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vroomvro0mferrari · 3 days

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LN4 | Kiss and Make Up

Summary: You used to get along with your brother’s best friend, but at some point, it all changed. Lando’s rude comments frustrate you to no end, and your brother is fed up with your complaints. Max only sees one solution: you need to make up.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader (enemies to lovers)

WC: 5.0K

Warnings: cursing?

Masterlist

You heard the keys jiggle in the door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening, and your brother stomping through the hallway of your parental home. You finally have some time off from school after the insane amount of deadlines and exams that filled your last couple of weeks and decided to visit your family. You like studying and university, but it’s nice to come home and be taken care of instead of doing everything on your own. However, you’re still in charge of dinner tonight. You can never make it back home without being forced to make your famous lasagne at least once and tonight’s the night your family will be blessed with your famed, home-made dish.

Max smiled when he saw you standing in the kitchen, chopping up the veggies for tonight. Although he’d never tell you directly, he had missed you. Max still lived close to your parents whereas you had moved further away for school. It made it difficult to see each other regularly, especially since Max had started Quadrant with Lando and didn’t make the effort to visit you anymore. Seeing you in person had become a rare occurrence, something that would only happen in his parents’ house.

Max put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned forward to watch what you were doing. “Hey sis, are you making lasagne?” He said with a smile.

“Hello Y/N, I’ve missed you. How are you doing? – I’m doing well, Max. Thank you for asking.” You mumbled as you continued to cut vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t see it with your back towards your brother, but he smiled at your antics. “Hello my dear sister, I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I do wonder how you’re doing.”

You turned around and smiled when he pulled you into a hug. “It’s your own fault. You never come to visit me, but I’m doing well now that the exams are over,” you tell him with a chuckle.

Max decided to ignore your complaint, instead redirecting the conversation to what you were busying yourself with. “So, lasagne?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Max. I’m making lasagne for dinner.”

He silently cheered at your response. A cheeky smile made its way onto his face when he asked, “Is there enough for one more?”

“Depends… Who’s it for? P?” You said, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as you cut up more veggies.

“Does it matter who I invited? You won’t let anyone else eat your lasagne?” He said with a laugh, but you knew the question was serious. He knew you didn’t particularly get along with some of his friends – actually, one of his friends, Lando. To say your relationship with Lando isn’t great would be an understatement. Max didn’t know why exactly you didn’t get along, you’ve never indulged him, but the dislike is clearly noticeable and has been going on for ages. Max had tried to improve the relationship in the past, but nothing had worked, only making it worse. He doesn’t understand why Lando, specifically; you don’t seem to have any issues with his other friends.

You looked at Max pointedly; he was asking for something he already knew. Of course, you’d let people other than P eat your lasagne. There’s only one person that you wouldn’t allow.

Max sighed at your seriousness, “Yes, I’ve invited P,” he told you.

You smiled triumphantly, “Good! I’ve missed her; more than you, actually,” you said with a snort.

Max rolled his eyes at your comment. “I should never have introduced you two. You’re suspiciously close,” he mumbled as he shook his head, leaving the kitchen.

You grinned at his comment and continued to prepare dinner. You carefully cut the veggies, made the sauce and built the lasagne before you covered it with cheese. After you finally put it in the oven, you went to your room to freshen up. Of course, you cannot cut tomatoes without getting juice on your shirt, so clean clothes are a necessity. You quickly changed your shirt, reapplied your deodorant, and fixed up your hair before you heard the door opening, footsteps and voices following soon after. You smiled as you walked down the stairs, excited to see Pietra after months. You walked into the room, ready to hug your brother’s girlfriend, only to see his boyfriend making himself comfortable on the couch.

Your smile dropped from your face in an instant, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Lando,” you said in a low voice. What on earth was he doing here? Your brother told you he’d invited his girlfriend, your friend; was she not here yet? Lando must’ve come to pick something up, right? He wouldn’t visit around this time unless he came to pick something up… Or come for dinner… Judging by how comfortable he had made himself on the couch, you doubt it’s the former.

“Y/N! How are you?” Lando said, getting up from the couch to properly greet you. You scoffed and folded your arms as he moved closer.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Lando said with a smirk.

“I hope you’re not here for dinner,” you continue.

“I am here for dinner, actually. Max invited me.”

You shifted your eyes over to Max in anger. He’d told you P would be coming over, not Lando. The little bitch.

“I take it P’s not coming, then?” It was evident in your voice that you were upset.

Max looked at you with apologetic eyes, like a child being scolded, as he avoided your gaze. At the lack of response, you turned your attention back to Lando.

“There isn’t enough food for all of us, and even if there was, it probably wouldn’t match your fancy diet anyway. Go buy a salad or something,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at your response. “Such hostility,” he said, his hand resting on his chest in fake hurt, and a teasing grin on his face that made you want to slap it off.

You gritted your teeth at the teasing – God, this man frustrated you to no end, and he was enjoying it, too.

“Fuck off, Lando. You’re not welcome here,” you said before walking away.

Lando was about to follow you into the dining room, unable to resist teasing you further, but Max stopped him. “Come on, man. Don’t provoke her. She’s already annoyed, especially because I lied to her.”

You paced the dining room in an attempt to calm yourself down while the lasagne cooked in the oven. You grabbed the plates from the cabinet and started setting the table. You'd cooled off until you realised you’d have to set a place for Lando. You frowned as you stared at the last plate. Why couldn’t Lando just leave you alone? He should know not to bother you, you’d shown him before how petty you could be when he frustrated you, so why did he have to try again and again? Should you act like the bigger person, get over yourself and set the table for Lando, or should you 'forget' about Lando and set only four places? Your parents would be upset for sure, but the urge to retaliate is so strong. You stood still for at least a minute as you weighed your options.

A smile crept its way on your face when you spotted the kids’ table in the corner of the dining room. Usually, it’s only used for big family events, when your much younger cousins come to visit. They don’t properly fit at the adult table and have their own tiny table in the corner of the room. A normal-sized human wouldn’t properly fit on one of the seats, but then again, Lando’s short, right? Besides, if he acts like a child, then he can sit at the children’s table. You grab the children’s cutlery and plate from the cabinet and set a special place for Lando. You can barely keep your laughter back at the thought of Lando sitting at the small table in a chair that’s way too tiny for him.

When you heard the timer beep, you tried to neutralise your expression. You placed the lasagne on the kitchen table before calling your family (and Lando) for dinner. Your parents were, unsurprisingly, the first to join you at the table. The boys, naturally, were still finishing up the game they started before dinner was finished. Your parents were already seated and provided with drinks before the boys came walking in. Although your parents hadn’t noticed the table in the corner or the missing chair, your brother noticed straight away.

He looked at you disappointedly as he said, “Y/N, did you seriously not set a place for Lando?”

“No, I did. It’s right over there,” you said, pointing to the kids’ table.

The boys looked in the direction you were pointing, and Max started laughing immediately. Meanwhile, Lando was shocked at how blunt you were being. So far, every retaliation you’d ever taken wasn’t that obvious. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and disappointment as he stared at the table – did you really dislike him that much?

“Where’s the other chair?” Max asked, still chuckling as he stood at the empty spot by the table.

You didn’t look up when you responded, “I don’t know,” shrugging your shoulders as you casually continued to divide the lasagne.

Lando sighed as he tried the chair, his knees pointing out above the table. Max only laughed louder at the image, and your dad couldn’t resist chuckling either while Lando pouted.

“I can’t eat like this.”

“Then don’t. I told you you’re not welcome.”

“Y/N!” Your mum scolded you before turning to Lando. “You’re always welcome here, darling. Ignore her,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where did you put the chair?” She questioned you.

You sighed, “They’re just in the pantry,” you admitted.

Your mum stood up and grabbed the chair for Lando who was still sitting in the tiny seat, while Max took pictures to post on his story, laughing. Lando smiled thankfully when she came back with the chair and grabbed a normal plate to serve him a generous portion of your homemade lasagne.

You couldn’t help but glare at Lando when he took his first bite. He was undeserving of the food into which you had put so much effort and love. You couldn’t even enjoy your own portion with the boy sitting across from you, although it tasted great. But Lando couldn't enjoy it either with the glares you kept sending him. Your resentment made him uncomfortable, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d be afraid that you’d poisoned his dinner. That was not your style though; he knew exactly how you liked to take your revenge. After all, he had experienced your wrath many times, and he had to admit you were very creative in creating your retaliations. He could never be entirely sure, or proof that you were the cause, but everything about the weird situations he’d been in the past years screamed your name.

There was one time that he’d gotten tens of phone calls every day for a week about a missing key. Even now, he gets occasionally gets calls about a key that was found. It seems quite innocent, but Lando’s phone was blowing up the entire week at the most inconvenient times: while he was in important meetings, when he was spending time with friends, even when he was streaming. Another time, Lando’s Netflix was completely messed up. All the recommendations on his home screen were for kids’ TV and romcoms. This, too, seems innocent enough, but after he had watched Netflix together with Daniel Ricciardo, and his homepage was filled with Cocomelon, The Kissing Booth, Riverdale and other films and series of the same genre, he had to hear about it for years to come. Some other time, Lando’s clothes mysteriously fell apart after only a few hours of wearing them after he’d stayed the night at Max's place at the same time as you. He didn't know how, but he was sure you had something to do with that too.

Although your reactions were very petty and often childish, Lando did admire your perseverance, resourcefulness and creativity. If he wasn’t always the victim of your crimes, he would have loved them, and perhaps even encouraged them, because, let’s be honest, it’s impressive if you can make someone’s clothes fall apart when you’re not even near them.

Lando didn’t really understand why he was always your victim, though. When you were younger, you’d gotten along fine, but as you’d gotten older you’d become meaner to him. He didn't know where things went wrong, and whether it was his fault or you just decided you were done with him. You used to tease each other, yes, but that was always mutual and lighthearted. Neither of you minded the comments that were made because you both knew it was all in good fun. At some point, you just started doing things like these, and Lando still doesn't know what initiated it.

You know exactly when it started, though. Everything was fine until Max and Lando hit puberty. Suddenly, they were ‘too cool’ to hang out with you, and you were excluded from all of their activities. The teasing didn’t really feel like teasing anymore, but rather mean comments that hurt you. Lando never caught onto your change in perception; he thought you still saw it as teasing. But the comments became more rude over time, and it felt like the boys who were your friends once, were now making fun of you.

Like when you were invited to apply for Honours College at your university. You were extremely proud that your grades in your regular courses were good enough to be admitted, and that you’d been invited to apply. But Lando just called you a nerd and laughed before continuing to talk about his own achievements, as if what you’d done was nothing important or impressive.

It wouldn’t have mattered much if it were any other friend of your brother, but Lando was important. You’d known him for about ten years, and he was basically a part of your family. What didn’t help either was that you had developed a small crush on him over the years. By the time he turned twenty, he’d gone through a glow-up. He finally learned how to deal with his curly hair and his face had matured to that of a handsome man. You were attracted to him, but his ugly personality distracted from his looks – most of the time.

Nevertheless, you wanted to impress Lando; to make him like you so he would stop with the off-handed comments. Though you weren’t necessarily good at sports or karting like he was, you excelled academically. You thought by showing your intelligence, you could gain his respect. Unknowingly, it made Lando feel dumb. He’d never even finished secondary school, and you were taking on extra classes in university without any troubles. He reacted differently than he would have liked to, but he thought you’d understand it was a joke.

Another time, you organised a last-minute surprise party for your brother. You had made sure there were decorations, music, food, and most importantly, drinks. You were happy with what you had managed to do in the time available, but your mood significantly worsened when Lando jokingly said you could have put in a little more effort. He was smiling when he said it, but it felt like he was making fun of you; of the amount of effort you had put in to make sure everything was organized as perfectly as possible. Despite his intention to tease, it didn't feel that way to you.

The comment that you believe triggered your best revenge was on Pietra’s birthday. She celebrated her birthday at Max’s apartment, and of course, you’d come to visit and celebrate with her. A few months before her birthday she’d shown you a top she really liked when she was online shopping, but the colour wasn’t right. So, for her birthday, you decided to crochet the top in her favourite colour. It was a bold choice because you didn’t have much experience crocheting, nevertheless, you tried. If she didn’t like it, you would just buy it from the store after all, or get her something else. You thought it looked pretty good, especially for your first try. Regardless, there were some mistakes and uneven shapes.

Pietra was completely surprised and elated with the present, especially when you told her you made it yourself. She knew how much time and effort it probably cost you to make it, but Lando didn't consider that when he commented on the piece.

“You made it yourself? Maybe you should practice a little more, huh?” He said, laughing, before handing it back to P.

You felt the smile drop from your face at the hurtful remark, but Lando was oblivious to the fact he hurt your feelings. Max turned to Lando in shock, while Pietra assured you that she loved the top, and couldn’t wait to wear it. You plastered a smile on your face, but it was obvious (to anyone but Lando) that it was fake. That night, after drinking your feelings away, you tore the seams in Lando’s clothes. Not every single one, but enough so it would fall apart after too much exertion; the punishment should fit the crime.

The anticipatory pleasure at the thought of Lando’s clothes tearing at an inconvenient moment was enough to satisfy you. When you heard about what happened a few days later from Max, you could barely keep your laugh back.

More recently, you had gone clubbing with your brother and his friends. It was an unusual event because your brother didn’t want to see you flirting or dancing with random boys in the club, but this time it was different. He knew you’d been stressed from school, and he’d rather you let loose when he’s there than when he’s not there to keep an eye on you.

You were dancing with your brother and his friends when a cute boy came up to you, asking if he could buy you a drink. You said yes, of course. You would never refuse a free drink, especially in good, handsome, company, and you wanted to get over your small crush on Lando. You don’t know why or how, but he always seemed ten times hotter at the club, and you needed to get away from him. The longer you stayed near him, the more his pretty face and well-dressed body seemed to distract you from his unattractive personality, and that couldn’t happen.

You followed the man to the bar and ordered a drink as he flirted with you. His attention was completely focused on you, but you kept getting distracted by the feeling of eyes on your back. It wasn’t until you were dancing in the middle of the large crowd that the feeling faded. You felt free without the supervision of your brother, and without Lando to distract you.

