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back2bluesidex · 4 months

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Closer To You - JJK (18+)

Pairing: Rich, spoilt brat!Jeongguk X Doctor! Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, kinda yandere if you squint, toxic relationship au.

Wordcount: 1k+

Summary: You know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect, and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.

Warnings: Angst, heavy language, swearing, not super explicit sex, jeongguk is kinda mean, he refuses to wear a condom (don't do the same), obsessive behavior, hints of class difference, kinda dirty talk, reader is trying hard to push him away but he won't budge. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

Listened to Closer To You by Jungkook.

It feels weird to enter your own apartment.

Your skin crawls underneath the heavy trench coat, as if your sixth sense is telling you that there’s something or someone waiting patiently for you inside.

Your suspicion is confirmed when you see his silhouette prominent against the bright backdrop of your otherwise dark apartment window.

He sits still, patiently. His eyes are focused on something you can’t tell due to the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” you finally let your breath go and you didn’t even know you were holding it on for so long.

You turn on the lights, slip out of your shoes and coat and walk towards the couch where he is sitting currently. He turns his head to look at you.

“Why? Expected someone else?” Jeongguk stands up on his toes and takes a few steps towards where you are standing.

His dark jeans, dark shirt and dark expression, everything complements the dark aura he is oozing right now. But he looks beautiful regardless.

You scoff, “Is it not justified for me to expect anyone but you? Especially when you are the one who has been ignoring me for two weeks and three days to be precise?”

“You fucking ditched me during the party, Y/N! You made me a look like fool before my friends just because you got called at work! How would you treat me if you were in my shoes?” Jeongguk screams at your face. His height looms over your small figure. The weight of his gaze intimidates you but you know how to shake that off.

He is angry, you know. But you also know that his anger is not justified.

“I would have understood, Jeongguk.” you pause, taking a few steps away from him, “you need to understand that I lead a completely different life. I don’t have time to waste sipping champagne wearing over-expensive silk dresses. I am a doctor! And I need to sacrifice my personal time for the sake of my patients! If you can’t get that in your head, if you can’t respect what I do then just fuck off! Let’s break the fuck up!”

Your voice feels hoarse instantly. You have hardly ever screamed so much. This is so unlike you, you can’t recognize yourself. Jeongguk really pulls out the worst of you.

Jeongguk scoffs, then he is grinning and then he is laughing at the loudest possible volume, “What? What did you say? You are going to what- break up with me?”

You hate this side of your boyfriend.

When you first met him at the hospital, he had minor scratches and a set of big puppy eyes. When he cutely told you how he fell down while snowboarding, you couldn’t help smiling.

Only if you knew he is just like other rich brats sporting a “I want it, I get it” attitude, you would have resisted his bunny smile and big doe eyes, you would have stayed professional when he asked for your number, you would have turned him down when he asked you out. But now you are here, 8 months into this relationship with Chaebol Jeon Jeongguk, standing on the verge of the end because you just can’t stand being with him anymore.

“Jeongguk please… Please just stop treating me like a possession. I am not your shiny new car. I am a human being! If you don’t love me, just- just let me go.” your voice comes out weaker than it should. Even though it has only been 8 months, even though Jeongguk is not the most ideal boyfriend, even though you two have hell and heaven difference between you, you still fell for him regardless. And you know it’s a mistake because there is no way you are more than just a fancy doctor girlfriend for him. It hurts but you know rationality is more important than your feelings right now.

You are so busy gathering your own wits that you don’t notice the heartbroken expression that takes over Jeongguk’s beautiful face.

“I- I don’t love you? I don’t treat you like a human?” his voice weavers. The tremble in his words makes you look up at him.

“No you don’t.” you say briefly.

“Oh?” his eyes start glistening with moisture and he diverts those away from yours. Running a hand through his hair out of frustration he groans, “then why do you think I am with you?”

That’s a million dollar question, you don’t know the answer properly. So, you reply with what you think is the most appropriate answer, “it makes you look cool. A normal working class girlfriend to a millionaire chaebol… What a good match!”

As soon as your answer ends, you see Jeongguk taking fast steps towards you. He grabs you by your neck and pulls your face closer to his. You stumble, being unable to keep up with his actions.

“I love you, Y/N. You better get that inside your head. I am not letting you go, not now, not ever.” he breathes on your face, pinning you down with a sharp, piercing look in his eyes.

You don’t know what to feel, not when you see a weird determination in his eyes, not when his mouth is crashing on yours, not when Jeongguk is devouring your lips fervently.

Minutes pass and you find yourself naked in your bed, with Jeongguk in between your thighs, kissing your mound, licking your clit and saying “I love you” in every interval.

You don’t know what to feel when he pushes his girthy length inside you but refuses to wear a condom claiming to “shoot his babies inside you”.

You don’t know if your stomach is filled with butterflies or fear or is it just Jeongguk’s bulge, when he fucks you relentlessly murmuring how much he worships your body, how he wants to fuck you every day after marriage.

You don’t know whether to kick him out of your apartment or keep him with you forever when he cleans you up, places a kiss on your forehead, tells you that he loves you again and again and gradually falls asleep beside you.

You only know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.

#bts angst #jungkook angst #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeongguk angst #jeongguk smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jeongguk x you #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts oneshot #bts yandere #jungkook yandere

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authorhjk1 · 3 months

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The Roman Goddess (part II)

Sana X Male Reader

The taxi ride to her hotel feels like it's taking hours. Her white top still shows hints of your last moment alone. Since then, the two of you met not a lot of people. Only a couple of oblivious visitors and the taxi driver.

The later was staring at her for a couple of moments as the two of you got in. It wasn't your place to say something, she is married after all. But you can't really blame him.

Even after you just had her kneeling half naked in front of you, you still glance at her every two seconds.

You still feel like you are dreaming. How you managed to pull it off still remains a mystery to you. Or maybe she was looking for someone anyway? And you were just the first guy to hit on her?

Maybe. And even if that's the case, you don't really care. As long as she is taking you to her hotel room, you don't care why she is doing this.

"What's your name by the way?"

The taxi driver's radio is too loud for him to understand what the two of you are saying. Italian words echo through the car.

The young woman raises an eyebrow.

"Now you are curious? After you came on me?"

You feel your cheeks heating up, but you see how the left corner of her mouth moves upwards a little.

"Y-You asked me to."

She tilts her head as if she is trying to recall the scene in the museum.

"You sound like I forced you to do that."

Somehow she did. Or at least her body. Who wouldn't want to cum on her chest? Especially if she says she wants it?

"So?"

You brake the silence after a couple of moments. Although it's anything but quiet in the car. As far as you can tell, the driver is listening to a soccer game.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"I just came on your chest. Shouldn't you trust me by now?"

You see her smirking, intrigued by the way you used her words against her.

"I won't tell you my name. Just in case."

She finally turns her head towards you, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"Just call me Venus."

"Venus?"

You can't help but chuckle.

"Didn't we already establish that you are like Aphrodite?"

'Venus' shrugs her shoulders. An elegant gesture coming from her.

"You said that Venus was more important."

You nod quietly.

You feel out of place. You've never been to such a hotel before. Everything looks expensive. The white marble floor, the cedar wooden reception desk, the golden elevator doors with pretty engravings.

The lobby just looks insane to you. But Venus just walks through the big hall, her head raised high, her confident stride makes her heels klick on the floor.

Trailing behind her, you see how well dressed everyone is. It's not like your outfit sucks, a simple white shirt and jeans, but the other guests are wearing suits and dresses.

"Mrs. Minatozaki."

The receptionist greets her, handing her the key for her room. Her name sounds Japanese.

"And this is a package that just arrived. It's for you."

"Thank you."

Venus, or Mrs. Minatozaki, takes the small box and walks towards the elevator. You follow her, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

As soon as she throws the package on the bed, she turns around. You tried to see what her room looked like, or rather suite, but her intense gaze makes you focus on her.

"Come here."

She whispers, slinging her arms around your neck. You lean down, meeting her halfway as the two of you start to indulge into each other's lips.

You realize that your hands once again are exploring her body. As if you can't get enough. Her curves feel so good underneath the fabric.

"Fuck, your lips taste so good,-"

You catch her pause.

"I need a name for you too."

Her lips leave yours, before they kiss your cheek, moving towards your neck.

"Any suggestions? It should fit mine."

It's hard to concentrate, when you have a woman like Venus kissing your neck. Impossible even. But you luckily know your way around Roman mythology.

"Mars."

You feel one of her hands slide down your back.

"Mars fits the theme."

"And who is that?"

You don't know if she is pretending or not, but you feel her hand reaching your crotch. Yours are on her waist. Still amazed by how small it is, you try your best to explain.

"The Roman god of war. And agriculture."

You feel her chuckle into your neck.

"That's an interesting combination."

"Well,.. "

You can't stop it. Your history nerd side comes back to life. Despite the fact that Venus is slowly letting her fingers glide over your jeans.

"That combination is a characteristic of early Rome. Military and farming both have their peak during the summer. It makes sense to me."

You feel her bite you skin slightly.

"Are you gonna keep talking? Or do you want to fuck?"

"T-The second one."

"Me too. Mars."

She whispers, before backing away.

It feels weird to be called by a name of a god.

"Give me just a minute."

Venus takes the package and disappears into the bathroom.

Standing alone, you are not quite sure what to do. Take your clothes off? Stand in place? Get on the bed?

Your eyes roam the big room as you realize how much this must cost. Hundreds. Maybe even a thousand a night or something.

Even the bed looks like the best you've ever seen. It's almost three times as big as yours. Golden ornaments are decorating its wooden bed frame.

You decide to get rid off your clothes. A moment later you are lying on the soft mattress, only in your underwear. Then, the door opens. You feel your jaw dropping in amazement.

Venus leans against the white doorframe.

Her black lace bra shows her porcelain like skin underneath. Her tits look a little bigger than before. Her panties match her bra. Black lace. It shows of how small her waist is. Her toned stomach really makes her look like a goddess. The black straps that connect her stockings with her panties each have a golden ring in the middle. The heels she is wearing complete her all black outfit

"I see you like it?"

You look down at your crotch. That's a very clear yes.

Watching her walk over to you almost makes you drool. Her hips sway from left to right, her hair, now lose, follows the same rhythm.

"I don't even remember the last time my pussy was filled."

She crashes down on you, not giving you time to react, when she reaches the bed. Landing on top of you, you feel her center rub against yours. Her hands in your hair. Her lips on yours once again.

The two of you exchange a passionate kiss, her hands slowly going through your hair. Yours are traveling down her back, until they reach their destination. You squeeze her cheeks, making Venus moan into your mouth.

"Naughty boy."

She coos, before she slides down your body. Her tits graze your covered crotch in the process. Once her face is on the right hight, she pulls your boxers off.

"I've already missed this so much."

She sighs, before diving in. Without a word of warning, you feel how Venus swallows your cock. Her warm mouth makes you groan as you sink into the cushions.

Reaching down, you hold her hair back as her head bobs up and down. Her blowjob is messy. Her saliva is starting to get everywhere. Your cock, your balls, your thighs, the mattress.

The only thing you can do is watch. Her eyes lock onto yours, trying to stare into your soul.

"Fuck."

You groan, unable to withstand her attack.

"So delicious."

She murmurs as she let's her tongue dance along your shaft, before taking you back into her mouth.

You can feel how impatient she is. Her blowjob is gaining in pace, her hands moving along your thighs. She starts to fuck her face onto your cock.

With a load groan, you almost cum right there. She pulls away early enough. Your disappointment is quickly replaced by heart pounding excitement.

"Eat me, please."

She gets on her knees, pulling her panties to the side. The mouth watering view almost gives you goosebumps. Her folds are wet, her pussy cleanly shaven.

You pull her hips towards you, making Venus sit on your face. Her pussy tastes even better than it looks. You can't get enough after only one lick. Her hands are in your hair again, forcing you to bury yourself even deeper into her core.

"Yes, baby."

She sighs, her head rolling back. Your pace quickens as you insert a finger into her wet core, while you lick her clit. Her velvet walls clench around you, dying for any friction at all.

"More. More!"

Her moans become louder, her whines needier.

At one point, she starts to ride your face. Your finger is still inside of her, egging her on.

"So close. The museum made me so wet."

You can feel her orgasm slowly approaching. Her pussy clenches around your finger even harder.

"Fuck!"

She almost shouts as she cums on your face.

Her sweet nectar tastes like peaches as you are forced to drink it, her hands keeping you in place.

"That was so good."

She sighs, her body visibly relaxing on top of you.

"I don't even remember the last time..."

She trails off, glancing down at you.

"I need you inside of me, Mars. Fuck me hard."

You tighten the grip on her waist, suddenly sitting up. It makes her fall off you and she lands on her back. You are now kneeling in front of her wet core, your cock grazing her folds.

"Give it to me."

She watches with a satisfied look on her face as you start to penetrate her pussy. Her tightness makes it hard to fit all of your cock inside of her in one go. You have to slowly ease in and out a couple of times, until you finally bottom out.

"Fuck, you are big."

She sighs as she feels how you fill her. Her pussy hugs your cock as tight as it can.

Her hands grab the sheets as you start to fuck Venus. Her body rocks back and forth on the mattress. Your hands are placed on her hips as you enjoy her pussy. It almost feels like she is made for you.

"More!"

Her head sinks into the sheets as you start to fuck her harder. Her legs wrap around you, trapping you, not allowing you to go anywhere but deeper. Not that you mind. If you could only stay inside of her forever...

Your body moves on its own, driven by your carnal desires. Every thrust makes her breasts jiggle slightly, despite the fact that they are still secure inside her bra. Her eyes are staring up at you, tracing the drops of sweat that form on your forehead, before they fall onto your chest or her tummy.

"Gosh, your cock..."

You see how her eyes become smaller, until they finally close. Her mouth is slightly open, moan after moan escaping her pretty lips.

"How are you so tight?"

You can't help but wonder. How is she this perfect? That face of hers would already be enough for every man to fall for her. But her body turns you into a slave to your animalistic instincts. And her pussy.. You can't describe it with words.

It feels like you are in paradise. And at the same time, you feel something like guilt. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be fucking her. She is a married woman. And yet, that fact somehow turns you on even more.

Venus should be off limits to you. Because she is way out of your league. And because she is married. But here you are. Fucking her, while she whines and mewls, asking you to go faster.

For a moment, you wonder if she is alone in Rome. Or is her husband with her? You haven't thought about this possibility yet. That he and her might have spent the night right here. In this bed. In the bed you are fucking his wife on.

"Fuck!"

Her loud moan brings you back to reality.

"I need it rougher! More!"

It's starting to feel like she just can't get enough.

You start to slow down, wanting to try another position. Maybe you can fuck her even deeper that way.

"Get up and turn around."

Venus seems to like the idea. She gets on all fours her ass facing you.

"Put it back in."

She smiles as she looks over her shoulder.

You let your hands run along her beautifully shaped cheeks. You knead them a couple of times, before you aling yourself with her wet cavern once again.

"Fuck me hard."

It's a mixture of plea and command.

Venus moans when you thrust forward, impaling her with your cock.

"Oh god!"

You lean over her, grabbing both of her arms. Pulling them back, you make her kneel. Only your hands on her arms keep her upright.

Fucking her from behind feels better than missionary. You are able to penetrate her deeper. You are able to rock her body back and forth properly. And you can really pull her onto your cock.

But as you keep pounding into her, her hair starts to fall, swinging from left to right. It hits her face, whenever you pull at her arms and thrust into her. She has to close her mouth, letting out needy whimpers. But she can't hold it in for very long. And soon, she has some of her own hair in her mouth as she moans for more.

The only downside is, you can't see her face. Her gorgeous features must be twisted in pleasure, but you are missing out on seeing them. Her hair starts to have a life on its own as the pace and force of your thursts increase. It starts to cover parts of her face, while most of it is still resting against her back.

You focus on the rhythm of your thrusts as you feel how deep you are inside of her. It feels like her pussy is getting better and better by the second. Your own pleasure increases, the harder you fuck her.

"Fuck!"

Venus suddenly cums around your cock. You missed the fact that she has been dead silent for the last couple of moments. Now, she is letting it all out again. Lewd words spill from her lips, just like her juices spill out of her pussy. She starts to stain the sheets underneath, almost slipping because of her own liquids.

Her orgasm overwhelms you, bringing you closer towards your own edge. You have been holding on for now, but the sight of Venus cuming right in front of you eventually proves too much.

You feel how you are growing tired, her pussy contracting around you with every thrust into it.

"I think I'm gonna cum!"

You groan, trying to warn Venus.

"Paint me! Stain me with your cum!"

She mewls as she feels you picking up the pace one last time. Her hair is still in her face, but she is unable to put it back. Her arms still behind her.

"Fuck."

You sigh as you finally pull out. You let go of her arms, letting Venus fall face first into the mattress. You hold your cock in your hand as you start to climax. Your cum hits her back. Rope after rope starts to stain her skin. Just like she wanted. Some of it gets onto the bra wire, the white globes visible on the black fabric.

"Fuck, I needed that."

You hear her mumble into the sheets, her voice muffled by the white cotton.

