#i spent a whole day on this even though i was busy

[joonsmagicshop]

Stress Relief Part 6- KTH

 Summary: A couple weeks ago Taehyung asked a favor. For you to have sex with his bandmates to relieve some tension and stress. How can you say no to that.

Paring: Taehyung/Reader

Rating: M/18+

Word Count: 5k

Tags: smut, a tad bit of angst, soft dom taehyung, dirty talk, fingering, jealous/anxious taehyung, sex, spanking.

Authors Note: Taetae!!!! the boy that started this whole thing. I said I was going to give him a chapter of his own and here we are.

In case you missed it

Intro Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Kim Taehyung was used to sharing.

He started his career cramped in a dorm with six other guys, so sharing stuff was a given.

He shared everything from clothes to socks, to food and recently he decided to share his friend with benefits.

The whole thing started innocently enough. He could see how stressed everyone was and how the tour prep affected them. Practice started to be less fun and everyone was high-strung and snapping at each other. Taehyung just wanted everything to be fun again.

So he asked you first and was happy you were on board.

He just wanted everyone to be happy and not so stressed.

He still remembers the first time Jimin reached out to you. Jimin was a nervous wreck and Taehyung helped him through it. Reminding Jimin that you were a wonderful caring person, and it was a favor, nothing to be afraid of.

Jungkook was next and Taehyung could almost see the stress melt off of him when he walked into the studio the next day, it was as if a dark raincloud had lifted and they spent the whole day giggling and goofing off, much to the older members dismay.

Next came Jin, who was a lot more subtle but Taehyung had a feeling something happened because he came in with a big smirk on his face after his night with you.

Taehyung of course knew something happened with you and Yoongi because Namjoon decided to schedule a meeting and scolded them all for “fraternizing” with you, Taehyung looked over at Yoongi who had his arms crossed over his chest and looked bored out of his mind but there was a slight smile on his lips.

Taehyung was happy all his members were so happy, but the thing about sharing is that other people have to be willing to share too.

And Taehyung was struggling with that.

Every time he reached out to you for the past two weeks you had been busy. You were always polite over text but he had a hard time scheduling alone time with you.

He chalked it up to coincidence the first couple of times, but now it was becoming a problem, a big problem as he had not seen you in almost two months.

And sure he could use his hand but it wasn’t the same as having a person do it for you, he missed your perfume and the breathy noises you made when you were about to cum, he especially missed the way your eyes sparkled after sex and how you would look at him in such a way it would make him feel giddiness bubble up in his chest

But he let it slide because he was sharing, he was the one to start this, he couldn’t stop it now, not when they were so close to the start of the tour, not when everyone was still stressed out.

However, that’s when the anxieties started to kick in.

What if you didn’t want him anymore?

What if you liked the other members better?

What if you used him to get to the other members and ditched him the second you could?

What if the whole thing was an elaborate plan to get to your bias (even though you told him time and time again you didn’t have one)

Taehyung was starting to make himself sick with worry, the whole thing got worse when he overheard Jimin and Jin talking about you.

Because now not only was it sex, but you were also casually hanging out with them.

You would play video games with Jin and have dance parties with Jimin. Even Jungkook took you on a ride on his motorcycle and said how good it felt to have your arms wrapped around his waist.

You never did those things with Taehyung.

You were moving on and leaving him behind.

Taehung felt like crying, he felt hollow and anxious and couldn’t shake the feeling.

One day he asked Namjoon if he could go home early because it was all too much, you had ignored his last message completely and he felt like he was going to be sick.

Namjoon nodded with a concerned look on his face as Taehyung called one of the drivers to come to pick him up from the studio.

He didn’t go home though, he needed answers once and for all, and if you weren’t going to answer him, he was going to come to you.

---------

The bath had been a perfect way to help alleviate your cramps. You made the water extra hot and spent time with your eyes closed letting the steam and the lavender bath bomb ease your mind and body.

Once you step out of the shower you decide to wear your baggiest sweatpants and your biggest sweater.

You left the bathroom and went to your room to grab your heating pad, casually throwing it on the couch as you checked your phone for when the pizza would arrive.

You ordered it right when you got out of the bath so you were surprised to hear a persistent knock on your door. There was no way the pizza was done already.

Abandoning your phone on the table you opened the door to find yourself face-to-face with Taehyung and you gasped.

He looked as beautiful as as always with his messy brown hair and his pressed shirt and pants, but the look he was giving you was pure coldness and you knew right away something was wrong.

He entered your place without speaking a word to you and his eyes gazed around your apartment. His eyes stayed locked on your couch for a while, taking in the fact there was an RJ plush on it and you bit your lip.

“Taehyung what’s going on what are you doing here?” You asked as he finally turned around and stared at you.

“What? You were expecting someone else? Mabe Jimin? Or Yoongi?” He questioned, his voice laced with venom that made you nervous.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone I just got out of the bath. What’s going on?” You asked again.

“What’s going on is that you don’t like me anymore. You used to me to get to my members and ditched me the second you did. You are replacing me.” He accuses as he steps towards you, his eyes dark and his tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

“What! Tae you know that’s not true.” You say as he cages you against the wall and you cower under him.

“I started this whole thing Y/N. And you used me. So I’m going to fuck you so you remember who the hell you belong to.” He growls as his lips come to ghost at your ear.

“I’m going to bite you and mark you as mine so when you do fuck someone else they know you have been spoken for. I have been generous with my members but not anymore.” He says as his hands travel up your thigh.

You grab his wrist to stop him and his eyes snap to yours.

“Tae. I…we can’t.” You whisper feeling small under his gaze.

He stares at you with his mouth open in shock. Then he pulls away and steps back looking distraught.

“So I was right. You don’t want me anymore, you don’t like me anymore. I bet if I was Jungkook you’d have no issue huh?” He accuses looking sad.

“Tae that’s not it at all!” You plea as you stay frozen against the wall.

“Yeah, then what’s your grand excuse? You have been busy every time I reach out. I haven’t seen you in months, if you don’t want me just say it.” He says crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tae. Of course I want you. God I want you so bad. I’ve missed you.” You whisper feeling your heart break at how sad he looks.

Before he can open his mouth to argue you walk towards him.

“Tae I haven’t forgotten you or replaced you. I want to have sex with you badly, like holy fuck you pushing me up against the wall. Wow. But I’m on my period, day two of my period and it’s heavy. I just got out of the bath because my cramps were so bad.” You explain as his eyes soften.

“I-Shit.” He says and you giggle softly grabbing for his arms so you can uncross them and hold his hands.

“Taetae. Talk to me. What’s going on.” You say as you intertwine your fingers and he stares at you with an embarrassed look on his face.

“I reached out to you a bunch of times and you were always busy. I was happy to share but I never get to see you anymore! I miss you. I miss so many things about you and now you are too busy for me! And I hear the way Jin and Jimin talk. You don’t just have sex with them you hang out with them and have fun with them. I felt like I was being left behind because we never did those things. And now I barged in here like an ass hole and embarrassed myself.” He admits as you squeeze his hands and his face lifts to yours.

“And you replaced my Tata with a stupid RJ. He’s not as cool as Tata.” Taehyung pouts and you laugh and grab his hands as you take him through your apartment to your bedroom.

And Taehyung feels even more silly and embarrassed when he sees his Tata plush on your bed, surrounded by pillows.

“I keep him on my bed because he’s a good snuggler. I think Jin gave me RJ as a joke to rival your Tata. RJ has never spent the night with me though, he just hangs out on the couch.” You say softly as Taehyung's eyes well up with tears.

“I feel stupid and silly.” He admits as you pull him in for a hug and stroke his hair.

“Taehyung I could never replace you and I’d never want to. Things just got…busy. I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored or replaced. Sure I’ve had fun with the others but they aren’t you. Though if you need to remind me who I belong to when my period is over….I won’t complain.” You tease as he lets out a breathy laugh and pulls away from your hug.

You wipe the tears from his face as the doorbell rings.

“How about you set the table and I grab the pizza yeah?” You say as he nods and hurries to the kitchen as you pay the delivery person.

Taehyung has everything set up when you get back and you giggle at how excited he looks to be spending time with you.

You both make your plates and sit at the table. You make sure to scoot your chair extra close to him and he grins.

“I feel like an idiot.” He says after taking a bite and staring at the tablecloth.

“It’s okay.” You respond as he nudges his shoulder to yours.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced. I should not have barged in and acted like that. It’s just I got really anxious and felt like you didn’t like me anymore. I’m so sorry Y/N I acted like a dick.” He says as you turn to face him, letting your knees bump.

“It’s okay Tae. Really. Kinda hot with you all dominant like that.” You tease as he blushes and stares at you.

“Come on don’t say stuff like that. I haven’t seen you in ages and I’m going to get hard.” He whines as you laugh and pull him in for a kiss.

His mouth molds to yours instantly and you sigh when he tangles his hands in your hair. You get up from your seat, not bothering to disconnect your lips from his as you stand between his legs to get closer to him, to deepen the kiss as you run your hands up and down his strong thighs.

“Fuck baby what did I say about you getting me hard.” He grumbles against your mouth as you giggle and press a kiss to each of his cheeks and then to the tip of his nose.

“I can’t help it Tae. You are so kissable.” you coo as you run your hands through his hair to push it back from his forehead so you can kiss there too.

“I did miss you. Honest.” You admit as he nods and bites at his lip.

“I missed you so much.” He says as you kiss him again.

His hands rest on your waist as he kisses you, his thumbs digging into your skin as you both take your time with this kiss, savoring the way it makes you both feel.

You pull away once you feel breathless and Tae has a soft pink blush staining his cheeks, he looks so cute like this that you can’t help but grin.

“How about we have a movie night tonight with lots of cuddles? I want to make you feel appreciated Tae. Then when I am off my period you will be the first to know, and maybe we can pick up where we left off?” You tease as he groans and buries his face in your shoulder.

You look down and can see a sizeable bulge in his pants and when you reach down for it he swats your hand away.

“Please. I want to be able to do it the both of us. I can wait.” He says as you grin and clean up the kitchen before snuggling on the couch with the blankets and the cuddles you promised.

The text came three days later and Taehyung nearly ran over to your place once he checked his phone.

This time he knocked on the door with excitement and grinned when you flung it open nearly knocking it into the wall.