The man pulled your back closer to him, and you let him. You swayed from side to side with your arms in the air while he kissed his way down your neck. It didn’t feel right, but that didn’t matter; it was good enough. You liked the feeling of his lips on your neck and felt yourself get lost in the moment until suddenly there was a tug on your arm.

Your eyes opened in shock as you felt yourself get pulled away. The man you were dancing with didn’t seem to mind much and moved on with another girl standing nearby as you stared at Lando confused and disoriented.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him as you struggled to pull your arm from his firm grip.

“I’m taking you back to the group, you need to be more careful,” he explained.

You scoffed, “What? I was perfectly safe! Let me go!”

“Were you? He seemed untrustworthy,” Lando continued as he pulled you through the club.

“I was just having fun! God, you’re so annoying!” You say with a huff before walking back to your brother.

Lando watched you as you walked away. He didn't want you to dance with that man, or any man for that matter, even though he would never admit it. However, you had misunderstood his intentions. To you it seemed like he was interrupting your fun, cockblocking if you will, and it frustrated you to no end.

For days to come, you complained to your brother about what happened, insisting that it was none of Lando’s business and he should’ve left you alone. However, your brother grew tired of your complaints really quickly and couldn’t deal with your issues anymore. You’re ongoing dispute with Lando had dragged on for too long and it needed to be resolved, soon, before he went insane. During your next fight, Max would force the two of you to repair your relationship, whether you wanted to or not, because he simply couldn’t take it any longer.

It didn’t take long until your next fight. You were looking at pictures of Lando and Max on Instagram from when they went golfing a few days back when you spotted something. In one of the pictures, Lando was taking a photo with a camera, a camera which he had seemingly ‘borrowed’ from you without your knowledge.

The second you saw him enter your parents’ house, you targeted him.

“You stole my camera?”

“Hello to you, too, Y/N,” he responded with a grin.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where is it, Lando,” you continued, stepping closer to him.

“I gave it to Max. He was supposed to give it back. He hasn’t yet?”

“No, he hasn’t. And you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

Your gaze shifted to Max, who walked in behind Lando.

“Where is it, Max?”

“In my room somewhere, I think.”

“Can you go grab it? Please?”

The words you said were much kinder than the way you said them. Max sighed before walking up the stairs to his room, you and Lando in tow. He looked around the room, getting on his knees to look under the bed.

“You put my camera under your bed?” You asked angrily.

“I’m not sure if I did, that’s why I’m looking, Y/N.”

Max thought this was the absolute worst. He had gotten himself pulled into one of your arguments again, and now he was being yelled at by you when it wasn’t his fault to begin with. He sighed before getting up.

“I’ll just go grab my phone for the flashlight,” he said before leaving the room.

You merely nodded in response as you continued to look around the room in search of your camera when you heard the door close, the lock falling in place.

“Max? Did you just lock the door?”

Lando lifted his head from his place on the floor, where he was looking under the dresser, at your insinuation. He quickly changed his position to sit up, staring at the door with you.

“Yes, I have. The two of you need to make up. I won’t let you out until you get along. I can’t handle the two of you fighting anymore. It’s really fucking annoying,” he said through the door.

You looked at Lando in shock, to find him already staring back at you.

“Max, you can’t do this! What the fuck is wrong with you! Let us out!” You yelled as you knocked on the door.

When he didn’t react, you hit the door again, “Max!”

You looked at Lando at the lack of response, “Do something!” You said, but he merely looked at you.

“What am I supposed to do? Knocking the door won’t help. I actually think it might be a good idea for us to talk everything out.”

You looked at Lando in shock. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged while he stared at you, and you shook your head in response.

“I’m not doing this,” you said, pacing around the room while Lando followed you with his eyes as he sat on your brother’s bed, an amused smile on his face.

“I’m leaving,” you said, opening the window.

“What are you doing?” Lando asks, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I’m leaving,” you repeated, sitting on the window sill, throwing one leg outside.

“What have I done to you to make you this angry? I can’t believe you’d rather fall out of a window than talk to me,” Lando frowned.

You let out a choked laugh, mouth open in shock. “Are you serious? You don’t know what you’ve done?” You said as you sat on the window sill, one leg outside the window, the other still on the floor.

“Yes. Please tell me, because I’ve obviously missed a lot if you’re willing to climb out of a window. By the way, stop climbing out of the window!” Lando said, all but running to prevent you from dangling your other leg out of the window too. It was already halfway there, leaving you in a very uncomfortable position when Lando grabbed your leg.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Y/N!”

“No, I’m not,” you grunted out as you tried to kick him away. You leaned away from him, losing your grip on the windowsill at the exertion. Lando could barely catch you before you fell out of the window.

“Fuck, Y/N! I told you to get away from the window!” He yelled as he pulled you away from it and back into the room before quickly closing the window. He stood in front of it as if he was trying to block your way from the window, trying to block your escape.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t be such a baby, I’m fine.”

“Only because I was holding your leg.”

“If you weren’t holding my leg I wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.” You stepped closer to him, huffing in defiance.

Lando sighed, but he didn’t respond. He kept silent while he stared at you, challenging you as you crept closer without breaking eye contact. The tension in the room was palpable, and it only increased the longer you stared at each other. Your breath was shallow from the adrenaline of your near-fall, and your glare was met with a look of annoyance. Lando’s hands hung limply by his sides, the complete opposite of a mere moment ago when he grabbed you with such urgency.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Lando's voice was low, strained with frustration.

"Me?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You're the one who's always so demeaning, so... so infuriating!"

"Infuriating?" Lando repeated, scoffing. "Coming from the girl who sabotages my Netflix and sets up kiddie tables for me?"

"You deserved it," you retorted, folding your arms and looking down. "You always mock me and belittle everything I do, every achievement, every effort… Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Lando’s confidence faltered at your confession. His eyes softened, and he took a small step closer, stroking your arm softly. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I thought... I thought we were just joking around, teasing. I didn't realise-"

"Didn't realise what?" you interrupted, eyes brimming with tears. "That your words actually affect me? That I care what you think?"

Lando's hand reached out, tentatively brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost adoring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know."

You closed your eyes, breathing out through your nose as you let the apology sink in. When you opened them again, the regret you saw in his eyes made you believe him. But it was the love and adoration in his gaze that convinced you.

"Lando..." you began, but your voice caught in your throat.

Before you could finish, Lando closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was longing. Slowly, almost apprehensively, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in an uncertain kiss.

Your initial surprise was quickly replaced by the warmth spreading through your body. Almost automatically, your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The kiss deepened, filled with your pent-up frustration and unspoken feelings. Your hands slid up Lando's neck and you ran your hands through his hair, pulling on it softly. The sensation of Lando's hands on your body, and his lips against yours felt right, making everything else fade away.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Lando’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, and you were certain your eyes showed the same.

“What… what just happened?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was now slightly tousled from your fingers. “I don’t know. But it felt… right.”

You swallowed, trying to make sense of all of the emotions running wild inside you. “We can’t just pretend this didn’t happen, Lando.”

“I don’t want to,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours.

You laughed softly at the situation, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder. Lando wrapped his arms around you straight away.

“This is not what I expected to happen,” you whispered.

Lando chuckled softly. “Me neither, but it’s not so bad, is it?”

You snuggled into his neck, sighing contently once you were comfortable. No, it wasn't bad at all.

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 days

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May I please request any comfort fluff with Jiyan from Wuthering Waves if you're open to those requests?🙏😔 I need bro to comfort me

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m sorry?’ You asked, looking up to see Jiyan stood over your seated form with conceding lacing his golden eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ He repeated, sitting down next to you, ‘you’ve been acting differently as of late and I feel as though there’s more to it than just a shift in personality.’

You chuckled humourlessly, the jig was up and you knew it but were too stubborn to accept help from anyone, especially from one who had more important matters at hand than your slight decline in mental health. ‘It’s nothing, honestly, I’m just a little-‘

‘Tired?’ Jiyan cuts you off and suddenly your throat felt drier than a desert and he must’ve known that he caught you in your one lie as he levels you with a stare, leaning slightly towards you. ‘How often have you used being tired as an excuse because people in your past have proven themselves ill equip with handling a difficult situation, despite saying false promises of being there for when life gets hard.’

‘Way too fucking often.’ You replied. ‘It’s like they were only in my life to take something from me, why? I’ll never know because they’re all gone and fucked off, like they didn’t just tore my souls to shreds snd left me to pick up the pieces.’ You concluded and it wasn’t until then did you realise that you had started to cry when Jiyan wordlessly wiped one away with his thumb.

You had let your guard slip, the one thing you’ve promised yourself to never do again in the presence of another person due to how they made it all about them; not to mention how they gone on about how suddenly they couldn’t handle your baggage before ghosting you completely whenever you tried to reach out to them again. You didn’t deserve that type of treatment and you know it, but you’ve less yourself to believe that their reaction will be how others would perceive your situation, and so you never bothered reaching out for help and instead letting it bottle up inside until you cracked.

‘I’m sorry.’ You gasped as you began to violently wipe away at your eyes when Jiyan held your wrists in his hand and brought them away from your face.

‘Don’t apologise,’ he started, ‘never apologise for your own emotions nor the people who’ve made you believe that others would turn a blind eye to your plan, for that is simply not true, but I understand that this is a hard mentality for one to unlearn after so long.’ Jiyan wasn’t well versed in comforting others, seeing as how he spent most of his life in the frontlines of the battlefield as both a medic and general, but that didn’t stop him from recognising that a misdeed had been committed against you and that he wouldn’t allow; So for you, jiyan would try his best to provide comfort that you needed.

‘Oh yeah? And who’s going to change that then you?’ You scoffed.

‘Yes.’ Jiyan answered without hesitation and a seriousness you’ve only ever seen in battle and that alone had you choke on your own words.

‘Why?’ You asked, looking into his eyes in hopes of getting the answer you wanted, you wanted to look for a lie within his eyes but his eyes only told you that he was being genuine with his words.

‘I want to prove that if there is one person who’s willing to shoulder your burdens with you, it’s me.’ He tells you. ‘I will not allow you to suffer alone during you’re in pain. So please, allow me to lend you aid in these difficult times.’

You stayed silent for a bit and Jiyan thought that he may have overstepped a boundary or two but his own worries were put to rest when you gripped onto his hand just as he was about to pull away. ‘If it’s not too much trouble for you.’

‘I wouldn’t have suggested such if it was, which it isn’t.’ Jiyan cuts you off softly.

‘Then I guess it couldn’t hurt.’ You said, slowly beginning to grow hope for this seemingly small promise.

#wuwa #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #Wuthering waves imagine #Wuthering waves imagines #Wuwa imagine #wuwa imagines #jiyan x reader #jiyan x you #jiyan imagine #jiyan imagines

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vivwritesfics · 1 day

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Set The World On Fire

Chapter Sixteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.9K

Warnings: hint of smut

Series Masterlist

Light filled the room from the curtains they'd forgotten to close the night before. Lando's eyes opened, but he just let out a groan and pulled her closer, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.

But she stayed asleep, and Lando was grateful. He pulled away from his neck to just look at her. Admire her. Admire the way her eyelashes kissed her skin, the deep, almost snoring breaths she pulled in as she dreamed. She'd fallen asleep with Lando's arm around her, splayed hand settling over her stomach. Her fingers laced through her own, and she refused to let go.

God, he was in heaven, and he never wanted to leave.

Gently untangling from her grip, he pulled his body away from her own and grabbed his phone, turning off his alarm before it had the chance to wake her up. He tried to be quiet as he pulled a suit jacket, white shirt, and trousers from the wardrobe.

Lando tiptoed out of the room. He headed into the bathroom across the hall and quickly got himself dressed. His hair was untameable curls that he didn't bother trying to fix. No, she could run her hands through them, try and do what she could before he left.

As Lando left the bathroom, top two buttons of his white shirt undone and his suit jacket over his arm, he checked his schedule on his phone. He'd left Will to arrange his day for him, but both men knew it would be a miracle if Lando stuck to it.

Walking into the kitchen, he draped his jacket over the back of a chair and searched through the cupboard for her mug.

Her first morning at the house, Lando had made her a coffee in this one mug. It had originally been his sisters, green with little brown and white rabbits on it. She hadn't used another mug since.

Pulling it from the cupboard, Lando placed it under the coffee machine. He pressed the buttons (something he hadn't had to do before she arrived) and waited for the cup to fill up. It rumbled to life, slowly filling the mug.

Impatiently, Lando checked his watch. He wasn't impatient to leave, to be on his way. No, he was impatient to return to her, fresh mug of coffee in his hands.

The coffee machine had barely stopped when he pulled the mug from beneath it. Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, he walked through the house, heading up to his bedroom. Their bedroom.

His girl was still sleeping when he walked into the bedroom. Lando placed the mug of coffee onto the bedside table and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it away from her forehead. "Wake up, baby," he whispered as he sat down.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she curled her body around his own, grabbed his hand and pulled him in. A breathy laugh left his lips and he allowed himself to be pulled on top of her. "Come back to bed," she mumbled, eyes barely opening.

He kissed her. Lando pressed his lips to her own, hands cupping her cheeks. "I've got to go," he said, lips still pressed to her own.

Hands holding the back of his neck, she kept him there. "When are you gonna be back?" She asked, voice quiet as she reached up to run her hands through his curls.

Lando kissed her again. "Not long," he said when he pulled away. He grabbed the mug from the table and handed it to her. "If you wanna go anywhere today, let Max know and he'll go with you."

She took the mug and breathed in the scent of coffee. "I will, Lan," she replied, placing her hand on top of his own. "Stay safe?"

"For you, always." Leaning in, he kissed her head and walked out of the bedroom. No goodbyes, never goodbyes. Especially not now she knew who Lando was, what he did.

Settling back against the cushions, she sipped her coffee as Lando left the house. She looked around the room. Since she'd moved in, Lando had taken down some of his posters, was making a move to make the room 'more grownup'. It wasn't something she had asked him to do, but he was determined.

She finished her coffee and got herself dressed. A yawn was pulled from her lips as she looked out of the window, looked across the grounds. She'd been out there once, sat on the decking with Lando. In his lap, actually, his lips attached to her neck as he sat, nestled inside of her.