You still can't fully grasp what you just did. As soon as she came out of the bathroom it felt like someone else was controlling your body. It felt incredible nonetheless.

As you see Venus lying on her stomach in front of you, your cum on her back, you wonder what else there is to do. There is so much. There is so much the two of you could do. You whish you could explore even more of her body. To feel every inch of her skin.

When Venus finally turns her head to look up at you, you see her smile. Her eyes tell you that she is thinking the same thing.

"How do you want to fuck me next?"

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice smut #twice #sana twice #sana minatozaki #sana smut #sana

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byechristopher · 5 months

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⠀

I hate you, too.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO SMUT.

Author's note: okay so, I was listening to Les – Childish Gambino, and this idea came to mind because uhm, I love Chris, I love parties, I love angry, messy, toxic sex. So, sue me. I got carried away so, super long. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: this, once again, is pure filth. Super long, didn't proof-read so fml, angry & rough sex, toxic sex, slapping, choking, semi-public. Just a mess. Minors dni!

The lights are so damn bright in here, I can see blue, red, purple, all kinds of colors, everywhere. Not that I'm really complaining, this place is so dark that I can barely see anything – only when the lights flash. I can see people everywhere, their silhouettes, dancing, kissing, drinking.

I quickly pour myself a drink, making sure I'm keeping it safe in my hand; I haven't been in a house party in ages. But I remember how messy they get, I know everyone will pass out at some point. I'm trying to search my friend group with my eyes but it is almost impossible – how big is this goddamn house?

"Hi! You made it!" a friend screams when she sees me and I smile. I try to greet everyone but my eyes meet someone's face that I really didn't want to see here. My ex.

"What is he doing here?" I groan, turning to glare at my friend.

"I'm sorry, babes, he literally just came. I texted you. He's friends with the host, Jake, I didn't know." she has an apologetic face and I check my phone to realise she did text me about it. Fucking hell.

I can feel his blue eyes on my body, burning it like daggers on fire. I try to avoid him as much as possible and the fact that he looks this good, doesn't make it very easy. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and I can't help but steal a few glances. He's already looking at me. He's smirking.

Fucking asshole.

"Hi, pretty." he is next to me now, dangerously close to me, as I take a sip of my drink.

"What do you want, Chris?" I roll my eyes.

"That's not how you treat your ex." he scoffs, looking around playfully before looking at me again. I turn my head to look at him, too.

"Let's not open that topic here." I try to push him away, his body doesn't really move.

"I agree. Let's talk about the car sex we had a few days ago." he smiles and you would think he's talking about the most innocent thing. His hands still in his pockets, he looks cool and unfazed by my angry glare.

"Shut the fuck up, Chris. Don't you have anywhere else to go, anything else to do?" I yell. Now I'm facing him, my body turned towards him.

"I'd like to do you." he comes closer to my ear and I sigh, downing my drink before turning my back on him. I am afraid I won't be able to hold myself back this time either.

"Well, I don't."

"Yeah?" his chin is touching my shoulder and I can feel his jeans pressed against my butt, "so if I touched you now, you wouldn't be wet?" he hums.

I am not wet. I am dripping. But that doesn't mean anything, right.

"You're not allowed to touch me anyway." I dodge his fucking question.

"Well, you weren't saying that when you were pressed against the car door." he chuckles, "you're wet, then." he whispers but it's enough for me to hear.

"Not for you. Maybe for your friend, Jake." I smirk, knowing this will stop his attack. He's always been extremely jealous. So have I.

"Fuck you." he almost growls in my ear, but the smirk still stays on. He turns me around and as soon as he says that, one of our favourite songs starts to play. Les by Childish Gambino, "fuck you.. can I have this dance?"

I can't help but chuckle a little, which I try to hide immediately. The timing, the line he used from the song, this songs specifically, him. Fucking Chris.

I quickly grab him and drag him in the center of the room that we're in, he holds onto my hand tightly and brings me closer, pressing my back against his chest. We dance to the music, he's not moving much but I can tell he's enjoying the little show I put on for him. My butt is pressed against him then whole time and I can feel the bulge in his jeans. Good.

I turn around and continue to dance with him, my hands traveling to his back to grip his shirt and pull him as close as possible. The part in the song that we love the most comes on and he cups my cheeks, pressing his forehead against mine as he looks into my eyes. We're both singing the lyrics.

"Oh, girl, I wanna know, are you ready to cry? 'Cause I'm no good, no good.." his playful smile never leaves his face.

"Oh, girl, I wanna try, I'm an awful guy and I'm always away.." my lips curl up into a playful smirk as well, my hands sneak under his shirt and I dig my nails into his lower back.

"And I'm tryin' to say, I'm a piece of shit.." he stops singing and the next second, he's kissing me. I fucking hate myself for kissing him back as hungrily as I did.

He grabs my hand and makes me follow him – nothing else matters, as the song says. Only us. We practically run up the stairs and I see a wooden door, he seems like he knows this place. My friend did tell me he's friends with the host.

He opens the door and then locks it once we're inside the room. It's a bathroom, not very big and the light is so dim, I'm not sure if it is there to match the party's vibe or if this dude just doesn't like actual lighting in the house. We don't waste anytime – Chris picks me up and sets me down on the counter next to the sink, my dress rides up just enough for him to move closer, pushing my legs apart with his body. We can still hear the music from here.

I take his shirt off immediately, throwing it somewhere behind him before wrapping a finger around his chain, pulling him closer for yet another hungry kiss. He grabs the hem of the dress to push it up, my skin meeting the cold counter but it is soon replaced by Chris' large hands. He squeezes my butt, pushing me forward so that his bulge rubs against me. He sneaks a hand in between us, his fingers rubbing my soaked panties.

"Is this for Jake, hm?" he grabs my bottom lip in between his teeth, biting it roughly.

"Maybe." I moan, leaning forward to take his nipple in my mouth, flicking it with my tongue.

He moans, "why are you here then?" he puts pressure on my clothed pussy and let go of his nipple, throwing my head back.

"Fuck off." I groan, moving my hips so that I'm rubbing myself on his fingers.

"You're dying to have my dick inside of you." he whispers, chuckling.

"And you're dying to have me in any way you can." I push him away, jumping off the counter and quickly pulling his jeans down together with his Calvin Klein boxers, "isn't that why you keep following me around, hm?" spitting on my own hand, I grab his dick, rubbing up and down while staring into his eyes the whole time. They're filled with lust, anger, passion. He moans.

"Fuck off." he groans this time, his head falls on my shoulder as I jerk him off, both of his hands grab the counter on each side of me. He thrusts into my hand.

All of a sudden, he slaps my hand away and turns me around, making me press both of my hands on the mirror in front of us, pushing my lower back down so that I arch my back and spread my legs. His hands are on my breasts now, pushing my dress now so that they're free for him to see and touch. With one hand he pushes the dress up to reveal my ass as well, the dress now only covering my stomach and a small part of my back. I don't dare to move, I only watch him as he pulls my panties down – he spreads my ass and spits, not that he needed that, I'm already dripping.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" I groan, pushing my back against him.

"Beg for it." he slaps my ass a few times as he smirks.

"Chris, fucking hell. Fuck me already." I say but he's not pleased. He slaps my skin again and I groan, gently hitting the mirror out of frustration. His cock rubs against my clit and I lose it, "fucking.. Chris! Please, fuck me. I want you inside me." I whine. He smiles. Thank fuck.

He finally pushes inside of me and my eyes roll to the back of my head as I look at him in the reflection of the mirror. He pushes his cock all the way inside me and grabs my hair in a ponytail, wrapping it around his hand to push me back every time he thrusts in.

"Fuck.. fuck.." I moan, licking my fingers before dragging them down my body to rub my clit, always looking at him, as he fucks me roughly. My fingers touch his dick every now and then, it makes him moan a little louder. He leans forward to sink his teeth into the skin of my shoulder as he watches me cry out in both pain and pleasure – with his free hand, he grabs my hand that was rubbing my clit, bringing to his mouth to lick the juices off my fingers. I almost cum.

My breasts bounce with every movement, he thrusts into me and I push back against him. He pulls out of me and I curse under my breath. He turns me around and places me on the countertop again, wrapping an arm around my waist as he guides his dick so that he can start fucking me hard again. I grab a fistful of his hair, tugging it harshly when he pushes into me; it makes him lightly slap my cheek before wrapping his fingers around my neck, choking me. I gasp and slap him back, grabbing his throat with my hand, too.

"I fucking hate you." I moan, his eyes staring into mine.

"Yeah.. turns me on.. love it." he moans and smirks, and that's all it takes for me to come closer to my high.

"Chris.. Chris.. I'm gonna.." I whine and he lets go of my neck, hugging me close and pressing his forehead against mine as I let go of his neck as well.

"That's it, baby.. fuck.. will you cum for me? Hm?" he says and that's closest thing to affection that we showed tonight. I nod and moan loudly, holding onto him as tight as I can. I cum, trembling, and he does the exact same thing, moaning my name over and over again.

We stay like this for God knows how long – he's still inside of me and I almost pass out in his arms, his hand rubs my back soothingly.

"You okay?" he whispers, as if it was a crime to be affectionate with each other again. We used to be together after all.

"Yes.. you?" I whisper back, the feeling of not wanting to let go of him just yet comes back and I try to push it away as fast as I can.

"I am okay, yes." he mumbles and after letting me know, he slowly pulls out of me, earning a wince from me, "sorry." he mutters.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he says and I sigh. This is wrong.

"It's best if you don't." I whisper, looking at him and I can see the vulnerability in his eyes too.

"That's true." he nods and fixes my dress, pushing his boxers and pants up right after.

"I still hate you." I mutter. I don't want him to leave.

"Yeah." he wears his shirt, he grabs my chin and leaves a sweet kiss on my lips, "me too."

And with that, he leaves.

⠀

827 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

Text

illicit affairs | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Two attempts are always better than one, right? If you're serious about getting pregnant then you can't just hope that Joel can manage to do it by trying once every month. It might be wrong, but seeing him camped out on the couch gives you the perfect excuse to try one more time this month, without distractions.

Warnings | Joel Miller being a fucking stud as always, breeding kink, size kink, dubious moral choices by both reader and Joel, Tommy getting cucked (as usual), dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex,

Word Count | 2.7k

Authors Note | Well..... this certainly isn't how I anticipated this series going, but it makes sense, right? Can't just fuck once a month and expect to make a baby. I am absolutely feral for how much you guys are enjoying this series that wasn't meant to be a series and I hope you continue to do so in the future. And also, don't worry, Tommy is back next time in full force, I promise! If you've not read parts one and two, you can find them linked below on the series masterlist - this probably won't make much sense otherwise.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Joel wakes the next morning, crick in his neck and lower back screaming at him for a night scrunched up on his brother’s couch, it’s the smell of bacon and the sizzling sound of something cooking in oil that hits him first. He pushes himself up slowly, running a hand over his face before his eyes search for the wall clock. It’s just after seven, he doesn’t have to pick Sarah up for another few hours.

The next thing that strikes him is your voice. It’s quiet, like you’re trying not to wake him up, but you’re singing, or rather humming along to some song on the radio. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t care to find out, he just sits and listens for a while, letting the sweet sound almost lull him back to sleep.

When Joel hears the clatter of plates being moved around, he stands, stretching out his back until it cracks in several places. God, he’s getting old. He slowly and softly makes his way to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you. You’re moving scrambled eggs around in the pan on the hob, two plates on the side that already have slices of bacon on them, and he can see slices of bread sat in the toaster waiting to be made. It’s domestic and he realizes he really shouldn’t like seeing it as much as he does. He shouldn’t be here, this should be his brother, but he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“You didn’t have t’make me breakfast.” He speaks, you don’t jump which makes him think you knew he was there all along.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch all night,” You counter, looking at him over your shoulder, “I guess we wore each other out, only right I send you off with a hearty breakfast.”

Joel doesn’t really know what he’s doing when he walks deeper into the kitchen. He’s driven by the fact that all you’re wearing is a large flannel shirt, obviously not one of your own, buttoned up over some underwear. You’re fucking magnetic to him, he knows you shouldn’t be, should be as far out of his reach as possible, but he’s only doing you a favour right? The more he repeats it to himself, the more he might believe it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You speak as his hands play with them hem of the shirt, although your voice is teasing, it doesn’t warn him to stop, almost dares him to go further.

Joel hears you chuckle as his hands palm your ass, “You gonna tell me to stop, pretty girl?”

“You’re trying to get me pregnant, are you not?” You ask, shifting the pan with the eggs off the heat.

“That I am,” Joel is now pressed firmly against your back, hands wandering underneath the shirt to rest on your hips, “But you gotta tell me if you want me to stop, just me and you this mornin’, sweetheart.”

“I’m still good to go,” You murmur, moving your ass into him, feeling his already growing erection in his jeans, “So, give me what I want, stud.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. Never does. He lets his big palm sink beneath the waistband of your underwear, fingers dipping almost immediately through your folds to sink down to where you’re already soaked. He knows some of that has to be him from last night, but as he drags his fingers up, covered in slick to your clit, hearing how you’re already moaning his name, he knows it’s not all him, this is your slick, mixed with him, and it drives him wild. Drives him wild that he’s marked you like this, that you’re just walking around with a piece of him inside of you.

He's almost shocked by how quickly he brings you to the edge with his fingers this morning. Clearly, you’re still sensitive from the four orgasms he gave you the night before, something that still makes his chest puff, his male ego boosted that he went one better than Tommy for you.

“Still all sensitive for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He leans down to whisper into your ear as his name falls a mile a minute from your mouth, “Gonna come for me?”

“Fuck – Joel – ohmygod,” He can feel your legs starting to shake, he makes sure the arm he’s got pressed to your lower belly keeps you upright, pressed against him, “Don’t you dare stop.”

“Didn’t plan on it.” He chuckles, letting his tongue lick hot stripes to you ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth and nibbles.

He feels your legs buckle, but that palm manages to keep you upright as you come for him. The way his name sounds in your high-pitched squeal when you let go for him has his cock throbbing in his jeans. If he was any younger, he could almost guarantee this alone would have him spilling himself into his jeans already.

He lets you catch your breath for a moment as he undoes his jeans, stepping out of them and his underwear, though he leaves his shirt on. He has to be inside you right now or he thinks he might pass out. He drags your own underwear down your legs, kicking them to the side once you’ve stepped out of them, before he’s literally slamming his cock into you with full force.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” You keen, “Fuck, you’re so big inside me.”

“I know babygirl, I know,” He stills for a moment, letting himself get used to the way your pussy is clenching him, literally pulling him in deeper, “A lot, ain’t it?”

You let out a sigh as Joel pulls himself out before slamming back into you, “I can take it,” You whine, pushing back to meet his thrusts halfway, “Fuck me harder, Joel.”

He brings a hand up to fist your hair, pulling your head back so you’re arching into him, “Careful what you wish for,” He moans, “Beggin’ me to go harder, filthy girl.”

Joel can’t quite believe how good this feels. He thought, when he slid his cock into you from behind that he might feel guilty – bending his brother’s girlfriend over the stove without him knowing anything about it – but the way he’s got his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back so you arch perfectly for him, his hips snapping into your ass in a way that has his vision blurring, he can’t find it in himself to care. Maybe that makes him a piece of shit, but you asked for this just as much as he wanted to give it to you.

He uses the hand tight in the strands of your hair to pull your face to the side. He presses a wet kiss to your cheek before he can’t stop himself from asking for it any longer, “Kiss me, pretty girl,” He growls, pulling your mouth to within a hair’s breadth of his own, “Give me that last piece of you, I know you want to.”

He can see you hesitate. Can sense the flicker of doubt across your face. He won’t force this, but fucking hell does he want it. Wants to feel those pretty lips on his own, wants to know exactly what your mouth tastes like. He grips your hip with his free hand, fingers digging into the skin, sure enough likely to leave bruises there, as he continues his pounding into you.

All of a sudden, you turn your head fully, your own free hand coming up to tangle in the curls on his head pulling his mouth to yours. The angle makes it messy, more of an open-mouthed mash up of tongues that anything else, but it fucking lights Joel on fire. He pulls away and slips his cock from your tight heat, turning you around so your back is to the stove. He pulls your naked body to his own and attaches his mouth back to yours like his life depended on it.

He can feel his cock slipping between your slick folds as he focuses his attention on his mouth attached to yours. It’s depraved, the way his tongue melds with your own, licking into your mouth like he’s a man starved. Which he technically is, he can’t remember the last time he kissed a woman, let alone one as perfect as you.

When he pulls away from you, hands on your ass to lift you up so he can carry you to the kitchen island and sit you on top, he focuses on the string of saliva that attaches your mouth to his. He pulls away just enough that it breaks, settling on the hair on his chin. He almost busts his nut all over your lower belly when you lean across and lick it from his face, grin plastered on your mouth like you know exactly what you’ve just done to him.

You reach down between the two of you, gripping Joel’s cock in your hand, guiding it back to your spread cunt, “I think you better put this back inside me, huh?” You whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Think you might be about to come, am I right Joel?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” He curses, head to the ceiling, “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, pretty girl,” He takes his cock from your grip, sliding it slowly back into your slick pussy, watching as you throw your head back in pleasure as he does, “How many babies you want?” He asks, royally pushing his fucking luck now, “Tell me you want more than one, tell me I get to come inside your pretty pussy forever.”