“Someone’s excited.” He teased as you grinned and let your eyes wander his body.

“Clearly you are too.” You teased back as you eyed the sizeable bulge in his pants and he palmed his erection as he grabbed the door to close it.

“I feel like I have been hard for the last three days. Fuck didn’t even touch myself because I wanted to save it all for you.” He admits which has your heart racing as you grab his hands to take him to your bedroom.

In an instant he has you pushed up against the wall and is attacking you with kisses. The kisses are needy and urgent and you melt into his touch as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer as he nips and sucks at your lips.

Everything is heated and passionate and when he grinds his bulge into your core you whine at the delicious friction.

“Fuck Tae.” You moan as he grabs you and hoists you up in his arms to carry you to the bed. He throws you down and quickly climbs on top of you to kiss you all over again.

Your hands tangle in his messy hair and he leans over you supporting his weight on his arms as he continues to grind his cock into your clothed core making you moan and whine under him.

“God you feel so good.” He growls as his hands come to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off.

His eyes widen when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra.

“Fuck baby you spoil me.” He mutters as he straddles your lap, his large hands coming up to play with your tits. He rolls them in his palm before using his thumbs to swipe at your nipples making you arch into his hard cock which is trapped in his jeans.

He takes his time with your tits. He licks his thumbs before rubbing your nipples again, making your pussy throb and your head spin.

“Tae, please. Touch me.” You beg as you arch up into him trying to get friction on your pussy as the ache is starting to become unbearable.

“I am touching you.” He teases as he leans forward to press hot open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and your bare skin.

You grab at his belt loops to pull his crotch closer to where you need it and he chuckles darkly against your skin as he chooses a spot and begins to suck and nip.

He promised to leave you marked up and Taehyung never breaks his promises.

You are a whining, moaning mess under his hands and body and he feels his cock throb and twitch in his jeans. The restriction is uncomfortable but he wants to focus on you. He wants to make you feel good because you deserve that.

Once he is satisfied with the hickey on your collarbone he moves down to suck your nipple into his mouth. He lightly grazes it with his teeth and you whine and shake under him as he sucks it, hard.

Your hands come to his hips as you push them forward and back trying to get him to grind against you.

Taehyung knows what you are trying to do and he lets you because it feels so damn good on his cock which is still trapped in his jeans.

“God baby you feel so good.” He moans against your skin as you continue to grind against him.

You make a needy noise in the back of your throat and Tae pushes off of you to roll to the other side of the bed. He can’t handle having these jeans on anymore and practically rips them off his body which has you grinning next to him.

“Fuck why do I wear tight jeans around you. Big mistake.”

Your eyes take in his appearance as he rips his shirt over his head. His hair is a mess and his eyes are blown wide. His body is lean and gorgeous and his cock is creating a bulge in his blue boxers that has your mouth watering.

You take action and rip off your pants before straddling him and placing your underwear-clad pussy over his cock which has him throwing his head back into the pillows and moaning.

You slowly grind against him as his hands come to grab at your hips and you place your own hands on his chest where you can feel his heart breathing erratically as his eyes are blown wide and staring at you.

“Fuck Tae I love grinding on your cock.” You whine as his hands forcefully move your hips so you are grinding harder and faster against him.

“Mmm god, I missed this. You don’t understand how much I missed this.” He admits as you press soft kisses to his neck and collarbones.

“I missed this too. You feel so good under me.”

He lets out a moan when you position your hips so you are grinding right on his cock head and he savors it for a moment or two before he flips you over and grabs at your underwear almost ripping them clean off before you can lift your hips.

“Gotta prep you to take my cock.” He explains as he brings his hand down to cup at your heat which makes you grip the sheets and arch into his touch.

“Please Tae. Your fingers.” You plead with him feeling your pussy throb around nothing as he smirks and holds his hand up to your face.

“These fingers?” He teases and without warning you take two of his fingers into your hot wet mouth and begin to suck on them.

Tae immediately moans and uses his free hand to palm at his cock to alleviate some of the ache. You are so hot and just the image of you sucking on his fingers makes his cock leak.

He pulls them out of your mouth with a satisfying pop and you open your legs wider when he brings them down to your soaked core.

He slowly plays with your pussy lips, gathering the wetness before bringing it up to your clit. Just one swipe of your clit has you arching off the bed and crying out his name as he circles it with slow wide circles.

“Please Tae. God, please fill me up.” You beg grinding your hips down trying to get him to fill the ache between your legs.

Taehyung complies and slips one finger inside you. He groans when he feels how tight and wet you are.

He adds another one and begins to scissor them, impatience getting the best of him. He wanted to take his time with you but the way his cock is steadily leaking he knows he has to prep you fast before he comes in his boxers.

You are so lost in pleasure you hardly notice that his other hand takes out his cock to stroke it, but when you finally crack open your eyes to see him, muscles taught in his forearm, veins popping as he pumps his finger in and out of you. And his other hand. God his other hand stroking his hard cock which is flushed and angry, a gorgeous red color and leaking everywhere you promptly lose it.

You clamp down on him and cry out his name as your orgasm takes you by surprise. You didn’t think you were that close but your walls were fluttering around his digits and soaking his hand as you rode out your high with him coaxing it out of you with those long skilled fingers

Once he pulls out you slump into the bed and stare at him stary-eyed as he lets go of his cock and it bounces against his stomach.

“Fuck Tae.” You breathe out as he grins and gets off the bed to grab a condom from his jeans.

You admire his naked body as you shift up the bed and adjust the pillows the way he likes.

He rolls the condom onto his cock and you shift over so he can lay down with his head propped up.

“Gonna take care of you now. Gonna ride you Tae.” You whisper as you see his cock twitch when you straddle him.

You grab his cockhead to run it through your soaked folds and he groans as he watches you do it with lust-blown eyes.

You let his cockhead slip in and you hiss at the stretch but you take your time sinking down until he is deeply nestled inside of you.

You lean forward to peck his lips and you see his eyebrows furrow.

“You okay?” You check in as he stares at you and bites at his lip.

“I- fuck it’s been a while and I’m trying not to cum.” He admits shyly as you stare at him in shock.

“You just entered me. I haven’t even moved yet?” You tease as he grips your hips to stop you from making a move.

“I know but god you are so tight and wet and it just feels so fucking good. Please have mercy and give me a second.” He almost begs as you lean down to lay your head on his chest and let both of your breathing slow.

You decide to tease him a bit so you clamp down on his cock and he hisses and tightens his grip on your hips.

“Y/N” he warns as you chuckle.

“Such a fucking brat.” He grits out as you slowly move your hips and Taehyung struggles under you.

“I’m serious I’m gonna cum too early if you keep doing that.” He warns, hands so tight on your hips you know you will have bruises tomorrow.

You decide to actually let him calm down this time so you begin to slowly kiss his neck and collarbones. You leave feather-light kisses as you work your way down his body. Tae shudders out a breath and his grip on your hips loosen.

“You good?” You check in and he takes several deep breaths before nodding.

You slowly begin to grind against him, loving the feeling of his cock filling you up and when you start to bounce on his cock Taehyung grabs your hips and helps you through it.

The air is filled with his grunts and your high moans as you feel your orgasm start to build again. You can hear how wet you are by the noises your pussy makes and you can’t help but ride him harder as he is a whining moaning mess under your body.

Without warning a hand comes to slap at your ass and you gasp as you feel your pussy gush around him.

“Fuck you feel so good. Who do you belong to?” He demands as he slaps your ass again causing you to ride him harder.

“Y-You fuck Tae.” You can’t help but cry out as you feel your orgasm start to build faster and the coil of pressure gets tighter.

“That’s right you belong to me. My girl. My fuck toy. No one else’s.” Tae growls as you whine and continue to ride him, your legs start to burn but you are too close to stop.

His hand smacks your ass again and you whine and bury your face in his shoulder as you feel your entire body start to tingle, you roll your hips, and when he hits that spot inside of you a broken moan leaves your lips.

Tae grabs your hips roughly and forces you to bounce on his cock. All you can do is moan and whine as you beg him to let your cum. You are so close right on the edge and you want him to fall over with you.

“Please. Tae please let me cum. P-l-please.” You cry out as he delivers another harsh smack to your ass and you clamp around him.

“That’s right baby. Cum around my cock.” He says and right when he smacks your ass again you lose it.

You cry out his name as your walls flutter around his cock. You close your eyes and shake above him as you ride out your high. He keeps thrusting into you, words leaving his mouth that only he can hear as he finally cums inside of you, panting and moaning as you both fall over the edge.

Once you finally come down you slump against him. His arms wrap around your middle to hold you there as you let his cock soften inside of you.

You aren’t sure how long you stay in his embrace but when goosebumps rise on your sweaty skin you look up to see him staring at you with fondness in his eyes.

“Fuck that was nice.” He says as you giggle and lift yourself off him so his now soft cock slides out of you.

The usual routine was that Tae would run a bath for you but today you want to switch it up so when you go to the bathroom to get cleaned up you start a bath for the both of you.

You are kneeling down testing the water when he finally comes in and his eyes soften when he sees your setup.

You decided to dim the lights and you lit a couple of your candles casting the room in shadows.

“I thought this was my job?” He jokes as you shake your head and push your body into his, reaching up to kiss him.

“I want this to be for both of us.” You admit as he blushes and you get into the tub first, holding out your hand so he can climb inside as well.

You both settle comfortably, your back up against his chest and he holds you against him and gives you soft kisses to your shoulders.

You sigh at the sensation and lean your head back against his shoulder.

“You’re the best you know. Like the absolute best.” He mutters as his kisses move from your shoulders up to your neck.

“And you're getting hard again.” You tease as you feel his cock harden against your back. This man was insatiable and you loved it.

“I have a very sexy, very wet, very naked girl in my arms what do you expect.” He jokes.

“Well after this how about round two?” You tease as he gasps and kisses your skin with a new fervor.

“I’d like that a lot. We have a lot of lost time to make up for. And I still think I have to remind you who you belong to.” He responds gleefully.

Series Taglist!