Holding her empty mug, she headed down to the kitchen. Lando had gone already. She'd heard the front door shut as he left, but she couldn't help but miss him already.

"Morning," said Max Fewtrell, the man she knew to be Lando's oldest friend, as he poured his milk into his cereal.

"Hey, Max," she said as she took her mug over to the sink. "D'you think we could head to my apartment today?"

Max thought about it. He didn't voice what he was thinking, that they had cleaning staff to do jobs like the washing up and she didn't have to do it herself. Instead he said, "Would Lando be okay with that?"

She leaned against the counter, arms folded over her chest. She looked down at her jumper, one of the oversized ones Lando rarely got to work now that he was the head of the family. "Have you got anything better to do today?"

Letting out a breath, Max checked his watch. "You've got me for three hours," he said and continued eating his cereal.

Three hours. As she ate her breakfast, she made a mental list of everything she needed. Clothes, books, her laptop, and the things she needed for work.

Work. God, she hadn't been in since she moved into the house. Her boss had been fuming when she'd called, but Lando had pried her phone from her hands and spoken to him for her. As soon as he was done, she was given as much time off as she needed.

But she was getting a little stir crazy, stuck in this house with him. She loved him, and the house was amazing, but she needed to get out. Outside of the house, outside of the walls. She even mossed her shitty job, something she never thought would be possible.

Before they set off to her apartment, Max disappeared further into the house. It was only for a few minutes, while she pulled her shoes onto her feet.

"Here," he said, walking back over. A gun was tucked into waistband and he held a butterfly knife out towards her.

She took it from between his fingers. "What's this for?"

Max shrugged his shoulders. "Just in case," he said and grabbed a hold of his keys.

He drove them to the apartment. The radio played softly, filling the empty space between them as she pulled out her phone to text Lando. He didn't respond, but that was okay. She knew he was busy today.

"If this goes well, think we can get some lunch?"

Max's jaw was set as he pulled up outside of the apartment. "You're really trying to get LN to maim me, aren't you?" He muttered and pushed open the car door.

No matter how mad he looked, she knew it wasn't real. Since she moved in she'd gotten to know Max, had spent several nights sitting on the sofa with him and Lando, consuming a movie (of usually Max's choice). They weren't quite at the point of friends, yet, but that was coming.

Max kept one hand on his gun as he followed her up the stairs. When they got to her door, Max pulled his gun out and opened it for her. He walked in first, gun raised as he surveyed the room.

The kitchen and living room were clear, but Max didn't say that. "You got your knife?" He asked as he started towards the bedroom.

She pulled the butterfly knife from her pocket, her grip on it tight as she followed Max into the bedroom. But it was clear. Her entire apartment was clear.

It was only when Max lowered his gun that she relaxed. "Go on," he said and walked over to the window. "Pack your shit."

She did just that, shoving her clothes and shoes into bags. She grabbed a few books, just her favourites, and shoved them into her bags, too. Everything else in her apartment she had for sentimental reasons. They weren't necessities, though.

Grabbing a picture of her parents, she zipped up her bag and slung one over her shoulder. Max grabbed the other in his free hand. He looked around the room, still full of so much stuff. "Is this everything?" He asked, unable to hide the scepticism in his voice.

She nodded her head and he led the way out of the apartment. "You know, Lando can get people to help empty this place out for you," he said as he started down the stairs.

A sad sort of hum left her lips as she followed him. She'd loved that apartment, had made it her own, and part of her didn't want to leave. But a bigger part of her saw the bigger picture.

At the car, Max threw her bags into the boot and closed it. A sigh left his lips and he checked his watch again. "Lunch?" He asked.

That sad smile was wiped from her lips as she climbed into the car and Max drove her away, taking her to get lunch. The day was nice, there was no better way to describe it. Max told her stories from his and Lando's childhood as they ate. They were hilarious, had her giggling into her greasy, shitty burger. (It may have been greasy and shitty, but she loved it).

When lunch was done, Max checked his watch once again. He rushed her into the car and drove her back to the house. She carried her own bags as Max drove his car to the garage, and walked up the steps, pushing her way into the house.

Part of her had hoped the Lando was back already. But it wasn't possible; she and Max had only been gone for a couple of hours, not long enough for Lando to fly to the Netherlands and back.

So, she set about unpacking her things in the room they shared. She filled Lando's wardrobe and drawers, and placed the picture of her parents on her bedside table.

It started raining as she placed her books on the bedside table. She took a moment to watch as the rain fell on the grass outside. It was beautiful when it rained, but the garden needed something. Flowers, a vegetable patch, some furniture or something.

The door opened, but she thought nothing of it as she walked out of the room and headed downstairs to get something to drink. There was muttering that she didn't much pay attention to as she headed down the stairs.

But then she saw him. There he was looking, looking much the same as he did that morning. But that didn't stop her from running towards him and jumping into his arms. "Hi, baby," he whispered and pressed his lips to her eyes.

"Hi, stinky."

He put her down and turned her to face the other person in the foyer. "Baby, I want you to meet my sister." His heavily pregnant sister.

a/n: so the sister mentioned here is our dear reader from NNTA. Or, as Bianca and I like to refer to her, pretty little wife (plw)

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

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lemoncrushh · 3 days

Text

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored

short lil summary: after that one night with harry, you can't stop thinking about him...but things don't exactly turn out like you'd hoped.

warnings: smut (multiple positions, multiple orgasms), angst, oral (f receiving), dirty talk - 18+ ONLY!!

word count: 8k+

a/n: this is part 2 of bad idea. read that first.

(obviously both are somewhat inspired by ariana grande songs)

You heard your phone ringing as you stepped out of the shower. Knowing better than to hurry and risk falling on the bathroom floor, you listened for another ring, but none came. Quickly drying off with a towel, you wondered if it was Harry.

The two of you had been texting for the last few days. While he’d continued with his audacious flirting, he hadn’t made another move to see you again until last night.

Wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? he’d texted.

Not wanting to sound too eager, you’d said you had tentative plans with a friend - which wasn’t a full lie since Deliah had texted you and asked to get together - so you should play it by ear.

Stepping into your bedroom, you grabbed your phone from your bed. Your lips twitched into a grin when you saw his name.

Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Thoughts of him had been invading your mind since you’d left his apartment that morning. That morning after the most incredible sex you’d ever had. He’d ordered you an Uber, and offered you breakfast which you’d declined. While he’d been sweet, promising to text you, you’d made sure to keep things casual - especially after seeing that text from Melanie on his phone.

Maybe she was his girlfriend. He’d guessed correctly that you didn’t have a boyfriend, but he never divulged his own relationship status. And if he was anything like his brother, he may have a handful of women he was fucking. Not that you blamed him. He was a sexy guy, and despite falling under his spell for one drunken, sex-charged night, you were still his brother’s ex and knew it was best not to get too attached.

One thing you admitted to yourself at least, was that you enjoyed his flirty little texts and the way they made you giggle like a schoolgirl. But you would never say this to your friends. You hadn’t heard from Marcie at all since that night, and Deliah, ever the kind and gentle soul, merely asked if you got home okay and if you had a hangover, saying you two should make dinner plans. Obviously both of your friends knew you’d slept with your ex’s brother. But for now, it had yet to be a topic of conversation.

“Hey, it’s Harry,” he said in the voicemail he’d just left. “Was wondering if you were free. I was just about to head to the coffee shop. Let me know.”

Since you hadn’t heard decisive plans from Deliah about that dinner yet, you tapped the phone to call Harry back.

“Hi, which coffee shop?”

You could see him through the cafe window before you even made it to the door. He sat in a corner booth at the front, another cap backwards on his head. He smiled and waved when he saw you coming, and it immediately sent a warm feeling through your veins.

“Hi,” you said when you approached him, and he rose from the booth, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look lovely,” he commented, his palm running down your back and lingering just above your waist. “I haven’t ordered yet. Thought I’d wait for you.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, but you didn’t have to.”

Harry shrugged. “I wanted to.”

With a grin, you walked with Harry to the counter to place your coffee order. When he told the barista it was together and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, you didn’t argue. Joining him at the table again, you asked Harry how his day had been.

“Pretty good,” he replied. “Had another interview this morning.”

“How did that go?”

“Went well, I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

“I know,” you nodded. “Good luck, though.”

“Thanks.”

You both continued to make small talk for a bit until the barista called out his name. You watched Harry slide out of the booth to pick your coffees up at the counter. Selfishly, you stared at his back, his broad shoulders, hoping he was planning to stay in the states instead of returning to London. Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for having such thoughts. He was not yours to claim. Some good dick and a cup of coffee did not mean anything more.

Returning to the table, he set your cup in front of you. Then Harry’s smile spread across his face before he reached for his phone. “Found something today as well,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh?”

Tapping on his cell, Harry chuckled before turning it towards you. Your face fell when you recognized the image. It was your senior photo from high school.

“Is that you?” he asked.

With a sigh, you nodded, wanting to make yourself small and melt into the vinyl of the seat. “Yeah.”

“I told you I thought you looked familiar,” he smirked. “You went to my high school.”

“Where did you find that?” you asked him with a grimace.

“Your instagram.”

“Shit,” you muttered, throwing your hand over your face. You’d forgotten you had an account. You’d abandoned it after you and David had broken up.

Fuck! David!

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up,” Harry continued.

Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you shook your head, wanting to vomit. “I guess you know who I am, then.”

“From school, yeah. Oh, you mean that you dated my brother?”

“Yes,” you groaned, shielding your eyes from him as you looked down at your untouched coffee.

“Honestly? I don’t care much about that.”

Lifting your head, you stared at him in shock. “What?”

Harry shrugged. “David’s dated a lot of girls. I could barely keep track even before I left for London. I was bound to run into one of them sooner or later.”

Making a face, you sat back. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

Harry chuckled. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re just another chick, sweetheart. You’re anything but that, if I’m being honest. It just doesn’t matter to me that you dated my brother, that’s all. I like you. We had a good time, yeah?”

Color rose to your face as your body relaxed. “Yes.”

“Good.” Harry gazed back at the photo on his phone. “You were really cute, too. I would’ve asked you out if I hadn’t been a dorky freshman.”

A cackle escaped your lips as you looked away, turning back only to find a gorgeous, sexy grin on Harry’s face.

“You’re definitely not dorky now, Harry,” you commented.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

The moment was silent as you looked at him and blinked. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I…was afraid it would spoil everything. I was enjoying spending time with you.”

“‘s alright. I enjoyed it too.”

Finally taking a sip of your latte, you looked up at him. “So where does that leave us?”

“Exactly where we were. I asked you here because I wanted to see you again.”

“And?” you tilted your head, hoping he had more to add.

“And…I was hoping we could get together again soon. Like this weekend.”

“Alright,” you said nonchalantly, lifting your cup to your lips.

Harry snickered. “Just alright? Did you have other plans?”

“Well, I might, Harry. It’s kind of late notice, and you don’t know me that well.”

He threw his head back laughing, and you couldn’t help but be pleased. You liked his laugh. A little too much. When he looked at you again, his eyes were dancing with glee. You took that as a good sign. Then he leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. You let me know what time you’re free - either Friday or Saturday evening. And I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Pursing your lips, you grabbed your own phone from your bag and pretended to be looking at a calendar.

“Hmm, you’re in luck, Harry. I happen to be free both evenings,” you teased.

“That is lucky,” he agreed. “Let’s not play it by ear this time though, hmm? I wanna set a date.”

“Oh. So it’s a real date this time?” you quipped.

“What do you think this is?” Harry raised a brow, acting offended.

You chuckled. “A coffee date.”

“Ah!” Harry lifted a finger in the air. “But it is a date.”

Pulling your lips to the side, you rolled your eyes. “More like a coffee…meet up.”

“Don’t change the terms now, love, that’s not fair.”

You laughed out loud, enjoying the banter. “Alright, Harry. You can pick the night. You’re so stubborn, and if you weren’t so fucking cute I’d tell you just forget it.”

Harry slapped his hand to his chest. “Honey, that hurt.”

“No it didn’t,” you jested, trying not to show how affected you were by him calling you honey. “Drink your coffee.”

His dimples deepened as he lifted his cup. “Friday, okay?” he winked before taking a sip.

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“I have a friend whose band is playing. Would you like to go?”

“Sure.” Though you’d just done the bar thing the weekend before, Harry was just out of college and was probably still part of that whole scene. And it was his friend, so you didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Great,” Harry beamed. “I’ll pick you up around eight.”

You nodded again, taking another sip of coffee.

The rest of the coffee date was more flirting and teasing, some idle chit chat. Before your goodbyes, Harry was sweet to walk you out to your car, giving you a gentle, yet sensual kiss. And though it had been on the edge of your mind all evening, you didn’t bring up the Melanie text. You told yourself it was none of your business, but in all honesty, you didn’t wanna know the truth.

“You’re seeing him again?” asked Deliah as she dug her fork into her salad. You’d finally managed to get together for dinner the next evening. And for the first time since Saturday night, Harry’s name was brought up when she asked about your weekend plans.

“Tomorrow. And I saw him yesterday for a coffee date.”

“So it’s getting serious already?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not serious, Deliah. It’s just fun.”

“Oh. Do you like him?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t.”

“You know what I mean…” Deliah tilted her head and eyed you.

Shrugging, you reached for your water glass. “If you’re asking about feelings, Deliah, it’s way too soon for that.”

“I don’t know. I fell for Shane on our first date.”

“That’s because you’re special,” you winked.

Your friend smiled as she set down her fork and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Marcie’s still mad at you, you know.”

“I figured as much,” you commented. “She hasn’t replied to any of my texts.”

“She thinks you’re just trying to get back at David.”

“Who gives a shit about David?” you exclaimed. “I’m so over him.”

“Well, she thinks you’re not, and she’s afraid you’ll fall for Harry because he looks like him.”

Sitting back in your chair, you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “He doesn’t, actually. Sure, he resembles him a little because he’s his brother, but they are nothing alike.”

“I believe you, Y/N,” Deliah held up her hands. “I’m only repeating what Marcie told me.”

With a huff, you grabbed your water again and gulped it down. “I thought friends were supposed to support each other,” you added. “Not bring each other down.”