“You’ll have to ask your brother.” You and your smart fucking mouth, Joel thinks, looking down between the two of you where he’s splitting you open, watching as his thick cock slides effortlessly into your cunt, like you were made for him.

“Didn’t have to ask him this morning,” Joel growls at you, hand resting at the base of your throat, “This was all you, babygirl.”

He doesn’t think before he takes hold of the material of the shirt you’re wearing and yanks it open, buttons flying all over the kitchen surface. Joel lets it gape open, those big hands of his gripping the soft skin of your waist as he starts pounding into you again. He leans down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, soothing it with the pad of his tongue, before he switches to the other side.

“Such pretty tits, baby,” He groans, moving his lips up to kiss across your neck, “Even prettier when I put this baby inside you.”

His cock is brutal inside you. He can see the start of the discomfort on your face, still sore and stretched from last night. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he can hold on much longer, not when he looks down at the sight of you, spread out, dripping slick onto the countertop, legs spread as far as humanely possible, tits bouncing with every hard punch of his cock inside you.

“Want me to fill you up, babygirl?” He asks, leaning down to capture your lips one last time, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you alone again, he knows kissing you in front of his brother would probably get him shot, so he’s going to take it all whilst he can.

“Give it to me Joel, fuck,” You moan, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you upright, “Look at me whilst you do it,” You demands, “I wanna see your eyes when you pump me full of cum.”

You’re looking up at him, bottom lip bitten between teeth as he stuffs his cock into you twice, three times. He looks you dead in the eye as he lets your name drop from his lips, hand gripping so hard at your skin it’s painful. He does exactly what you say though, looks straight into your eyes as his cock fills your full of his cum. Dark and dangerous, like predator has caught its pray, spread it out underneath him and fully devoured it.

He lets out the softest of groans as he slips his cock from you, watching as his cum drips from your pussy. It’s depraved, but he takes two of his fingers and pushes as much of it as possible back inside you, curling his fingers up inside you, before he slips them out, covered in his own cum and the slick from your pussy.

He holds them up to your mouth, “You wanna taste, pretty girl?”

Joel swears he sees the devil when you take hold of his hand and drag that perfect little tongue over his fingers. He thinks he might feel his cock begin to harden again when you take them all the way into your mouth and swirl your tongue over them to get them clean, he’s only a man, he can’t help but imagine what that mouth might feel like wrapped around his cock.

He helps you down from the counter, passes you the underwear he discarded early and then slips out of his own plaid shirt, offering it to you for ruining the one you were currently wearing. You could very easily wander up the stairs and get another shirt, but you take it from him, wrap it around yourself and do up the buttons.

“Sit down,” You speak softly to him once he’s got his jeans on properly, “I’ll finish breakfast.”

Joel watches closely as you pour coffee and reheat the eggs slightly, piling a significantly bigger portion onto his plate than your own. You butter the toast and then sit down next to him, eating in silence. He expects it to be awkward, but it’s the complete opposite. It’s comfortable, warm even, just two people enjoying breakfast together before they must go back to their respective lives outside of each other.

When you’ve both finishes, you take the plates and stack the in the sink before Joel realizes he’s still got to pick Sarah up. You smile at him when he stands, going to unbutton his shirt to give it back to him when he puts a warm hand on your arm.

“Keep it,” He says softly, “Looks miles better on you than it does on me.”

Your head dips and then you smile, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for – the shirt? Probably not. But he smiles and kisses your cheek all the same before he’s making sure he’s got his keys and then he’s leaving.

All Joel can think about on his drive to pick Sarah up is the massive fucking line he’s just crossed. He can paint it in whatever light he wants to – normal couples fuck all the time, at every possible moment, when they’re trying to have a baby, so why should this be any different? That’s all it was, is what he repeats to himself, all fucking day, thinking of the way you begged him to fill you up again, the way your lips felt against his when you finally gave in and kissed him. But there’s still that fucking niggling feeling that he’s fucked it all up, mixed his own feelings in somewhere along the line. He should have never been with you without the knowing stare of his brother, looking out for any signs of concern.

If only Joel knew that Tommy knew exactly what was happening that morning. If only he knew that you’d padded quietly down the stairs and found him soundly asleep on that couch, first instinct to reach for your phone and sent Tommy that text message.

Joel seemed to stay the night on the couch. I know you’ll be driving, so totally get if not, but mind if we try again this morning? Might have a bit more luck relying on two instead of one this month.

You’d waited just moments for Tommy’s reply, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching Joel’s chest rise and fall in his sleep.

Course not sugar, you can tell me all about it when I get in and get you all to myself.

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Text

Hey Dad

Pairing: Charles x Mom!Reader x Lando

Rating: PG-13

Words: 2.2K

Warnings: major angst, Reader is facing her lies, Elijah is lost and needs answers, Elijah blames you for not having a relationship with his father. Charles drives for RedBull and Lando Mercedes, deal with it

Synopsis: Elijah didn't want to be at the race, he couldn't be around his family right now. He was tired of the lies. Thankfully the biggest lie is there at the race

A/N: Elijah is 15 and Cecile is 11, also this might seem chaotic writing because this is from Elijah's POV so it's his messy mind trying to put everything together

Our Boy Series Masterlist / Our Boy / The Hunt for Fruit/ Together Again

Elijah knew he should've stayed in bed. He should've rolled back over and missed the Monaco GP. That's what he should've done. Instead, Cece came barging into his room without a care in the world and kicked her older brother out of bed. Literally kicked him. Sitting down at breakfast, watching as his Pa dotes on his Dad and Ma, he should've told them he didn't want to go.

But seeing how happy his Pa was at being home and racing in Monaco, held his tongue. Ma would've let him stay when he voiced his dread. This bottomless pit ever since they walked through their apartment doors. Instead, he waved it off and just acted his usual self. Now, here he is in the hot weather feeling this dread grow more and more.

Could this be a sign again? He still remembers when Dad got in his horrible accident. The same feeling was there. He can still remember listening through the radio as he crashed, the screams coming from you. Shaking his head, riding those dark thoughts, he takes several deep breaths. "The hell is wrong with you?" Groaning, he turns his head, looking at the face of his annoyed sister.

"Go away, Cece." Elijah thumps his head on the Mercedes garage, not wanting to talk to anyone. "You're being a dick, have been since you woke up." Her fingers typing fast on her phone, probably texting Uncle Carlos's or Oscar's kids.

"Maybe I wouldn't be a dick if you didn't kick me out of bed." Cece makes a noise, clicking her screen off and looking up. "Please, you've been this way since we arrived. You snapped at Dad last night and barely spoke to Papa or Mama. What's going on with you?" Elijah rips his headphones off, angry for no reason.

"Mind your own business, Cece. You don't need to know everything about me." He snarls, storming out of the garage. "Woah, easy there, Elijah." Running right into his Dad, he rolls his eyes, not even stopping to apologize. "Hey! Get back here, young man!" Lando roars, tired of this attitude. "Make me!" Elijah snaps back, ignoring his Dad's cries, losing him in the crowd.

Elijah pays no mind to where he's going. He can't go to the Red Bull garage. Dad probably already told his Pa and Ma what he did, and Cece is definitely whining to Dad about how Elijah talked to her. It was all a mess. He should've stayed in London with his grandparents. Nothing but anger and confusion coursed through his veins, trying to make sense of everything.

Why was he so angry? He hated acting like this to his family, they loved him so much, and now he's treating them like this? He deserved the worst punishment right now. Shoving his hands in his jeans, he keeps walking, not wanting to stop where anyone would recognize him.

"Elijah?" He stops, hearing the familiar voice of his godfather. "Uncle Lewis." Lewis smiles brightly, pulling the boy into a hug, happy to see him here. "What are you doing all the way down here? Shouldn't you be with your Dad or Pa?" Lewis pats his back while Elijah just shrugs.

"I got in a fight with Cece and snapped at Dad. So I'm avoiding." Lewis sighs, seeing the turmoil that, at 16, Elijah shouldn't be going through.

"Come on, let's talk over here." Lewis directs Elijah over to a private lounge. "Talk to me, what's going on?" Elijah stares at Lewis, holding back. "I won't tell your parents. I swear." The young boy pulls at his hair, Lewis watching as his godson battles with himself. "I found something that Ma has been hiding." Lewis sits up straight, clearing his throat. "Oh." Elijah nods, looking away.

"My father....he's been writing to me since I was born. 3 or 4 letters a month for 16 years. I found the letters while I was looking for my birth certificate. Needed it for the contract I was going to sign with Prema." Elijah wrung his fingers, unsure how Lewis was going to take this. "Elijah, don't tell your mother that you know." Head snapping up, Elijah stares at Lewis, shocked. "What?" Voice turning hard startled that Lewis was suggesting this.

"Don't tell your mother anything. I'm serious. Some things need to stay buried. This is one of them." Lewis reaches for Elijah, but he yanks back. "Oh my god, you knew. You knew that my father was sending me letters? Uncle Lewis, please tell me." How could the man before him, someone he respected, hide this from him.

Elijah told him everything. "Yes, I knew. But Elijah, there is a reason your mother has kept this from you. Don't go prying." Standing, he starts to pace, figuring out his thoughts and what to ask next.

"I know who my father is. I've always known. He's my father, Uncle Lewis. I deserved to have a relationship with him. Yet you and Ma have kept this from me? Why? I need answers." This was the real problem. Elijah started to feel this way when Cece found out which one was her father.

He began to dig, and he dug deep, finding everything out. He was ready to confront his Ma, but something stopped him. Putting everything back and hiding the letters locking away this knowledge.

"Elijah, your mother has her reasons. Just respect that." Lewis begs, trying to reason with the teenager. "No!" Elijah yells, darting out of the lounge and heading for his mother. "God fucking kid." Lewis dialing you, ready to warn you about the incoming storm.

Elijah runs, not looking where he's going, only being stopped when he runs right into a body knocking him to the ground. "Hey, easy there, son. Might hurt someone." Elijah breathes heavily. Looking up, he stops all air sucked out of his lungs. "Dad." Scrambling up, Elijah hugs the person before him, hugging him tight.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean Elijah knows?" You snap as Lewis tells you everything that just went down. "I mean, Y/n, he knows he's his father, and you hide all the letters. Why would you do that? That boy deserves to know his father." Lewis hisses while you pace, trying to not overthink. "No, he doesn't; that bastard left me, Lewis. When I told him I was pregnant, he just left. He has no right to my son." Whispering as a mechanic walks past.

"Please, that excuse might've worked when Elijah was still a toddler. But he's 16 and wants to know his father. He still has parental rights over Elijah, doesn't he?" You freeze, eyes growing wide as you bite your nails. "Yes, yes, but I lied. I told Charles and Lando that he signed them away." Lewis throws his hands up, letting out an empty laugh. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Blinking fast, you try hard to remain composed as you can't let the cameras or anyone see you like this.

"Don't judge me, Lewis. You helped." Waving his hand, Lewis turns away. "No, don't drag me into this. I didn't lie about parental rights. That's all you. I only helped because....because you're family." The two of you stare at one another, everything you hide coming to smack you in the face.

"He's going to hate me for the rest of his life. He'll never forgive me." Covering your mouth, you see Lando and Charles make their way towards you, clearly unhappy and Cecile worried. "Yeah, you might want to worry about those two before Elijah." Lewis waved at Lando and Charles, who smiled back.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dad." Elijah's arms tighten around the man before him while the guy pats his back awkwardly. "Um, hey, listen. I'm not your Dad." Elijah pulls back, staring into the same blue eyes. "No, no, you are. My name is Elijah Norris-Leclerc. My mother's name is Y/N L/N. Almost 17 years ago, she gave birth to me." Elijah rambles, the guy looking him up and down.

"Elijah? Your name is Elijah? And your mother's name is Y/n L/n?" He repeats back, trying to control that hope building in his chest. "Yes! And you're my father! You're Nico Rosberg, and you're my father." Nico laughs, grabbing onto Elijah and yanking him into his chest. "That's right, that's right." Nico and Elijah hug before Elijah pulls away. "I didn't know about the letters. If I did, I would've written back." Nico smiles, patting his hair down.

"Elijah, calm down. Does your mother even know?" Elijah makes a face, feeling that anger boiling up again. "Who cares if she knows! She's been lying to me for years." Nico sighs, he wants to be so happy to hold his son, but he still needs to respect those boundaries.

"Elijah, I think you need to go back to your mother. She must decide when the time is right, not now." Nico didn't want to make things worse. He has been working so hard to get Elijah in his life, but you refused but slowly started to give him minor updates.

"No, no. What? You don't want me now? Ma lies to me about everything; Cece gets to know her true father; why is it I can't? Is there something about me that is so easy to leave? To not want?" Elijah cries, those feelings breaking free. Nico reaches for him, but Elijah steps back. "Of course, I want you, but-" Nico stops, eyes growing wide when he sees you running towards them, Charles and Lando behind you.

"Elijah!" He flinches, hearing your voice as you yank him around, checking him over. "Oh, baby, are you okay? Lewis said you just got angry and rushed off, and we've been looking everywhere for you." You cry, spinning him to make sure he isn't hurt.

"Nico, thank you for finding our son." Charles smiles. Elijah and your eyes connect. Slowly you turn, looking right at Nico, Elijah's true father and the man who left you. "Stay the hell away from my son." Standing before Elijah, refusing Nico the privilege to look at your son any longer.

"Your son? Your son?" Elijah steps away from you shaking his head. "I'm not your son. I don't even know who you are." Elijah spits at you, Lando, stepping forward. "Hey! Don't speak to your mother like that." Lando was tired of this disrespect. "Oh shove it, Lando, you're not even my father. He is! Nico is my father." Everyone goes silent, breathing heavily; Elijah wipes his nose.

"You and Charles can act like my fathers, but you're not. I could've known my real father. Instead, my mother hides all his letters and refuses to discuss him! Uncle Lewis even knew Nico was my father and about the letters. What else have you been hiding, huh!?" Elijah yells.

"Elijah James Norris-Leclerc, don't you dare speak to your Dad and Pa like that. You want to be angry at someone. You be angry at me. They're the ones who raised you, not Nico. He's the bastard who left us. Not them. Apologize." You glare at your son, trying to reset the urge to scream at him.

"No. I will not apologize; he left you, Ma, not me. You made him leave me. I read one of the letters. You didn't even give him the chance to be my father." Nico flinches, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Y/n? Is this true?" Closing your eyes, you stare into the destroyed eyes of Charles and Lando. "Is, is anything you told us true?" Charles whispers. "Yes, everything she told you is true." Nico steps in, refusing to allow his son's family to break apart.

"Elijah, I did leave your mother and you. I was terrified at the thought of being a father. That's not a lie. I didn't start writing to you until your 6th birthday. I saw Charles's post and just decided to write to you." Laughing, you have the urge to slap Nico.

"Stay out of this, you bastard! You're not a part of my son's life or this family." Elijah rolls his eyes, looking at Lando. Seeing Lando shake, unable to look up, he feels something break in him. "Oh fuck off, Y/n, you're just pissed because all the lies you and Lewis kept from everyone are finally revealed. I'm tired of being the villain in your story; it's time to face that you are the villain." Charles steps up, pushing Nico back from you. "Stop, that is still my wife. Don't you fucking dare speak to her like that."

"Don't touch my father." Elijah steps between, showing Charles's hand off his chest. All hell breaks loose in that moment as you and Elijah yell at each other. Nico yelled at Charles and Lando, standing back and watching everything crumble. "HEY!" The screaming stops as a booming voice breaks through their own screams.

"I come here to watch the historic Monaco GP, see the battle for the WDC between Lando and Charles. Instead, I hear the screaming of toddlers. How shocked am I to find out those voices are my daughter, her scumbag ex, and my grandson. So, someone want to tell me what has caused this?" You and Nico stare at the older man before you all, you feeling like a little girl again while Nico feels like that dumbass driver who got his daughter pregnant.

"Hey, Mr. Hakkinen. Good to see you again."

1K notes · View notes

adore-laur · 6 months

Text

HOME IS A FEELING

— former high school sweethearts reunite for a conversation about what went wrong 🌃

——

"Don't turn around."

The vague statement thrown your way sends speculations trickling through your brain. Those three words usually never mean anything good. What is it? Or who is it? Whatever the mystery, it makes you anxious based on your friend's wary expression.

"Just tell me," you say timidly, becoming tense in the diner booth with a forkful of red velvet cake halfway to your mouth. "Tell me so I don't have the urge to actually turn around."

"Your ex," she mutters, never one to beat around the bush, much to your appreciation. "He just walked in. Don't kill me for saying this, but he looks really good."

You kick her foot under the table and sink further into the leather seat. "Why is he here? He's supposed to be in another country."

It's not an exaggeration or falsity. Harry is supposed to be in not only another country but also another continent entirely—the Netherlands, to be exact.

Your friend risks another glance at the front door. "Well, he's back, and it's like he never left. Look at them..." She shakes her head slowly. "Hyping him up like he's a goddamn hero."