@take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d

@m00njinnie

@minghaosimp

@madebyjungkookie

@iammeandmeisiam

@allie-is-a-panda

@marihoneywk

@stayonmars

@xmspurple7x

@coffeedepressionsoup

#Kim Taehyung #taehyung #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fic #taehyung/reader #taehyungxreader #taehyung fic

[patscorner]

ok, I see you need requests, so here's one, something for Chris where the reader is Jealous?

absolutely!

Defeaning Silence

Summary: Both you and Chris attempt to seal the cracks in your relationship

wc: 1,517

Pairings: Chris x fem!reader

Contains: Swearing, arguing, fighting, insecurities, toxic, mentions of alcohol

______________________________

You and Chris both knew it was coming, you’d seen the signs. You both just chose to ignore the evidence, and delay the inevitable.

Chris and you had gone to Tara’s party. You were less than happy to go, as you were swamped with schoolwork, as well as your boss forcing you to work overtime. The last thing you wanted to do on your day off was be around a bunch of people who were drunk and less than unaware of their surroundings.

But, you hadn’t spent a bunch of time with your boyfriend, and he had invited you to this party. So even though you’d rather be under a warm blanket, watching a movie and eating your favorite snacks, you suck it up and go out.

Everything is going well, as it usually does. You had been glued to Chris’s side the whole time, not having the energy to go out of your way to talk to anyone. Chris wasn’t super pleased with the hesitation you had when he asked if you wanted to go, he felt like you weren’t being super appreciative of the invite he’d given you. He, of course, didn’t communicate this with you, not wanting to cause an argument. So he instead attempted to hide his feelings and just to enjoy your company.

As the night progressed, the more people got drunk, the more irritated you had become, the more the uneasy tension grew between you and Chris. This was unusual for you two, as you were usually that one couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But tonight, you stood uncomfortably at each other's side.

Chris mumbled something along the lines of ‘fuck this’ before turning to you. “Can you at least pretend to be having a good time? You’re really ruining this for me.”

You look up at him, your blood instantly starting to boil. “What? Where is this coming from?” you spit at him. This is truly not the time nor the place for this, both of you being slightly under the influence, and already upset with each other.

“You’re standing here, being all dry and shit, and you're really starting to piss me off. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, ‘cause I know you’ve been hella busy. But, come on, you’re not even trying.” he exclaimed, flailing his hands around.

You’re stubborn, so even though deep down you know he’s correct, the last thing you’re going to do now is agree with him. “I am trying, Chris, that’s why I’m still fucking standing here. I do not want to be here, and I’ve already sucked it up. I don’t know what more you want from me.” you say, just as loud as him.

Chris rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna be all mopey and shit, then you shouldn’t fucking be here.” Chris says harshly, his words laced with venom. Your eyes widen.

“Are you being fucking serious? You asked me to come, I’m here now, so what is the fucking problem?” You both are eye to eye now, screaming in each other's face. You know you should call it quits, sleep this off, and come back to it in the morning, but all logic has left, and you’ve both let the alcohol and frustration from earlier take over.

“My problem is the fact that I feel like I haven’t seen you in about two weeks, and when I try and be a good boyfriend and get you out of the fucking house, your acting like a bitch about it.” he spits bitterly. His words hold a hint of truth, despite his slight intoxication. “I might as well go hang out with someone else.”

You stand in front of him, speechless, as you let what he said sink in. Finally, you find your voice again. “Go hang out, with someone else then, Chris. See if I care.” you say untruthfully. You don’t mean it and he knows it.

He laughs even though this situation is far from funny. “I’m not falling for that again and you’re fucked up for trying to put me there.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, finding his implication shocking. He’s referring to a party you guys went to a while ago.

You’d only been dating for three months, so nobody really knew about your relationship. You had gone to a party, one that was far more packed than you thought it’d be, so you lost Chris pretty quickly. You’d had an argument before the event, so you assumed he had gone to hang out with his friends.

But after a while, you found him, talking to a girl who was the exact opposite of you. Her hands were on his chest, and his arm was snaked around his waist. You’d seen them talking, and you watched as she pulled him in for a kiss and how he didn’t pull away as their lips interlocked.

When they pulled away, he locked eyes with you, and you stood there, in shock. His eyes widened as he made his way to you, but you were already out the door. But he was fast, and he was able to talk you into letting him take you home so you both could speak privately. The car ride was quiet and awkward because, of course, it was.

You’d gone home that night, and the next morning, he explained himself. It wasn’t a good explanation, but you had always believed in second chances, so you let him attempt to make it up to you.

That didn’t stop you from having your own insecurities, though. After the party, you had him under a microscope. Every party, if you saw him talk to another girl, you’d be pissed for the rest of the night. Chris wasn’t able to do anything with anyone of the opposite gender, all because you were scared he’d kiss them again.

This led to a plethora of apologies and Chris practically begging you to relax. Your jealousy and his prior infidelity made it impossible for you both to have a positive relationship. It had turned toxic extremely quickly, but eventually, it got better. After long talks, you both attempted to work out all the issues you’d had.

Tara’s party was the first party you’d gone to since then, which was a year ago.

Back to the present, you were still staring at each other with such hatred. It’s like that flipped a switch in Chris. He realized you were both still hanging onto the past and it wasn’t going to get any better if you didn’t heal first.

He sighed deeply before grabbing your hands lightly, dragging you out of the party. “What’re you doing, Chris? Look, you can stay, I don’t care.” you ramble, wanting nothing more than for him to enjoy himself.

He opens your phone and orders you an uber, without saying a word. He hands it back to you and you look at it, then back at him. “We need to talk tomorrow. When we’re sober and cooled off.”

You don’t say anything, but nod knowingly. Chris sits down on the steps, and you follow as the silence surrounds you. Unfortunately, the quiet had become a recurring theme in you and Chris’s relationship.

When the uber arrived, Chris walked you to the car, and opened the door for you. Before you get in the car, Chris kisses your forehead. You smile sadly at him. “I’m sorry.” you mumble.

“I know, love, me too.”

The next day, Chris showed up at your apartment. You could tell by his demeanor what was coming. You both knew. It was only a matter of time.

“I’m sorry. Us being together is not healthy. And I know you know. We need a break. I just- I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s not just your fault, I know that. But you and I both know this isn’t good for us.”

At first you were in denial, knowing how much you loved him. “We can fix this- please, we can figure it out, we always do.” you begged tearfully.

Chris shook his head, water brimming his eyes as well. “Baby, I’ve figured it out. We’re only hurting each other.”

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” you ask, swallowing your pride and biting the bullet.

Chris looks down. “The truth hurts, baby.”

“Lie to me then.” You whisper. Chris looks at you and smiles sadly.

“Baby.”

“I know. I just think there are other ways to solve this, a way where we don’t have to leave each other. Tell me what I can do to fix this. Please. Anything.” you're sobbing now, feeling pathetic.

Chris pulls you into an embrace rubbing his hands up and down your back. Eventually, he pulls away, his own tears falling.

“Thank you for being the light of my life.” Chris says, grabbing his keys and heading towards the door. Before he walks out he turns to you and looks at you with sympathy.

“We almost made it.” And with that, he closes the door, leaving you in the deafening silence.

______________________________

taglist: @kqyslyho3 @sstvrnioloo @mattsturniololoverr @theyluvkaitii-blog @chrattstromboli @Sillysillygyal @elliesturniolo1 @coochiedestroyer1 @Freshlovah0e @starsturns234 @g-lazyy @strnlsblog @ecliphttlunar @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir @annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper-deactivated20 @matty-bear @orangelala-deactivated20240425 @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @c00ch13destroyer @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @larnieboox88 @Preppy234 @endereies @eurphoric-rush @whosthislyssbitch @jetaimevous @h3arts4harry

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #christhopersturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo

[winged-self-indulgence]

I could fix him

It was one of those days.

Ray was getting better at predicting them; the mornings when he’d wake up truly feeling the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, threatening to flatten him beneath the smothering mantle of responsibility that had been dumped – knowingly or unknowingly – upon his shoulders. Usually those were the days he’d call in sick if he was feeling charitable, or simply not show up to the NAHA office if not and just spend the entire day with you.

Although the two of you lived separately, it had quickly become clear that the arrangement was mostly nominal in nature. When Ray wasn’t out patrolling and saving the world from monstrous threats, he was at your apartment listening to your voice. And when you weren’t at work, you were at his apartment filling the once impersonal corners with the sound of music, the scent of home-cooked meals, and little knick-knacks you thought he’d like.

Most nights you fell asleep in each other’s arms, and every morning you never let him go to work without two kisses goodbye – one for ‘be safe’, the other for ‘I love you’. Ray swore they gave him energy to get through the day, just knowing you were home waiting for him, that you still loved and accepted him – flaws, monstrous desires and all. When the abyss in his chest threatened to spiral out of control, remembering that grounded him back to reality. Made him want to stay here, stay present, stay with you.

Unfortunately, it was one of those days where the NAHA were being even more annoying than usual. Half of the heroes who were supposed to be patrolling didn’t show up, and most of the ones who did bother to turn up seemed content to kick back the moment they spotted Ray’s name on the roster. The NAHA had scheduled him for three TV interviews before lunch, and during the second one a villain had attempted to blow up the studio building. While saving civilians and crew members from the inferno, one of the presenters – a popular social media celebrity if he recalled correctly – had tried to kiss him in front of the cameras. It was only decades of ingrained self-control that prevented Ray from ripping their head clean off their neck and tossing it and their body into the sky to join the rest of the trash circling the earth’s atmosphere, though he did take a great deal of spite in dropping them from just a little too high off the ground. If something happened to their anklebones, that was hardly his fault.

All in all, by the time Binary Star Hero pushed open the door to his apartment, he was ready to drop. If he could have curled up in bed and put himself into a coma for the next few business days, he would have done so in a heartbeat.

However, he paused at the entryway, surprised by the scent pervading his condo. The sweetness of coconut milk melded silkily with the warm, earthy scent of chili and cumin, which combined with the floral aroma of rosemary, thyme, and a dozen other herbs he couldn’t quite parse. Ray followed his nose to the kitchen, expecting to find you there, but only spotting a large pot bubbling on the stove – the flames turned down low to keep the soup simmering low and slow.

That meant you still had to be in the condo, but it was strange that you hadn’t called out to him. “Star?” Heartbeat ratcheting up, Ray turned to search the rest of the rooms, and just as quickly as the flare of panic had overtaken him it vanished as soon as he spotted you.