“I support you! I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” you sighed. Then giving a smile, you picked up your fork. “Besides, I’m not in love with the guy. He’s just really hot and good in bed. Like I said, I’m just having fun, okay?”

“Okay,” Deliah nodded.

“So what’ll it be tonight, love?” asked Harry as you took a seat at a high top table near the stage, his hand on the small of your back. “Tequila shots again?”

“Only if you want,” you grinned up at him.

“No problem.” He lowered his mouth to yours for a soft, tiny kiss before making his way to the bar.

Setting your clutch on the table in front of you, you smiled to yourself. Harry had already kissed you a handful of times tonight, starting with the big, wet one he’d laid on you as soon as you’d opened your door. He’d stood there hatless for the first time since you’d met, his usual fratboy attire absent, or at least most of it. He still wore jeans and a button down, but this one was soft and silky, black with a small stitching design. On his feet he wore black boots, and he smelled like heaven.

“Fuck me, you look amazing!” he’d exclaimed, taking the words out of your mouth.

And before you could respond, he’d slipped his hands around your waist and covered your lips with his. It had taken you a few seconds to come down from that kiss before you’d had a chance to return the compliment, only to have him press another one on your mouth next to his car.

The way he kept stealing glances at you during the drive to the bar also confirmed you’d made the right choice in your dress this evening, and you knew without a doubt that an encore of the weekend before was imminent.

The bar was crowded as you gazed around and saw Harry returning, balancing the shots in one hand and two beer necks in the other. You giggled as you rose from your seat.

“Here, let me help you,” you offered, reaching for the shots.

“No, you take these,” he insisted, dodging the people around him.

Grabbing the beers, you returned to the table.

“I’ll be right back, I forgot the limes,” explained Harry.

“Harry, it’s fine,” you chuckled, grasping his arm.

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’s too crowded over there. I don’t need them if you don’t.”

“Not really,” he smirked.

Patting the chair next to you, you urged him to sit. He obliged, lifting one of his shot glasses.

“To you, sweetheart,” he announced.

“Me?”

“Yeah. For looking so goddamn sexy; I may have to cut out of here early or take you right here on this table.”

“Shut up,” you cackled, playfully pinching his thigh.

“Shit, don’t do that either, love, c’mon,” he hissed, grabbing your wrist.

“Harry…”

“I’m serious, babe. You turn me on so much.”

“Well…” you sighed, lifting your tequila shot. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Harry stared at you as you brought your glass to your lips. Then he did the same, shooting it down in the same rhythm you did. When you reached for your second glass, Harry raised a brow.

“Not taking your time now?”

“No,” you replied. “Not tonight.”

When you swallowed back the warm liquid, feeling it pulse through your veins, Harry followed. But when he nearly slammed his glass down, he leaned over and kissed you, sucking on your tongue. You held onto him to keep from falling off the stool.

While the kiss and the heated moment itself had seemed to drown out the noise of the crowd, you both were reminded of where you were when the sound of a screeching guitar interrupted your little private soiree. Wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, Harry gave you a dimpled smirk before whispering in your ear.

“Will definitely continue this later.”

Licking your lips, you nodded. “Which one is your friend?” you asked as the band kicked into their first song.

“The lead guitarist, right there,” he gestured. “Lance. He went to our school too, but he was a grade below me.”

“Oh.”

You sat and watched the band play a song you weren’t familiar with, but sounded catchy. Then they went into a song you did know, a throwback from college. Harry smiled widely at you as you began to sing along, then he slipped his hand up your knee underneath the table. You grinned back, covering his hand with yours, still mouthing the words. Reaching for his beer, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig while you continued to enjoy the band, raising your other arm in a fist to shout the lyrics to the chorus.

“This a favorite song of yours?” Harry asked in your ear.

“It was,” you replied. “Just brings back memories. It was one of my first concerts. I got really drunk that night, but don’t tell anybody.”

You giggled as Harry tried to urge his hand up higher on your thigh. “Wish I’d known you then.”

The band switched into a more modern track, and you used the opportunity to drink some of your beer. Your other hand still on Harry’s, you gazed around the room, seeing just how it had filled up since the band had started to play.

“Do you think all these people know the band already, or are they just here ‘cause it’s a bar?”

“Probably a mix of both,” Harry chuckled. “Lance said they have a bit of a following, though.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen them?”

“Since I’ve been back, yeah. But I’ve known Lance forever, and he’s always been in some kind of band since high school.”

Just then, the song ended and the singer spoke into the mic, introducing the band and its members before starting the next song which was an original.

“Do you want another beer, or a shot?” asked Harry.

“I’m good for now,” you smiled. “But I think I’ll make a trip to the ladies’.”

Rising from your stool, you finally released Harry’s hand with a squeeze, then gave him a peck on the lips before grabbing your clutch and turning for the bathrooms. On your way, you noticed a blonde sitting at the end of the bar, her gaze straight ahead, though it didn’t appear she was watching the band. It looked like she was staring at Harry.

If you hadn’t had to use the restroom so badly, you would have done something, though you weren’t sure what. Instead, you hurried in the ladies’ room - as quickly as you could despite the short line - and began to make your way back to your table.

You stopped in your tracks, however, when you noticed the blonde had taken your seat. She looked like she was arguing with Harry, pointing at him and gesturing with her hands. Harry did the same, opening his arms wide as he spoke to her, until he finally shrugged and the girl stepped off the stool and huffed as she strutted away.

Swallowing hard, you slowly continued your steps toward Harry. He had his head in his hand, his elbow resting on the table when you slipped into your chair.

“Who was that?” you asked hesitantly.

“Oh…” he lifted his head. “Shit. Sorry. Do you want another-”

“Who was that girl, Harry?” you said again, firmly.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh. She didn’t seem too pleased to see you.”

“She um…was looking for me, actually. Reckoned I’d be here.”

“She knows you’re friends with Lance,” you commented.

“Yeah.” Harry stared down at his beer bottle, peeling the edges of the label off with his fingernails. You could tell he was avoiding looking at you.

Exhaling through your nose, you placed your bag on the table in front of you. That must have been Melanie. Not really sure what else to say, you took a swig of your beer. The roaring sound of the crowd around you and the high decibels of the rock band seemed to be miles away as you stared at Harry, hoping he would say something. Finally, you spoke, for the silence between you was driving you crazy.

“Harry…” you leaned forward, placing your hand on his arm. He lifted his head to look at you, but his expression was not one you could easily read. “Do you wanna leave?” you asked.

Sitting up, Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping. Then he shook his head. “No. Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Me too,” you mouthed, though you didn’t really say the words loud enough to hear. Then you took his hand and looked him in the eye. “Harry, I’m enjoying being with you. I really like you. But…I don’t wanna be…”

“Shh,” he silenced you, pulling you to him in an embrace. Then he softly said the things in your ear that you’d hoped he would. “You’re not, sweetheart. Don’t even think it. I’ll tell you more about her later, if you wanna know. But it’s been over for a while. Alright?”

Pulling back, Harry looked at you, studying your face. “I don’t wanna leave…at least not yet. I wanna be here…with you.”

You nodded eagerly, believing his words…wanting to believe them. Bringing his hands to your face, he cupped your cheeks and placed a tender kiss on your lips. Blinking your eyes, you decided to let it go for now. He’d said she was an ex. He obviously knew who your ex was now. Maybe you were even.

You enjoyed the rest of the band’s first set until they stopped to take a fifteen minute break. Lance recognized Harry when he set down his guitar, and walked off the stage to greet him. When Harry introduced him to you, Lance gave a smile and a thank you for coming. They chatted and reminisced for a bit, and you half-wondered if Melanie’s name would come up, but it didn’t.

After Lance left, Harry announced he was going to the bathroom and would return with more drinks. You people-watched while he was away, swinging your legs underneath the table to the beat of the music playing through the speakers. You laughed at a handful of frat boys playing darts at the far wall, and snuck a peak at a couple making out in the corner. Your own desire was still amped up, despite the ex-girlfriend thing, and you secretly hoped Harry would decide to take you home soon.

When he wasn’t back in ten minutes, however, you started to get antsy and a little worried. There was still a crowd at the bar, and you wondered if he was there and needed help carrying your drinks. Grabbing your purse, you walked in that direction, but stopped when you saw your date on the other side of the bar talking to the blonde again. Your stomach suddenly in knots, you strode over to them and tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned with a surprised look on his face.

“I’m gonna go,” you announced. “I’ll get an Uber.”

“Y/N, no!”

“Yeah…I am. You two obviously have some things to work out. And I’m not in the mood to wait for you to finish tonight.”

When you turned for the exit, Harry grabbed your arm. “Honey, please,” he said. “Don’t leave. I was just telling Melanie to leave, that I was here with you-”

“Melanie,” you repeated. “That’s her name?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Call me when this is over,” you said. “If that’s what you want. Otherwise, don’t call me…at all.”

You heard Harry call your name once more as you made your way to the door, scrambling to get your phone out of your bag. Once outside, you requested an Uber on the app, grateful there was a driver closeby.

You swore to yourself you weren’t going to cry because that would be foolish. You didn’t have any feelings for Harry. He was just some guy. Some really hot, sexy guy who’d made you come four times in one night.

Fuck it all!

You didn’t hear from Harry the rest of the night. Though you sort of wished you would get at least an apology text, asking if you were okay, you got nothing. You got nothing the next day either, nor the day after that. By Monday you’d given up, deciding he was indeed just some guy, and just like his brother, if not worse.

You felt ashamed. Ashamed that you’d insisted it was just sex and told your friends you were just looking to have fun. You couldn’t even call or text them. Marcie would probably say “I told you so,” and Deliah, while she wouldn’t say it, would be thinking it.

It wasn’t until Thursday that you finally got a text from Harry. By then you’d just about forgotten his number was still in your phone. Almost.

Hi.

One word. That was it. Like he was testing the waters, seeing if you would respond. Such a guy thing to do.

You simply replied with the same word. Two letters. No emotion.

I just wanted to say I’m sorry.

Of course he was. Rolling your eyes, you typed back.

What for?

He took a minute to respond. You figured he was trying out different ways to explain without stating the obvious.

For everything, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Melanie. We broke up a while ago, but since I’ve been back she’s been trying to get back together. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Ok. Short and sweet. No need to go further and spew any word vomit. Keep it simple.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really like you, and I’m very attracted to you.

Biting your lip to keep it from trembling, you texted quickly.

So you got back together? You just wanted him to tell you already. Nip it in the bud.

Yes. I’m sorry, Y/N. And I’m sorry I haven’t called.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. Then you typed your final response.

Thanks for letting me know. Have a nice life.

Tossing your phone on the bed, you sat on the edge and let yourself cry. Just a little.

Three weeks later…

Summer was in full swing, the sun heating up the pavement as the tropical cocktails cooled your throat. You laid between Marcie and Deliah on the pool chairs, sunglasses on your face and a piña colada in your hand. This time the party was hosted by one of Marcie’s colleagues, Jennifer, whose husband was a doctor. Needless to say, the house was gorgeous, the enormous pool and outdoor bar only the icing on the cake.

You were glad to be hanging out with your girlfriends again. While you’d never gone into details about the Harry charade, you’d merely told them they were right, and that he was just wanting a piece of ass. You told them you were over it - in fact, had brushed it off your shoulders like it was nothing - when in truth, it had taken you a bit until the memory of Harry’s touch, his plump lips on yours, his cock deep inside of you had completely vanished.

Who were you kidding? He was still on your mind, every fucking day. But you weren’t about to tell them that.

Ian came up to Marcie and handed her another tequila sunrise, taking her empty glass from her. She thanked him with a term of endearment and you felt your stomach clench. Sipping on your cocktail, you watched the people in the pool throw a beach ball around. Suddenly, the music that was playing through the tiny, hidden speakers switched from the Sabrina Carpenter song you liked to a rock tune by Bon Jovi, immediately transporting you back to the last time you’d heard it.

You could still see him sitting there in Trevor’s loft, holding the glass of beer, a snapback backwards on his head as he stared at you. And as if he had known you were thinking about him, like magic he appeared.

He stood on the other side of the pool, wearing yellow swim trunks and a white t-shirt, sandals on his feet, and a fucking backwards cap on his head. Black shades covered his eyes, but you could swear he was looking right at you, despite the blonde in the blue bikini holding his hand right next to him.

Greg, Jennifer’s husband walked up to him then, and Harry shook hands with him. Then he turned towards the pool chairs behind him where he removed his cap and shirt and laid them down. The uneasy feeling in your stomach was too much to bear, so you shoved your drink at Deliah who glared at you in surprise.

“I don’t feel so well,” you muttered. “Going to the bathroom.”

Slipping into your sandals with haste, you rushed to the back door where Jennifer was just exiting.

“Oh, hey, I just put out more snacks on the kitchen island!” she announced. “Help yourself!”

“Thanks,” you said hurriedly, setting your sunglasses on your head before bolting for the stairs.

You figured a bathroom upstairs would be more private. With relief, you found one halfway down the hall and locked the door behind you.

You can do this! You breathed to yourself. Remember, he’s just a guy.

Taking several more breaths, you used the toilet and washed your hands before deciding you most definitely could do this. It wasn’t like it had been with David. You hadn’t been pining over Harry for twelve years.

Skipping down the stairs, you decided to stop in the kitchen to check out the snacks. You paused when you saw Harry inspecting the fruit and finger sandwiches, laying several on a paper plate. When he lifted his eyes and saw you, he looked surprised.

“Y/N. I…I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sure you did,” you quipped, grabbing a plate for yourself. “You saw me outside.”

“I promise, I didn’t,” he chuckled. “But…it’s good to see you.”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, reaching for the dip.

“I mean it. You look…amazing.” You watched his eyes follow down your body in your two-piece bathing suit.

“Thanks,” you clipped as you diverted your gaze and started piling potato chips onto your plate.

Making your way around the island, you stopped in front of the watermelon, grabbing several chunks with your plastic fork. Harry hadn’t seemed to move since you walked in the room. But you heard him speak again when you reached for the sandwiches.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“I really am sorry. I was hoping we could be friends.”