You assume she means the people you went to high school with. A hometown get-together with a small crowd of classmates from nearby colleges is being held at everyone's favorite local retro-style diner to celebrate the last week of summer break. It was going swell until Mr. Marine Biologist, who probably makes studying abroad his whole personality, waltzed through the door.

You cradle your left cheek with your hand to create a shield for your face in case he happens to look over. "I'm almost done with my cake, and then we can leave."

"Good luck," she sings. "The only booth open is the one right behind us."

Of course. Sighing, you silently pray that Harry won't come near you. You doubt he'll try to talk to you anyway since it's been complete radio silence on both ends for over two years. You're really hoping the breakup doesn't get brought up.

A sudden and forceful compulsion tells you to catch a quick glimpse to see how he looks, what he wears nowadays, and how he acts when you're not around. It's hard to resist.

"He's coming this way," alerts your friend through a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

The universe must be listening, and you can't combat the urge anymore. Someone as beautiful as him begs to be looked at. You sure as hell didn't break up with him because he was unattractive.

Subtly peeking to your left, you see Harry in person for the first time in what seems like forever. It's only a short window of time where you can take in his presence as he walks closer to sit with a group of people in the booth behind you.

Black skinny jeans. Nothing has changed there.

Chelsea boots. Since when does he wear those?

A gray, tattered sweater, and a blue beanie. It's summer, for crying out loud.

Most surprising, however, is his hair, which now falls just a tad below his jaw. The same soft curls you would run your fingers through until he fell asleep.

You continue picking at your dessert, your mind running a mile a minute at the sight of him. The fact that he's behind you—thankfully facing the other way—but still inches away nonetheless is nerve-wracking. If you move your head back even the tiniest bit, it'll touch his own.

Did he notice you? Does he know his ex-girlfriend is in the same room and thinking about everything he could be thinking? Like how you never forgot about him as much as you tried to?

He's speaking, but you can't piece together what he's saying because you're too distracted by how his voice has deepened over the years. The rasp and British drawl are still there, and the warmth and comfort of it still make your heart race.

Your friend keeps stealing glances and looking at you with apprehensive eyes that cause prickles of anxiety on your skin. "What?" you whisper.

Before she can reply, you feel something nudge the back of your neck. You strain your peripheral vision and see Harry's elbow resting on the top of your booth.

"Oops, sorry," he says, twisting around in his seat.

You automatically turn and look at him. It's impossible not to since he's like a human magnet for the eyes. His face is so close to you now. Have his eyes gotten greener? Why does he have such beautiful lashes? Does he have more freckles on his nose since you saw him last?

Snap out of it!

"It's fine," you mumble, shaking your head and quickly turning around. Your heart feels like it's in your throat.

Finishing the rest of your dessert, you lean forward so he doesn't accidentally bump you again. Your friend raises her eyebrows at you and taps her foot against yours.

"So, your brother is coming to visit soon?" you ask, ignoring her questioning look and attempting to make any sort of conversation to distract from Harry.

"Yeah, tomorrow. My mom is going to weep happy tears."

"Aw. Remind me to visit her before the semester starts."

The leather seat suddenly squeaks behind you, and your breathing goes uneven for the third time tonight.

"You guys want anything to drink?" Harry asks his group of friends.

They all tell him their desired orders, and shortly after, you see him walk past your booth. He heads toward the counter with long strides and hands he doesn't know what to do with. His back is turned, so you use your chance to shamelessly observe him. He looks different but familiar all the same. He has the same body, although he looks buff. Same friendly personality, although you've missed out on it lately. Same gentle presence, although it wasn't that way the night you separated.

"Didn't you once tell me that he always ordered ginger ale at restaurants?"

You look at your friend, processing her question. "Yes. He never mixed it with anything, either. Just drank it straight up like a freak."

"Gross," she says with a wince. "I think he just ordered one."

Once again, the counter is your focal point; this time, you notice the glass of creamy yellow liquid on it. You internally gag at how Harry could still drink that. Harry then walks back to his booth, skillfully carrying two glasses in each of his hands like he worked as a waiter in his past life. You don't even try to hide the fact that you're staring.

Eventually, he catches your eye and abruptly stops in his tracks. You watch him blink a couple times before he continues to the table and sets down the drinks for everyone.

"I'll grab some napkins," he murmurs, leaving again.

You slide your empty plate toward the center of the table and watch him fumble while taking out napkins from the dispenser. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

When he walks by for the second time, he jerks his chin up to the ceiling. You furrow your eyebrows in response.

He nonchalantly repeats the gesture as he starts passing napkins around. You shake your head, nonverbally telling him that you have no clue what he's conveying.

His jaw clenches before he mouths, "Come with me."

"Absolutely not," you mouth back as you fiddle with the sugar packets.

Harry huffs and sits in his seat.

Everything used to be so easy with him.

——

Two Years Ago

It was graduation day, and you were inserting a silver hoop earring in the pierced hole of your earlobe when three thumps gently rattled your bedroom door.

"Knock knock."

In the reflection of your vanity mirror, you grinned giddily. "Come in! It's unlocked."

Harry opened the door with a pout on his lips. "You're supposed to say who's there."

"Wha—" you stammered confusedly, turning around in your chair. "I hate you."

He shuffled inside and immediately bellyflopped onto your bed. "Wow. I missed you too."

"Just kidding," you said, flashing him a winning smile. "You left your laptop charger here, by the way. I set it on the kitchen table."

"Thank you, baby," he mumbled into your pillow.

"Don't fall asleep."

"Mm, c'mere." He lazily patted the space next to him. "Let's cuddle before we have to sit far away from each other for the rest of the night."

"It'll only be for a couple of hours at most," you replied, putting in your other earring. "Don't be so dramatic."

After tidying your vanity area, you stood and slinked into bed with Harry. The lavender-colored sunset filtered through your sheer curtains and created a serene ambiance. Harry's body rolled over on top of yours, his weight providing the perfect amount of warmth and comfort. The scent of his almond oil shampoo reduced your nerves. You reached for your phone and set an alarm for fifteen minutes from now so he would have enough time to get ready, then pulled the blanket over both of your heads, not caring if the hair you spent precious time on became tousled. It would mostly be hidden under the immensely unflattering graduation cap anyway.

Harry's clean-shaven cheek rested on your chest, and he planted a chaste kiss on your collarbone. He had always been the affectionate type. Touch was his love language, and he never failed to fulfill it with you.

Every touch strengthened your love for him. Every touch left you longing for more. Every touch felt purposeful.

——

You swear he's doing it on purpose. You know he is.

Harry keeps leaning his head back until it faintly touches yours. Nuzzling it, if you will. That, or he'll clasp his hands behind his head and loosely twirl a strand of your hair.

This time, he pretends to yawn and stretch his arms before tickling behind your ear. He knows goddamn well it's the place where you're the most ticklish. You pretend to have an itch and bring your hands back to slap his burning touch away, but of course, he takes the opportunity to be a pest and capture your fingers.

You yank them away and clear your throat. "I need to go to the bathroom," you tell your friend before getting up and making a beeline straight to the back of the diner.

When you open the door, you sigh relievedly when you find all the stalls open, and no one is lingering. You pace toward the farthest wall and rub your hands down your face. Two years without Harry, and not a single call or text, only the occasional picture you'd see of him when you caved and scrolled through his social media during particularly lonely nights. Yet tonight, he acts like you're best buds who can tease each other and initiate playful touches like you didn't end on a terrible note that made both of your hearts shatter into smithereens. Maybe this is some bizarre dream you'll wake up from and laugh about later.

You blow out a sharp breath and wash your hands before splashing cold water onto your heated cheeks.

"Were my hands dirty or something?"

Your whole body flinches. Now, he's just plain annoying. How long has he been standing there?

"Why are you in here?" you ask monotonously.

Footsteps come closer. You keep your back turned.

He laughs softly and says, "How've you been?"

Such a master at avoiding questions. "That wasn't what I asked."

"That wasn't an answer," he replies smugly. You can practically hear the satisfied smile in his voice.

"I've been fantastic, Harry," you say, your words laced with petty sarcasm. "What about you?"

"You sound stressed." He's right next to you now. "Is it because of your job? I heard you're an assistant teacher at the middle school."

Your hands grip the edge of the marble sink. "Who told you that?"

"I knew you'd be here," he says, as if it were obvious. "I had to ask people what you've been up to since you clearly weren't going to tell me yourself."

He asked about you? No, that can't be right. Turning to face him, you let your guard down just a little. "I'm helping with the summer school program."

Harry smiles. If you analyze it enough, it almost looks like a proud one. "That's amazing. What grade do you want to teach in the future?"

A conversation with your ex-boyfriend about career aspirations is entirely too casual for your liking. Doesn't he have friends to catch up with? Some ginger ale to drink?

You shrug and truthfully say, "I haven't decided yet. It's a big decision."

He nods, crossing his arms. "You've got time."

Silence hangs except for the drip of the faucet.

"So... I assume you're still studying marine biology?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

He hums an affirmation. "I'm almost done with my bachelor's degree, and then I'll be on my way to becoming one with the ocean."

You almost let a laugh slip out. "Well, I'm sure it's beautiful in Europe. I can't imagine the view every day."

He nonchalantly plucks a stray strand of hair off your sleeve, making your blood rush. "It is, yeah. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but it's been nice to live somewhere so different from what I was used to."

"You don't have a roommate?"

"Nope, just me. I don't really like sharing my space."

Only if it was with you. He's told you that before. Not that it matters now.

"I know. Don't know why I even asked."

It's a bold statement but a tenuous breakthrough in the barrier of the inevitable and awkward breakup conversation you're dreading.

Harry inhales and takes a step closer. "Come up to the rooftop with me. I don't want our first conversation in two years to be in the women's restroom."

You give him an apologetic look and say, "I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to head home soon and get up early for work tomorrow."

He toys with the bottom of your shirt. "Please."

It's a soft whisper that echos in the empty space, a begging tone chipping away at the walls built around your heart, paired with pleading eyes so clear and tender. Harmless.

"Okay." You'll kick yourself later for giving in so easily. "Okay, fine. Let's go." You pull out your phone and send a quick text message to your friend about where you'll be. She'll understand the weight of the situation.

Harry walks out of the bathroom, with you following behind. He takes a sharp right toward the concealed metal stairs leading to the diner's roof. He leaves some room so the two of you can walk side by side, your clothes rustling against each other in the narrow space. The rusty door opens, and you step out onto the flat concrete.

Little squares of light shine from the city buildings far away. They cause a strange feeling to wash over you. It can only be described as a powerful wave of hometown nostalgia, even though you never left. You wonder if it's hitting Harry as well.

He stands by the edge and leans his forearms on the railing, glancing at you with an unreadable expression. Is it reminiscence? Yearning? Regret? All could be the reason for the melancholy shift in energy.

"What did we do wrong?"

——

Three Months After Graduation

The party turned sour out of the blue. Harry's friend hadn't just said what you think he said. It was loud, so you must have heard him wrong. Why didn't he tell you? Why did you have to find out from his drunk friend who's not even close to him?

Harry definitely saw your face drop because he instantly pulled you into an unoccupied bedroom upstairs. You'd been arguing for the past half hour, neither one of you inebriated funny enough, but still throwing words that were more like weapons at each other—launching arrows at the heart, shooting daggers at the eyes, and slashing swords in the Achilles heel.

Your weak spot was him, and you were his.

You stood your ground as you spoke your closing statement with frustrated tears. "I'm never going to see you if you're abroad, so what's the difference if I just leave now and never see you again?"

"Will that make you happy?" He was being stubborn; you were, too. "Because obviously, I don't make you happy enough for this to continue. For us to at least try."

He did make you happy, but anger blindly leads people to say what they don't mean, especially in cases of love.

"Obviously not." Lies, lies, lies. "It's useless when we know it'll end badly."

Harry released a bitter laugh. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Fine," you repeated.

You should have fought for him, but what would have been the use if you had known it would only hurt you in the long run?

He roughly swung the door open and then turned around one last time. "You can come pick up your stuff at my house this weekend. I won't be home."

The door slammed shut, and reality sunk in.

——

The open sign of the diner flickers below.

"We did a lot wrong," you declare defeatedly, standing beside him.

"True, but we were eighteen and didn't know anything about communication or how to balance adult shit."

The conversation is heading toward a place you don't want it to go. "I really don't want to talk about our breakup, Harry. It's in the past. We've moved on."

He shakes his head. "Why? There was no closure whatsoever. I think it'd be good to get some now that we're face-to-face."

In the distance, you watch birds flock on the wire of a telephone pole. "Why didn't you just ignore me tonight? We've been doing fine without each other."

He scoffs quietly and leans his body against the railing. "Really? I was homesick for months because of you. You felt like home to me, you know that. The feeling never disappeared no matter how much I pushed it down."

You throw your arms out. "Then why didn't you call or text me? I would've replied, Harry. I'm not that cruel."

"I thought you hated me," he says. "I wouldn't have blamed you. I just couldn't stand having you hate me, so I thought it'd be easier not to talk to you."

It's the classic tale of a high school mindset. You think you're doing the right thing until it slaps you across the face with the hand of cluelessness. You wonder what would've happened if Harry had reached out. Maybe you could've figured it out.

"I didn't hate you," you admit. How could anyone hate him? "I mean, I might've thought that I hated you, but if anything, I still loved you for way too many months after."

Harry looks like he wants to say something, but you continue. "Like you said, we were young and didn't know how to balance a relationship and our lives outside of it. Two years can really mature a person, and we both needed to do that without each other."

He nods while stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah."

The conversation stops at a dead end. There's nothing else to say since it's a mutual understanding of what went wrong.

The breeze picks up, and you shiver before asking, "How long are you here for?"

He clears his throat. "I'm staying with my mum, then I have a flight back to the Netherlands in a few days. I have to go back for an ecology camp."

"That's nice," you say. A couple of days. That knowledge causes an unwanted sinking feeling to take place in your stomach.

"Do you…" He raises his thumb to his mouth, nervously biting his fingernail. "Can we maybe talk more before I leave?"

It's an open opportunity, but what would it lead to? What would come of it? Would it be worth the pain?

"What's there to talk about? You're leaving soon, and then we'll never speak again."

You've taken logical truth more seriously over the years. You've learned that holding on to false hope is dangerous for the heart and mind.

"That won't happen," he replies with a pensive gaze. "We've grown and know how to communicate now. There's so much we've missed in each other's lives that we can talk about. I don't know where you live or the places you like to go anymore, who your friends are, or what new songs you like to listen to. It kills me."

A shaky breath escapes you. "It doesn't matter. We're not right for each other. Call me selfish, but I don't want a relationship where we barely see each other. I'm sure that's not what you want either."

"So, that's it?" he asks, staring at the sky. "Do you not want to give this another chance?"

You can't imagine a more complicated question to answer, but it seems you've known the answer for a while. Gently grabbing Harry's chin and tilting his face down, you say, "Right person, wrong time. It would never work with the distance, and you know that. Deep down, we both know, as much as it hurts to admit."

"What now? We're back to being strangers?"

"Harry, I don't think we'll ever be strangers. I know too much about you."

You're trying to lighten the mood, but Harry's sad eyes aren't helping at all. Instead, you focus on the stars twinkling brightly across the black sky and the single car driving by on the otherwise empty street. Every second that ticks by, he seems to move closer to you.

"If this is the last time I see you," Harry says apprehensively, "can I hold you for a little while? Give me that, and I won't ask you for anything else."

It'd be foolish to say no, wouldn't it? You need to feel him just as much. He's too significant of a person to let go of without a proper goodbye.

"You can hold me."

And so he does for the last time.

Harry closes the distance and embraces you like he always used to — his cheek resting on your head and his arms completely winded around you, squeezing the sides of your body. Breathing you in like he's scared of losing you. It's just you and him standing on a rooftop and holding on to any last bit you can get of each other.

You're tucked so far into his chest that the only thing you can hear is his heart pounding. He's warm and sentimental, and the nighttime chill makes you melt into him even more. He eases you — every laugh, every tear, every moment you share with him was brought about by the ease of being around him.

"You still feel the same." A pang ripples in your heart because of your own words, and a sob desperately tries to crawl up your throat.

Harry nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Yeah? You still smell the same."

You laugh, but it's choked with sadness. "What, like shitty teen store perfume?"

"No, you smell like home. Like when I used to go to your house for sleepovers, and you'd always light those vanilla candles."

Another pang, this time from his vulnerable confession. "I should go," you say, deterring the conversation from any more agony.

He doesn't argue. "Yeah, me too. I never really liked those people in there anyway."

You smile, stepping away from his arms. "I'll walk you to your car."

He nods, and the both of you retreat down the stairs, exiting the building through the back way to avoid any distractions. After reaching the front of the diner, you find his black Jeep sitting alone in a parking space. It's nice to know he still has it, considering it's a car with good memories, like Harry driving you to school every morning and picking up coffee. Or eating fast food outside the high school after a football game. Or nights of endless kissing and professions of love before he walked you to your doorstep.

Facing him under the moonlight tonight, it's time to officially move on.

"Bye. It was really nice to see you." A tear unexpectedly falls from your eye. Maybe it's due to the chilly temperature, but you know better.