The original couch in the condo hadn’t been comfortable, the whole space having been designed more for aesthetics than coziness. Prior to meeting you, Ray had barely spent any time in his own home. After meeting you, bringing you home, and then listening to you whine about how his couch cushions felt more like glittery rocks, he’d immediately purchased a new couch. One with thicker padding, ergonomic armrests, and a built-in sofa-bed.

Cute. You were so fucking cute.

There you were, curled up on the couch with one of his jackets pulled over your torso for warmth, leaving your legs exposed to the cool evening air. Chuckling airily to himself, Ray leaned over to brush a strand of hair from your cheek, allowing the safe warmth of your presence to settle him. Just as he was about to fetch a proper blanket for you, his eyes caught on something strange.

Ray blinked, then froze entirely when he spotted a familiar shade of fabric. It barely took any of his strength to tug the jacket collar down, enough to reveal a maroon-red neckline. His sweater. You were wearing his sweater.

And not much else else, if your bare legs were anything to go by.

“Mmph. Ray?” The man watched you stir to life, yawning and blinking back the lingering remnants of sleep. “You’re home. Ugh, what time is it?”

His gaze sharpened when you sat up and stretched, inadvertently knocking the jacket off completely. The jumper, already meant to be oversized on his 6ft-something frame, was practically drowning you. The collar splayed wide, exposing the bruised slope of your shoulder and neck – still marked up from last night. The sleeves had been rolled up, presumably so they wouldn’t get in the way while you cooked, but one had come loose during your nap and now only the tips of your fingers were visible as you lifted a hand to rub the corner of your eye.

Concerned by the extended silence, you craned your neck up to look at your boyfriend. “Ray?” You called, and then let out a strangled yelp when he immediately flopped on top of you. On instinct your arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Bad day?” You guessed.

“Mm. Just let me stay like this for a while, Star,” he murmured, inhaling the heady scent of your skin, and exhaling the words into the curve of your throat.

“Food’s gonna be ready soon,” you told him, dropping a fluttering kiss against his forehead. Ray closed his eyes, blissfully receiving the gesture as a benediction. “We can watch something stupid later and eat all the ice cream I bought. I will even allow you to have some of my cookies and cream bars.”

Ray listened to you ramble with one ear, paying half of his attention to the gentle cadence of your voice while the rest focused on the steady thump-thump-thump of your heart between your ribs. The reminder that you were still here, that he was still here, that you were his. 

Soon listening wasn’t enough. The rhythm in your chest stuttered and sped up, responding to the hands dragging over your body with absentminded possessiveness. Warm fingers, rough with scars and calluses, squeezed the inside of your thighs before sliding under the hem of your – or more specifically, his – shirt. They moved higher, groping the dip of your hips, the small of your waist, the softness of your ass. By the time those fingers reached your nipples you were a sensitive wreck, barely touched and yet your body was aflame with directionless heat.

“R-Ray…” You squirmed in place, one hand raised to your lips to stifle the keening noise escaping from the back of your throat, knees turning inward as you tried to squeeze your thighs shut. With careless ease, Ray elbowed your legs apart. He sat up, smiling idly at the cute picture you made. Flat on your back and sprawled beneath him, sweater shoved all the way up to your collar, exposing your gorgeous body to his intense gaze. The low lamplight cast shadows over you, exposing parts of your flushed skin and hiding others tantalizingly from view. “Ray, w-what about dinner…?”

“Mm. It’ll be fine,” he murmured lazily, unbuckling his jeans and never taking his dark eyes off you for a single moment. Ray’s movements were slow, lethargic, and full of methodical intent as his cock flopped out – swollen thick, heavy, and dripping with precum. “Just let me have this, Star.”

You’d always known that Ray was strong. Superstrength was one of the most basic hero abilities, one that often came as a passive perk with other powers. However you had underestimated how much he’d been holding back, because it barely took more than the flick of a finger for him to rip your underwear completely off.

“You’re soaked, Star,” he chuckled, knuckles running idly over your sex and causing more juices to leak out. You gasped when he leaned over you, letting the tip of his cock press against your hole. Not in, simply tapping against your wet entrance, drawing circles, or pressing just enough for the fat head to almost pop in.

He pulled away briefly, admiring the sticky strings of both of your juices connecting his cockhead to your puffy sex. His attitude was a direct contrast with yours, almost sleepily calm while you were whining and thrashing underneath his bulk, unable to do anything other than endure the burning torture.

The orgasm crept up on you. Not stalking you through the shadows, but like a monster you could see coming and would never be able to fight off no matter how hard you tried. It hit you like a tsunami, an arching wave of pleasure so good it hurt. You sobbed and thrashed, pinned beneath Ray while he watched you with that same, sleepy smile, as if you were an adorable toy being played with.

“Pretty little thing,” the man cooed as he rocked his hips in a slow, painfully pleasurable grind, forcing you through another choking orgasm on the cusp of the last one. “So good for me, aren’t you, my Star? Mm. I think I need a little more.”

#binary star hero #bshvn #my fic

[lovesuhng]

start over

fluff, strangers to ?

Ending a relationship is always difficult, especially when it has lasted for years to the point of becoming an engagement. It was painful what you went through, but now it was time to start over, to take some time to rediscover yourself. 

That's how you decided to take a solo trip to a paradisiacal place. You weren't the kind of person who liked beaches, spending the day under the sun, but you felt it was necessary to have a new experience. You were at this hotel by the sea, where everyone said it had the best sunset view in the whole city. You had arrived and settled at one of the tables about an hour before the sun was supposed to set, as you had heard it would happen at 6:20 PM. 

You ordered a beer, took a book out of your bag, and looked around, seeing everyone busy taking photos to update their social media. Actually, almost everyone. Your eyes fixed on a man who was sitting alone a couple of tables away from you. He was wearing sunglasses and drinking white wine. The wind seemed like a paid actor gently swaying his black hair. The open buttons of his shirt revealing a bit of his tattoo added the perfect touch to make him extremely attractive. 

Yes, he was definitely the most attractive stranger you had ever seen. 

You realized you were staring at him for too long when he looked in your direction, as if he felt he was being watched. You quickly looked back at your book to hide how embarrassed you were at being caught and missed seeing the smile on his face. 

A few minutes later, when you were truly focused on the pages of your book, you felt a presence beside you and were surprised to see the man standing there, very close to you, holding his wine glass. 

“Excuse me, may I sit here?” he said with a charming smile. You just gestured towards the chair next to you, closing your book and placing it on the table. As he sat down, he asked, “Sorry, but I’m curious to know how such a beautiful woman is here alone reading a romance novel in this wonderful place.” 

You laughed at the man’s comment, then took a sip of your beer and replied. “First, thank you for the compliment.” He raised his glass as if toasting to the wind. “Second, this was the best way I found to wait for the sunset, but I guess now I’ll have to change my plans a bit.” You mimicked his gesture, making him smile. 

“Sorry for the lack of manners, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Johnny.” He extended his hand and you shook it, introducing yourself as well. “I found it interesting that you’re here and not taking photos.” He pointed to the other people who were doing just that. 

“I’ll leave the photos for later. But what about you, what brings you here?” 

Johnny explained that he was a DJ and had played at a party nearby the previous night, but wanted to stay a few more days to rest and enjoy the city. When he asked why you were traveling alone, you thought about telling him what had happened, but it was better to forget about it. 

“Let’s just say I want a fresh start. But let’s save that conversation for another time.”

“So, we’ll meet again?” Johnny said in a flirtatious tone and all you could do was laugh at his attempt to flirt with you. 

“Well, we’re staying at the same hotel, we’ll be here for a few more days, so we’ll run into each other.” 

“Perfect.” 

The conversation lasted for a while and you were surprised by the chemistry between you two. You talked about everything; Johnny shared his preference for drinking white wine during the day and red wine at night because, according to him, they matched the vibe. You said that even though you loved wine, you didn’t know much about it and preferred to drink beer on a hot day like this one. You spent the rest of the afternoon laughing, sharing some stories, and when he was about to tell you one of his travel adventures, you noticed the sun beginning to set. 

You asked him to help take some photos of you and you did the same for him. Then you both stayed there, watching the sun disappear into the vastness of the water, enjoying each other's company. 

“This is one of the most beautiful things I've seen,” you said, sighing, still with your eyes fixed on the horizon. 

“I agree, it’s really beautiful.” 

When you turned to Johnny, his eyes were fixed on you and it was the first time you looked directly into his honey-colored eyes. You felt him getting closer, your breaths mingled, and when your noses touched, reality hit and you quickly pulled away from him.

“Sorry, we just met, but I found you so interesting that—” 

“Calm down, Johnny, it’s okay. I’m not angry or anything, I’m just… not ready. I’ll explain later.” 

“Is that one of the reasons you’re here?” 

You just nodded. Then he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and gently held your chin, making you look into his eyes once more.

“It’s okay, I won’t pressure you into anything. But, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tomorrow?” 

“Like, a date?”

“Like a date.”

You laughed again at how comfortable he made you feel. 

“Alright, I accept. That way you can properly explain to me how red wine matches the nighttime vibe.” 

It had been days since you had a great time as much as you did that afternoon. 

You were ready to start over alone, but, on second thought, it would be more fun if this new beginning happened alongside an attractive stranger during beautiful summer days.

#nct scenarios #nct #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct drabbles #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct 127 drabbles #johnny nct 127 #johnny drabble #johnny suh x reader #johnny #johnny fluff #johnny x reader #johnny suh #johnny au

[joyful-downer]

TW: Child loss

Foggy Jack, upon being caught by the Bobbies and the joy doctors finding out about his intolerance, having the same test they did with Arthur be done to him as they force him to take coconut joy.

At first everything seems fine. He sees Margaret running through a field of flowers with a selfmade flowercrown on her head. She's holding Jack's hand as she runs with him, an excited tone in her voice as she tells him that she has something to show him.

They run up the narrow path of the oh so familiar wednesday hill, but as they're halfway at the top, Margaret suddenly lets go of Jack's hand, running faster now and out of his sight. The colours start to fade around him as tries to catch up to his daughter before suddenly hearing a shrill, terrified scream followed by the noise of a gun.

