest with pride.

However, what you want him to do is remove the toy with his fingers, which is clearly a pipe dream since the next thing that happens makes you scream.

His fingers are replaced with his long cock, but he doesn’t remove the toy from your aching nub, rather, moving it even more directly over you, dancing it along with your body as you try to get away. He’s being so cruel to you, causing this torment of excessive stimulation.

Sunghoon doesn’t see it that way though, he knows when you finally relax and ride through the burning, you’ll be begging him to keep going. Also, with every thrust of his cock into your tight pussy, he gets a jolt of vibration hitting the end of his shaft, giving him a new sense of pleasure.

He hasn’t ever used toys on himself, his hand and you being all he needs, but he might just have to find a few new ways to incorporate some toys into the mix. Perhaps he can convince you to let him use a massager in the future.

Jackhammering into you, he throws his head back, getting lost in the feeling of your walls slamming down on him. Your body is busily thrashing beneath him, only giving the tip of his member new areas to get in amongst.

“You feel so fucking good, Sweets,” he groans out, only going faster and deeper into you. The toy is an excellent companion, however, it’s limiting his horsepower, wishing he could just bend you in half and drive into you with no mercy.

Finally, he takes the flower from your clit, and your body instantly relaxes. The cold air whisking over your hot pussy is like breathing in fresh air after being in a stuffy room for too long; it’s heaven.

It doesn’t take Sunghoon long to find a new purpose for it though, placing it over one of your hardened nipples, “Hold that there for me, baby,” he asks, making sure that your nipple is full inside the hole of the toy. You feel the vibrating all the way up to your jaw, but you oblige, anything for him to fuck you like he always does.

Getting into a new position, he finds a new harsher rhythm, his pointed thrusts snapping into you with the purpose of getting you both off. Sunghoon’s entire body is rocking, the bed squeaking lousy under you both, only drowned out by the clusters of your moans.

Before you know it, you’re cumming again, this time, you think you’re going to squirt all over him, the feeling of release far too intense to be a normal few sprits that will coat his cock. Instead, you roar loudly, like no noise you’ve ever made before, one of those groans that comes straight from your toes and through your chest. You lose grip of the toy and focus on finding anything to anchor onto, scared you might float away with your second climax.

Hearing you cry out erupts a drive in him, his hips moving into you just as you like it. Flinging your legs over his shoulders, he grabs both of your hands in his and piledrives into you, his lips finding yours in a fevered kiss.

You can tell he’s close too, the heavy rise and fall in his chest a dead giveaway. His cock is leaking cum into you in short bursts, causing his hips to jerk quickly into you, almost like he’s trying to make sure his dick is stuck inside you as deep as it can possibly go.

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, a little bit of drool falling from his lips which you gladly lick up before slipping your tongue into his mouth. Sunghoon can’t stop cumming inside you, each time he thinks he’s finished, a few more ropes escape him.

You can feel both of your cum running down your ass cheeks, the escaping liquid running hot as Sunghoon musters up any energy he has left to hold himself above you, “I think I might have set a new record for how much cum can spill from a man,” he laughs, giving you eskimo kisses.

Reaching over, you turn the rose toy off, leaving the room filled with only your intertwined heavy breaths and laughter. You feel so happy in this moment that you could honestly die happily right now.

Sunghoon climbs off you, pulling you up with him, leaving a gentle his on your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom to find something to clean you both with. You lean over the bed, finding one of his t-shirts sitting in his suitcase and putting it on your spent body. The best part of spending any form of time with Sunghoon is stealing his clothes.

Walking back in with a face cloth, he wipes your pussy and thighs down, his fingers fishing out any cum remnants left. The sudden curling of his finger makes you clench again, “Sorry, Sweets. That was just a lot of cum, need to make sure it’s all out,” he whispers.

“I’ll go pee, that’ll help,” you say back, pushing him away to give you a pathway off the bed to excuse yourself to the toilet.

While you’re in there, he tidies up and puts on some fresh boxers, his cock still softening from the intensity of the fucking it just had. As he picks up the rose toy he smiles, chucking it into his case with a promise to use it at least once more before you leave.

“Tomorrow is a big day, huh?” your voice travels from the bathroom as you wash your hands.

“I suppose so,” Sunghoon responds, a little too nonchalant.

He should be nervous, it’s a massive competition that is broadcast to thousands. Sure, he has done this a few times but surely with the ankle injury, he should be a bit apprehensive about going out there.

You climb onto the bed and sit on his lap, arms circling his neck, “Why don’t you seem worried about this?” you ask, playing with the ends of his dampened hair.

In response, he shrugs, “I’m the number one skater, why should I be?” This isn’t his normal cocky attitude, this is something else. He knows something that he’s not telling you.

And you’ll be damned if you’re kept in the dark about another thing.

“Tell me the truth, Sunghoon. We promised not to lie to one another anymore.”

“It’s not lying if I just withhold information,” he replies, his lips trying to distract you as they pepper kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

But you push him away before you do get too into it, “That wasn’t the case when I ‘withheld information’ about Minhee breaking your skate,” you retort, hating to bring up the past but when push comes to shove, you’ll do it.