Harry's face crumbles. Your composure shatters.

"Please don't cry," he pleads, biting his lip to stop it from wobbling. However, it's too late, and both of you give in to the misery and drama of it all.

"Now we're both crying."

He rubs his eyes and leans against his car door. "God, this fuckin' sucks."

"We'll be okay," you say weakly. "It's fine. We went two years without each other. You'll forget about me soon enough, and it'll be like this never happened."

You're only trying to convince yourself at this point.

"I never forgot about you. You were the first person I fell in love with. How do I move on from that?"

His choice of words isn't something you gloss over. Is he insinuating that he hasn't moved on yet? Should you tell him you haven't either?

Logical thinking, you mentally tell yourself. Don't say something that will make it harder to leave.

"I have to go home now." But isn't home standing right in front of you?

"Okay," Harry says. "I guess… good luck with everything. I hope teaching goes well for you."

You kick away a pebble on the pavement. "Thanks. I hope you become one with the ocean."

He laughs breathily, his dimples popping out for the first time tonight. He then inhales and gazes somewhere far away as his smile dies. When he looks back at you, he nods once before getting in his car.

"Wait."

He freezes. "Yeah?"

Don't make it harder.

Leave.

Don't hurt yourself.

Yet the way he looks at you is enough to ignore those logical thoughts. You lean forward and kiss his cold cheek, and it's like his entire body deflates under your hesitant touch. "Thank you for making me happy during the time we had together," you say against his tear-stained skin. "I never got to tell you that."

Harry sniffles and nods, then kisses your cheek a little longer and softer.

A lasting pang. A lingering sting. A sharp twinge.

Why?

Because the words he whispers to you cause silent tears to fall down your face when he finally closes the door and drives away.

You still mean so much to me.

——

Opening the door to your bedroom, the silence echoes louder than usual. The small space is where memories with Harry can still be found. There's the blanket he used to lie on, the desk he would sit on to help you study, and the dresser you used to keep his shirts in to wear when you missed him. The most tragic thing is an empty photo book on the top shelf of your closet that was meant to be filled with future road trips that never got planned. Next to it are unused polaroids for dates that stopped happening.

Piled at the bottom are a few that actually got used. A picture of Harry when the both of you went to a homecoming afterparty, and you didn't want to drink alcohol, so Harry drank orange Hi-C cartons with you to make you feel better. A picture of Harry on a floating water bouncer at the lake by your uncle's cabin when you went on summer vacation together after junior year. Your favorite picture of him is when he's turned around in the seat of the school auditorium, smiling widely. It was back in high school when nothing could separate you from him.

The pictures remind you of a time when you were in love—not only with him but with life. They feel like home to you.

That feeling of home seems impossible to catch now. It's like chasing a butterfly that keeps escaping from the loose grasp of your hands because you don't want to hurt it.

Are you the hands, or are you the butterfly?

——

The journal on top of Harry's suitcase mocks him. He shouldn't open it, but logical thinking has never been his strong suit.

The first page has pressed and dried lavender taped onto it from the first date he took you on. The next has your drawings in the margin from when you would steal his journal while he studied. Yet most of the pages are filled with lovesick entries about you.

- January 29th -

Last night, I told her I was falling in love with her. She said no one had ever told her that before, and I couldn't believe it. How could someone not instantly fall in love from the moment she walks into a room?

Then she told me that she loved me too. I swear I almost cried with happiness. She's the one for me. I see us being together for the long haul.

I hope she sees the same thing.

- June 6th -

We graduated! We're finally done with high school!

When they called my name, my eyes went to hers first. She looked so proud of me. I wonder if I could convince her to rent an apartment with me instead of staying in different dorms.

College will be strange, but we'll get through it together. I have no doubt we'll adapt and find time for each other.

I always have time for her.

- August 2nd -

I think I'm going to tell her about the college I chose. She's not going to take it well. It's abroad, but it's the best school for marine biology.

She wants to stay close to home, but I want to get out and travel. There's nothing hard about talking through some of our differences, right? Long-distance relationships can work if you put in the effort. We can do it.

If this ends up biting me in the ass, you'll never hear from me again.

Harry stopped writing in his journal after the breakup. It's almost funny, he supposes. He jinxed it in the last entry. He thought of the worst-case scenario, and it came to fruition right before him only days later.

Blissful ignorance is what he'll call it. Two high school sweethearts who didn't know what would hit them. Foolishly in love and blinded by reality. But the thing is, it's not easy to just move on from it. Especially when he brought those damn vanilla candles from his dorm room to his mum's house so he could sleep better at night.

So he can be reminded of home.

It was never a place when he was with you. Home became a feeling that bloomed without warning. It took him by surprise when he found himself wanting to be around you all the time. His home was entirely, ultimately, and unconditionally you.

Harry closes his journal and brings it with him as he heads out the door to search for a drop of that feeling in the places you used to go.

The places he will write about until his hand aches as much as his heart.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles #adore-laur #home is a feeling

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weird-is-life · 7 months

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hiiii!! can i request aaron hotchner x bau!reader where reader gets sooo jealous of the women flirting (or trying to flirt) with him (at jacks soccer games, when they’re away on a case or when he did that fbi triathlon)? i’m curious to see how you think she’ll react and what aaron will say when he realises she’s jealous 🤭🤭

Hii, thank u for this request, lovely!🥰Warnings: pet names, mentions of food (kind of), like one kiss, (1k)

It's not your first time at one of Jack's soccer games. But it is your first time witnessing what is happening in front of you.

The other kid's moms are ogling Aaron like he is some kind of famous painting hanging in Louvre (which you can't really blame them for). They also keep smiling and waving flirtiously anytime he looks over their way.

And it is even worse, when you realise, they are all dressed up, make up done with pretty clothes on. It looks like they dressed up just for him. It causes a pang in your heart.

You didn't think about wearing anything special, as you dressed up this Saturday morning for Jack's match. Compared to them you look like a bag of potatoes, you with the loose jeans and a comfy hoodie on.

It makes you feel kind of anxious, but you also feel one even more intense feeling, which can be only described as jealousy.

But you didn't come here to be angry at ridiculous moms, you came to watch Jack score some goals and see him have fun. Which is exactly what you force yourself to do now. Occasionally, your gaze slips from Jack to Aaron, but most of the match you just cheer Jack on loudly.

During the half-time, you fight the want to go to Aaron. You don't want to distract him from his coaching duties, even if it's a friendly match between the kids.

So you stay seated, still having to see and listen to those moms. They even started to talk about how hot and handsome Aaron is, which has you squirming in your seat uncomfortably. You can't decide if you want to run away from them or if you want to go tell them off from talking about your Aaron.

But you don't, you power through the second half of the match, but the urge to go say some very rude things to them doesn't dissappear.

Finally you hear the whistle, signaling the end of the match. And while the kids shake their hands with happy faces, you sheepishly walk towards the bench. Aaron is standing next to it and when he notices you walking his way, his whole face lights up.

"Hi," you greet him, you smile at him, but it's not your usual big smile.

Aaron immediately picks up on it, but he doesn't say anything. He just opens his arms, inviting you to hug him, which you gladly do.

"Hi, honey," he quickly kisses your temple, "Did you have fun?" You've come separately here, having slept at your on place for a change.

"Not as much as Jack," you grin at him, "oh, before i forget, I've brought a little snack for the kids." You gesture at the big bag in your hand, it's full of juice boxes.

"Ah, you shouldn't have, the kids will want it every time you come here now," he teases you.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't mind getting them something every time," you respond. Aaron knows that you wouldn't mind, because you are the biggest sweetheart on the earth, which is one of the many reasons why he loves you.

You are grinning at him, when suddenly your smile dissappears and you start to frown. Aaron has never before seen that kind of frown on you.

"What's wrong?" he questions, eyebrows drawn up.

"Nothing, i just thought of something, " you murmur, but your frown deepens. And it doesn't take Aaron long to find out the reason behind your scowl.

He notices you frown more and more every time, one of the other moms speak near by. So he puts 2 and 2 together.

"Did those moms say something to you?" He asks you with stern voice, because if they did, he won't hesitate to go talk to them.

"No, it's just...," you feel rather embarrassed to say it now, "they talked about...-about you."

"About me? What did they say?" he puzzles, he hopes, that it isn't something to do with his coaching.

"Oh come on Aaron, you must know what I mean," you whine with slight frustration, it is clearly not directed at him but at them. Still you are a bit annoyed by his cluelessness.

"I really don't know, tell me?"

You sigh, "t-they talked about how hot and handsome you are, how they would love to go out with you. They waved and smiled at you basically the entire game," you grumble it silently. Face scrunched up in vexation.

"Really?" he asks, surprised.

"You must have noticed it by now."

"Well, I haven't," he tells you honestly, "I am too busy giving instructions to the kids and," he pulls you towards him by the sleeve of your hoodie," I am too distracted by you, to notice those silly women."

His words, as always, have you blushing, "Yeah?"

"Oh most definitely, have you looked in a mirror lately, sweetheart? Nothing compares to you and for sure not those moms," he playfully jabs his finger into your side, but his words are as sincere as they can be.

And after he says that, he quickly looks over to those moms to make sure they are looking and kisses you hard. It catches you off guard, but when you kiss him back, your kiss is just as eager as his.

When you pull away, he whispers against your lips, devilish smile on his face," I don't think you need to be jealous anymore, honey. I think, they understand now, that I only have my eyes for one person, that is you." The only thing you can do as a response to that, is to hide your red face in his neck.

You shyly smile at his words and inside you are beaming, happy that Aaron showed off your relationship even if he isn't the biggest fan of the pda. And you are a little, and i mean a lot, proud that he showed you off like that, because the irritation on those women's faces was priceless.

"I love you," you whisper bashful into his skin.

"I know, sweetheart. I love you, too," he responds warmly, "now let's go quickly hand out the snacks to the kids and get that breakfast, before those moms burn a whole into our faces."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner

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wasawattpadkid · 1 year

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Drunk Antics

Summary: When Billy and Stu have a little too much to drink they come to you.

Pairing: poly!ghostface (college au) x fem!reader

Warnings: Nothing really just fluff and angst. Drunk Billy and Stu

The pounding on your dorm door was bound to wake up everyone in a 5 mile radius. "What the hell-" Billy and Stu hit the floor in a heap of giggles. "Told you she was home fuckrag." A tiny hiccup could be heard coming from Stu. "How did you two even get in here?" You questioned helping the men up. "A magician never tells his secrets Y/n." Stu's words were slurred and his legs were shaky. You closed the door telling them both to sit down. Thankfully Stu listened falling back on your roommates bed. "I'm gonna be sick..." Stu groaned.

"No no no, no you're not." You grabbed a trash can running to his aid. "I'm kidding!" He giggled his hiccups getting worse. Billy tossed his hair back dancing around the room. "I was thinking of you tonight..." Stu said dragging his hand down the middle of your shirt. You laughed dryly. "Oh yeah I bet you were. You know you smell like perfume Stu." You weren't pissed just disappointed. "We robbed a perfume store." Billy laughed at his partners answer.

"Dance with me Y/n." Billy tugged at your clothes trying to pull you to him. "Babe you reek of Jack Daniels." Billy's lips made contact with your neck biting and sucking the skin he found. "Oh no, not tonight. You are both way too drunk." You pushed him back just enough to see his splotchy red face. The tip of his nose bright red making him look like Rudolph. "I didn't have near as much as he did." He pointed to the unconscious man on the bed. "Fuck." You left Billy standing to roll Stu on his side just in case.

"He'll be fine. I didn't drug him this time." You whipped your head towards your boyfriend. "What!?" You whisper yelled and he just laughed. "Kidding! If making a joke is a crime arrest me." He held out his hands connected by the wrist. "As much as I'd love to see you in handcuffs not tonight Billy, I said no." He rolled his eyes stomping his foot like a toddler. "Jesus how much did you drink tonight?"

You helped him out of his leather jacket flinging it to the side of the room. "Slow down there my girlfriend kills people." He slurred and you laughed. His knuckles were slightly bloody which is something you'd definitely have to bring up tomorrow. "We need to get you into bed." He rubbed his hands together once again thinking he was about to get lucky. He sat down on the bed letting you pull off his shoes. The next thing to go was his shirt. "You're very beautiful at this angle." When he was drunk his charm was on high. "Thanks." You didn't even bother with his jeans. "Now lay back."

Billy did as told waiting for you to climb in with him. "Where you going?" He asked his pout could be heard in his voice. "I'm checking on Stu." You sighed hating being a babysitter. "And I don't want the world to see me!" Billy loudly began singing making you jump. "Cause I don't think that they'd understand." He was your drama queen. "With everything meant to be broken." You were 100% sure those weren't the lyrics. He mumbled the next line tears now forming in his eyes. "Babe don't.. aww." He held out his arms like a toddler pulling you on top of him.

Your head laid on top of his chest as his arms squeezed you. "Promise you won't leave us." He whispered. The sound of his voice broke your heart. "Where is this coming from?" A whimper left his throat. "Just promise." You sighed. "I promise Billy." With that his heart rate slowed and he began to fall asleep. Thank God your roommate went home for the weekend.

"Y/n?" Stu whispered from the other bed. You closed your eyes preparing for more antics. "Yes babe?" Silence. "Yes babe?" You repeated. Nothing. "Stu!" You whispered gaining his attention. "Hmm?" He mumbled. "What'd you want?" You asked ready to help him to the bathroom or trash can. "I don't know you called me." You took a moment before you laughed with pity. "Your head is going to kill you tomorrow."

"If it doesn't you will." He muttered falling back asleep. "Damn straight." You smiled as you cuddled up with Billy.

#scream #scream x reader #scream fanfiction #scream fanfic #scream 1996 #poly!ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #billy Loomis ghostface #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu ghostface #ghostface x female reader #scream oneshot #fanfiction

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tkaulitzlvr · 8 months

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OUT OF LOVE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: once tom realises how much your relationship has lost the love within it because of the distance he has put between you both, it’s his job to make it up to you.

content: angst to smut.

a/n: my first post!! i hope you all enjoy!

lately, tom and i's relationship has hit a bump in the road. each conversation lit an already short fuse within the both of us, the smallest of words capable of creating an unnecessary yet very real dispute that would leave us silent for hours, and in the worst of cases not talking for days. but it wasn't just the things we said, it was whatever we didn't say, too. physical touch was usually a huge part of our relationship, but now, i couldn't remember the last time that i had properly kissed him. it had gotten to the point where we slept on different sides of the bed, refusing to lay in eachother's embrace as we usually would.

as each day dragged on, feeling like tom and i were moving further away from eachother, i failed to even remember how we ended up this way in the first place. we had a perfect relationship, filled with love and trust, those the foundation of what made us, us. everyone knew that we loved eachother, we were the 'it couple'. whilst we had small disputes just as every couple did, it had never reached this point - yet it showed no sign of stopping.

which is why it brought me no surprise that tom had already become irritated from my single question, asking him where he'd been after returning home late yet again, this becoming a habitual occurrence since the beginning of whatever our distance could be called.

"look, i was just out, okay? what is this a fucking interrogation?" tom fires out, frustration laced in his tone as he throws his keys on the table.

"im sorry for worrying about my boyfriend! i just wont give a shit next time, yeah?" i shoot back, confused on why he acts this way every time i start a simple conversation.

"yeah that'd be great, thanks." he mumbles sarcastically, scoffing and sinking into the sofa, flicking through the channels on the tv displayed infront of him.

"are you fucking kidding me tom?" i utter out, in complete disbelief of his childishness.

despite the clear anger in my voice, he stays silent, shaking his head slightly and continuing to look through the channels on the tv, this only fuelling my anger.

"can you listen to me for fucks sake?" my voice begins to raise as my patience is slowly wearing thin. i walk over to the tv, blocking his view and forcing him to look up at me, his eyes cold, an unrecognisable glare within them in place of the usual love that emits from them whenever our gazes meet.

"what?" he sighs, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and pointer finger.

"i'd appreciate it if you fucking listened to me, just for one second! i'm tired of sitting here alone, every night, wondering where the fuck you are because you're my boyfriend but i know nothing about you! i never get a text, a call, nothing! instead you come home at god knows what time, and act as if i don't exist. fuck tom, you won't even cuddle me in bed anymore." my voice begins to trail off, tears beginning to cloud my vision, my tongue instinctively hitting the roof of my mouth to stop them from falling.

he stays silent, breaking his eyes away from mine and staring into his lap, his fingers playing with the material of his jeans.

"do you even love me anymore?" i ask, genuinely questioning if he feels the same way he did when we first met, the man that fell in love with me no longer in front of me.

"what? of course i fucking love you. what kind of question is that?" his head shoots upwards, his eyebrows threading together as if i have asked the most ridiculous question, though it was one nagging on my mind.

"really? it doesn't seem like it." i reply, shaking my head and biting my lip, the tears now spilling beyond my control.