As if he'd taken Phlash, his running speed nearly doubles as he hurries up the rest of the hill. His heart skips a beat as he arrives at the top and nearly runs into his daughter. She's standing only a few centimeters away from him and despite her actually being way shorter than him, her face is right in front of his as he looks right into her wide opened eyes, blood leaking out of the hole in her forehead and down the side of her nose.

The bullet has gone all the way through her little head, not only exposing her brain but also letting the light of the sun shine through the hole from the other side.

As her lifeless body collapses into Jack's arms, he breaks down on his knees as he cries out in pain. Meanwhile in reality he's struggling in his wheelchair and fighting against the restraints around his wrists as the doctors start to release another dose of joy gas inside the room. Though it only makes things worse.

A stinging pain shoots through his heart as he's still holding the hallucination of his dead daughter in his arms, the pain of loosing her once again making him cry so hard it's getting hard to breathe.

While trapped inside his own mind, Jack's body reacts heavily to the overdose of joy. His entire body is shaking and twitching uncontrollably and his heart is pounding faster and faster with each second, causing the heart rate monitor to be completely out of control. The doctors immediately try to defuse the situation by pressing buttons wildly, but as they finally get the gas to stop it's already too late.

Only the long, monotone noise of the heart rate monitor fills the room as the masked man who was just struggling a few seconds ago is now slumped in his wheelchair with his head limply hanging down. The doctors only let out a frustrated sigh before turning everything off and heading to the cafeteria.

#foggy jack #uncle jack #jack worthing #margaret worthing #joy doctor #we happy few #whf #joy pill #coconut joy #the eyes! the eyes! #i spent a whole day on this even though i was busy #literally every time i had a free moment i used it to add a few more lines #now it's finally done #i'm not gonna read over it until tomorrow morning though because i'm really tired and my head hurts from too much sun and ONE (1) cocktail- #anyways #i hope you enjoy this little piece of angst #tw character death #main character death #my head was all over the place while writing this #tw child loss #whf headcanon

[keiksy-cake]

Hetalia Collezione: America's pg 2

Tl;Dr: use this link for all my collezione tls so far!

Hi everyone, I've been thinking to upload my collezione tls to MangaDex (I've already uploaded "chapter 0"!) As you know, a lot of my early work is a bit unreliable, and most of my work is generally inconsistent haha. So because I wanna make sure my stuff is good quality before it gets auto reposted elsewhere out of my control, I hope to re-do a lot of said early work to improve, correct, and standardize everything as best I can. I've already done a few pages, and thank God I saved the vast majority of my cleans too haha. It also means I wanna try to finish the missing pages in order so I can upload chapters as a whole, hence why I finally have America's second page. (I'll still also work on the poll thing tho!)

I've also been meaning to have all my collezione tls available in one place, and bc I was unable to edit my previous post that I said would have "all" the tls far, and bc tumblr just recently made it impossible to upload more than 30 or smth pgs at once (I used a loophole before haha); I decided to make a google doc! You can add it to your drive, dl it as a pdf, make a copy, idc; but the link should be available to everyone and I'll be able to edit it in the future with new tled pgs and new version pgs! It's ofc in the link above, PLEASE lmk if it doesn't work for you! The first page btw is just a long disclaimer bc I always write too much haha.

#hetalia #aph hetalia #hetalia collezione #aph america #I'm still busy af tho I really should focus on my hw that's been piling up but I spent the whole day organizing all of this haha #but anyway idk how long this'll all take me hopefully I can at least upload the whole of chapter 1 soon... #half the day went into just this one page please appreciate how much effort I put into cleaning #even though you can barely tell bc of how it always just gets covered up by text anyway...

[diabolicjoy]

.

#warning there’s too many typos but who cares #i’m always complaining to myself in my head about how me & my best friend have grown apart #we’ve spent all out teenage years doing everything together even though we weren’t from the same school #we’d still find ways to see each other if not every day then at least every month #& since she started college & then a relationship & then work we’ve just grown apart & it was embarrassing for me really because i was alwa #ys the depressed never busy always alone type & i always ended up felt clingy when asking to hang out #feeling* #specially because she’s a social butterfly & i’m the one who has social anxiety lol but it was always reassuring to have her by my side #during these social events #then the pandemic happened & after things went back to normal.. i can actually count on my finger how many times we’ve seen each other irl #also stopped texting each other which is an important detail considering we used to talk every single day #especially because she’s like. literally the only person i feel comfortable opening up abt things i wouldn’t tell anyone #so i just feel isolated & a bit lost in life without her presence in it... but i’m just a very insecure human & always feel like the plans #& little dates & things i come up & plan for us to do is just... super boring to her (or anyone else) #so i stopped trying completely. which is sad because i miss her immensely #but last november i went to a festival with some friends but felt super stressed on the first day but tried to hide it from everyone #because i don’t wanna ruin the whole trip by being moody so i just kept to myself #ended up feeling overwhelmed & on day2 of the festival we txt each other bc she’s gonna be there #so i just spent the entire day2 with her & her partner & we all had such an amazing time... it really revitalized me lol #& everything felt so familiar even though i hadn’t seen her since her bday in may.. #& idk i just missed her. i always felt like this lack of talking & seeing each other just meant that they didnt like me as a friend anymore #or that i wasn’t worth keeping around... idk i’m always expecting the worse which is so unfair to the other person #i know she loves me & that life happens #anyway all that to say that i decided to stop being a pussy & stop mopping around #crying abt how i’m alone & friendless. & like. just text them & invite invite them to see a movie or something #idk if it didn’t work our 2 years ago life happens i am trying again #i won’t find someone like them that easily again in life i think

[astrxealis]

wuthering waves kinda slay but it does not have enough power to have kept me hooked longer than 1/2 hours Rip

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚ #big fan actually though of the setting & the combat! also character designs but unsure fully abt that (???) #cool game. but not Really It for me atm LMFAO... Spiritfarer though i have spent 5 hours nonstop playing it two days ago. #was busy the whole day yesterday so couldn't play but today i will maybe get back to it <3 !!! #rlly glad actually. it is a game So for me (many many things to say). #godbless my teacher & friend for reccing it to me ^___^ <3 #i haven't rlly been into Anything much lately again save for Anything FFXIV (but still sm i have to catch up on... Dawntrail slay.) #so spiritfarer ily thankuou #also yk when a friend you haven't talked to in a bit like. replies or does smth for u or wtvr #not even Really Directly but it's a confirmation Wow u still love me. and then i go pace around the whole house for a bit. #:3 i Miss my friends everyday... ough..... last few days before hs grad scary :(( scared&excited for uni too! Wowza

[mere-glim]

fuckkkk i want to quit my job soo bad but the guilt..... :((

#i have nearly zero time to myself / time i can use to decompress and its been like this the whole month #at least im working less cause i started school but guess what im still out of the house doing things for eight hours every day. #on saturdays i have the cnc design class which i enjoy but it means the only day i get to sleep in is sunday #and on sunday evenings i have the community band. which i dont wanna quit bc its full of other queer people but i have basically 1 day #(sunday) that i have time to practice my instrument so guess what my sundays are busy too #living at home kinda sucks bc of my brother but working part time isnt enough for me to move out #and if i quit my job i would feel bad bc ive been there less than a month and they dont have many employees and the boss spent all this time #training me to cut dies and even though hes my boss i hate disappointing him because i hate disappointing anybody #i feel so stuck. i just want out of this doing things always shit. #rayposting

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ ︎

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: when eros, the god of love, makes the annual valentine visit to camp half-blood, he conveniently unintentionally leaves his bow and arrow in the capable hands of his younger half-sister.

warnings: nothing i think, except for like one curse word (pls do tell me if i miss any though!)

genre: ...romcom?

part 2

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The gods were many things: powerful at their core, benevolent to those who merit it, temperamental when goaded, and mysterious in their methods— but there was one trait that defined them most of all, incandescently littered in their tales and lores: they were tricksters.

You really should’ve known better than to pick up that stray quiver of arrows.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The Aphrodite Cabin consistently made it a point to celebrate Valentine’s Day with much fanfare. Everyone has been busy the entire week preceding it; there were fresh roses to harvest, pink and red deserts to be made, hundreds of paper hearts to be cut, ribbons to be tied and acres to decorate. As one of the older siblings, a huge chunk of the responsibility fell on your shoulders. Needless to say, you spent an entire extra hour in the bathroom trying to put your concealer to good use.

A mere 10 minutes after leaving your cabin on V-Day, you’d managed to snap and glare at nearly everyone who even thought of intercepting your path.

Nearly everyone because you knew better than to direct your ire at the god of love.

“You didn’t even blend.” Eros said, perusing your make-up judgmentally. “Consider your favorite demigod sister card revoked.”

In his current human form, his hair was a deep shade of black and coiffed to perfection, his eyes a brown hue that you could only describe as melodramatic, and his skin beautifully tanned from frolicking in the sunlight.

Gods, how you missed to frolick in the sunlight. These days, you had to slave in it.

“Lord Eros.” You bowed, desperately fighting the urge to roll your eyes and purse your lips.

“I adore what you’ve done with the place.” He waved his hand off dismissively. He trudges ahead of you, officially beginning his annual Valentine inspection. “Although I definitely think it could use a little more sparkle. Perhaps a little more pink, too.”

‘Pink? For Valentines? Groundbreaking.’ You drawled inside your head. “The Hephaestus cabin is tinkering with a smoke machine to make it emit glitter.”

“Wonderful.” He replied passively, his attention drawn towards the dining pavilion where hundreds of glowing hearts hung from mid-air. Eros turned towards you. “Fairy lights on the beams?”

“On it.” You nodded your head tiredly, scribbling messily onto a notepad. “Anything else?”

“Everything’s perfect, except…” He trailed off before raising an eyebrow at you. “Find yourself a boyfriend, maybe? You need to loosen up.”

“Oh my gods,” You muttered under your breath, fighting the urge to physically recoil.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slacking off on training.” Luke chastised with a tut, tugging your arm towards the training areas. Your feet were basically dragging against the dirt, soiling your sneakers and flicking particles of dust against your skirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“Luke, look around you. What do you see?” You asked, your tone too saccharine to be considered serious.

He decided to humor you anyway. “Hearts.”