Closing his eyes, he nods in understanding. Sunghoon knows you’re right, you don’t deserve to be in the dark, “I’m throwing the competition tomorrow.”

The room goes quiet as you process his words. At this moment, you feel a sense of burden creeping back onto your body, “What do you mean throwing it? You haven’t lost a competition like this since you turned 16.” He isn’t the Nation’s best skater for nothing, he’s proved time and time again that he’s not to be underestimated.

Suddenly, the conversation with his mum pops back into your head for some reason. Her lack of acknowledgement of Sunghoon’s talents must have been with him for so long - fuck, they might still be with him. Maybe he’s throwing it in defiance?

He sees you think it over and over before he finally interjects, “I’ll still place top 3, Sweets. I’m just making sure he comes first, that’s all.”

“Why would you do that? You know if he finds out, he’ll be livid.” You can’t imagine Minhee ever wishing Sunghoon to yield it so easily, your brother worked too hard to perfect his routine to win by some giveaway.

“Okay,” he breathes out, knowing this conversation is about to get a little difficult, “We both decided it, actually. That day we went into the coach's office? Yeah, that’s what he wanted to talk to me about.”

“You want me to what?” Sunghoon asks, accompanied by a scoff.

Minhee bites his tongue from making any rash comment, needing the other skater on his side for his plan to work, “I want you to throw Nationals.”

Letting a venomous laugh out, Sunghoon shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re seriously asking me to purposefully lose at Nationals after everything you’ve done to me? To Y/N? You can forget it.”

Storming off, Sunghoon can barely reach the door before Minhee swings him back around to face him, a fire in his eyes that Sunghoon has never seen before, “Look, this isn’t for me. It’s for Y/N.”

“Yeah of cours-”

“Let me fucking finish, Park,” Minhee snaps, his voice raised and arm gripping Sunghoon a little rougher, “Y/N told you about our mum, how she has stakes on me winning?” he waits to make sure you did actually have such a conversation with your boyfriend, to which Sunghoon nods, waiting for your brother to continue, “If I win, she gets a boat load of money, it’s all illegal and there are rules and stakes that I don’t even know the full detail of but either way, she’s playing it dirty with some big bosses. She took money from some guys to put the bets on, y’know?”

Minhee’s explanation isn’t convincing his counterpart, wondering where you come into this, “I don’t hear Y/N’s name in this. If your mum has a gambling addiction, that’s between her and the guys she’s fucking over, not my girl.”

“The bets are in Y/N’s name.”

“What?” Sunghoon yanks his arm from his grasp, stepping back a little, “You mean she’s tied up in all of this?”

Nodding, Minhee feels the familiar boil of rage within him. He still can’t fully comprehend how his mother could do this to you, she is meant to look after you, not cause you harm, “I know, it’s fucked. If mum loses these bets, guess who everyone is going to be gunning for?”

Sunghoon’s heart quickens, the thought of you being in danger is making him feel sick and the words hang heavily in the air between the two people who love you the most. Your entanglement within this mess of a web was the last thing Sunghoon thought Minhee would say.

“So if you win, and she gets the money…”

“Then they get their cut. Happy days, my sister is no longer in danger,” Minhee rubs his temples, trying to give his brain a moment to gather itself before he divulges the rest, “I’m telling you this because I know you love her and as I said, you’d be doing this for her.”

There is so much to think about that Sunghoon’s brain is sparking out a little, but one thing is for certain, he is going to do everything in his power to protect you, “Fine. I’ll lose. But how do we know your mum won’t do something else?”

“I don’t,” Minhee confesses truthfully. He has no idea if she’ll even give the men their cut once he wins, “I’m gonna tell her that I know about her gambling and the illegality of it all, hope that scares her enough to not try and fuck any of us over, y’know?”

“That’s all you’re going to do? The love of my life is out there with a target on her back and you’re just going with a presumption that she’ll back off by a threat?” There is steam coming from Sunghoon’s head and his fists are balled up in rage. This isn’t something to be taken lightly.

Minhee holds in his frustration, knowing Sunghoon is only looking out for you, but the lack of faith in him is making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool, “She might be your girlfriend, but she’s my sister, alright. I have been doing everything in my willpower to keep her safe since we were little…Listen, I know my mum, she’s scared and I can see it. She’s way deeper into this than she knows how to deal with, she wants that money and to get away from those gambling sharks, yeah? My mum won’t do anything like this again, I feel it.”

It’s a hunch, a loose, untrusted huch, but it’s all he’s got. He just wants to protect you right here and now. If your mum stoops low enough to bring you back into a mess like this, he’ll sort it when the time comes.

Seeing Minhee’s resolve, the raven-haired boy retracts, calming down. He knows Minhee is trying his best, and if he can keep you out of immediate danger by coming in second at a competition, he will gladly do it.

You sit still, processing the bomb that has just been dropped on you. The gambles being in your name is something you had no idea about, hence why they probably didn’t tell you about this grand plan.