"i'm going to bed." i mumble, not waiting for a response from tom as i head for our shared bedroom. the sheets feel cold as i allow them to envelop me, the warmth that i would feel from tom's embrace lost, leaving me empty. it is impossible to fall asleep, my body laid on its side facing away from the door and staring motionless at the wall, longing to be in his arms, safe and content, free of the gut-wrenching realisation that our relationship is not the same as it was.

the door slowly creaks open after a while, my eyes quickly flicking shut as i pretend to be asleep, not keen on the idea of speaking to tom, not whilst his mind is acting so irrationally, mine sensitive enough that any argument would break down my already crumbling walls. i hear the bed dip beside me, tom laying flat on his back, whilst i stay put, not daring to look at him, instead keeping my back to him. the distance between us speaks volumes, tension reaching an all time high.

after a few minutes, the bed creaks, indicating that tom is moving from his initial position. as he has done for the past nights, i expect him to shuffle to the edge of the bed, increasing our already far proximity and confirming the fact that he cannot bare the thought of being near me.

however, much to my disbelief, i feel an arm droop around my waist from behind, tom's hand gently touching my stomach as he tests the waters, clearly thinking that i am deep in sleep. deciding to stay still, my eyes remain closed, accepting this small act of affection, for it is all i have experienced in the past weeks. but, to my surprise, he doesn't stop there.

he moves closer, his chest now flush against my back, pulling me tighter into him as i feel his uncertain breathing against the nape of my neck. my breath instinctively hitches at his unexpected actions, alerting him of my consciousness.

"baby?" he whispers into the dark room, not moving as he awaits my response.

"hm?" i mutter, unsure of what to say, not intending to reveal the fact that i was in fact awake, my cover completely blown as i lay, small and vulnerable, beside him, his body against me for the first time in forever. the uncertainty of what his response will be creates a sickly feeling in my chest. he could want to fight, to let out the last of his anger from our unfinished argument. or, he could want to fix things, to be the boyfriend he used to be. and right now, my mind was going with the first option, assuming the worst and bracing myself for more of his harsh words.

"we need to talk." he speaks, his breath fanning against my neck with each word.

i knew that he was right, my heart aching slightly as the possibility of resolving whatever the fuck we have become finally starts to feel real, not just something that i have longed for.

refusing to face him, i slowly nod my head, awaiting his response, the sound of our steady breathing the only thing to be heard in the silent room.

"i'm so sorry baby." he speaks, slowly and sincerely, his hand that is draped over my stomach beginning to slowly caress the bare skin there, comforting me in the best way. tears begin to silently roll down my cheeks as i struggle to find the right words to say.

he takes my silence as a chance to continue. "what happened to us my love, hm?" he begins, sighing slowly and increasing his hold on me, the pet name causing my heart to swell, making me realise how much i truly missed his affection, wether it be verbal or physical - i just craved him.

short sniffles emit from my mouth, giving away my weakness faster than i would have preferred. tom quickly picks up on this, finally turning me to face him, our eyes meeting, his immediately softening once he takes in my state - eyes bloodshot, tears staining my cheeks, mouth curved into a frown.

"oh baby..." he trails off, taking his hand and beginning to wipe my tears away one by one, the other gently stroking my hair. i melt into his touch, allowing him to comfort me silently. "i can't carry on like this, i just- i need to be with you again, not just in a relationship with you, i want to actually feel close to you again."

he pours his heart out, all whilst wiping any loose tears that fell from my eyes, which never left his, the love in them beginning to flood back as i can slowly recognise the man i fell in love with.

"do you really think that i don't love you anymore?" he asks, guilt evident in his tone as he feels nothing but anger for making me doubt how he felt about me.

i try to find the right words, swallowing nervously. "you didn't want to be anywhere near me tom. i can't even remember the last time you told me that you loved me." uttering those words made me realise how bad things had really gotten. tom would tell me he loved me at every chance he got, never failing to remind me of how he felt. but looking back, those three words felt so foreign that my mind couldn't even remember when he had last uttered them. and the realisation hit him just as hard as it did me.

"oh meine liebe...i'm so sorry." he starts, now slowly kissing away each tear that stained my tinted cheeks, holding my face gently in his hands. "i love you. i love you so so much. never ever forget that, okay?"

i nod my head, swallowing the lump in my throat away. "i love you too."

a slight smile appears on his face, my hand reaching to his head as i pull it closer, playing with the loose braids there. tom takes advantage of our nearing proximity, grabbing my face and gently connecting his lips with mine. for the first time in days, our lips touched, immediately moulding together as if they had never been apart. he smiles into the kiss, moving his hands to my lower back, pulling me closer to him and embracing me, our lips never parting. the desire, the passion in which our lips collided reaffirming our love without the need for words, my body and soul slips further into his touch, reminding me just how much i missed intimate moments like this with him.

he slowly pulls away for air, his lips, now pink and swollen, flush against mine, foreheads touching. "i promise baby, that i'll never give up on us, no matter how hard it gets. i'll never stop loving you, ever."

deciding that actions speak louder than words, i reconnect our lips once more, with much more desire and hunger than the previous one. he picks up on this need, reciprocating it and pressing his lips so hard onto mine that my breathing becomes muffled and there is no option of pulling away - but in this moment, parting from him doesn't even cross my mind. his hand moves to my thigh, placing it over his and kneading the flesh roughly as we lay facing each other, a small whimper escaping my mouth at his actions. our lips fail to part, making up for the lost kisses that we had so desperately yearned for.

lust soon takes over the innocence, my need for him growing by the second as our kisses become harsher, his tongue entering my mouth, mine gladly reciprocating. "i love you." he whispers breathlessly against my lips, pulling away slowly and studying my face. his thumb tugs at my lip, his eyes never leaving mine as he drags it down the now plump skin at an agonisingly slow pace, until he releases my bottom lip, it quickly bouncing back into place, his thumb now slightly wet with my saliva.

"you're so beautiful." he whispers, caressing my cheeks, taking in every inch of me as if this is the first time he has seen me.

"i need you tom." i mutter, looking into his eyes with a glint of desperation, longing to feel him again, our distance meaning it has been so long since we have kissed like we just did, let alone fuck.

within seconds, his lips are back on mine, his body moving in one swift motion on top of me without breaking the kiss, hands clutching mine, mirroring the hunger i feel.

"then i'm all yours." he mutters against my lips, reattaching them and entering his tongue as i gladly accept, moaning slightly into the kiss, a small smirk appearing on his lips in response.

he pulls away, looking into my eyes before reaching for the hem of my t-shirt and whispering "can i?"

i slowly nod my head, the soft fabric being pulled off my body and somewhere on the floor, both tom and i too needy to care where. his eyes scan my body, a hint of adoration within his eyes, his hands reaching for my small lace bra, undoing the back and tossing it aside. he pauses, gazing down at me, drinking in my features, everything exposed to him. despite the look of awe on his face, insecurity takes over, and my hands instinctively cover my breasts, breaking eye contact from him.

tom quickly takes his hands, placing them over mine and moving them away so that he could see me once again. "don't cover yourself, you're so beautiful."

i hesitantly nod my head, moving to remove tom's shirt, his chiselled abs and torso now on display. refusing to break eye contact, my hand slowly runs down the skin, feeling every bump, every muscle there, his breathing hitching as i do so. it has been so long since i had felt his bare skin against mine that it almost didn't feel real, my being lost in pleasure despite us not taking anything further yet.

i soon become impatient, pulling his face downwards and kissing him once more, his hands reaching for my panties and slowly pulling them down, soon removing his boxers, leaving us completely naked.

he pulls away, staring into my eyes and positioning himself at my entrance. "are you sure my love?" he asks, searching my expression for any sense of doubt, hating the idea of forcing me to do anything.

"yes...just fuck me, please." i breathe out, craving the feeling i have missed so much.

he smiles slightly, before slowly sliding in, groaning as he does so, my walls clenching around him, not used to his size as it has been so long since we have last done this. once he is fully inside, he stops. "you okay baby? does it hurt?"

"no...move tom." i reply, and he slowly begins thrusting in and out of me at a steady pace, whines emitting from my mouth as my eyes squeeze shut. his head finds the crook of my neck, groaning into it and beginning to kiss the skin, sucking lightly and leaving marks whilst speeding up his pace.

"oh my god." he mutters into the skin, his hands running up and down my waist until they find a stable hold on my hips, thrusting easier whilst his thumbs caress me, slightly digging in, however the slight pain only fuels my fire, moans now escaping from my mouth.

"oh tom..." i trail off, hands raking down his back, pulling him downwards so our bodies our flush against each other, desperate to feel any part of him, to be closer, despite him literally being inside me.

"i love you so much." he groans out, taking my legs and wrapping them around his waist.

he continues to thrust in and out of me, his tip hitting my g-spot, and i cry out. "oh god, right there tom..."

"here baby?" he taunts, hitting the spot again, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head. he abuses that spot, my stomach beginning to tighten as the familiar feeling soon takes over.

i clench around him, feeling my release creep closer and closer. "fuck schatz, do that again." he breathes out, and i tighten my walls again, a choked moan escaping his mouth.

"i'm close." he manages to let out, speeding up his pace and capturing my lips into a kiss, moaning into my mouth. i struggle to kiss back, holding back sounds of pleasure each time he thrusts in and out, the sound of my heavy breathing muffled in the kiss.

"tom...i'm gonna, oh my god!" i cry out against his lips, feeling my release wash over me, eyes rolling to the back of my head as i swear i see stars.

"oh fuckkk..." tom drags out, throwing his head back, jaw slack as he follows, my release triggering his own, the feeling of his cum coating my walls emitting another small whine from my mouth.

he moves slowly, thrusting in and out whilst he rides out our highs before collapsing on top of me, sweat coating his forehead. his head rests in my neck, breathing uneven and heavy, planting gentle kisses on the bare skin. i struggle to catch my own breath, my fingers running through his hair, body trembling as the adrenaline slowly wears off.

"i love you so much my love. i'm sorry for everything, i promise i'll never treat you like that again." he says, planting a single kiss on my shoulder.

"i love you too." i reply, tom lifting his head upwards and meeting my lips in a soft kiss, pulling away and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, placing the covers over the both of us as i snuggle closer, resting my head on his bare chest as he slowly strokes my hair, falling asleep in each other's embrace.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz #tomkaulitz

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thefreakandthehair · 5 months

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@steddiemas day 1: deck the halls | wc: 1.2k | rated: m

Robin Buckley loves Christmas.

Like, really loves Christmas. If she could convince Steve to put the tree up in their little shitbox apartment the day after Halloween, she would. In fact, she'd tried last year but Steve reminded her that a live tree would be a needleless fire hazard by Christmas Day and she refuses to entertain the idea of a fake tree.

Absolutely not. Live tree or bust.

And this is how Steve ends up at the Christmas Tree Farm the day after Thanksgiving, dragged around with a fond if not tired smile as she checks tree after tree, pulling their branches, checking their strength and health.

"It has to be a Blue Spruce to hold those heavy ornaments from my parents, and none of these are Blue Spruces!" She bemoans, whipping her head around to glare at Steve. "Are you even helping?"

He rolls his eyes and sips the hot chocolate that warms him from the inside. "I'm here as moral support and to cut the thing down when you find it." Steve wiggles the little saw he'd been handed and nods her on.

Robin scoffs and marches back towards him. "I think there are some Blue Spruces in the lot towards the back."

Without a question, he turns on his heel and follows her. This isn't their first Christmas Tree Hunt so he knows the drill. No matter how much he actually hates Blue Spruces because the needles are sharp and stick him when they hang the lights, he'll never say a word. Not when it makes his best friend this happy.

Eventually, they make the trek through muddy grass and Robin does, in fact, find a Blue Spruce that makes her eyes light up in the hidden away lot.

"This is it," she beams. "This is the one."

"Perfect, here, hold this--" Steve hands her his mug and starts to lean down, only for the tree to start shaking.

A man in ripped jeans and Reeboks lies beneath the tree, his own saw just beginning to make its mark in the stump of the spiky, healthy Spruce.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing? This is our tree." Robin says, reaching through branches to hold it steady. "We were just about to cut it down, back off."

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not that he won't defend Robin's honor and get into a fight in a Christmas Tree Farm for her, he'd just really rather not.

The mystery man pokes his head out from under the tree with furrowed brows and two needles sticking out from the top of his head, dirt on his denim jacket that protects what looks like a red and black flannel. Steve's definitely been watching way too many Hallmark movies with Robin lately because holy shit, he's cute.

"Listen, my best friend wants this tree, and I don't even wanna be under here but if she doesn't get this Blue Whatever-The-Fuck, someone's halls are getting decked and it'll probably be mine. So, sorry." He shrugs and returns to his place under the tree.

Robin looks at Steve, bewildered and frazzled simultaneously. Do something, she mouths.

Like what? He mouths back, scrunching his face and contorting his mouth.

She widens her eyes and jerks her head to the side, desperate.

He should’ve known Robin would be responsible for his demise.

“C’mon, man, we’ve been here for two hours looking for a tree.” Steve gets no response, just a few grunts that shouldn’t go straight to his crotch but what can he say? It’s been awhile.

He steps forward and lies down beneath the tree with the Tree Thief. “Is she here with you? Your best friend who seems as fucking rabid as mine is here about these trees?”

Steve watches as the man focuses on the tree stump, rhythmic back and forth motions of the saw moving his torso along the ground with his tongue poking out between his lips. “Maybe I can talk to her? Or send Robin? She’s… convincing?”

“Chrissy wants this one, dude. Hate to break it to you.”

“Ah, okay. Robin and Chrissy. Well, I’m Steve, and you’re…?”

The sawing stops as he catches his breath. “Eddie. I’m Eddie. And unless you’re gonna help under here, you might wanna move. I don’t wanna drop this on you.”

Steve pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and takes a chance. Reaching out, he places one hand on top of Eddie’s. “Can I make you a deal?”

Eddie startles, eyes flickering back and forth from the space where their hands touch on the rough bark of the tree up to Steve’s gaze.

“Depends on the deal, I suppose.” Maybe Steve imagines the flush to his cheeks and the playful grin that blossoms across his lips. All he knows about Eddie is that his best friend’s name is Chrissy and that he has the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s maybe ever seen.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Uh,” he shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of whatever Christmas romcom he thinks he’s living in. “What if we help you and Chrissy find another tree and I help you cut it down? I’ll even carry it to the car for you.”

“What are you, some sort of lumberjack?”

“Nope,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, joking as he leans closer, like an idiot. “Just desperate not to get my halls decked.” It earns him a genuine smile and surprised laugh punched from Eddie’s lungs.

“Alright,” he taps the saw on the trunk and smirks over at Steve, mere inches apart beneath a Christmas tree. Close enough for the faint scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and Old Spice cologne to permeate the strength of the resinous spruce. “You help us find another tree, lug it to the car, and then meet me for coffee after? Seems like the least you can do, all things considered.”

Trading numbers with the guy he met while bargaining for Robin’s dream Christmas tree isn’t the weirdest moment of his life, but it’s certainly on the shortlist. As is plucking rogue needles out of his hair when they come up from beneath the tree.

He ends up lugging two Blue Spruces to the parking lot an hour later in two trips— Robin chatting with Chrissy in front of them and Eddie at his side, gravitating closer and closer until their arms nearly touch.

“You know, you didn’t actually have to do this,” Eddie says, moving away from Steve and to the other side of Chrissy's sedan to help tie the tree to the roof. “You’re not like, actually obligated or whatever.”

Steve finishes tying his end of the knot and looks across at Eddie, finding him standing with hopeful eyes and a piece of hair drawn in front of his face.

“Oh, I know.” He smiles and shrugs. “But I want to. Especially the coffee-with-you-after part.”

“Not until we get this thing up and decked, Munson!” Chrissy pops up next to Eddie at the same time Robin appears next to Steve, both of them practically bouncing on their heels and grinning ear to ear.

Robin nudges Steve in the side and he looks down to see her phone held out, Chrissy’s number typed into her contacts with a tiny pink heart to it. He gives her a subtle, excited thumbs up from below Eddie and Chrissy’s view beneath the car.

Eddie slings an arm across Chrissy’s shoulders and ruffles her hair before she fixes her ponytail, indignant.

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’ll uh, I’ll text you?”

Eddie nods and turns himself and Chrissy towards the front of the car. As he gets in the passenger seat, he looks back at Steve with a mischievous wink most likely emboldened by Steve’s brash flirtation.

“The sooner, the better.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #stobin #buckingham #steddiemas #does this become a steddiemas series? who knows! i'm unhinged and know no bounds!

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lino-nyangi · 1 year

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𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗼 | LMH

wc: 3.1k

warnings: mutual-pining-to-lovers, alcohol consumption (both minho and reader are of age ofc), profanity, drunk confession.

note: heavily inspired by new jeans' ditto. references to the lyrics can be found throughout the fic.

read prologue here.

long day.

long bad day at work. so tiring and shitty that even food couldn't console you one bit. you can’t wait to step back home, tears already pricking your eyes but you try to blink them away. it's okay, you're almost there. minho will also be there, having texted him to come over just now. you were thankful he didn't question it, said he was also just getting off work therefore he'll drive to your place from there.

he shows up not long after you get home, thankfully. you give him a short debriefing of how the day went when he asks, ranting about all what went wrong from the moment you opened your eyes today. minho listens intently, giving you all of his attention, but he's not sure what you want him to do in this situation. of course, all he wants is to cuddle you all night to make you forget about the bad day. but he can't do that, not when your relationship didn't have any clear labels.

it was getting tiring for the two of you alike. both wanting to be in the presence of one another yet whenever it happens, it feels like you're sitting on a bed of thorns. both too afraid to take a step further. all of it was making you dizzy, so it's only expected for you to pull out two cups and a bottle of your go-to alcoholic drink from the kitchenette cupboard.