Finally looking at him again, you noticed a somber look on his face, one you hadn’t seen before. Regret? Maybe.

“Friends? Sure.”

“You mean it?”

With a nervous chuckle, you shrugged. “Whatever, Harry. But to be honest, I don’t usually become friends with a guy after I’ve slept with him.”

The back door opened again and Greg held it for one of the other guests.

“Oh, can you keep that open for me, please?” you called, carrying your plate of goodies. “Thank you!”

Stepping back out into the sun, you returned to your friends, leaving Harry alone on his island.

The hot afternoon had begun to cool down as the evening breeze blew in. Both Marcie and Deliah had been kind enough to let you know they’d noticed Harry had arrived but would be happy to leave with you if you wanted. You gave them both hugs, assuring them you were fine. Of course it was a lie, but one you were willing to tell for your own sanity.

You hadn’t been able to take your eyes off of him. He stayed on his side of the pool for the most part, and you figured it was mostly due to his girlfriend. Surely she knew you were there as well, and was avoiding any more uncomfortable situations. So other than getting in the pool for a bit yourself, you pretty much stayed in your chair or sat at an umbrella-covered table with your friends.

And of course, the alcohol helped. By four o’clock you’d had a pretty good buzz going and continued to keep it for the rest of the afternoon. It was much easier to have fun and not worry about the hot guy on the other side of the pool when you were tipsy.

By the time the sun was setting, Greg and some of his friends had grilled a delicious feast, everyone partaking with pleasure after the long, hot day. Afterwards, a few people started a game of volleyball in the pool, including Harry. When the other side needed another team member, you decided to join in.

“Y/N, are you crazy?” squealed Deliah.

“No, just drunk,” you laughed.

Taking a spot near the net, you watched Harry as he watched you through his shades. When he missed a serve, you snorted.

“How you gonna see the ball, frat boy?” you heckled. “It’s dark now.”

Slipping his sunglasses off his face, you caught the way he scowled at you. You also didn’t miss the way Melanie leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

The game continued, each team earning two points. But when Harry served, and the ball barely went over the net, you missed it.

“Tough break, princess,” Harry smirked, earning him a piercing look from Melanie.

“I shoulda gotten that one,” said the man standing next to you. “Not your fault.”

You smiled widely at him, knowing full well that Harry’s eyes were on you. This went on for a while. Though it wasn’t a tough game, you definitely got a glimpse of how competitive Harry could be. But you had to admit to yourself it was a turn-on. And though your team ended up losing, you were secretly happy that Harry got the win.

After the game, you grabbed your towel and headed for the house to change into your other clothes you had brought with you. You’d left your bag in a corner beside the sofa, and when you grabbed it and started up the stairs, you heard your name. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Harry coming up behind you.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Just wanted to say that was fun,” he smiled his dimpled grin.

“The volleyball game?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you think so? You seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did,” you nodded, reaching the top of the stairs.

“So we can be friends,” he commented.

Stopping in front of the bathroom door, you turned around and looked at him. Really looked at him. His cap was back on his head, his eyes bloodshot from the chlorine. But he looked incredible. His skin was tan, as though he’d probably already been out in the sun many times that summer already. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, revealing his tattoos. And damn if those dimples didn’t make you want to swoon.

“Playing a game with you and your girlfriend does not make us friends,” you remarked.

“Why not?”

“Because…” you paused, gathering up just the right words and the courage to say them. “Because I didn’t wanna be the one who had to leave the bar that night.”

Harry’s face fell, his expression contrite. He looked like he was about to say something, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear it. Instead, you turned for the bathroom, but before you could shut the door, Harry followed you in, locking it behind both of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked this time.

But Harry responded only with his mouth. Colliding with yours, he kissed you fervently, his tongue invading your mouth with purpose and determination. Your brain told you to resist, to push him back and out of the closed space, but your body was doing the opposite. Your hand released the towel it was holding, letting it fall to the floor. With a moan, you threw your arms around his neck. Harry’s hands found your waist, sliding down and inside your bikini bottoms. They felt so warm against your cool, damp skin. He pushed down the fabric, letting them pool at your feet. Then he lifted you up and onto the bathroom counter.

“Harry…” you breathed as you stared at his gorgeous face.

Reaching behind you, he pulled on the string that tied your top around your back, then the one around your neck. Your breasts exposed, he cupped them before licking his lips and lowering his head to suck. You threw your head back, holding onto his shoulders.

When he lifted his head again, he smirked. “How quiet can you be, sweetheart?”

“Wha-what about…your girlfriend?” you came to your senses before he leaned in for another kiss.

“What about her?” Harry asked with heavy-lidded eyes.

You chuckled incredulously. “She’s downstairs, Harry. Or did you forget?”

With a groan, he leaned forward and let his head fall on your shoulder. “Shit. I think I made a mistake, love.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t’ve gotten back with her.” His words were muffled against your neck, but you heard him clearly.

“Oh. Okay…” You hadn’t expected him to say that.

“I can’t get you outta my head, Y/N,” he added, looking at you again. “You’re so fucking sexy…but I think…it’s more than that. We’ve just…we’ve grown apart, Melanie and me.”

“So…break up with her.” You let the words slip out before you realized. Before you even admitted that’s what you wanted.

Harry blinked a few times as he considered your request. When you got no response, you gently pushed on his chest.

“I gotta go,” you said, sliding off the counter and reaching for your bag. You pulled out your clothes and stepped into your underwear.

Harry was still silent as you finished dressing. When you yanked your bag onto your shoulder, you turned to look at him.

“Bye, Harry.” Reaching a hand out, you touched his face, then gave his lips a soft kiss.

As you opened the door, you heard him say. “I will.”

The knock startled you, waking you from your sleep. Throwing your hand out to your nightstand, you searched for your phone, lighting it up to check the time. It was half past midnight. A handful of texts with Harry’s name also displayed. Sitting up, you turned on the lamp, adjusting your vision.

Can I come over? I know it’s late.

I broke up with her.

Please, Y/N, I need to see you.

With a groan, you threw back the covers and crawled out of bed. The incessant knocking grew louder as you got closer to the front door.

“Okay, I’m coming, Jesus!” Swinging the door open, you were met with a familiar face, one you had just left a few hours ago. “Harry, what the fuck?”

“Sorry I woke you,” he said.

“No you’re not.”

Dropping his shoulders, Harry sighed. “No. I’m not.”

Pushing you backwards with his palms, he crossed the threshold, knocking the door closed with the heel of his boot. His arms wrapped around your waist before you could protest, his mouth covering yours.

You hated the way your lips fit together so perfectly. You hated the way your body reacted to his kiss. And more than anything, you hated the way you had wanted this to happen ever since you’d told him goodbye in that bathroom.

He guided you backwards toward your bedroom, or maybe you guided him. His lips didn’t leave yours until his hands tugged on your tank top, and you lifted your arms to help him remove it. Standing before him in just your panties, you stared at him, his fucking cozy flannel shirt, his ever present snapback.

“I broke up with her, Y/N,” he voiced softly, echoing his text.

“So you said.”

“It was a mistake to get back together with her. We just…wanted to try to make it work, you know? See if there was something still there between us-”

“Harry, shut up.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna know about you and Melanie,” you chuckled, exasperated. “Why are you here?”

A smirk twitched on his lips as he stared at you incredulously. “What do you mean? I told you I needed to see you.”

“Yes, but are you gonna fuck me or not?”

His smirk widening into a full smile, Harry nodded, pulling you into another kiss. Removing his boots, he laid you down on the bed, his mouth trailing down your neck to nibble on your tits.

“Fuck, your skin is so soft. I’ve missed it so much,” he groaned, his hands sliding down your sides.

You grabbed hold of his hat, dropping it on the floor before running your fingers through his curls. Harry shimmied his body down between your legs while his mouth continued to leave a kiss on each part of your body down to your belly.

“This I’ve missed the most,” he whispered when his mouth stopped at your cloth-covered mound.

You whined softly as he slid his thumb up and down your slit, over your panties. You heard him chuckle low before your eyes met.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yes. All yours, Harry.”

“All mine, hmm?” he breathed, reaching for the sides of your underwear.

You lifted your hips so he could pull them down, and he made sure his hands carefully but seductively traced your legs all the way until he reached your ankles. His body now on the floor, he knelt before you and pulled you closer so that your bottom was on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide.

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy, sweetheart,” he growled. “And all mine.”

His ringed finger held your thighs open as his wet tongue slid up your slit, resting on the bundle of nerves. Your toes immediately curled, your fingers grasping the bedding underneath you. You moaned as he slowly began circling and tapping on your clit, a quickly heightened sensation that you’d forgotten you craved.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you whined.

You felt him moan against you which only accelerated your pleasure. Tugging on his hair, you urged him closer, needing to feel the friction and release. When his fingers joined in on the fun, you arched your back, crying out his name.

“Harry, oh god, make me come!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the plan.”

You felt the tension in your core as his fingers hit the tender spot inside. Light-headed, you could feel yourself steadily reaching the precipice until the coil snapped and you cried out again, your legs trembling around his head.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl,” Harry cooed as you came. “So fucking sexy.”

Your chest heaving, you moaned his name, over and over, as if you were finally spilling out all the times you thought about him, all the times you wished he was in your bed.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…”

With a chuckle, Harry slithered up your body. “I like that,” he said before kissing you. “Love to hear my name on your lips.”

“Mmm, I can’t help it, Harry. I needed you so bad.”

“Yeah? Been thinking about me, baby?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. You worried you’d confessed too much, but when Harry’s expression softened, and he whispered the words “me too”, you considered perhaps you hadn’t.

Sitting up, Harry removed his flannel and the t-shirt underneath. With a grin, you sat up too, on your knees, sliding your hands up his torso. He sighed when your lips met his chest and you kissed the ink that was displayed there.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” he said, his bedroom eyes on you when you gazed up at him.

Your fingers quickly found the button on his jeans, your hand slipping inside to cup his prominent bulge while your mouth continued to kiss his flesh, your tongue tracing the top of his butterfly tattoo.

“Fuck me, Y/N, you’re so hot.”

“So are you, Harry. I need to feel you.”

“Yeah? You want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please,” you nodded up at him with pouty lips.

Harry smirked as he leaned in for a kiss. “Oh you are so fucking sweet, aren’t you?”

You nodded, meeting his lips and sucking on his tongue. He moaned against you before crawling off the bed to remove his jeans and underwear. You reached into your bedside drawer to get a condom, happy to roll it on his incredible erection.

“C’mere, honey,” he growled as he stood at the foot of the bed. He pulled you to the edge again, aiming his hard cock at your entrance.

“Are you wet enough?” he asked.

“Very,” you exhaled, as he tested the waters for himself.

“Always so wet for me,” he grinned before entering you slowly. “Mmm yeah, so good.”

Holding on your waist, Harry fucked you slow and deep. Running your hands down your chest, watched him as he watched you, his green eyes dark in the lamp light. Your breaths quickened as he thrust faster, his hands sliding underneath you to lift you higher.

“Oh yeah, fuck me…” you cried. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, you like that baby?”

“So much. Oh god!”

You watched his arm muscles flex, his stomach tighten as he fucked you harder. His jaw slack, his beautiful lips opened as he puffed out heavy breaths. He looked so sexy, you could barely stand it. When you cried out again, he slowed, lightly patting your behind.

“Turn over, babe,” he instructed.

Getting on your hands and knees, you scooted to the edge of the bed again where Harry eagerly grabbed your hips, guiding you to where he wanted you. You felt the pressure in your cunt as he slipped inside your walls, enveloping his cock and dripping down your leg.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he pressed his palm to your back.

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart, you feel amazing. Nice and deep.”

“Ohhh Harry!”

Harry’s moans got deeper and more guttural as he pounded into you. You grasped at your sheets, needing to scratch at something. When he slapped your ass, you almost came undone.

“Fuck baby, this is so good, but I wanna see your pretty face when you come,” Harry groaned. Pulling out, he urged you to turn around again. “Grab hold of me.”

You did as you were told, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled you up as you wound your legs around him, his cock sliding back into place. You bounced on him, impressed by his strength as he held you up.

“Oh my god!” you cried out again.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Harry moaned, thrusting harder. “God, you drive me crazy, Y/N. Can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Mmm, me neither.”

He kissed you then, a deep, sensual kiss before lying you back down on the bed. As he hovered over you, the lamp reflected in his eyes, his gorgeous face full of desire. He resumed his thrusts, driving deeper and hitting the sweet spot, making you cry out all over again.

“Fuck me, baby!” you demanded. “Just like that, don’t stop. Make me come.”

“Yeah, you gonna come for me honey?”

“Yes!”

“Touch yourself. Touch your sweet clit while I fuck you.” He lifted your legs to his shoulders while you reached for your clit. It only took a couple thrusts before you were writhing underneath him, calling out his name.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Y/N, you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

He kissed you tenderly then as you trembled in his arms. Your heart beating heavily in your chest, your breaths quickened, you held on tightly, urging him to continue.

“I’m so close already, love,” said Harry through his own heavy breaths. “You feel so fucking good.”

He slipped his arms underneath your back and cradled your neck in his hands. He stared at you as he sped up his thrusts, deep groans rising from his throat.

“Ahh fuck yeah…ohhhhh…” Harry buried his face in the crook of your neck as he emptied into the condom. When he lifted his head to look at you, you both chuckled.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“I know,” you smiled.

“That was so fucking good,” he commented before dropping his head again.

You ran your fingertips up and down his back soothingly, giving him a minute to come down. When he rolled off of you, he gave you an amazing smile, his eyes cute and squinty.

“Mind if I stay the night?” he asked.

“Definitely not,” you replied, reaching to touch his curls.

“Good. Because I’d like to do that again.”

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maxtermind · 3 days

Text

you're the risk, i'm gonna take it

★ : feat :: ex!charles leclerc x reader ★ : genre :: smut; angst ★ : word count :: 2.3k ★ : tags :: (semi?) public, jealousy, possessiveness, tears lol ★ : a/n :: me posting smut?? has the world turned upside down? kinda anxious to post this one lol

The air at the charity gala was thick with anticipation and the soft murmur of high society mingling. The grand ballroom sparkled with chandeliers, and the scent of roses hung in the air.