What does someone even do in this situation?

Sunghoon rubs your arm reassuringly, trying to get you to speak or even make a noise of acknowledgement. He can’t imagine how difficult it must be to hear this for the first time but he knew that he couldn’t tell you; if he let you in on Minhee and his secret, you would have tried to solve the problem yourself, to help everyone else in the situation as best you can, and he couldn’t watch you do that, not when none of this was your fault.

“Don’t throw it,” you say firmly.

Sunghoon freezes, his hand stilling on your arm as he looks at you, surprise evident in his eyes. He hadn't expected those to be the first words to break the heavy silence that enveloped the room, “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you crazy?”

Perhaps you are, but you can’t watch anyone sacrifice their livelihood, especially a chance of gold at Nationals, just for you. It’s selfish, on both your part and your mother's. No, you didn’t ask to be put in this situation, but there was something you could do now.

Unfortunately, this is what Sunghoon was afraid of.

“You saw Minhee’s skate, he’s phenomenal. I want him to win this properly,” you confess quietly, still struggling with the information relayed to you only minutes ago.

“What about your mum? Sweets, this is a full-proof plan to get you both away from your mum, to let you both live without her mess,” his left hand cradles your cheek as he moves closer to you, as if hearing the solution from a closer distance would suddenly help change your mind.

It won’t, you’re determined to have this conversation end your way the only option forward is, “Please, Hoonie. If he loses, we will deal with it…but I believe in Mini so much, especially after seeing the rehearsal a few weeks ago. I want him to know he can win this on his own merit.” Your eyes search for any ounce of understanding.

Sunghoon's brow furrows in frustration, his mind racing with the weight of the decision before you both. He wants nothing more than to protect you, to shield you from harm, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to upset you and go against your wishes.

Taking a deep breath, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his embrace offering silent reassurance and support. "Okay," he says finally, his voice tinged with resignation. "We'll do it your way. I won’t throw the competition but ONLY if he does well. He’s on before me on the card so I’ll make the call then,” he can barely believe he’s agreeing to this.

A mixture of relief and fear wash over you. You understand the gravity of his concession, knowing that it's not an easy decision for him to make. It fills you with gratitude that he actually listened to you.

"Thank you, Hoonie," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you lean into his embrace, seeking solace in his comforting presence. "I promise, we'll figure this out together. And Minhee... he'll do amazing, I just know it.”

The belief you have in your brother is something Sunghoon only wished for growing up, seeing how determined you are to make sure Minhee knows he’s talented enough to win and solve this mess by just being good at what he does makes your boyfriend a little envious. He knows why Minhee is so protective of you, but now seeing how you protect and only do the right thing for one another, putting your sibling before anything else, it’s admirable.

“What time is he on?” you ask, twiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“2:35pm. I’m on at 3:45pm so I’ll see the scores and whatever in plenty of time to determine what to do.” There is a new sense of life in Sunghoon, certain that no matter what happens tomorrow, he’s going to make sure you and Minhee walk out happily, with no worries perched on your shoulders.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen angst #melting point #aj writes

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ma1dita · 4 months

Text

lovers, or partners in crime

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 2.1k

summary: (post-tlt) directly after ‘if you need to be mean (be mean to me)’, The one where Annabeth and Percy think you're guilty too. You realize his betrayal a little too late, and he's left you looking like an accomplice. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: eye twitches guys im gonna crank out happy asks after this bc this hurt to the point of me delaying it a few days. drink water and take care luke nation

(posted 2/2/24 & betad by ellie and lari ty ladies mwah @lixzey @mrsaluado )

—

Exhaustion creeps up on you slowly, then all at once.

It’s been a long week at Camp Half Blood—with trying to stop a war from starting between the cabins and praying to the gods that the trio can stop everyone’s godrents from destroying the balance of the world, you could say you were kept busy making sure the place doesn’t go up in flames.

Taking orders from Chiron and your dad has been your daily routine from sunrise to sundown, and you were glad to have Luke’s arms to fall into at the end of the night. But you woke up alone this morning, and a heavy feeling in your chest that’s been plaguing you for a while now feels more prominent as you drag your boots across camp for another long day.

Exhaustion blinds us and dulls the senses, but so does love. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was taking effect.

How long were you willing to ignore the signs in front of you?

Maybe it was just another bad day. Your mind felt like it was playing tricks on you, still in a haze from Luke keeping you up the night before, the feeling of his touch still lingering in your pores—evidence of eyebags and lovebites carefully hidden under concealer. You find yourself almost walking in a dream state, before Katie calls out to you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Did you hear? Annabeth’s back. It’s all gonna be over soon,” she exclaims, and the both of you sigh in relief. You’d do anything to get this over with and take a long break. The idea of a long weekend with Luke somewhere, anywhere but here sounds like Elysium in comparison to what you’ve put yourselves through recently.

“You see Luke anywhere, Katie?”

She hums, her hand reaching out to fix some of the trampled foliage along the path, before she looks up at you, shaking her head.