“10 points to House Hermes. Now,” You leaned in conspiratorially, “Who do you think set this whole place up?”

Luke barely opened his mouth before you answered your own question.

“Me.” You jabbed a finger against your chest. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I set this whole place up. I planned it— the theme, the color scheme, the glitter, the ribbons, the dazzling pink fountain with mini-Cupids who sing at the hour!”

“It looks very pretty!” He said, panicked.

“Yes, I know it looks very pretty.” You kissed your teeth. “Don’t you think I deserve a little break because it looks very pretty?”

He shook his head.

“You are insufferable!” You groaned.

“Hey! In my defense,” He raised both of his arms in the air to plead innocence, “You’re the one who said you wanted to develop a skill by the end of the summer."

His voice was pitched higher by the end in a poor imitation of your’s. You scrunched your nose in distaste.

“Gods, why do I keep digging my own grave?” You mumbled. Luke shook his head in amusement.

He led you into the clearing of the archery field, a line of circle targets dotted around the edge of the forest. A quiver of arrows was hung against the branches, different from the ones in the armory but definitely familiar to you.

“You can use those. Guess one of the kids forgot to return them after practice.” He shrugged. Luke mustn’t have noticed the difference.

You reached up to grab the weapons, still incredulous but definitely not alarmed enough to hesitate. The material thrummed in your hands.

“Go shoot.” He grinned.

“Very helpful instructions.” You muttered.

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward, sweetheart.” He sauntered over to one of the targets, leaning against the wooden frame. “You’ve been taught the basics, you just need the application. Now, shoot.”

“I could literally hit you.” You said blankly as you mounted the arrow against your bow.

“Consider it your challenge to not hit me.” He raised a thumbs-up.

“You’re insane.” You responded, irked and stressed by his casualness. “I’m sleep-deprived!"

Again, Luke just shrugged his shoulders. You huff, but then follow his lead anyway. You close one eye as you raise your weapon to your line of vision, zeroing in on the target.

As soon as the arrow flicked away from your fingers, it changed its course. When it should’ve followed a curved arch towards the red target, it whizzed away and made a beeline straight for Luke. A pink trail of haze followed its path.

“Duck!” You yell.

The arrow pierced through his chest at nearly the same time Luke’s body collided with the ground.

“That’s where those went.” Eros snapped his fingers as he emerged behind you. His glinting eyes were looking intently at the bow and quiver on you, an imperciptible smile on his face.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Shit.

“Lord Eros! I sincerely apologize.” You immediately took off the weaponry, holding them in your hands then kneeling as if to offer them back. You definitely did not want a god to be at odds with you. The two of you might have the same mother, but that didn’t mean you were equal in Aphrodite’s eyes. “I wasn’t-”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, sis.” He said, tapping your shoulder. Was he actually consoling you? “I shouldn’t have left it out in the open anyways.”

He pulled you up by the arm gently, snapping his fingers and getting the remnants of grass off of your knees. He even picked off a stray leaf from your hair. What in Tartarus was this?

For as long as you’ve known Eros and he’s practically coerced you into a dysfunctional sibling relationship, this was the kindest thing he’s ever done. Yes, the bar was low.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“You didn’t use this on someone, did you?” Eros asked, cradling the quiver and bow against him like a child.

“I think I managed to hit Luke—”

“You didn’t!” He interrupted with a theatrical gasp, a hand covering his mouth. He was such a drama queen.

You narrowed your eyes. He planned this, didn't he?

He smirked wider when he noticed the change in your demeanor, the realization behind your gaze. You swore his pupils changed to hearts for a moment.

“Good luck with lover boy, little sis.” He turned around, showing you the back of his hand as he waved goodbye.

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy series

[wintfleur]

Hi can u write prompt 18 and 14 🪷 and [comfort] 🌷 with lando? With lando being the one who comforts?? Thank u sm I love u and ur works 💗💗💗💗

౨ৎ sleep darling

﹕─┈ pairings ( Lando norris x female! reader )

°. — summary ( a morning with lando after a restless night )

°. — details ( g; fluff, a pinch of angst? w; none that I know of. wc; 1.5k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ hugging them tight without saying any words when they're having a hard time + they roll on top of you, cradling your head between their hands as they kiss your nose + a tender kiss to provide comfort or reassurance

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( Tysm for the request lovely & the kind words ! I love you too !!! I had so much fun writing this, it was an amazing request !!! I hope you like it, I tried fitting in the prompts together the best I could !!! Please don’t be a silent reader lovely’s, your thoughts are what keep me motivated to write !!! )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist F1 masterlist

Restless sighs and tired groans leave your lips as you roll over onto your side, now facing your large window that gives you a perfect view of the sunrise. Your eyes dropped down to the sleepy body next to you, he was laying on his stomach with both of his arms under the soft white pillow, the duvet being pulled up to his shoulders, protecting him from the breeze coming through the cracked open window. He looked so peaceful as he slept, that made you happy. 

You missed him, lately he's been busy with getting ready for the start of the new f1 season and even though some days he came home early, you were too busy studying to really spend any time with him. For the past week, the two of you really only spent time together in bed, and most of the time lando was sleeping while you laid wide awake. You barely slept and when you did you woke up in cold sweats from the nightmares that plagued your mind. 

The lack of sleep and the intense studying didn't help your mood, but your sweet boyfriend didn't let your mood get to him, he understands. You felt guilty, he was the absolute sweetest and so understanding, sending you sweet texts throughout the day, getting you flowers and ordering you your favorite food; knowing that you most likely forgot to eat. And yet you couldn't even spare the time to spend more time with him. 

You watched as he scrunched his nose in annoyance and nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow as the sun shines on his face. You begin to feel restless as you continue to lay down, your mind not shutting off even though you've stayed up for the whole night. By the time you decided to stop studying, it was way past midnight and Lando was already asleep even though he tried to stay up for you. 

You felt that guilt creep up and you let out a heavy sigh, you couldn't lay down anymore wasting time. You quietly sit up and move the blankets off your legs and move to get out of bed, but you pause when you hear a tired groan accompanied by your boyfriend's groggy voice “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I'll be right back, go back to sleep baby” you spoke softly so you wouldn't pull him too much out of his sleep as you looked back at him. One of his hands was out from under the pillow as if he was reaching out from you to stop you from leaving, and that's what he intended to do, he was just far to sleep to open his eyes. Lando hummed sleepily “Mmkay hurry back . . . wanna cuddle.” 

You leaned down and placed a soft but quick kiss on his forehead, a sleepy smile forming on his lips at the touch of your lips. You quickly leave the bed, knowing that if you stared at him any longer you wouldn't want to leave the bed. You quietly close the bathroom door behind you before turning on the light. You take your time brushing and flossing your teeth and brushing your hair out of your face, you try not to look at yourself for too long in the mirror. You could see that you were exhausted, the past week not only taking a toll on your mental state, but also your physical. 

You can imagine Lando becoming impatient with how long you were taking in the bathroom if he hasn't fallen asleep yet, so you quickly finish up in the bathroom and shut off the light as you leave. You looked at your bed and for a second you believed Lando had fallen back asleep from how still he was, but you're proven wrong when he grabs the duvet and pulls it back for you, wanting you to lay next to him. Cute. 

You fight the urge of wanting to escape to the living room to study and climb into bed, sliding under the blanket and right next to your sleepy boyfriend. You lay on your side, your hands under your face as you look at a barely awake lando. Lando pulls the blanket up to your shoulders and blinks the sleep out of his eyes, his eyes taking in every inch of your beauty. He could see your exhaustion in your eyes and face, but he thinks you're the prettiest girl ever. 

Lando frowns and tucked the blanket under your neck, his thumb softly caressing your chin “You haven't slept.” 

You didn't bother trying to lie, one you were too exhausted trying to come up with a good excuse and you also know it was no use too anyway. Lando knew you better than anyone else, sometimes even better than you. You sigh and break your eye contact before whispering “I tried.” 

“You should have woken me up, I don't like that you were up alone” Lando continues to frown as he looks at you, feeling guilty because he wasn't up to help you. The thought of you lying awake all night made his heart hurt, he wished you woke him up and he wished he wasn't so tired last night and stayed up. He didn't care if the two of you laid in silence all night in each other's arms, because you would have done it together. 

“I wasn't alone, i had you right next to me” you whispered sweetly as you pulled your hand out from under your face and pushed back his messy hair out of his eyes. A grin spreads across Lando's face at your romantic words and a cute giggle leaves his lips as he quickly moves forward, your body moving to lay on your back as he rolls on top of you. He settled comfortably between your legs, cradling your head with a gentle touch, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your nose. 

You giggle at the sudden change of position and scrunch your nose at the feeling of his soft lips on your nose, pecking it several times; he knew it made you ticklish. Your hands move up to hold his wrists as you look up into his beautiful eyes, your legs wrapping around his waist under the blanket. He holds your face softly, making sure you keep your eyes on him as he tries his best to make his voice sound stern “I’ll always be with you angel, but you need to rest. you've barely gotten any sleep all week.” 

“I ⸺ “ 

“I'll help you study later; I promise. Just take a little nap with me . . . please” he quickly cut you off, his tone trailing off to a slight beg. He already knew what you were going to say, telling him how you desperately needed to study and that you couldn't waste any time. But he had full confidence in you, he knew you would do just fine in your exams, you were just psyching yourself out to an extreme. 

Lando didn't break eye contact with you as he pulled out his secret weapon that always works on you, a small pout with his puppy dog eyes. You sigh as you look down at his lips, knowing what he was pulling on you and there was no way you could say no to those eyes, and you knew he wasn't going to stop until you agree “Hmm fine.” 

Lando grins and kisses your nose one more time as he brings one of your hands down to pat your thigh, you unwrap your legs around his waist and sit up on your elbows as lando drops to your side, your body wanting to reach out for his warmth that you were already missing and craving. Lando lays on his back and opens his arms for you. 

You scoot closer to lando and he pulls you into his arms and into a tight but comfortable hug, your head rests in the crook of his neck while you drape your leg over his midsection. Lando slips one of his hands under your shirt and starts rubbing your back, your eyes fluttering close at the soothing and comforting touch. Lando fights back a yawn and places a kiss on the top of your head before whispering, “I’ll be right here the whole time, i got you okay.” 