You, draped in a stunning red gown that hugged your curves perfectly, walked in with your head held high.

It was all a ruse, of course. A ruse brought up just for your ex.

It had been three months since you and Charles had parted ways, and you were determined to show him you were doing just fine. Especially since he was already out there with a new girl in his arms.

It was a fatal blow the very first time they were caught at the paddock together. She was one of his old friends that you were always pretty insecure about and to see her with him when you were sure that in a month’s time you and Charles were going to get back together?

It made you want to vomit all over the posh expensive carpet laid under your feet.

You spotted him almost immediately, it was like his head was sticking out just to catch you off guard. Charles stood near the bar, his dark hair perfectly styled, and his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders.

It made your heart ache and suddenly the carpet wasn’t too good to be puked upon.

He laughed at something and your eyes shifted to the blonde woman beside him. It was still a fresh wound, your breakup, and despite knowing what awaited you, it was hard to maintain a composure for face sake.

That was when you realized that seeing him with someone else was always gonna make you yearn. He was never supposed to be not yours.

”Y/N, hey!” A voice broke your reverie. A smile broke on your face as Lando’s eyes roved over you appreciatively. ”You look hot.”

”Thanks, Lan,” you replied, giving his cheek a soft kiss. You linked your arm through his, grateful for the distraction. ”Let's get something to drink, yeah?”

As you walked deeper into the crowd, you were oblivious to Charles's gaze burning into your back.

You didn't dare turn around, the possibility of disappointment too intense to play a game of chance. You chatted animatedly with Lando, laughing at his jokes and subtly touching his arm.

It was when he leaned in to whisper and you faced the other away that you looked at your ex. Who stood out like a sore thumb, but this time, his eyes were trained on you and his hands were no more on the girl.

Knowing that Charles was watching made a different kind of fire ignite in you, you wanted to make him feel every bit of the jealousy that had gnawed at you for weeks. It was a huge risk, getting your heart broken again. But to hell with it, two can play this game anyway.

Minutes turned into an hour, and every time you glanced in Charles's direction, you found him watching you, his jaw clenched and eyes dark.

His ‘girlfriend’ beside him seemed to be losing his attention, her presence fading into the background as his focus remained fixed on you and Lando.

Lando, suspiciously playing the role of a perfect gentleman, leaned closer again. ”Are you okay, Y/N? You seem... distracted.” His eyes glanced at Charles as he nodded at your ex’ direction.

”I'm fine,” you lied, your eyes flickering back to Charles. He didn’t even acknowledge your date greeting him. That made your stomach drop, but in excitement this instance.

”Still hung up on him, huh?” Lando’s tone was gentle but knowing.

”No, silly, I’m all moved on,” you replied, tilting your chin defiantly and rolling your eyes. ”It was only a year or three right?”

Lando sighed. ”You know, this is a dangerous little gamble. But if it helps...” He pulled you closer, your faces inches apart. ”I'll play along.” He was so close, chest to chest with you and you smirked.

Before you could respond with your own witty accomplice, Lando kissed you softly, his lips warm and soft. It made you feel tingly all over. He didn’t even linger for more than a second, it was more of a peck really. But fuck if you weren’t touch starved.

It didn’t feel right though. It wasn't the same as with Charles, but it served its purpose. When you pulled away, Charles was no longer at the bar. You felt Lando squeeze your hand once before he dragged you to the corner and excused himself to get a drink.

A shiver ran down your spine, a mix of triumph and fear. Everyone saw that and you were alone for the first time all evening. You scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. The ballroom suddenly felt too crowded, the air too thick.

Then you felt a hand on your arm, firm and demanding. You turned to find Charles standing there, his expression a storm of emotions with furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, flared nostrils and a forced smile courting his face.

”Y/N,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. ”We need to talk. Now.”

Lando was back beside you in a second and started to protest,”Mate—” Charles shot him a look that could have melted steel.

”This is between us,” he growled, dragging you away. You barely had time to process before you were pulled away. You looked back and scoffed when you saw Lando shoot you a wink.

A few seconds later you were in a secluded hallway, the noise of the gala muffled by the heavy doors.

What do you think you're doing?” you hissed, yanking your arm free. ”You can't just—”

”Me?!” Charles suddenly screamed, cutting you off as he turned around and pushed your back against the wall.

”Do you think I'm blind?” He continued, his eyes blazing. ”Parading around with him, trying to make me jealous?”

”Why should you care?” you shot back, your own anger rising. It was embarrassing that he saw right through you. ”You have your new little blonde, don't you?”

Charles stepped closer, he backed you further against the wall and his presence was overwhelming. ”What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was a harsh whisper. ”Do you think she means anything to me?”

”Doesn’t she?” your voice wavered, the vulnerability slipping through your anger. It killed you to see him with her for three months and he couldn’t even take it for a few hours?

”No, she doesn’t.” He declared as his jaw tightened further. ”But you... seeing you with him… ” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. ”You have no idea what that does to me.”

”Maybe I do,” you replied, your voice softer now. ”Let’s hear it, Charles. What did that do to you? Couldn’t be worse than if I were to kiss him for three months straight and force you to watc—”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, his grip firm yet tentative, as if he couldn’t even fathom the thought of hurting you,”You want to know how I feel? Fine. I can't stand seeing you with anyone else.” He sounded so broken that it brought tears to your own eyes.

”I can't think straight. All I see is you, every moment. It's driving me mad.” Charles rambled on as he drew in shallow breaths, evidently struggling for air.

”Charles...” Your resolve was crumbling. ”You can’t say that. I thought we were just taking a break and a week later you were all moved on? You don’t deserve to feel bad now”

”She’s not.. We never...” His eyes softened, the anger giving way to raw emotion as he brushed a tear away from your face. ”I thought it was for the best. I thought you'd be happier without me. We were arguing so much and then you said that you were unhappy and it made me want to die.”

You searched his eyes, looking for the truth. ”And now?”

”And now,” he said, his voice breaking, ”Here we are.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of the longing you had both been suppressing. You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled you closer.

The hallway seemed to spin around you, the world narrowing to just the two of you. Charles broke the kiss, his breath ragged. ”Tell me you feel the same,” he pleaded. ”Tell me you want this. Me.”

More tears fell down your eyes as you nodded. ”I never stopped wanting you, Charles.”

A strangled sound escaped his throat as he captured your lips again, this time with a fierce, possessive hunger. His hands roamed your back, pulling you tightly against him. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Your need for each other was palpable, a wildfire that had been waiting to ignite. Charles's kisses trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin and eliciting a gasp from your lips. You tugged at his jacket, desperate to feel more of him.

”You look so gorgeous” he murmured against your collarbone, his breath hot and teasing. Your breath hitched softly as he sucked at your neck. “Here?”

”Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. ”Here. Now.”

Charles didn't need any more encouragement. He pressed you further against the wall, if that were even remotely possible. His hands slipping under your dress, caressing your thighs and lifting you just enough for your legs to wrap around his waist.

The feel of his hardness pressing against your core sent shivers of anticipation through your body. It was familiar. He was your everything and you felt right at home as you cried tears of frustration out.

Charles kissed your tears away while he held onto your face, caressing the side of your cheekbone with his thumb as a soft sigh escaped your lips. ”You have ruined me.” He whispered, groaning as he pressed himself harder against you.

With one swift motion, he freed himself from his trousers, his fingers working quickly to get you ready when he scoffed to find you bare underneath the dress. ”I swear to god, if you tell me that you planned to take Lando bac—”

You shook your head and leaned forward to peck his lips. He looked into your eyes, seeking one last confirmation. You answered with another kiss, your tongue dancing with his, your body arching into him.

The first thrust was slow, almost agonizing in its intensity. You both gasped, the sensation overwhelming you as a low groan parted from his lips. Soon enough, Charles set a rhythm, each movement deep and deliberate, making you feel every inch of him.

”Mine,” he panted into your ear, his pace quickening. ”You're mine, Y/N.”

”Yes,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. ”Always— yours, Charles.”

Your bodies moved together as he held you tightly, aching and desperate for the release you’d both been deprived of. He picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with an animalistic need you couldn’t resist.

With each thrust, each kiss, you rediscovered the connection that had never truly been broken. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other as he pushed you closer to the edge.

You bit his ear, the action alone causing Charles’s grip to tighten, his movements becoming frantic as he thrust into you harder, faster.

You felt yourself nearing the edge, your trembling thighs tightening around his hips when you felt his hand sneak between your legs, towards where you were connected, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

You clung to him, your entire being focused on the pleasure coursing through you.

”Let it go, darling,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. ”Be a good girl for me.”

The words pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name, your body shuddering with release. Charles followed moments later, his own climax crashing through him with a force that left you both trembling.

For a long moment, you stayed entwined, your foreheads resting against each other, your breaths mingling. The hallway was silent except for the sound of your breathing, the intensity of what had just happened settling over you.

Charles finally pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for the affection he thought he’d lost. ”I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse and you winced when his tears dropped down your face as he kissed your forehead. ”I never stopped.”

Your own tears spilled over as your knuckles tightened against his wrinkled shirt. ”Okay.”

You knew he wanted to hear it, but it was too soon, too soon to just flush down the feelings you had to suffer through for the past few months. Too soon to forgive him for the pain he’d caused.

Charles nodded in understanding. He could see the adoration you still held as you latched onto his arm, clinging to him with a white knuckle dying grip as if you were afraid to let go.

He kissed you softly, a promise of the future you would build together.

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of your passion, being in his embrace, you knew that you had found your way back. That despite everything that had happened, he still loved you, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.

After all, he was the only risk, the only what if, you were always gonna leap into head first.

(grid masterlist \ masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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rowanwithaz · 24 hours

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The perfect end is near?

MHA 424 spoilers

Those new leaks were literally fucking perfect,like??? Not just for shipping (I'll get to that) but just for a conclusion of the series.

Simple ending?

(First of all,I personally wanted Hori to kinda send the kids back to school,y'know,to see how they'd be after the fact how this war really changed their mindsets,but to also give them so time to just be a class. Those kids deserve to be kids just for a little bit).

To me this just proves even more so how Hori loves and enjoys his characters,he loves the world he's built for them,I think he wants to explore this further,and all the power to him! I know we want stories that are mind blowing every step of the way,but that's just not realistic and that's not really fun.

Hori,in my opinion,has made a heartbreaking and inspiring story,but I appreciate that he can dile it back a notch. I appreciate stories that can just roll with the simplicity. I feel people have this negative connotation of simplicity,that simple is automatically bad,which isn't true in the slightest.

I am a big fan of deep and meaningful stories,but I think one of the deepest turns you can take is to simplicity. These kids have been fighting non-stop and have been experiencing tragedy after tragedy,I want to see them recover. I want to see them comfort one another.

Let's not forget Hori has given us plot twits,death,war,grief...so if MHA goes back to how it was in the beginning,by being a little more simple,then I'm in full support for that.

(Just making this argument before the dudebros start talking shit! As for Shigaraki and AFO's ending,and the war,I've already done a pretty long analysis for those two,so I kinda see no point in repeating something since my feelings on it haven't changed)

The gay ending???

ALRIGHT. Let's get to the shipping portion of this post.

(Izuku trying to reassure him is so fucking sweet,oh my fucking God, he's like, "Oh,Kacchan don't cry everything's okay :D" whilst trying not to cry himself,and Izuku being shocked to see him cry? Like,bitch,this man has cried to you like two times before this,but at the same time he's never openly sobbed I guess)

Guys,we're going to get the quirkless hand hold. GUYS,WE'RE GOING TO GET THE QUIRKLESS HAND HOLD.

And Katsuki being vulnerable with Izuku once again? Honestly this whole chapter hasn't been some dkbk/bkdk crumbs,it's been a full-course dinner.

Now let's get to the most important part...

THIS. This is so telling of the future in a sense.

Katsuki and Izuku being brought together by All Might's words once again,which Hori fucking HINTED at,

Something tells me he was super excited to do this whole scene. With All Might,once again,bringing these two together,it makes me think of Togachako,especially with Ochako at the end here.

If Ochako is the one holding her stomach at the end,then we can assume that's where Toga stabbed her and she's thinking of her,while dkbk/bkdk are having their moment. This is extremely important.

I've said Izuku is kinda like Togachako's All Might,and I stand by that. Throughout this series,Ochako has been growing to become a hero,her own hero. And,Izuku has been one of her biggest inspirations,so much so,she feel in love with him. But,as things change,and Izuku has grown away from her,she's grown away from him.

What I'm saying is: Ochako has fallen out of love with Izuku. I've said this a million times,but I cannot stress it enough. Izuku has brought Ochako and Toga together though,that's for sure.

I mean,if we really take a look at their recent romantic moments,who has Ochako been thinking of?

and the rooftop scene?

people please stop trying to make this about Izuku. This is about Ochako finally realizing what kind of hero she wants to be,and that's why she falls out of love with Izuku.

Ochako wanted to save the heroes (Izuku) but in the process she found out she wants to save the villains (Toga). This is her story of becoming a hero,and falling out of love with Izuku. Izuku brought them together,their shared feelings for him made them realize their feelings for each other. Sound familiar?

Izuku's and Katsuki's shared feelings for All Might caused their feelings for each other to bloom,then their conflicting ideals made it to where they couldn't be together. Sound familiar?

(And let's not forget they had two fights,each one of them.)

And,Katsuki said something this chapter that made me think: "Oh,Togachako vibes!"

Remember when Ochako says she wants to give Toga her blood for the rest of her life?

Or the lyrics in the mha season 2 ending theme about Izuku's feelings for Kacchan?

Dudes,these mfs just wanna be together.

Those are just some of my thoughts one the ending,dkbk/bkdk,Togachako,and all that. I'm super fucking excited for the rest of this series though!

(Let's cross our fingers for a Deku Vs Kacchan part 3 but it ends with them making out???)

#Mha #Bnha #Bnha 424 spoilers #Mha 424 spoilers #Bkdk #Dkbk #GreeNade #tgchk #chktg #bloodbubbles #dekucchan #katsudeku #togachako #ochatoga #deku x kacchan #toga x ochako

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linkspooky · 22 hours

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It's not just the fact that Hori decided to kill a lifelong victim of grooming.