“Not this morning, no. Maybe he’s with Annabeth?”

You nod thoughtfully, stretching your arms back to soothe the tension in your back. You’ll find him sooner or later, now that this is all over.

You always do.

—-

“Clarisse stole the master bolt.”

Your fingers wound themselves tighter around Luke’s at Percy’s declaration, but you can’t help but watch your boyfriend’s face closely as the rest of the conversation passes in the background. It’s been a weird day, to say the least—helping to set up for Percy’s celebration, and Luke being tightlipped and distant the whole while. You don’t think he’s actually said a single word to you since last night until he dragged you into his cabin to see Annie and Percy.

“Everyone was ready to join the war here. To start fighting each other. An accusation against Clarisse…” you reason awkwardly, more of a question than a statement. Standing here with your friends, you feel like the odd one out. How could you miss out on Clarisse being the lightning thief? But Luke looks at the two kids in front of you as determined as the devil himself.

He knew.

He spares you a sidelong glance, a smile quirking up on the scarred side of his face.

When did Luke start making plans without you?

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, tranquility comes off of you in waves; you barely notice that Luke drops your hand until you hear him speak again.

“You’ve stopped the war. You’ve saved the world. Now, it’s safe to tell Chiron and finish cleaning up the mess. I told him we needed to meet him away from the celebration so we can talk without any of Clarisse’s supporters noticing.” Luke crosses his arms, trying to avoid the reach of your powers and your scorching stare while his gaze is sharp on Percy, and suddenly, the heavy feeling in your chest has a name, revealing itself as doubt.

How could you be so stupid?

Eyes don’t lie, even if Luke does, and you finally see through him, so much that you fear you’ve found his other side.

Annabeth grabs your hand, your head whipping to look at her as she speaks, “We’ll keep an eye on Clarisse while you’re gone. Make sure she isn’t going anywhere.” You feel your body shake with paranoia as you start to question everything until the daughter of Athena pulls you back to the present. Taking quick steps out of cabin 11, you take a glance back at Luke, seeing him look glumly at you from the doorway, and it reminds you of a simpler time five years ago, with him standing in the same spot he introduced himself to you on his first day at camp. This time, you don’t walk away.

“I’ll find you later, I…I just need to talk to Luke real quick,” you say biting your lip hesitantly. Annabeth’s gaze is cold as steel as she nods, doubt now running through her as well as she watches you walk back to your boyfriend. You catch him by the arm as he tries to glide past you.

“Hey, are you okay?” You’re searching for an answer Luke will never give you, not out loud—as he dodges your glances, keeping a distance between you two.

“Come on, I’ve gotta go,” he gruffs, anxiety running off of him in waves as his hands fidget at his sides. The sun is setting, and he needs to finish what he was told to do.

“We still have a bit of ti—” He interrupts you swiftly,“Not enough.”

“I know you’re always in charge around here, but not everything can go the way we want, you know?”

Your lips turn into a frown at his words, and you wonder who it is you’re talking to. Surely, not the boy whose arms you fell asleep in last night. You used to be able to figure him out so easily, but now… he’s acting like you’re an enemy. The banter he deals doesn’t usually make you feel like you’re at the short end of a stick, and though he’s right in front of you, it feels like his mind is already miles away. You’re desperate to hold onto whatever you can though, not wanting to let go of whatever’s plaguing him.

“Angelface. Look at me. Percy’s a hero, everything else will fix itself, why are you so—”

Luke sighs, blinking slowly, and you’re surprised when he pulls your hands to his chest, placing them under his camp beads, so you stop speaking.

You never know when the last time is until it happens. You didn’t think it’d feel like this.

“I need to do this.”

He’s not talking about turning in Clarisse anymore, and your body reacts before your mind does, surging forward to hug him. Your fingers run up the expanse of his back, the smell of citrus and musk being familiar but the discomfort in his embrace is not. From here, you can’t see his eyes, but his heart rate accelerates as he wounds his hands in your hair, pulling you closer until the space between you is nonexistent.

“Please,” he mumbles.

Is it a request?

The shock runs through your veins as you try to think of what to say next—Luke’s never been one to beg.

“I’d do anything to protect our home, Luke, you don’t have to convince me when it’s the right thing to do.”

Your name falls from his lips, almost like he disagrees with what you said, and then you realize he’s begging you.

He’s asking for your permission. He’s asking you to let him go.

“You’re my home, trouble. You know that right? You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

You try to nod, try to pull away to look at him but he presses you harder into his embrace, like he knows he won’t have the chance again. It hurts, though not in the way you expect.

“L-Luke, you’re hurting me.” Your breath quickens as you try to unravel yourself from him, but you’re unsure where he ends and you begin.

“Just a little bit longer.”

Your nose buries itself into his neck, and you realize he’s trembling, but you can’t figure out who’s scared, him or you? Voices are echoing in your head and it’s too loud; you clench your fists into his orange camp shirt. Why do you always need to see the proof to believe it’s real? Why do you have to wait until the damage is done?