You know what he meant, he wanted to let you know that you were safe in his arms, that you had nothing to fear, that he would protect you from your nightmares. Tears well in your eyes, because of the exhaustion or from the strong feeling of love you felt for him . . . you had a feeling it was the latter. You lean your head back, the movement catching lando’s attention and the two of you lock eyes as you spoke softly “I love you.” 

Lando used his free hand that wasn't rubbing your back and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up more so he could lean down and take your lips into his for a slow but passionate kiss filled with love and reassurance. The kiss didn't last long but it took both of your breaths away. He slowly pulled away from your intoxicating lips and watched as you laid your head back on his chest, your body melting into his with tiredness. The sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. He whispered breathlessly as his hold on you tightens, his own eyes closing. 

“I love you more, now sleep darling.” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( GAWD I HAVE SUCH A WEAKNESS FOR SWEET BF LANDO 😭 AND CONGRATS ON P3 LAN !!! )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @ophcelia @toasttt11 )

#﹕─┈ 𝜗 roro's 1k celly 𝜚 #﹕─┈ roro’s works #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #formula one fluff #australia gp 2024

[yasminebahng]

skz and how they give you physical affection

notes: some fluff for yall after the angst of my last post ;) was waiting for my lecture to start and suddenly started thinking... how do the boys love to show their affection physically? then started day dreaming and yeah.. enjoy! cw: reader x ot8, mentions of kissing, mentions of showering/bathing together, gn reader

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡

Chan: Resting on you

God knows this man needs a break. When he's exhausted after dance practice or doing interviews all day, the only comfort he can find is in you. He'll trudge over to you, head bowed down, his eyes droopy with sleep and just collapse into your open arms. This happens very frequently actually. When he's working on music, he'll bring his laptop with him while he lays on your chest. He knows he cant be around all the time, and when he is around he's usually busy, so he's grateful that you embrace him while working (I mean, he needs some lovin too.) He'll let you know its time for bed by kissing your arm that's usually resting on his chest or playing with his curls. The rest of the night is spent with cuddles and giggles.

Lee Know: Tracing his fingers on your skin

Lee Know is notorious for avoiding skinship. Out of respect for him, you allow him to initiate it most of the time. Whether it be kisses, hugs, or cuddles, you let him take the reigns. Except for when you ask when you're feeling needy, most of the time he will oblige. So whenever he doesn't really want to kiss or hug, he will draw figures or words on any exposed skin. You find that he does it subconsciously when you both watch movies on the couch or are falling asleep in bed. That's actually the way he told you he loves you the first time. He traced the words on your arm while you spoke, thinking you wouldn't catch it. But you did. You always paid attention when he did that. So you picked up his palm, making eye contact with him the whole time, and traced the words back. The whole day was spent with kisses and arm doodles.

Changbin: Bear hugs

Binnie is so touchy in general but his personal favorite in his artillery, are huge hugs. Whenever you guys go out on a date, he'll wrap his arms around your shoulders and waddle behind you. Even when you watch him at dance practice, during breaks he'll chase you around and hug you (much to your dismay, since he's all sweaty.) He loves encasing you and knowing you're safe with him as much as you love the warmth of his embrace. He'll squeeze you so tightly, honestly to the point of suffocating. Whenever you return the favor, he melts. Feeling your arms around him is the greatest comfort, especially when he's had a really hard day.

Hyunjin: Hand worship

Having hands on the larger side, Hyunjin loves looking and feeling your smaller ones in his own. He'll make fun of you sometimes, calling them baby hands even though they're a normal size but I digress. Sometimes when he paints, he'll turn to you and ask for your hand to hold. You smile at him and give it to him and he'll bring it to his lips before intertwining his fingers with your own. If he's feeling especially playful, he will start to paint on it. Landscapes, flowers, even Jiniret. It feels so intimate when your fingers dance around together, exploring each other.

Han: Kisses

This man has some juicy lips and he is not afraid to use them. He will find any excuse to kiss you. ANY. "Aw, you had a bad day? Here, my lips will cure you." "Oh! You had an amazing day? Let's make it a better one." Before he showers your face and neck and shoulders with kisses. His personal favorite place to kiss you is your forehead. He'll rest his head against yours and find your lips, slowly molding them together. Then, after a dizzying and heart melting kiss, he'll leave a trail of them until he finds his lips on your head. You'll close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his body pressed against yours. One time, his kissed your head for so long it left a hickey on there. When he pulled away and saw the angry purple mark, he collapsed on the floor laughing and you looked at him like he was crazy. Until you found a mirror. And you became the crazy one. He did not kiss your head for a while after that.

Felix: Massages

After a long, exhausting day at work, all you want to do is go home, shower, and cry. Thankfully, your caring boyfriend has better plans. Felix loves doing acts of service. If he knows you're not in high spirits he will take your bags at the door, help you take your shoes off, and run a bath for you while you grab yourself something to drink. You'll walk into the bathroom that's thick with steam and see that the candles on the tub are lit and Felix is hunched over, checking the temperature of the water. He'll help you change out of your clothes and lower you into the tub. He has bought several lotions and oils because he loves massaging you so much. He'll spread it over your shoulders and squeeze softly but firmly. You melt. He will hear your words of approval and feel so giddy that he's helping you and relieving some of your stress. Eventually he will move down to your arms, your legs, your feet. Any part of you he can massage he will. It's as enjoyable for him as it is for you and he loves that he can show his love for you this way.

Seungmin: Spooning

This man is a fiend for cuddles. He will jump at any opportunity to cuddle with you. Whenever he wraps up singing at the recording studio, he will get out of the booth and run to your spot on the couch and pull you into his arms. You try to scold him sometimes, since one or two of the members are usually there, but they don't seem to mind at all. You don't really either. You love feeling his arms around your stomach and your legs tangled together. He will fall asleep sometimes and whenever you'd attempt to get up, his grip tightens and you admit defeat. Don't tell anyone this, but whenever you guys are alone, most of the time he's the little spoon. He loves how you hitch your leg over his hip and have your arm under him (it falls asleep most of the time but you never move or tell him.) He feels safest in your arms.

I.N: Playing with your hair

He discovered how much he loved playing with your hair when you guys were on a picnic date in a field. Your head was in his lap and you were nearly asleep. He was staring down at you and began to stroke your hair and scratch at your scalp. You hummed in approval and it was lights out. After seeing how much peace it brought you, he would always be playing with it. Twirling it between his fingers, asking if he can help apply products, even washing it for you when you guys would shower. He did it for you initially, but then it became his favorite thing in the world. Some days you'd let him tie it into weird styles and with weird hair ties. Some with bows, or beads, or wonky colors. He'd find himself kissing it before bed every night and you could cry at how loved you felt in those moments.

#skz #stray kids #bangchan #bangchan x reader #lee know #lee know x reader #changbin #changbin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #han jisung #han jisung x reader #felix #lee felix #felix x reader #seungmin #seungmin x reader #i.n #i.n x reader #ot8 x reader #skz ot8 #stray kids ot8

[justporo]

Hear me out! Tav brought a statue of Astarion to the camp but Astarion does not recognize himself in it and does not understand why their leader spent 5000 gold on a random stone man. Meanwhile the party is betting on how long it will take Astarion to guess whose statue it is.

5000 Gold

"He's not... he's not gonna figure it out anytime soon, is he?"

"Sshhh!"

Shadowheart shushed Karlach with an angry frown and a single finger thrown to her lips.

The two of them - along with your other companions observed the scene unfolding on the other side of the camp. Right where a delivery had just been made - and quite an uncommon one.

A giant stone statue, depicting... Astarion - and almost fully nude at that.

You couldn't resist when the offer had been made to you at the carnival at the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. 5000 gold had felt like nothing for the punchline you had been about to make with having a statue be made of the one companion that couldn't remember what he himself looked like.

And Astarion, upon discovering Tav's most recent purchase, had started to throw a temper tantrum immediately, almost fainting when he had heard the paid sum out of your mouth.

The vampire had worked himself into an outright frenzy, screaming, hissing, gesticulating towards the statue, then back to you, then to the skies. Meanwhile all you could do anymore was biting your lip to stop yourself from bursting into the biggest laughing fit of your life.

The rest of the group kept observing from a safe distance.

"Istik", Lae'zel mumbled under her breath. But even the sober githyanki could barely hide a smile.

Shadowheart shushed her as well. Wyll had just been silently shaking his head for the last couple of minutes. Shadowheart had started taking bets on how long it would take the oblivious vampire to realise the cruel trick that was being played on him. Karlach, being way too optimistic, had already lost some coin to the cleric with their estimate of a few minutes.

Only Gale who had been busy this far with some of his thousand books had missed the whole spectacle so far. Just now had the wizard realised that something was going down. He eyed the fighting trio of you Astarion and stone Astarion and then the group of bystanders, trying to decipher the situation. When he couldn't make any logical sense of any of it he went over to the small onlooking group. "I appear to have missed something? What is-"

Shadowheart hissed at him to shut up, causing Gale to flinch back with a hurt facial expression. Wyll though wasn't impressed by the cleric and enlightened his friend: "It looks like our clever leader Tav has taken up the offer of getting a stone statue of Astarion for a bargain of 5000 gold without telling anyone. And now we're betting how long it's going to take him to realise it's him."

Shadowheart stared the Blade of Frontiers down. Wyll merely shrugged his shoulders. He'd faced more fearsome creatures than the cleric aplenty.

Gale just blinked several times at him, letting the words settle. Then a grin spread on the wizard's face. "I bet 100 gold it's gonna take him at least until the end of the day."

Shadowheart's furious expression lightened noticeably and she stretched out her hand to Gale. They shook on the bet. Then everyone turned back to the two Astarion's and you to continue watching the scene.

"Why in the nine hells would you get a statue of some random guy - he isn't that... Well, he is quite handsome!" Astarion yelled at you while you had to hide your face in your hands desperately trying to pull yourself together.

The vampire didn't let up: "Well, if only it had been me, then I would have understood, darling, who wouldn't want that as a piece of decor, but-"

That was it, you broke. Hysterical laughter started shaking you, up to the point where you doubled over and could barely breathe between laughing and crying from laughing.

The vampire meanwhile went through the whole spectrum of emotions known under the sun in a matter of seconds. Angered, confused, flustered. And then finally something in the elf’s brain clicked together.