My two favorite comic book storylines are New Teen Titans Judas Contract, and Uncanny X Men's Inferno. They both feature villains / victims (Madelyne Pryor and Terra) that die at the end of the story. Terra is specifically fifteen years old and a victim of sexual grooming.

However, both of these stories are clearly written as tragedies. It's clear from the start that these are tragic stories not only meant to get us to sympathize with the victim turned villain but also the failure to save a clear victim is meant to make the heroes look bad.

Let me just list off all the shit Scott Summers put Madelyne Pryor through.

Fell in love with her only because she looked like his ex girlfriend Jean. Even though Madelyne specifically stated before getting into the relationship she didn't want to be jeans replacement.

Married her, and refuses to take time off to the point where he misses the birth of his own son leaving Madelyne at home to deliver her baby on the floor.

When he finally retires and they move to Alaska together he gets a phone call that Jean is still alive and abandons his wife and daughter for weeks to go back to his high school girlfriend.

Madelyne is attacked by a group of supervillains while Scott is away and just barely manages to escape but loses her baby.

She joins up with the x men to look for scott only to find out in the time she's been gone Scott had already gotten back together with Jean.

She is tricked into making a deal with a demon who wants to overthrow ilyanas control of limbo (she thought it was just a dream and the contract to sell her soul didn't matter).

She used her newfound power in order to find her child Nathan only to find Mr sinister there who reveals that Madelyne was a clone of Jean Grey, her entire life was a lie, she was made to breed with cyclops and produce a baby for sinister.

At which point madelyne snaps and decides to burn everything to the ground and kill her own child.

It's clearly telegraphed as a tragedy. The reference to Medea is pretty obvious. Madelyne had no chance from the beginning, however even in this tragedy Scott specifically forbid any of the heroes from using lethal force on her. Jean and Maddie mindmeld at one point and Jean literally begs for Maddie not to die and that she should live on to raise her son. They even throw a funeral for Maddie afterwards because be no one else would ever mourn her.

Not only do the heroes look bad, especially Scott for not being able to save her, they do at least try to talk with her, use non lethal force, and beg her at one point to let them help her.

On the other hand not only did Deku never engage Shigaraki Tomura once, just the vision of a crying child in front of him. Deku doesn't look like a failure for failing in his goal to save him he's still the greatest hero, they don't hold a funeral for Shigaraki, Dekus last words are about how he doesn't forgive Shigaraki (and therefore he deserves to die i guess because deku is the punisher now). Deku doesn't even give Shigaraki the respect of calling him by his preferred name he just calls him Tenko who was the only person Deku cared about saving.

It's not just about a victim dying it's about how the story promised us over and over again the kids were going to save the villains in the final act, that this was going to be an optimistic story about the new generation being better than the old.

Only for Horikoshi to deliver something entirely different. If I'm watching punisher I know what I'm getting into. I'm here to watch Frank Castle shoot mobsters. If Batman picks up a Tommy Gun and starts shooting mobsters that's bad because Batman wouldn't do that shit.

There's writing a story that's tonally inconsistent, or changing your plans for how a character is going to end late in the game and then there's this.

Which is basically narrative gaslighting. Where one thing is clearly happening onscreen but the narrative needs you to believe those gaslights clearly are not dimming.

I know Deku made no effort to save Shigaraki when he explicitly said they OFA is a power for saving but not killing, but don't worry Deku became the greatest hero anyway, and this is still a happy optimistic ending!

Horikoshi isn't looking for treasure in the house. Those gaslights aren't dimming. You're clearly being hysterical, woman.

#Bnha 424 #bnha 424 #mha 424 #bnha spoilers #bnha critical

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11rosebunny · 1 day

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— CHARACTER WITH STUPID READER !!

content: f!reader, fluff

characters: Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Toma Hiragi, Hayato Suo, Jo Togame, Tomiyama Choji

Haruka Sakura

He is equally as stupid so it's not surprising whenever somebody sees you two, they can expect one of you to start jumping from building to building like a monkey.

Nobody knows how you two are even living, especially with the way you meet new people could rub off the wrong way, you two are known for your notorious insults...

However, you are dumber than him which is terrible, when two stupid people pair up together, what do you expect? He sometimes gets frustrated if you two end up arguing, you can't even help each other when none of you know what to do, and the worst part is he can not have peace and quiet if you're around.

Hajime Umemiya

This boy finds it funny because of how stupid you are. If anything, he will still treat you well just like everybody else but sometimes, when he sees you mess up during an argument, say something abominable that could get you locked up in jail, start a fight because someone looked at you funny, or genuinely mess up any task your given, he does end up getting a bit annoyed, because how do you mess up watering plants?

It's like he has a personal dog, like a border collie that runs around in circles chasing their own tail, it's funny, cute, but also a lot of responsibility...

Toma Hiragi

He feels like he's raising his own child. Suo had noticed that he'd always have to pick you up and toss you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes before you did anything remotely moronic that could lead you in a huge mess.

He needs double the stomachache pills when he's around you... which is all the time.

He still finds it cute and engaging to see you act all clumsy and oblivious to anything, the only down part is he doesn't like it when you can't read the room. He has to cover your mouth with his hand before you continue to talk about something that would get you beaten up, drag you away and apologize on your behalf before scolding you in a random alleyway, if it was from a different perspective, a person would have assumed he was babysitting his friend's younger sister.

Hayato Suo

Surprisingly, he deals with you very well.

He knows how to correct behaviours in a proper manner, something Toma lacks... he's learned the different tricks and plans to get you to stop acting like a nuisance whenever he doesn't approve of the way you're acting, and it works very well!

He'll tell you to stop and let you off with a warning, cherish the way you light up whenever you're speaking a little too loud in public, he even lets you insult someone as long as you don't take it too far.

Jo Togame

To be honest, he has the slightest interest in stupid girls.

He wasn't aware that that could be a type of personality he was interested in till he met you. Your outlook on situations, people, objects, drama, made him have to take a double guess on you, he convinced himself for a while you were maybe just outgoing, till listened to you speak one day that you used to think the moon would always follow you as a kid whenever you were in a very long car ride.

'Maybe she is just stupid...'

Like Umemiya, he will love the way how funny you are without even trying. If he were to just look at you from across the room and you were simply just standing there, he would start snorting to himself to refrain from bursting out laughing. But, instead of stopping you from doing dumb things, he lets you continue to do them. The only reason why allows you is because he knows he can always stop you whenever you go to far.

Tomiyama Choji

Everyone has to run and hide from you two if you manage to come in their sight.

Choji was already bad enough in the beginning, especially for Togame who had to withstand if from the very start, so once you rolled around, he oddly began to fall sick even more, weird...

You two are known for being trouble makers, because this boy does not stop you from doing stupid things, in fact, he might even encourage it if it's just you two alone and have no one else to tell you otherwise.

You're not alone when you do your stupid things, because 99% of the time, he's joining you. The only time he'll stop you is if he or you gets hurt, not even before you get hurt, it's only after.

He loves the way you're just as outgoing as him, he finds it amazing that you're able to keep up with his personality.

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbreakerxreader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #haruka sakura #haruka sakura x reader #taiga tsugeura #jo togame #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker manga #hayato suo x reader #toma hiragi #toma hiragi x reader #tomiyama choji x reader #tomiyama choji #jo togame x reader

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destieltropecollection · 3 days

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 28: Coffee Shop AU

The barista and the bookshop | @abi-cosmos Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Barista Dean Winchester, Librarian/Bookshop owner Castiel, Friends to lovers, Mutual pining, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Slow burn, Angst with a happy ending, Depression, Costume parties and masquerades, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Sharing a bed, Coffeeshop AU Summary: In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, Dean Winchester has been running Squirrel and Moose Coffeehouse since his Dad died. Next door, anchored by family obligation, librarian Castiel has been tasked with taking over Chuck’s Bookshop. Wanting a distraction after his brother leaves town, Dean offers to help Castiel fix it up. It’s a job, something to get his hands on, it doesn’t matter that the librarian is hot and kinda weird. Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is helping him, but he’s happy that he is, and their friendship grows until he can’t deny what’s right in front of him. But when their time together is cut short, both face a decision they aren't ready for. In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, what's it gonna be? Peace or freedom?

Are You Writing From The Heart? | @luckshiptoshore Rating: Explicit Word Count: 86,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, comedian dean, Season/Series 04, Masturbation, Alcohol, Writer Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Fanfiction Writer Dean Winchester, dean/crowley relationship in the past of the fic, cas/meg and cas/hannah relationships in the past of the fic, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Jobs Summary: Castiel Novak's a writer who's waiting for his big break. His last book didn't sell, so now he's doing work for hire, ghostwriting the next in a series of ridiculous horror novels about two hot brothers who hunt monsters together. It’s pretty popular, and the fans are desperate for the next instalment — which is a problem, because the guy who usually writes them just up and vanished a couple of months ago. He left behind a signed contract and the outline for the next two stories, so the publisher’s been looking for someone else who could pick up where Chuck left off. And that's Cas. So he heads to a cafe to get the words out ... and that's where he meets Dean, a smartass wannabe comedian who's working on his stand-up set. Cas is straight, obviously, but there's something about this guy that he's fascinated with. The two of them strike up a friendship ... and soon the world Cas is writing and the world he's living in begin to get mixed up. Sometimes you're writing what you know without even realizing it ...

Finding You In Every Sign | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 99,407 Main Tags/Warnings: Deaf!castiel, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, flower shop au, coffee shop au, strangers to lovers, bottom!dean, bottom!castiel, sweet!dean, hurt!dean, hurt and comfort Summary: Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #coffeeshop au

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wreckedandpolemic · 2 days

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58 & 61 for white and gold matty when u get a chance, my beautiful friend !!!

- molly 🤍🤍🤍

(ilysm)

felt like a kiss - matty healy

(mdni) in which matty finds a new punishment for you. part of the white and gold universe. 2291 words.

warnings: daddy kink (duh), heavy degradation, mean mean dom!matty, impact play (belt), overstimulation, mild cumplay

Logically, you know that the situation you’re in right now is entirely your own fault. Nothing good ever comes out of teasing Matty, especially not when he’s already tightly-wound and ready to snap at any second. But he makes it so fun. It’s like a game to you, seeing how much you can make his jaw clench and his nostrils flare, his every movement a threat. That, and you fucking begged him to be meaner to you, stomach twisting in anticipation as anger radiates off him.

Matty doesn’t even kiss you when you get home, just grabs your jaw punishingly and forces your eyes to meet his. “Filthy slut,” he spits. “Should fuckin’ slap you for the way you behaved today.” Excitement tangles with fear under your skin. “Take your fucking clothes off, get on the bed and wait. Got it? Or are you too dumb for a simple fucking instruction?”

You pout. “No, Daddy. M’not dumb,” you say sulkily, folding your arms and scowling.

His dark laugh makes you shiver, catching some misstep you don’t even know you’ve made. “Not dumb, huh? So you chose not to fuckin’ listen to me today?” He clicks his tongue. “Oh, baby. You really wanna let yourself in for it, huh?” Your breath hitches. “Go on, on the bed and wait. Daddy’s gotta decide what to do with his dirty little slut, yeah?”

It’s phrased like a question, but the way he’s breathing hard against your mouth and glowering down at you has your knees melting into jelly. “Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, stumbling slightly when Matty shoves you away from him. A flare of sick arousal sparks to life in your gut.

The waiting is part of the torture, and you know it, wet and restless as you toss and turn on your sheets. But you have no idea how long Matty’s gonna leave you unsupervised, and you can’t help yourself as you slide a hand between your legs, arousal dripping over your fingers. You bite hard on your lower lip to swallow your moans, circling your clit and picturing Matty’s hands in place of yours. Grasping at your tit, you rock your hips up against your hand, illicit pleasure creeping in your veins.

Two fingers dip into your cunt, your legs widening and back arching as a silent gasp escapes your lips. You slide the fingers of your free hand into your mouth, keeping yourself silent as you fuck yourself, cunt pulsing with need. Quickly, you realise your fingers aren’t enough, reaching into one of your drawers for a vibrator. A burst of pleasure scatters under your skin as you press it to your clit, your eyes fluttering closed and your thighs tensing.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Matty’s voice cuts through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind, and your eyes snap open. You must look as panicked as you feel, heart hammering, because he smirks down at you. “Did I give you permission to do that?” You shake your head. “Didn’t think so. My little whore’s just begging to get punished, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, desire pulsing hard in your chest with every thud of your heart. “Been a bad girl, Daddy.” You press the vibrator insistently against your swollen nerves, moaning quietly. “Gotta punish me ‘til I’m good again.”

Matty groans, unbuckling his belt and loosening his tie, but he doesn’t undress further. He covers your hand with his and pulls the vibrator away, letting drop onto the mattress as you whine at the loss. “Don’t be fuckin’ pathetic, princess.” The nickname drips with condescension as he speaks. “Naughty girls don’t get to feel good. Now get up and bend over, okay?”

With your heart racing, you obey, slick coating your thighs as you widen your legs and brace your elbows on the bed. Nerves twist in your gut. “Daddy, I—”

“Shh, darling, it’s okay. Daddy knows what brats like you need, yeah? Can you take it if I hit you with my belt, princess?”

Fuck. You feel a gush of arousal drip from your cunt, moaning into the sheets. “Yes, Daddy. Promise I can.”

Matty pinches the flesh of your ass, the brief stab of pain spiralling sweetly through you. “God, you are such a fucking whore,” he groans like it’s a complaint, but you can hear the appreciation in his tone. “It’s not a punishment if you like it, princess.” He picks up your vibrator and retrieves a length of ribbon you usually use to tie up your hair. “Gonna keep this on you, and if you cum, s’gonna be worse for you. That okay?”

“Mhmm. Yeah. Won’t cum, promise,” you say dizzily, sinking into submission like a stone dropped in honey.

“Good little slut,” Matty coos, your entire body shuddering when he ties the vibrator against your leg, sparks shooting through you as it meets your clit. “You ready?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan, your muscles tight with anticipation as you hear Matty slide his belt into his palm. Without your permission, your hips shift down against the vibrator, chasing the steady pulse of ecstasy curling in your belly. Leather cracks against the flesh of your ass, a sound that’s half scream, half moan ripping from your chest as pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt bunches tight in your muscles.