“I have to do this, trouble. Everything will change and there’s no other way— either we win or we die. Failure isn’t an option for me. Not again.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one,” you mutter, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face the truth for a while more, “but I still love you, despite it.”

Despite this.

A watery chuckle escapes you, and his hands are trembling as he pushes a strand of your hair back. He holds onto you more softly now, and whether you know it or not, it’s to make up for all the time he’ll have to go without holding you after this. Percy calls out to him in the distance and once Luke frees you from his arms, you wonder why it feels like you’re unraveling at the seams, slowly parting from him. The tether you have on each other loosens, and it’s hard to tell who is being freed, and who is letting go. Luke walks away wordlessly, curls bouncing in the brisk air without a second glance until you call out to him.

“I’ll find you!”

A threat disguised as a promise, you stand there in the middle of the path feeling exposed as the wretched little girl at your core, desperate to be loved, desperate to be enough.

But it’s not enough for him to stay, now is it?

—-

The truth is, Luke broke your heart before you even lost him, by hitting you where it hurts— he hit home. Camp Half-Blood has always been the one place you’ve known as home, and even if you claim to hate it—you’d die protecting it if that’s what was needed of you. You stay vigilant next to Annabeth, who looks up at your unusually quiet demeanor, and you feel like you have to confess to a crime that you didn’t commit.

“Luke’s leaving camp.”

She nods stiffly without answering you, wondering if you know about what else he’s done, too. Unlike you though, she’d rather find out before the damage is done.

The sun had set an hour ago, and fireworks were going off in the distance, everyone celebrating a hero’s return. You noticed Clarisse still sitting around the campfire with her siblings, Chiron still present and watching the festivities, and what had to be your last straw was noticing Annabeth had disappeared from your side. So you do what you do best, chase after Luke, and hope that you’re not too late.

Your breath heaves as you run through the dark forest without a single plan in mind and hoping, just hoping that no one’s hurt. You run faster towards the sound of swords clanging against each other, two figures illuminated by the fireworks in the distance.

What you didn’t expect to see was Luke’s sword pointed at an injured son of Poseidon sprawled out in the dirt.

“Percy!” your voice yells out shakily, your instincts kicking in as the truth is laid out in front of you, something darker and much worse than anything you could’ve imagined. Blue light illuminates the scarred side of your boyfriend’s face as he turns to look at you with shimmering eyes, and you see Annabeth with her sword raised at…the both of you.

Is this what love is…looking at a person who’s hurt you and still hoping they’re alright? You’re exhausted, wondering how long he’s been lying to your face—while he holds you, kisses you, and takes your pain away… and it all amounted to feeling guilty for letting his deception slip through your fingers and hurting the people you love.

Luke’s scar you used to compare to a bolt of lightning now looks like a tear cascading from regret. And perhaps he does regret this, losing Annabeth and losing you, but he never turns back on his word once he’s made a decision.

This one was just made without you.

There’s a moment where everything goes silent despite the booming in the sky and you both take one last good look at each other, and Percy and Annabeth are unsure if you two look like forlorn lovers, or partners in crime.

“Castellan…”

His face hardens again at the wavering sound of your voice, almost unrecognizable in the dim light, and you know now that this is it. You’ve always been convinced that a love like the one you and Luke share is tailor-made and stitched together by the Fates. But the strings are cut, and like Atropos, he’s the one holding the scissors.

The last thing you see are his dark eyes and how he turns to run away, headfirst into a future without you.

For a second you could’ve sworn they flashed gold.

—

“I wanted to hurt you

but the victory is that I could not stomach it.”

-Richard Siken

next part: love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse

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moonsgemini · 6 months

Text

style - rafe cameron

summary: Everyone knew who Rafe Cameron was, and what things he was capable of. He was always partying, getting high, or plastered. Always had a girl under his arm swooning over him, but somehow he had crossed paths with you. You were the complete opposite of him, you were sweet and innocent in your short skirts and long eyelashes. Getting involved with Rafe was the last thing you expected to ever do but you’ve always liked cliches.

warnings: 18+ only, fem reader, fluff, smut, mentions of insecurities, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, mentions of cheating kinda, lots of praise as always, cussing, Rafe being the hottest ever, mentions of drugs, alcohol

word count: 3.6k

authors note: this is inspired by style by taylor obvi. Literally obsessed with this idea & obsessed with taylor.

masterlist - rafe’s version

You paced around your room, trying to keep your footsteps light so you didn’t wake your parents. They’d definitely have some questions if they found you awake in the middle of the night dressed to go out. It was because you were going out, you think. You had been waiting for rafe for about thirty minutes now, he said he’d be here at midnight but of course he wasn’t. You don’t know why you continued to act surprised at the things he did, which included keeping you waiting. You hadn’t seen him or really heard from him for almost two weeks now.

Barely a phone call and maybe two texts from Rafe is all you had gotten from him the last two weeks. You had missed him more than you’d ever admit. He had finally called in the morning asking to meet like you guys usually did before he practically ghosted you. He promised an explanation and you definitely needed one to ease your mind.