He stared at the statue then at you, back to the statue and suddenly his hands wandered over his own face as if to grasp it's lines and shapes.

"You...," he started and stopped. Through your tears you were sure you could see the vampire's pointy ears turn bright pink. "That IS me!"

You were barely able to nod as another fit of laughter shook you. Astarion’s mouth opened several times but no sound came out. A rare occasion to the see the sassy rogue so void of words.

Meanwhile, a bunch of moans could be heard from the other side of camp where Shadowheart collected her won gold from the others.)

"Why would you-", Astarion began and his expression was barely readable while your laughter slowly died down and you were able to kneel back on your feet.

"Didn't you say it yourself? He's quite handsome, isn't he? Now you get to see for yourself again."

Astarion pointed an angry finger at you about to throw another fit but then his eyes fell on the statue again. Now with knowing what it was and what it meant it shut him up immediately.

He took a few steps closer to get a better look. His anger at you momentarily forgotten as he gazed upon his own image for the first time in over 200 years.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion #astarion x reader #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #karlach #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #drabble

[theemporium]

[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

series masterlist

.

Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious. 

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days  after the party, with a message from you on his screen. 

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours? 

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality. 

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything 

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy 

hockey boy: and annoying 

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance). 

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.” 

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.” 

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?” 

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?” 

Jack snorted in response. 

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted. 

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves. 

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day. 

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it. 

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out. 

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” 

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?” 

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.” 

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.” 

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again. 

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice. 

“Not sure.” 

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?” 

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?” 

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him. 

“Do I need to give you a curfew?” 

“Fuck off!” 

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with. 

It was fine. 

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode. 

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted. 

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. 

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it. 

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.” 

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you. 

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.” 

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated. 

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion. 

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.” 

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.” 

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze. 

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?” 

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.” 

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born. 

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.” 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.” 

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words. 

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?” 

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused. 

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again. 

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?” 

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?” 

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.” 

“My training?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.” 

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinked. “You’re asking me?” 

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.” 

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer. 

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you. 

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss. 

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow. 

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again. 

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?” 

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.” 

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod. 

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.” 

You raised your brows. “This good?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?” 

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.” 

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. 

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you. 

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire. 

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.” 

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red. 

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much. 

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white. 

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it. 

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—” 

“For what?” 

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.” 

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?” 

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.” 

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…” 

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.” 

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.” 

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response. 

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food. 

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy. 

It made his head spin, in a good way. 

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you. 

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend. 

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised. 

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend. 

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

.

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

[twirlyleafs]

”Start of the season-drama”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: angst, assumed cheating

~~~~

“I wish you could come with me.” You looked over at your boyfriend next to you by the kitchen counter. He didn’t meet your gaze, face contoured in concentration as he formed the ground beef into patties.

“I know baby.” You agreed, reaching for a bowl to put the cut cucumber in. Max grabbed it for you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with? Bahrain is nice.” He softly bumped his arm against yours, offering a playful smile. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I would love to, you know that. But I have my thesis to write.”

“You can do that on the road.” He tried, but you both knew the answer. This conversation had been on repeat for the last few months and every time it ended with Max, somewhat disappointed, agreeing that it would be best if you stayed home. You weren’t surprised he tried one last time tonight.

“Even if I could Maxie, I still have to work and I can’t do that from Bahrain.” Even before he spoke up you knew what his next argument would be and if anything got under your skin, it was this.

“You don’t need to work though. You have me.” The way he said it so casually, like he always did, had your stomach twisting. You hated that he saw it like that, and no matter how many times you talked about it Max didn’t seem to understand your point of view. You clenched your jaw, physically biting your tongue not to say anything back. Instead you concentrated back on the work on the cutting board, brows slightly furrowed. Things were quiet for a few moments, Max being busy with the meat in the frying pan, and you had almost blocked him out completely, deep in your own thoughts, when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. Your back was softly pulled flush against his chest and a second later he nudged the side of your head with his nose.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pressing a few kisses against your cheek and down your shoulder. “Of course you have things to do here, I get that. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help but smile, the frown melting of your face in a second. How could you ever stay annoyed at him when he was this cuddly and cute? You placed the knife down, turning around in his rather tight grip to face him. Max looked down at you, tilting his head slightly as to ask if he was forgiven. You just reached up to grab his cheeks, bringing his face down to yours for a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You said when the two of you finally pulled apart. “But it’s just two weeks, right?”

“Hmm.” Max nodded, fingers pressing into the skin just above your hips. “Then I’ll come straight back home and I won’t leave your side for at least a few days.” You laughed at that, snaking your arms around his torso and leaning your head against his chest. Max pulled you even closer, a deep breath leaving his lips. You were going to miss him, but two weeks went fast and you told yourself that he’d be back, preferably with two wins under his belt, before you knew it.

~

The first race had been amazing. You had watched from home with some of your friends, absolutely ecstatic and somewhat tipsy as your boyfriend passed the finish line in first place what felt like hours ahead of the rest. When he called you after the win you had literally screamed into the phone how proud you were of him and hearing him laugh loudly on the other end had you smiling the whole night.

That was four days ago. You had been busy, work was more chaotic than normal and your limited freetime was spent in the library working on your thesis. Unfortunately, this also meant that you had missed a few of Maxs phone calls and when you’d called him back he had been busy instead. You texted a lot, but it had been a few days since you last heard his voice and you were starting to miss it.

Getting back late from the library, not at all happy with the work you had done, all you wanted to do was to call Max and have him tell you about his day. You knew he had been at the annual banquet in Jeddah last night, which he hated, and you were excited to hear all the gossip. You sunk down in the couch, making yourself comfortable as you searched up the results of the first practice round. You always wanted to know how things were going for Max before you spoke to him, partly to show him that you cared and partly because you wanted to know what mood he might be in. You smiled to yourself, pleased, when you saw him at the top of the rankings. Absentminded you begun to scroll down among the tweets, rolling your eyes at the people hating on Max and grinning proudly at all the people joking about how this season would just be win after win after win for him. Suddenly you stopped, a tweet written all in caps catching your eye.

MAX VERSTAPPEN LOOKING DAPPER WITH MYSTERIOUS BLONDE! DID HE LEAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND AT HOME?

You raised your eyebrows, not being able to stop yourself from clicking on the photos. Surely it was going to be something dumb, you were used to the rumors surrounding your boyfriend and you had simply learned to just tune them out. Scrolling through the pictures now, however, you could feel your stomach drop. It was blurry, but it was clearly Max. The photos were taken from far away but you saw him, dressed handsomely in a suit and bowtie, with his arms tightly wrapped around a tall blonde. Her back was turned against the camera so you couldn’t make out her face, but you didn’t recognize the body at all. The two of them seemed to be alone, standing outside what looked like the building where the banquet was held. In one picture Max was shown grabbing her cheeks, staring down at her. You squinted, as if that would help you distinguish his expression, but you couldn’t quite tell what was happening. You couldn’t deny that it sure looked like he was about to kiss her. Quickly locking your phone you dropped it in your lap, staring down at the black screen with wide eyes. That wasn’t just some rumor, something someone had claimed to see or made up. Those were real photos, photos of Max being way too close for comfort with someone who clearly wasn’t you. You knew you should calm down, take a step back until you could talk to him and let him explain. Surely there was an explanation that didn’t involve him actually cheating on you? Right? Before you had time to spiral further your phone lit up again, the picture of Max sleeping, drooling, in a cab you had as his contact photo illuminating your screen. Acting on reflex you picked it up, sliding your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Baby!” He seemed surprised that you answered but quickly regained himself. “Am I disturbing you? Are you at home?”

“I just got home.” You answered, frowning at the shortness of your own tone. You weren’t sure how to approach him, you weren’t even sure what to say. Were you mad? Sad?

“Good. Feels like we’ve just missed each other the past few days.” Max shuffled around on the other end and you assumed he was laying in bed. With a content sigh he spoke again and you could hear the smile on his face. “How are you my love?”

“I’m good.” You mumbled, clicking on the speaker icon and placing your phone down in your lap.

“How’s the thesis coming along? I assume you just came from the library?”

“Hmm, yeah I did. It’s fine.” Max obviously picked something up in your voice because he was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I hope you’re not spreading yourself too thin baby, you have to take a break sometimes.” His voice was full of concern and you don’t know if it was that or the pictures still haunting you but suddenly all you wanted was to be next to him. “Have you eaten today?”

“Actually,” you began, deciding what to say as the words were coming out of your mouth. “I was thinking about maybe coming to you? I think I can make it to the race if I leave tomorrow and-“ you stopped as you heard Max laugh on the other end, stomach twisting at the sound you usually loved. That was not the reaction you wanted.

“You know I miss you but that’s crazy baby.” He chuckled. You could feel the pressure take form behind your eyes. “You have things to do and I’ll be home in less than a week.”

“Yeah but I want to see you now. I thought you’d want that too.” You hated that his reaction, a very reasonable reaction at that, left you feeling so hurt.

“Of course I want to see you, but you shouldn’t come all the way here when we both know-“

“I shouldn’t?” His choice of words felt like a punch in the stomach and you frowned down at the phone. Max took a second too long to respond so you spoke again. “Why shouldn’t I? You don’t want me there?”

“What’s all this coming from?” The smile was far gone from his voice and now he just sounded bewildered. “You’re the one who opted to stay home because you had work to do.”

“Yeah well that was before I knew you’d cozy up with some other girl if I’m not there.”

You pressed your eyes shut, cringing at your own words the second they left your lips. You did not mean to put that out there like that. The line went quiet for a moment before Max broke the silence, voice as confused as it gets.

“What?”

You wanted to cry. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you say?”

“Nothing Max. Don’t worry about it.” You snapped, hating yourself more every time you opened your mouth. You really needed this conversation to be over, preferably before you started to cry. “I’m actually really tired, I think I’m-“

“No no no, you don’t just get to throw something like that at me and then hang up. What did you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You were rambling. “Just forget it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You heard Max say your name before you hung up, heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #verstappen x reader #Verstappen #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #Verstappen fanfic

[forlix]

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative

warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?” 

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause. 

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.” 

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

 “Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels. 

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?” 

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

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