"help yourself." you mutter to minho after placing everything on the coffee table, dropping your body next to his on the couch.

"i'm good. don't drink too much." he answers, failing to hide the concern in his soft voice. you think he's pushing it.

"in the comfort of my own home?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"i'm not the one that's gonna be stumbling into work tomorrow with a splitting headache." he reasons. though i won't be there to make you hangover soup in the morning, is more of what he wants to say.

"fuck it," you say, gulping down a shot.

minho can't help but watch you down shot after shot in concern. it's not too much, but definitely more than a regular amount. you're home, you're safe, might regret it tomorrow but that's the worst thing that can happen. still, he's worried, that's just how he is with you. he barely brings himself to take one when you push the cold glass against his plush pink lips. maybe he too could use a bit of liquor to slow down his racing thoughts.

he sighs quietly. minho's not sure what to do to make it better that also wouldn't make him look weird. he doesn't want to come off as if he's making a move on you while you're vulnerable, he would never do that. then again, why did you call him up at this time? it's late, and you've had dinner outside already. it wasn't like you wanted him over for a meal and a movie like you usually do, you already said you don't feel like watching anything. so maybe company is all you need. company that he's so willing to offer but at the same time hurts him to sit down and watch you like this.

it's your turn to let out an exasperated sigh. it fucking sucks. not even work now, but being next to him yet not able to feel him close— burry your face in his chest or nuzzle his neck and kiss it until you fall asleep in his arms.

staying in the middle wasn't an option anymore. having already wandered off to the opposite side of platonic feelings a while ago, the line itself was already blurry. you don't just like him a little, fancy his presence. you were already in too deep in this maze to step back. he took up all the space in both your heart and mind, head clouded with thoughts of him— what he's doing or something he did that made your heart skip a beat, at any point of the day.

still, you weren't sure if he liked you the same way. if he wanted you the same way you wanted him. minho's done so many things that made you think he for sure mirrors your feelings. the way he makes exceptions in his plans and goes out of his way to do things for you, the way his voice drops in volume and grows saturated in sweetness whenever he talks to you, the way his eyes soften everytime they land on your face. it was all trying to tell you something, you think.

but no. maybe it's all you. maybe there's none of what you believe behind his behavior. maybe minho's just too infuriatingly yet endearingly nice.

it's stupid, where your delusional feelings have gotten you. why did you even call him tonight? you didn't even register how your fingers typed in the words. it's like your first instinct was to turn to him for comfort when you were feeling bad. but now that you're here, it seemed more like you wanted yourself to suffer.

maybe this isn't going anywhere, maybe you should start pushing him away in order to make your feelings fade. it was better than hanging on by a loose thread anyway.

"no, fuck that." you blurt out loud.

you can't do it. you were already in too deep, so what's there to lose? it's one sentence, then either black or white after this long night. but what's guaranteed is peace of mind, either by having him or not.

"fuck what?" minho tilts his head, prompting you to share the conversation you were having in your head with him. not forcing you to tell him but, what else could he say to that? besides, maybe he could help if you're overthinking about work, he hopes.

to his surprise and upon hearing his voice, you turn to him, as if you're just reminded of his presence in your blurry state of mind. "you—" you stumble close to him on the couch, cupping his cheeks. breathe, minho, he tells himself.

"i am—" you inhale in an attempt to collect your thoughts, "do you know how tired i am of this?"

minho just blinks at you. confused, nervous, heart hammering in his chest. you've never touched him like this, never leaned this close. his lips part to call your name but you're quick to cut him off. not intentionally, but the liquid poison running in your veins makes you less aware of your surroundings and more focused on what's in your head. how ironic for a mind reliever.

"you— you don't leave my head even for a second, it feels like i'm going insane. if you like me then say it. if you don't then also say it. don't leave hanging like this." you trail, eyes starting to well up with tears of frustration. looking at his soft features laced with worry only makes it worse for your heart. you're almost sure he wants you the same, so why? why isn't he saying anything? "it's so mean." you whisper, lower lip jutting forward as you try to hold your tears back from falling.

minho hopes you don't notice the way he gulps, mustering enough consciousness to gently pry you off him and back on the sofa, as you were practically straddling him at this point. "hey, you've had too much to drink. should've stopped you earlier." he mutters quietly, failing to keep eye contact— he's feeling both nervous from your proximity and horrible for making you cry.

"i'm not drunk!" you protest, sounding obviously drunk. "i mean, i am. but you think i could ever have the courage to say this sober?"

he doesn't answer that, instead reaching to collect the empty cups in the tray, ready to take it back to the kitchen. he hates the way his brain wants to keep him away from facing the reality of things. but you on the other hand are already done with this situation, so you hold his hands to stop him from leaving. you need to say it, need hear it.

"i like you." you announce when he looks up, "say it back." it sounds almost threatening out of context, too straightforward but you know that's what he needs to hear to take the last step out of this maze.

"you... are you sure you mean it." minho mutters nervously, so nervous it doesn't even sound like a question.

you huff. still not enough. getting closer to his face, "i fucking love you. say it back, minho." your voice cracks, not able to stand being in this vague middle any second longer. "i know all the time we spent together means something to you." you breathe, "say it back, please."

he suppresses a sigh to avoid frustrating you further, though your behavior is what's frustrating him the most. having to deal with you being a handful of a drunk that's probably saying things they don't mean. "will you even remember this when you're sober?"

he's scared, you can tell. you want to tell him you were as well, right before you decided enough was enough. "that's not what matters right now. just for now, please. i need to hear it." it sounds selfish, but you know it what he wants too, know it's the push he needs.

one more look into your expecting eyes tells minho to pour his heart out to you. drunk or not, he needs this off his chest. "i'm... also tired of this. should've asked you out properly. but i wasn't sure if you'd want to see me after that. i was... greedy, wanted to be around you even if it meant not having you all for myself. didn't want to scare you off either." he finds himself rambling, and you snap him out of it.

"then have me now. i like you."

"... ditto."

"say it, minho."

this is so stupid. why can't he just say it back? minho's tongue feels heavy but he's not the drunk one. maybe because a small part of his brain tells him this is all going to be forgotten the next morning. he doesn't want to feed a fantasy that he's not going to enjoy for longer than just tonight. he also doesn't want to make a move on you in this state for the same reason.

"you're... still drunk." he trails, "i know i just technically confessed but i need to hear it again from you later. sober."

"then stay the night." you blurt immediately, much to minho's surprise. "stay and i'll tell you again in the morning. please."

he blinks slowly at you, still processing what you just asked for. he's never stayed this late at your place, let alone spent the night.

"i... need you tonight. even as a friend, i'll take it. just, hold me. please." you ask, finally admitting the reason you called him over for— even though you knew it wasn't going to happen when you sent that text. but just thinking of him holding you wasn't enough, you needed to have him close at least, even if that was the only way you were able to have him. minho's lips part and you try your best to focus on his answer.

"i'm… gonna text jisung." he mumbles, tapping his wide jeans in search of his phone. it's his way of saying yes, i'll stay.

i won't be coming tonight

jisung: already????

minho scoffs at his nosy best friend's message. he'd told him he was meeting you tonight after he received your text and said he'll be back by midnight max. jisung had teased him for it before they parted ways, since you never invited him over this late. but now the younger has more information to work with.

jisung: do you even have a condom on you??

9am sharp. you'll be wiped.

once he puts his phone back on the coffee table, he pours you some water to drink and down the alcohol.

"better?" he asks when you place the glass down.

you nod with closed eyes, ready to sleep. "better."

"brush your teeth first, i can help if you need me."

"i got it" you grumble, stumbling on your way to the bathroom.

minho takes that time to store the liquor away and quickly rinse the cups. he's careful for any sounds coming from the bathroom just in case you hurt yourself.

when you take a bit too long, he peeks through the open door only to find you sat on the toilet stool— thankfully closed, toothbrush still in your mouth and eyelids fluttered shut while you rest your head against the wall on your side.

god, too adorable. he thinks to himself.

"hey, wash it out first then you can sleep." his voice wakes you up.

minho grabs both of your forearms, pulling you up and you stumble into him, both the alcohol and exhaustion of the day taking over you. he manoeuvres you towards the sink, standing behind you to support your body and reaching over to gently hold your jaw in place while his other hand grabs the plastic wand poking out of your mouth, moving it to brush over your teeth. he catches you watching him in the mirror and gives you a toothy smile, but it's actually just to motion you to do the same so he can work better. you flash your teeth at him in a proud grin, allowing him to move the toothbrush on your front teeth.

the sight makes minho chuckle, but it's almost inaudible— all breath. you remind him of his cats getting their teeth cleaned when necessary.

"rinse— don't swallow." he pushes the filled cup close to your lips, then guides your upper body forward to spit out the water you swilled around your mouth into the sink.

"i know." you complain about the way he's treating you like a kid, giving him an attitude that minho just chuckles at while tapping your lips dry with a towel.

"minho?" you speak again.

"hm?"

"i really like you. okay?" you mumble, trying to sound as serious as you can but it's only endearing to minho how your eyelids threaten to close.

"it's not morning yet." is all he mutters, walking you back to the living space.

after fetching a blanket you keep there, he lets you rest on his chest on the couch. your eyelids are sealed shut by now so you're quick to pass out on him, but not before you murmur once again. "minho? i really like you, yeah?" morning's too far, you want to say it now, and hear him now. maybe if you sleep in his arms, you'll dream of it.

minho just hugs you tighter against him, humming in acknowledgment. "i like you too." he's not sure it's 100% true, maybe you're sober by now. but instead of brushing it off this time, minho wants to believe it, at least for now.

he sighs quietly, taking in your sleeping figure. as much as he wants you to snuggle comfortably on the warm bed and in comfortable clothes, minho still doesn't want to come off weird. plus, staying here means he gets to hold you like this for longer.

… but that's selfish of him, he thinks. and you'll probably regret it in the morning. so he just picks you up as gently as he can, drops you on your bed and leaves to pass out back on the couch, not before tucking you in under a warm blanket.

♡

the next morning you wake up, alone, and in your bed. none of it makes sense, except the fact that you're still in your clothes from yesterday, ironically. but other than that, you slept in minho's arms, on the couch. why are you here?

naturally, you panic. where was he? did he leave last night? were you being weird because of the alcohol? did you ruin everything? was the whole confession thing a stupid dream the liquor fed you? too many questions.

stumbling out of your room though, you're greeted by a salivating smell. it's so comforting, or at least as comforting as a smell of food can get. you follow it towards the kitchen area in cautious steps, only to find minho, standing in your kitchen— cooking. his sleeves rolled up, hair a bit messy and delicate lips moving to the lyrics of a song he's humming. it's soft, everything he does is soft, just like him.

he stops in his tracks once he spots you, suddenly timid. so cute, your bed hair and morning face.

"was just about to wake you up. i made hangover soup."

"… minho?"

he's here. he never left, even after hearing what you said last night. he's still here, as sweet and thoughtful as ever.

"morning." he smiles, "you dozed off on the couch so i helped you back to your bed." he explains, seeing your puzzled expression. it's not exactly the truth, but minho thought it was a safer option. whether you meant what you said last night or not.

"my head hurts…" you grumble, stepping further into the cooking space.

"see? i told you not to drink too much." he nags, though his tone is gentle.

"had to tell you."

"… tell me what?" minho feels stupid for playing dumb after all what happened. but whether he likes to admit it or not, he's scared. he wants to know if you mean what he thinks you do first, ready to sweep his feelings under the rug if the events of last night turn out to be just a drunk mistake.

"that i like you." you snap him out of his thoughts, again, heart beating just as fast as his. you have a faint memory of what he said hours ago, enough to guess his answer would be favorable. but it's still nerve wracking.

minho wordlessly takes you in his arms, pulling you closer to him while your hands rest on his chest, feeling the outlines of his pecs even through the hoodie he's wearing.

"then you're mine."

"say it first."

he inhales, "i like you, mine."

a smile that you can't suppress spreads on your face, "ditto."

finally. both of you think at the same time. minho steals the smallest kiss on your cheek, close the corner of your mouth before dipping his head in the crook of your neck. "is it weird to call you that this early?" he mumbles, now sheepish after realizing what he'd just called you out of pure ecstasy.

"like in the morning?" is the first thing to pop up in your head, a lame joke.

you hear him sigh against your skin and you giggle, giving him a proper answer.

"not at all.” you look pull back just enough to look at him, eyes filled with an emotion he hid for so long— love. “all this time, i’ve always been."

"that’s a relief then,” minho hugs you back against him, nuzzling your hair. “mine."

[thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog. sharing your thoughts is optional but highly appreciated! if you want to be notified everytime i post something, please refer to my pinned ♡]

#lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #minho fluff #kpop fluff #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #skz fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios

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2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

Text

(part 6 of November Paramedic; part 5 is here and the AO3 version is here.)

"... and the biggest problem is that I like him. I really like him! I haven't liked anyone this much since fucking high school, and that's not comparable because I never got close to those guys. Just hopeless pining from afar."

Eddie takes a step back from the dresser. The clothes in the top drawer are in disarray, and after rummaging through them twice he must accept the shirt he seeks isn't among them.

"I admit, at first it was primarily physical," he says, slamming the drawer shut and yanking open the middle drawer to search it again. This time he pulls out the incorrect items and tosses them on the floor. "He's the guardian of my spank bank – of course I wanted to sleep with him. I would've been fine with that happening once and then never seeing him again. There's nothing wrong with that. Right?"

He turns to Gareth, who's lying in an uncomfortable-looking position on Eddie's unmade bed, spinning a pencil between his fingers like it's a drumstick. Though grimacing in disgust at the spank bank-mention, he nods. Eddie nods too, punctuating their mutual agreement.

"Right. But then I just had to go and get to know him, and he just had to be the perfect man, and I had to… ugh. Catch feelings."

The middle drawer is an equally lost cause. He moves on to the bottom drawer for the second time. He knows the shirt is there and he will find it.

"So, the good news is that I'm pretty sure I'm going to snag the guy. The worst news is that I have to tell him all my secrets, or else our relationship will be built on lies. And I- ah-hah!"

Rising from his ocean of fabric, he holds the shirt aloft in triumph before donning it. It's wrinkled from having been balled up in a corner, but that's okay. The creases add to the aesthetic.

Awesome. He's washed, brushed, dressed, and he's still got – he glances at the clock – five minutes before he's supposed to leave. Some of his nerves cool at the certainty of, if nothing else, at least he won't be late.

"Where was I?"

"You have to tell him all your secrets," Gareth says.

"Yeah. I have to tell the truth without it sounding like the creepiest thing ever. Emphasize the flattering angles. Be clever about it." Yeah. Yeah! He can totally do that. Sighing, he drags both hands down his face. "I'll need to strategize. I'm going to put distance between us while I plan my next move."

"Uh huh," Gareth says, dropping the pencil and sitting up. "But, Eddie-"

"No!" Eddie foresaw Gareth disliking the 'distance' part of it all. If he had his way, Steve and Eddie would be married already, just so Gareth could rub his essential matchmaking into Eddie's face during his best man speech. "I don't want to hear your counterarguments. It's what I'll do and I don't care what you think."

"Right, yeah, sure, that's not it," Gareth says. "It's just that curious minds would like to enquire why, if you're distancing yourself, you're 1. going to see him today, and 2. wearing your seduction shirt?"

Eddie's gaze dips to his chest, and the aforementioned shirt. It's just a normal shirt! A black and yellow Anthrax shirt, to be precise. Sure, he cut up the sides and the neck because it was too small, but that's irrelevant. It's not that revealing, just airier. His clavicles are visible but you can barely see any of his torso in it, unless he bends over and the front piece sags. But he's not going to bend over today, because his jeans are too tight for that to be safe. He glares at Gareth.

"This isn't my 'seduction shirt'."

"Yes, it is."

"I don't have a seduction shirt!"

"You do. It's that one. You only wear it when you want to show off to someone."

"You're creepy for noticing that," Eddie says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gareth leans forward with a shark-like grin. "Oh, so you admit it?"

"No! It's not a seduction shirt!"

"All right, a 'manwhore shirt', then. Listen-"

"Oh, fuck you."

Eddie flounces out of the bedroom and through the living room, gathering keys and wallet on the way. Gareth follows.

"Listen. I'm not against you going out to see him-"

"I'm not seeing him, it's a group outing-"

"-pulling back now is stupid-"

"-that Max invited me to-"

"-and I think you should go all out and get your man. So I'm all for this. It's exactly what I would do."

Eddie pivots; Gareth almost crashes into him.

"Well," Eddie says, wearing a barbed smile. "I suppose that is how I know it's a bad idea."

Then he leaves for the hallway to put on his shoes. He tries simply shoving his feet into them, but the knot is too tight and he must untie them. Gareth leans on one shoulder against the hallway wall.