Rafe had become an intricate part of your life, a part that was your own little secret. He made you feel seen, unlike everyone else in your life. You could never tell him that, you felt like he’d end things or worse he’d feel the same. Then everything would get even more complicated.

Ever since you and Rafe started this game of sneaking around and some days almost hoping to get caught. At least that’s how you felt. Sometimes you wanted to get caught straddling him in his truck. With your hair messy and your lipgloss all over Rafe’s lips. Then maybe you and Rafe could be a real couple and do real couple things. But at the same time you were terrified of what everyone would think.

Not because you were embarrassed of Rafe or anything like that, but you knew people would talk. They already started to when people saw you two together the first time you hung out. It had started a wildfire of rumors and speculation.

They’d say how could Rafe be with someone so boring. How could he pick you and not them. You knew there’d be whispers about how you don’t party enough to be with Rafe or you’re not pretty enough to be with the prince of outer banks. Or worse they’d think she’s sleeping with him for coke and all of a sudden she’s a drug addict.

Your mind was pulled away from your thoughts as your phone started vibrating on your nightstand. Rafe’s name and contact picture lighting up the screen. It was a picture you had taken a few weeks ago in the back of his truck. He looked so hot you couldn’t resist, you would have been ashamed of taking a picture of him if he hadn’t taken one of you a couple weeks before that. You two were on the beach in an area people never went to, the sun was setting and the sky was the perfect shade of blue.

You had your knees up to your chest and your arms resting over them, as your head laid on your arms turned towards him. He grinned slightly before pulling out his phone to point it at her. He mumbled the word pretty as he took the picture, a smile forming on your face which made him take another picture. He always did things like that. The type of things that made you question everything.

You picked up your phone bringing it up to your ear, ready to hear his excuse. It always went this way with you two.

“Hello,” you mumbled trying not to be too loud.

“I’m outside, I’m so sorry I’m late. My dad started talking to me and I couldn’t get out of it,” He huffed. It was the truth Ward had caught him on his way out and started berating him for his irresponsibility and immaturity for thirty minutes.

You rolled you eyes not sure if you should believe him yet, “hmm okay I’m coming.” He definitely knew that you were skeptical of him.

You grabbed your purse and walked as quietly as possible down the stairs after shutting your door quietly. You made it to the sliding doors to the backyard, you easily slipped out and headed around the house.

Once you were past the side gate you could see his truck parked across the street. He had the windows down and he was looking at you with a small smirk on his face. You hoped it was because of your outfit, you did pick it out with him in mind.

Opening the passenger door and quickly getting in before something woke up your parents. You turned towards him trying not to let a grin overtake your lips. He was just so handsome you could never stay mad at him. You knew you shouldn’t be here, you always told yourself that but here you were back again.

“Hi princess,” He smirked breaking the silence.

You lightly scoffed, “Hi Rafe, it’s a little late no?” you tilt your head slightly as your suspicions haven’t eased.

He turned the truck on, “I’m sorry I was late. I promise I was leaving on time and my dad was in the kitchen and started talking to me. Just kept going on about stupid bullshit, he wouldn’t let me leave.”

You knew how things were with his dad, it wasn’t much of a secret how Ward Cameron treated his eldest child. He looks over at you with a small hint of sadness behind his eyes as he clenches his jaw. Your features soften slightly, but you can’t help that itch of suspicion.

“You promise?” You asked your voice coming out a bit shaky. He had begun driving to their usual spot. It was in between the trees by the beach. It was secluded at night.

“Of course,” You usually weren’t this insistent on finding out the reason why he was late so he had begun to get suspicious himself, “Is something bothering you princess?”

You shrugged as you looked down tugging on your skirt. You felt stupid for even feeling this way, it’s not like the two of you were dating. You shouldn’t care so much. It was hard not to care when you had feelings for someone.

“Come on, you can tell me anything,” He pushed placing his right hand over your thigh giving it a gentle squeeze. He always knew how to get you to do anything he wanted. Rafe hated when there were things on your mind because he never wanted you to have to worry about anything. Especially if it was something about him.

“I’ve heard the rumors Rafe,” You mumbled looking at him as he parked the truck between the palm trees.

He looked at you confused, “What rumors?”

You rolled your eyes out of embarrassment for yourself, “You know the ones of you and Gia.” You felt pathetic for being jealous and hurt when the two of you had never even talked about what you were. Were you dating or was this just a casual hook up. Even if it never felt like just a casual hookup.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Two weeks ago. At a party. I heard from someone that the two of you went upstairs together. Then this past weekend Willow said she heard Gia talk about how great you are in bed,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you thought about Rafe being with another girl. It made your skin crawl with envy.

He smirked, “You’re jealous. You thought I was late because of another girl.” He was putting all the pieces together.

You huffed, “No! and I don’t even hear you denying the rumors.”

“They’re not true. I promise you, you really think I’d be with someone like Gia?” he scoffed and lightly chuckled. It seemed like he was trying to manipulate you but he was actually telling the truth.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes actually I do think you would.” you crossed your arms as you gave him a pointed look.

“You’re right, but I wouldn’t do anything with her because of,” He sighed running his hand over his hair.

“Because of what Rafe?” You really hoped he would say because of you.

“Why do you even care?” He asked trying to change the subject so he didn’t have to talk about his feelings.

“You’re so fucking dense,” you spat, “and where have you been the last two weeks? I get that this is whatever it is but I would appreciate a heads up or an update if you’re going to go m.i.a. I was worried something happened.”

He hated that you cared about him so much. It made it so much harder for him to want things to be casual. Rafe felt like you were the only person that’s ever actually cared for him and not just for his money and drugs but actually cared about him. He couldn’t tell you that he would never hook up with Gia, or anyone else actually, because they’s not you. To Rafe no one could ever compare to y/n, you were everything he needed but felt like he didn’t deserve it.

“My dad asked me to go to the Bahamas with him. It was a last minute trip and it was meetings after meetings. I didn’t have time to talk to anyone, I-I’m really trying here to be better with him. With everything. And all that Gia shit, she came up to me at that party and asked for some coke. I told her I don’t do that shit anymore but she wouldn’t shut the fuck up,” He sighed hoping you were believing him because it was the truth, “I knew I had a little left in Toppers guest room so I went to get it and she followed me. We were in there for two minutes max. But I guess now she’s telling the whole fucking island lies.”

You sighed and muttered, “I should have never trusted Jada.”

Rafe smirked knowing he was getting back on your good graces, “She does tend to start shit.”

“I wasn’t jealous by the way,” You crossed your arms over your chest making your boobs practically spill over your top. Of course Rafe’s blue eyes flicked down towards the cleavage, feeling appreciative of the little amount of clothing you wore.

That lopsided smirk never leaving his lips, “Sure you weren’t baby.”

“Why would I be jealous of someone getting to do it with you in a bed,” That jealousy you were denying was seeping through your words.

“Oh I see,” Rafe sat up straighter at his realization. You were jealous not just because you thought he had slept with someone else but because it was in a bed. The two of you only ever really hung out in Rafe’s truck late at night.

It was an agreement between the two of you to keep your rendezvous a secret. Rafe had a reputation and so did you. Unlike Rafe’s your reputation was one that hadn’t been tainted but drugs and irresponsible spending. You were valedictorian of Kildare Academy and were going to Chapel Hill majoring in environmental sciences. Whenever you went to parties you tried not to drink too much so people couldn’t spread any rumors. You didn’t hook up with anyone besides the one boyfriend you had in high school.

Of course you knew who Rafe was and he knew you. He never tried anything in high school because of your boyfriend and even when you broke up with him he didn’t think he deserved you. He was well into his addiction and knew that was something you wouldn’t tolerate. He got clean and changed, his exterior became even harder.

At parties he didn’t drink as much anymore and just stayed with his group of friends. Occasionally he’d hook up with a touron someone he’d never have to see again. That’s why when you told him about Gia he felt angry. He’d never sleep with anyone from this town expect for you.

You didn’t attend many parties in Outer Banks after you went off to college. You’d come home every Thursday to spend the weekends with your family. If your friends were also in town you’d all go to a party and that’s where Rafe would saw you for the first time after he had gotten clean.

Everything about you felt untouchable, something he was drawn to. He liked how you didn’t pay attention to guys that went up to you and you didn’t drink too much. He also liked how you were shy but not afraid to stand up for yourself. He saw you a few times before he finally went up to you.

You had heard how he’d changed and had noticed the difference. He looked healthier, even more attractive if possible. You were blind to his charm and good looks. At first you were hesitant about giving him your number but did it anyways. You two talked for a bit and when he was in Chapel Hill for a business thing he took you out.

You weren’t one to hook up on the first date but he was different. So different that you both couldn’t even wait to get back to his hotel room and did it in the back seat of his truck. The way he made your body react made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

But then people started talking. People who they went to high school with who also went to UNC saw their date and opened their big mouths. Your friends berated you for going out with someone so horrible. Rafe’s friends gave him a pat on the back and started talking about her in a disrespectful way that he didn’t like. They made Rafe feel like you were too good for him and maybe he was corrupting you and tainting everything you had built for yourself.

That’s when you both came to an agreement to keep things a secret and casual. Only seeing each other when you were both in town. But you still talked almost every day. Rafe often called you at night to tell you about his day and hear about yours. It was a weird complicated relationship. It’s why you guys are where you are right now.

“What do you see?” You asked a bit of annoyance in your voice because of course he can read you like a book.

He crossed his arms over his chest. Your eyes immediately looking down at the width of his arms, her breath hitching at the veins that popped out. “You don’t like that we always do it in the car.”

You rolled your eyes mumbling, “Well no one loves it every time.”

He studied you knowing you were getting nervous as you picked at the chipping polish on your nails, “Then let’s go on my dad’s boat.”

You looked up at him with furrowed brows, “You’re not scared of getting caught?”

He shrugged starting his truck again, “No.”