"Oh, ouch," he says. "You're grouchy today. Is it because I, while sloshed may I add, gave you an excellent opportunity to get your dick wet and you still returned home unfucked? You had Steve and his pouty lips and one size too small clothes on a silver platter. You were like a towel draped around him after a really intense workout, man. He looked willing to wipe the sweat off his junk with you and you still failed. That's sad."

Eddie, shoe dangling from his fingers by the laces and face schooled into new-sketchbook-bought-to-combat-art-block levels of blank, allows himself one raised but carefully unimpressed eyebrow.

"Are you finished?" he asks.

"Hm. Yeah, I think so."

"You're never beating the 'wanting to fuck Steve' allegations after this."

Gareth shrugs. "I mean, if he had a sister…"

"Jesus Christ."

Shoes mostly on, Eddie continues storming out of the apartment. He'd have slammed the door behind him if he didn't need to lock it after Gareth. He compromises by chucking the keys at Gareth and letting him lock the door (and slam it, if he so wishes).

Max is waiting for him on the front steps, skateboard by her feet and one earbud in; she pulls it out when Eddie passes her and pushes off the steps. She's dressy again today: dark jeans and a crimson shirt left unbuttoned and tied over a black camisole. And heeled boots! No more than an inch, but it's a big deal considering Eddie's never seen her in anything other than sneakers before. He's not under the delusion that it's his business to tell her what clothes to wear, but it's nice seeing her like this. Also, her being spruced up means his outfit won't be under as much scrutiny. He appreciates her for that.

Scrutinizing him, Max smirks as she says, "You're showing skin today. Nice."

Never mind, she is detestable.

"It's his seduction shirt," Gareth stage whispers, both hands circling his mouth.

Max scrunches her nose. "What's with him and seduction?"

"I think he just likes how the word sounds."

"It's not a fucking seduction shirt. Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Eddie stomps over to his car. "We're leaving now!"

Max jogs to catch up while Gareth laughingly waves them off and tells them to have fun on their dates.

He's wrong, though. There'll be nothing datelike about this outing, and Eddie's determined to make it so. However, in the end, it seems like he won't have to. Two minutes in and it's as unromantic as it'll ever be.

Why? Well.

"Okay," Robin says, flinging a lined notebook and a pen onto the diner table. "It's settled: Nancy, Jonathan, and El will all be home during July. And Argyle and the boys have their plane tickets?"

Because they're planning a mass reunion. The plat du jour may be delicious, but nothing beats the taste of vindication!

"Yeah," Steve says through a half-chewed bite of pulled pork. It should be gross, but it's not. Neither is his tongue darting out to lap the BBQ sauce from his bottom lip. Eddie takes a big enough gulp of his pop to drown himself; Steve rubs his back through the coughing fit. Having a mere thin layer of fabric between him and Steve's big hand doesn't really help, but Eddie will be the last person to admit that.

(Okay, so maybe Gareth had a minuscule point in this counteracting the 'distancing', but shhhhh… Eddie won't tell if you won't.)

"And Erica has permission to come over?" Robin asks after scribbling check marks next to most of the names.

"Uh huh," Lucas says. His mouth is also full, with fried chicken, but he has the decency to cover his mouth with a napkin as he speaks.

"Great. So, about the accommodations. You have space for the boys?"

Lucas nods. "My housemates will be home for the summer and they're fine with me having people over as long as we stay out of their rooms."

"Where will everyone sleep if the bedrooms are off-limits?" Steve asks, reaching for his glass. His arm, tee-shirt sleeve folded up and leaving the whoooooole bicep free to view, brushes against Eddie's and leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Thank God he wasn't drinking this time.

"There's a couch, Sammy has a futon we can borrow, and I've an air mattress," Lucas says, counting on his fingers. "We'll have a weeks-long sleepover in the living room."

"The boys are accounted for." Robin checks three of the names a second time. She points her pen at Max. "You will have El and Erica at your place?"

"Yeah," Max says, nibbling on an onion ring in an unusually ladylike manner. As if to counteract the daintiness, she's slumped in her seat, one foot on the upholstery and head resting against Lucas' arm. She narrows her icy blues at Eddie. "Remember that you'll have to be quiet. There'll be virgin ears on the other side of the wall."

"You're not a virgin?" Steve says over Eddie's indignant sputtering that he's not that loud, the walls aren't that thin, and exactly what has she been hearing anyway?!

Max ignores Eddie to roll her eyes at Steve. "I'm talking about Erica. Pretty sure she's still a virgin."

Steve's expression clouds over. "She better be."

Robin scoffs. "Seriously? She's sixteen."

"So?"

"So! You were slutting it up at sixteen!"

"Now, hold on." Steve shakes his finger at her. "I was with Nancy then, and we were monogamous."

"Oh, excuse me," Robin says in a phony voice. "You were slutting it up at fifteen."

"That's different!"

"Why? Because she's a girl?"

"Because it was a mistake, and I don't want her repeating it!"

They're both glaring, leaning so far toward each other over the table it looks like they're either about to kiss or duke it out. Eddie doesn't know which option is less appetizing. In their corner, Max and Lucas share a squirmy look that can only be interpreted as 'mom and dad are fighting.

Then Robin withdraws with a curt nod. Steve relaxes next to Eddie. Crisis averted, it seems. Still…

"I wish I'd been slutting it up at sixteen," Eddie says, mock-mournful, because nothing evaporates tension like a well-placed joke. It works, too; both Steve and Robin huff a chuckle.

"Tell me about it," Lucas says. Max straightens up to stare at him; he flounders. "Uh, tell me about it because I've never experienced the feeling and don't know what it's like."

Max shakes her head, but re-settles against him. And she doesn't shrug him off when his arm slips an inch closer to wrapping around her shoulders, so he's forgiven.

"Anyway," Robin says, tapping her lists. "That leaves Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle. If we" – she waves the pen between her and Steve – "share a bed that leaves one bed and the sofa for the others, but it'll be cramped."

"That's why Eddie is here," Max says.

As if on command, everyone's head snaps to Eddie. He clicks his tongue.

"Exploited for lodging purposes. I should have known."

Robin frowns, contemplative. "Put someone with Eddie?"

"Yeah." Max smiles and, oh. He sees what she's doing now. "Like Steve. Then there are four in your apartment, and you two in Eddie's. You're good enough friends by now to make it work."

How nefarious. Is this a coincidence, or are she and Gareth in cahoots? Do they conspire behind his back? How dare they concoct plots to improve his life against his will!

"Max," Steve sighs, "volunteering Eddie's home like this is rude."

"He doesn't mind."

The worst thing is, it's true. He wouldn't mind. Not only would he give his skimpy shirt off his back for these people. Not only is he getting queasy green at the thought of Steve sharing close quarters with his badass and apparently Pulitzer-worthy ex, his equally badass friend whom he used to co-big brother with, and a guy who's a tall, dark California hunk with hair longer and silkier than Eddie could ever hope to achieve. Not only that, but also? Just sharing a living space with Steve 'November Paramedic' Harrington?

A dream come true.

Eddie's couch is fine to lounge on for a couple of hours, but not to sleep on a whole night. But they could share his bed. And they'd have breakfast together. Exist in each other's space. He'd find out what Steve does in his spare time. What his favorite song is, if he showers in the mornings or the evenings, how he dresses when he wants to be comfy.

It'd be amazing… and it'd completely fuck with his plan to distance himself. Honestly, he can imagine two scenarios: him falling even harder and proposing marriage and permanent cohabitation within a week, or Steve unearthing the calendar by accident, calling Eddie a stalker creep, and leaving forever. He'll have to reveal himself before that.

"Uh," he says. "We can figure it out. It's a while until they'll be here, right?"

Steve smiles softly at him; Eddie's heart gallops around his ribcage, thudding so fiercely he can feel it in his mouth, and, fuck, he's blushing down to his exposed collarbones. He might propose now. Do any of his rings fit Steve? Their hands aren't the same size.

"Yeah," Steve says. "We'll find a solution."

After lunch they drive to a nearby park, to aid their digestion with a promenade (Steve's suggestion, of course). Reminded by Robin, Eddie brings up D&D to Lucas – they discuss possible campaigns while Steve and Robin spectate. Max, her boots exchanged for Nikes, skates circles around them. Every so often she'll ride close enough to call them dorks, but mostly she keeps a wide berth, alternating between zigzags and jumps and waving like a queen when they whoop and holler at her.

And then it happens.

She's ahead of them, having reached a stone staircase. Leaping onto the railing, she slides along it like a pro. But halfway she loses her balance and falls. Slamming against the stone, she then tumbles the last steps.

They freeze, a collective breath rushing out of their lungs.

Steve reacts first, speedwalking toward Max, still on the ground. Robin is babbling that she's probably fine, that she eats shit all the time and takes it like a champ.

Max rises on wobbly legs. She stumbles, sinks back into a heap.

Steve sprints.

In an eyeblink he's reached her, skidding to a stop and dropping to his knees in front of her. By the time everyone's joined them, he's examining every inch of her by prodding and poking, even as she mutters that she's fine. She's not, though. Her clothes are dusty, her hair has come loose from her ponytail, there are scrapes on her jaw and hands, and the left knee of her jeans is torn open, bright red glistening where pale skin should be. Lucas sits behind Max, hands hovering over her shoulders. Wanting to soothe but not quite daring.

At last, after an eon has passed, Steve puffs in relief.

"No need for emergency care. Knee might be sprained," he gestures to the bloody, bruised thing, "but that should be the worst of it."

"Told you," Max mumbles, picking dirt from her palm.

Steve frowns.

"You know, this could've been prevented if you wore knee pads."

"Oh, really?" she says, mockingly exaggerated.

"Yes. And a helmet."

Max pushes out her bottom lip; it leaks more sarcasm than her leg does blood. "I thought my head was fine?"

"This time! But might not have been!" Steve exclaims.

"But it was!" she snaps, matching his volume.

"Guys, please…" Lucas says quietly; they ignore him.

"I just think you should know better by now," Steve says. "I mean, you've done this for how many years? How many times have you seen others get fucked up? How many times have I told you-"

"Oh. My. God. I get it. You think I'm irresponsible. You don't have to talk to me like I'm stupid, or a child. I'm not."

"Oh, yeah? Maybe you should back that up with your actions."

"Fuck you!"

They're both screaming now. Lucas is sitting with his head in his hands. Robin has wrapped her arms around herself and is swaying to and fro in discomfort. The tension in the air is thick enough to taste. Eddie doesn't know what to say or do.

"Come on!" Steve barks. "I need to wrap your knee"

He reaches for her; she finches away and kicks at him with her good leg.

"Don't touch me! I'll walk on my own."

"You'll exacerbate your injury. I'm carrying you to my car."

"Like hell you are!"

"Max…"

"I refuse care!" She bares her teeth at him like a rabid dog. "Leave me alone!"

Steve glowers at her. His chest is heaving and his body is drawn taut, rigid with cold fury. He shoots up and marches off without another word, leaving awkwardness in his wake.

Max gets to her feet slowly, winces slipping past her clenched teeth. Lucas touches her elbow to help, but she violently shrugs him off and limps away.

Sighing, Lucas pats Eddie's back.

"C'mon, man. She'll get more pissed if we try to match her pace."

So they walk ahead, sometimes glancing back at Max and Robin, the only one allowed near her, apparently. Even then she keeps a five-foot gap between her and the human firecracker.

Steve's already by the car, with a thunderous expression and a first aid kit in hand. When Max finally arrives, he yanks open the passenger seat door for her. She sits, he cleans her wounds, and not one word is uttered. Once finished, he slams the kit shut and storms off again, stopping by a fountain some 50 yards away, hands on his hips and back toward them.

Max, face somehow even sourer, curls up in the passager seat with her arms tightly crossed. Gliding down the BMW's polished side, Lucas takes a seat right beneath her.

Robin tugs at Eddie's wrist.

"Come," she whispers. "Let's give them space."

She brings them to a bench where everyone is within their view but out of their hearing. She collapses on the wooden seat like a potato sack.

"I hate when it gets like this," she says. "Don't you?"

"Yeah." He sits beside her. "Does it happen often?"

"Not anymore. But back when the kids were actual kids, sheesh. They were easier with us than with their parents, but still. Hormones and rebellious phases. Not that we were much better. We thought we were so adult." She rolls her eyes.

"Have you known them as long as Steve?"

"No, I joined the gang a year or two late. At first, I only hung out with Steve and the occasional child, when they deigned to stick around. I'm closest with Dustin, the MIT wunderkind, and Erica, Lucas' sister, the one still stuck at home. You'll love both of them – they're so savage."

Eddie nods, worrying his lower lip. At the car, Max’s hand has slipped down for Lucas to hold, but they still seem not to be speaking. Steve is stubbornly staring at the fountain like it'll reveal all of life's secrets if he's patient enough.

"You know after our gig?" Eddie asks. "When you raced ahead and we walked and talked? We talked a lot. Overshared, really."

Robin nods. "As you do."

"Steve told me about something important that happened at your old job? He wouldn't say what, because it's about you and it's private. But I'm curious, so… ?"

She sighs while grinning fondly. "He made it sound bigger than it is. All right. So we worked this shitty summer job at a mall ice cream parlor. The uniforms were hideous. We actually had to film a local commercial for it?"

"Oh my God."

"Yeah. I think it's still circulating – I'll ask around for it. Steve will never forgive me for showing it, but it has to be seen. Anyway, it was a summer job that continued into fall. That November, it all came to an end when the mall caught on fire."

"No!" he gasps, already invested.

"Yes!" she says, waving her hands, growing theatrical. "In the middle of the day! Rush hour! There was a stampede; we were trapped in the parlor for ages. By the time we got out of the shop, the fire had spread. Smoke everywhere! I inhaled so much I passed out. Steve carried me outside and gave me CPR."

He blinks at her, jaw slack. "Holy shit. Jesus Christ."

"Yeah. I'd have died if not for him."

She shrugs as if it's nothing, merely a fun little anecdote from yesteryear. Perhaps, to her, it is. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"Why didn't he tell me this? He talked about his dad being a shithead, but not this?"

"Yeah… I don't know. When it's about him, he'll happily overshare. But when it's someone else it's all 'it's not my story to tell, I need permission'. Unless he hates them – he's sooo gossipy about people he doesn't like," she says, giggling a beat before sobering again. "Anyway, I'm telling you now that it was him saving my life and keeping me alive until the actual professionals showed up with the oxygen mask."

"Wow," Eddie breathes out. He gazes over at Steve's rugged form. "He's amazing."

Robin nudges him with her elbow. "He likes you, you know."

He likes him. He likes Eddie. He likes Eddie. Eddie kind of already figured. But hearing it from Steve's best friend is still…

"Yeah," he says, ducking his head and pulling ringlets of hair in front of his face. "Not sure I'm good enough for him."

"Oh come on. Isn't that for him to decide?"

"He doesn't know yet… what I'm capable of."

"Are you kidding me?" Grabbing him by the shoulder, she forcibly turns him to look at her. "Listen: I'm judgmental and I'm not afraid to admit it. When we first met, I took one look and thought I had you pinned down. 'Check out this guy. Leather and tattoos and black black black. So hardcore and gothic-'"

"I'm not goth-"

"'-he probably thinks he's soooo tortured'. And then you turned out to be a geeky-sweet bundle of sunshine. Well done, proving me wrong. And now you're doing this?" She gently smacks his chest. "Hitting me with all your self-loathing? Get over yourself! It's not like he's perfect either. Look at him!" She points at Steve. "He's sulking!"

A fit of giggles bubbles from Eddie's throat. It's true – he is sulking. No matter how impressive or resolute he's looking, that's what he's doing. It's so ridiculous and adorable.

"Whatever you're capable of," Robin says once the laughter abates, "you deserve to be happy. He deserves it."

She sends Steve a long look of pure love. It tells Eddie everything he'd ever need to know about her, he's sure.

"Also," she continues. "I'm getting seriously sick of the pining. I know, I should be kinder because Steve endured years of me desponding over various girls, but I can't stand this."

Eddie emits a triumphant noise. "I knew it. Only a lesbian dresses like that."

Robin's chin dips to her suspenders and tartan tie. She raises her brows at him.

"You wish you had my drip."

He would have replied if he hadn't caught movement in the corner of his eye.

Max is leaving the car. Eddie observes with bated breath as she slowly hobbles over to Steve. When reaching him, he spins to face her but makes no effort to step closer. She says something. He nods, sternness carved into his features.

For a moment, they're still.

Then she sways toward him; his arms envelop her, pulling her into a full-body hug. She tucks herself under his chin while he caresses her hair.

Eddie breathes out.

"They're fine."

"'Course they are," Robin says. "Don't you fight like this with your family?"

"Yeah." Eddie chuckles. By the fountain, Steve seems to be coaxing Max into letting him give her a piggyback ride. "Guess I do."

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Part 7

#steve has been on his best behavior because he's made an effort to be #and because he's older and thus wiser and chiller #but it wouldn't be steve if he didn't throw at least one bitchfit #and here it is!#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic: november paramedic #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #max mayfield #robin buckley #lucas sinclair #stobin #lumax #my writing

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