Rafe locked the sliding door behind him. He didn’t care about being caught but he felt like you did. He turned on the lightas dimming them to where they were barely glowing. He still wanted light to see you, to see everything.

He had missed everything about you while going from meeting to meeting. At night in his room before bed his mind would wander off to your soft thighs and full lips. His hand would wander down his chest and stomach, palming himself over his sweatpants. Imagining it was your smaller hand instead. But his imagination never compared to the real thing.

It never compared to you standing in front of him and unbuttoning your cardigan. Your excuse was that it was hot in there, to be fair it was the middle of summer and you were wearing a long sleeve. The heat added a glowing sheen to your skin. He wanted to lick every part of you. Rafe stared at you like a predator eyeing up his prey. You loved having his attention. It made you feel desires, something he never failed at.

“It’s hot,” You practically whispered as he stepped closer.

He hummed in agreement undoing two more buttons of his shirt. He felt himself get harder as you looked up at him through your lashes. Now that he was closer you had to look up at him.

He reached forward and brushed his fingers over her shoulders pushing her hair behind her, “Just because I didn’t call doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about you,” he confessed.

You grinned, “You were?”

He nodded, “Course,” he leaned forward cupping your face with his lips brushing against yours, “Always thinking about you.”

He leaned forward pressing his mouth against hers. They both sighed as if they could breathe for the first time.

He kissed you with fervor wanting to savor every taste, sound, and feeling. His hands traveled from your hair down to your waist. Your hands scratched at his scalp, letting him know he was doing everything right.

His kisses moved down to your neck whilst walking you backwards towards the en suite. Your back opened the door and Rafe closed it behind him with his foot. He pulled away from you looking down at your outfit. He but his lip with a toothy smirk, his eyes alone devouring you.

His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, “Did you dress up for me baby?”

Your body burned under his stare. You weren’t a fan of having people’s attention but you loved having his. You nodded your head slowly answering his question.

“Yeah?” He walked you back until you felt the bed against your legs, “Can’t use your words?”

“It’s all for you Rafey,” You batted your lashes at him as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

He hummed smirking before getting on his knees. There isn’t anyone else in this world that would have Rafe Cameron on his knees but you. He slid his hands up your thighs kneading at the flesh. He could get suffocated between them any day and would die a happy man.

His hands pushed your skirt up, raising your hips so he could push it over your hips. You were wearing that pink lacey set he liked the most. The one of many sets he bought you in Milan when he went on a trip.

“You’re so sexy,” He mumbled as he pushed your legs up so your feet were flat on the bed. You laid back holding yourself up on your elbows so you could still watch him. He looked like a starved man and it was making you wetter by the second.

No matter where you guys did it somehow Rafe always managed to take his time and indulge you. You were art to him.

His fingers began tracing the edges of the lace that barely covered your heat. You whined quietly hoping go encourage him to do more. He looked up at you through hooded eyes. He pressed his finger against your clit and watched as your back arched and wyes closed in pleasure.

He placed two fingers over your clit and moved them un slow circles, “This what you want princess?”

You nodded your head furiously, “More Rafey please.” Your whiny tone had him rock hard it was almost painful.

“Like this my love,” He smirked and picked up his speed while taking a finger from his other hand to tease your entrance. Pressing into it through the fabric.

Rafe was mesmorized by how soaked your panties had gotten, “God you’re an angel. So perfect and so wet,” He growled before removing his hands.

You didn’t even have time to whine about the loss of contact before he was roughly tearing your underwear off. Not wanting to waste time in getting repositioned. You gasped at the tearing sound and as soon as you looked down Rafe was latching on to your clit. You moaned loudly throwing your head back. Your hands reached for his short strands of hair, scratching at his scalp as his tongue dipped into your entrance.

The sounds of his sucking and licking making you impossibly wetter. His tongue was magic with the way he circled your clit and sucked causing that warm feeling in your stomach. Your reached up to take your shirt off tossing it to the side. Now you were on full display for him since you chose not to wear a bra.

Rafe looked up for a second his mouth still on you but he watched as your back arched. Hard nipples between your fingers as you moaned. He thought that this image in front of him should be painted on on ceilings and hung up in the louvre.

It only encouraged him more. He could tell your were close by the way your toes curled. Rafe inserted two fingers inside of you. Making a curling motion as he reached that spot he knew all too well. You knew heaven was real because it had to feel like this. The sound of his fingers moving in and out of you was too much.

You moaned, “Rafey I’m gonna,” you whined, “right there.”

He groaned the vibrations of it only making you reach your climax closer, “Cum for me baby. You deserve it,” He said before diving back in to lick up everything.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned. Your toes curling and muscles clenching as you came. It felt euphoric. He pulled his fingers out slowly while gently kissing your still dripping cunt.

“How was that baby?” Rafe asked in between kisses as he kissed up your body.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “The best. You’re so good.”

He smiled and leaned forward kissing you, “Well we’re not done. I still need to fuck you,”

“Please,” You whined at his words excited for what was to come.

Hopefully you three more times.

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