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, breath stolen from your lungs to feed the flames. The vibrator is sickly insistent against your clit, legs trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up. “God, look at you,” Matty says scornfully. “Fuckin’ dripping all over yourself from getting spanked with my belt. Shit, can’t believe I found such a perfect girl to ruin. M’so lucky, baby,” he croons, the praise perfectly soothing over the sting of cruelty.

Whimpering, you arch your back in a silent plea. Matty swipes you with the belt again, the snap of leather against skin obscenely loud in the still quiet of your room. Stinging pain blooms under your skin, an agonising throb that falls straight to your swollen, dripping cunt. You can feel the telltale tugging low in your belly, delirious with pleasure as your orgasm starts to build in every corner of your body. The third strike has tears pooling in your eyes as you fight not to cum, squirming in an attempt to knock the toy loose and away from you.

By the fourth, tears are flowing freely and the flesh of your ass is flaming, and you know you’ll be coated in pretty, purpling bruises by the morning. “You okay, princess? What’s your colour?”

“M’green, Daddy. Soo green. Feel like m’floating,” you say dreamily, hiccuping through your tears as Matty presses a flat palm against your screaming skin.

You scream when he hits you again, openly sobbing into the sheets and writhing desperately. Your nerves are alive with sensation, his hands a match and your pleasure an accelerant, setting a wildfire raging in your chest. “Cry all you want… I’m starting to think you’re enjoying this,” Matty says, cruel as the flames leap higher.

You’re dizzy, vision blurred and limbs shaking, ecstasy so hot in your belly that you’re sure you must be glowing with it. “Fuck, m’gonna cum, Daddy, oh my God!” you gasp, trembling as your arms give out and your wet face presses into the sheets.

“Hold it,” Matty orders. The pit in your stomach only grows as you buck against the confines of his impossible request. “If you cum, you’re not getting my cock, okay? I don’t fuck greedy little whores who can’t do as they’re told.”

Truly, that sounds like a worse punishment than the spanking, a helpless moan of protest escaping you as you writhe against the heat rolling through your blood. “Daddy, I can’t— I’m gonna— oh, fuck,” you cry, your orgasm ripping savagely through your body. Pleasure burns near-painfully through you, a whining scream clawing its way out of your throat. Your body crumbles, burns to ash, reforges in pure ecstasy; your mind is wiped clean as tears and drool pool below you on the mattress.

Disoriented as you come to, you moan incoherently and try to squirm away from the vibrator. “You with me, princess?”

“Daddy, it hurts,” you whine.

“Darling, do you need to safeword? It’s okay if you do, m’not gonna be mad, promise,” Matty says carefully.

You shake your head. “M’okay. Like when it hurts,” you confess, muttered through Egyptian cotton, but Matty hears you just fine, smacking your thigh with an open palm.

“Christ, but you’re a filthy fucking whore. Good girls don’t cum without permission, yeah?” You hear his zipper lowering and squirm, crying out when he slaps your thigh again. “Don’t be greedy. Told you I wasn’t gonna fuck you already.” His calloused fingers swipe through your soaked cunt, coating them in your slick, and you hear the familiar groan as he wraps his hand around his cock.

You’re practically numb, barely feeling the vibrator still on your clit as the last dregs of your awareness drift towards Matty. “Wanna watch,” you pout, frankly unsure how your legs are still supporting your weight at this point.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want,” Matty says, almost conversational. “You didn’t care what I wanted when I asked you to stop being a fuckin’ slut in public, did you? I wanna see your pretty ass all bruised and covered in my cum, so be a good girl and hold still, okay?”

Shuddering, you murmur an affirmative. “Can I— Can I just get on the bed properly, Daddy? Promise I’ll stay on my knees for you, s’just that my legs are hurting.”

“Yeah, go on, baby. M’not gonna hit you anymore, get comfy, okay?”

Relief floods your body and you struggle into the bed, soft cotton glorious under your knees as your aching muscles sag and relax. The movement shifts the vibrator away from your clit, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying out gratefully. “Thank you, Daddy,” you mumble, syrup in your veins as Matty moans above you. You close your eyes, soaking in the lewd sound of him pleasuring himself.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby. My pretty girl. Look so gorgeous like this, all bruised up for me. God, I love your sweet little ass,” Matty praises, still pumping his cock as you imagine him vividly. It doesn’t take long before he’s cumming with a groan, painting white over your red, tender skin. “Shit, looks so gorgeous, my darling. Made you all mine.”

“Was already all yours,” you say instinctively, twisting your neck to look up at him. “Can I see?”

Matty smirks. “Yeah, darling, hold on.” You hear the shutter sound of his camera as you slowly slump until you’re lying prone, bone-deep exhausted.

The picture is obscene, ropes of cum dripping over angry, crimson skin, your cunt sopping. “I look pretty,” you murmur. “Are you gonna get off looking at that, Daddy?”

“God, every fuckin’ chance I get, princess.” Even though you know he gets himself off thinking about you, the reminder that you’re the star of his fantasies always turns you on beyond belief. “My perfect girl. Did so well, darling, took it so fucking well. Couldn’t ask for a better, sweeter, more gorgeous girl to ruin like this.” You glow at the praise, finding yourself unable to move even an inch without your muscles screaming in protest.

Somehow, Matty senses that without having to be told, carefully lifting you onto the pillows, avoiding your sore skin. “Love you,” you mumble.

“I fucking adore you, my girl. I love you so fucking much. Are you feeling alright? That was a rough one.”

You giggle. “That’s one word for it,” you say, making grabby hands at Matty until he lays next to you, the comforting heat of him soaking into your skin. “M’okay. Hurts, though. Want the princess treatment ‘til I’m healed.”

Huffing a laugh, Matty combs his fingers gently through your tangled hair. “Of course, princess. Nothing less. Do you need anything?”

“Some water would be nice. Then cuddles. M’sleepy.” You whine when Matty gets up, the loss of him like a physical sting. Your lower lip trembles in the brief minutes you’re alone, slowly sinking into the familiar guilt that comes after nights like these.

“Oh, darling,” Matty murmurs, finding you sniffling quietly into your pillow. “It’s okay, m’here. Not goin’ anywhere, promise.” He sets a glass of water thankfully within reach on your nightstand, crooning soothingly down at you. “Just gotta get you cleaned up, okay?” Nodding warily, you close your eyes as he runs a cool cloth over your ass. “I know, princess, I know it hurts,” he coos when you whimper softly, stinging pain shooting up your spine. “I’m sorry, darling. Just a little more, being such a good girl. My sweet girl. There, all done.” He runs his hand over the loose, liquidy muscles of your back. “You comfy, princess?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, voice thick with sleep.

Matty slides a pillow under your hips, and the shift in angle lets you rest more comfortably against the pillows, eyelids drooping as you gaze adoringly at him. “Can’t fall asleep on me yet, angel. Gotta make sure you’re feeling good first.”

He doesn’t let you go to sleep until you’ve talked through the whole night, kissing you reverently and murmuring reassurances exactly when you need them. You sleep through the whole morning, awoken by the smell of coffee and a soft kiss to your forehead. “Hi,” you grin, staring up into the face of the love of your life, and despite the ache in your muscles and the bruising on your ass screaming out in protest, you can’t think of a time you’ve been happier.

#molly!!! i love u!!!!#i hope u enjoy mwah #jesus this is filthy like this may be the most depraved thing i’ve written #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #smut prompt fills #writing #smut #requests

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moonshynecybin · 2 days

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okay i'm sorry for this but. you mentioning marc crying + showing hole on ig at the same time made me think. he would so be an overstimulation kinda crier.

he literally is thank you so much. genuinely before AND after reconciliation it’s like. he is genuinely crying by the time vale gets inside him. ummmmmm this got lawng. under the cut !

EYE think. marc has this insane ability to have this vice grip handle on his body and his reactions to physical input thereof… high pain tolerance high pleasure tolerance i would wager. think about how clear headed he is on track despite an INSANE amount of sensation and physical input and adrenaline… like it all speaks to his freak ass nature. you can’t just turn that shit off !!

SO it’s fun for MEEE to take that to its logical conclusion. sex with vale valentino rossi. where (at the beginning especially) he’s starstruck and responsive and sweet, but he’s also very clearly still ALL there. no getting lost in the hedonistic haze for marc— instead he’s absolutely DIALED IN on vale, cataloging information like a crazy person. he’s like. vale likes it when i move my hips like X and i incorporate more tongue here and just. trying to win at sex. make it good for vale make it good overall (ITS ALREADY INSANE MIND YOU). trying to get a good grade in fucking vale trying to WIN ! and i think it results creating a little competitive streak in vale where he NOTICES and. well he wants to make marc absolutely lose his god damn mind. and it’s not ONLY as a “winning at sex” kind of thing (trust that is at play. the crazy ego of getting there— the desire to see this hyper, neurotic, COMPETITIVE (a RIVAL. the fastest guy on track even !) guy CHILL OUT), it’s also coupled with grade A 100% pure and earnest horniness. crucially. it bothers him that his baseline effort gets marc there but doesn’t make him LOSE HIS MIND!! BEST HE EVER HAD!! crazy possessive streak he ABSOLUTELY doesn’t quite understand… he wants him to not be able to SPEAK… he wants the only thing swimming around in marc’s little intelligent fucked up noggin to be VALENTINO ROSSI in bright flashing letters… so. he sets about achieving that goal with typical rakish whimsy

so they fuck normal style and marc comes and it’s Good (knee wobbly) and he’s laughing like. jajaja okay now i will take a shower :3 and he’s got one knee off the bed stupid blue underwear in hand looking ENTIRELY too unruffled for someone who just got their back blown out by THEE valentino rossi… ass insane abs go crazy hair all over the place flush on his cheeks… just casually LEAVING the bed while vale’s still strung out breathing hard all sweaty from fucking and tangled in sheets lounging like a roman emperor. and that’s when the irritation meets competitiveness meets horny and some neuron fires in vale’s head and the switch FLIPS. and vale catches marc by the wrist. pulls him back. flips him against the mattress gets a thumb under his knee. marc shivers mouth like :o vale slings his legs over his shoulderssssssssss and he gets to WORK.

genuinely vale like. sorry nasty zone. getting him off as many times as humanely possible. relentless. fingers him blows him fucks him then eats his own come out of his hole absolutely NASTY. hickies on thighs thumbs on his nipple. marc doesn’t even know what to DO with all of it… and marc can handle a lot of sensation he LIKES a lot of sensation…. the things that would be WAY too much for normal people are justttt enough for our boy marc marquez… but his knees were jello forty minutes ago and vale’s got two fingers tugging on the oversensitive rim of his hole and his tongue is playing slick on the underside of his cock and vale’s STARING at him blue eyes clear and lasered in… and vale takes his other hand and presses his fingers, feather light against the outside of marc’s thigh, a caress, and marc is coming and his breath is catching and tears are hitting the light in the corner of his eyes like he’s an old hollywood star and he’s SO overwhelmed and loving it SO much and his head is EMPTY and he has maybe the most insane orgasm of his life. shoots all over his chest with a cracked open sob hands white knuckled on vale’s shoulders….. doesn’t leave the bed for ten full hours after that….

#it would be so rough if that sex tape got leaked though marc is not known for loving to share his vulnerabilities #outside of VERY controlled situations. anytime he cries (often) he’s like I DONT LIKE TO CRYYY IN FRONT OF PEOPLE #and then he does keep the footage in the documentary to reaffirm his humanity.#love you wrongboy #motogp #callie speaks #asks #rosquez

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brucewaynehater101 · 1 day

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I had a rather angst idea for a Good Dad Bruce au. One where he actually loves his kids and Jason never died (they still took Tim in because they found him taking pictures of them on patrol) and everyone is a lot healthier. The family spends time together and while they do squabble, like all families, they don't fight like they do in canon.

Then one day, they get an alert that the cave has been broken into and when they rush to check it out, they find.... Tim? Which shouldn't be possible as Tim is following behind Bruce and was literally at breakfast with everyone else. The new Tim's head snaps up when they enter and he just sighs, "Damn it, I was hoping to avoid you guys. Well, Multiversal Code Lima Omega Sigma Tango. Is that still the code here?" Which is the Bat code for "someone fucked up and sent me through a multiverse portal and now I gotta get home". Before anyone can fully comprehend what's going on with New Tim, he turns back to the Batcomputer, where he's currently pulling up information on Zatanna and Constantine.

Bruce walks over to the computer, worried about this version of his son being lost so far from home and says, "well help you get home. Do you know what world you're from?" And Tim simply raises an eyebrow and says, "oh. Is this one of *those* dimensions? How annoying. You can help by getting me some coffee, keeping Bat Brat and Hood away from me, and I'll be out of your hair soon enough. I won't even be here long enough to make your paranoia to bad if things go right."

All that is. Rather concerning. Especially because none if them have Hood in their names. Of course these Healthy Bats insist on helping New Tim out for as much as he will let them. It can be noted that he only accepts food from Alfred, Steph, and Cass and only drink from them and Dick. Anything Jason, Bruce, or Damian tries to give him is completely ignored, Tim acting like it isn't even there. He also is isn't refusing to interact with Damian and Jason but unlike the others, he won't say anything to them until they say something first.

Eventually Damian snaps and says, "Drake, why are you ignoring myself and Jason?!" Tim simply slowly places the tablet he was typing on down and turns to Damian and Jason who are a little pissed and also worried about Tim and why he's acting the way he is. After a deep breath, Tim says, "simply by observing I can tell that our families are extremely different. For example, both of you get along very well with your Tim. It is not so on my world. I will not go into details for all of our sakes, but both of you have made *multiple* attempts on my life. I don't blame either of you and things have been almost peaceful recently. I don't blame either of them, it's simply instinct for them. But that doesn't erase the fact that someone with each of your faces has nearly killed me at least 5 times *each*. I understand that it wasn't you two who did it, but I would still rather not become complacent around any version of either of you to avoid becoming complacent around them. So just. Stay away from me." Tim then turns back to what he was doing and resumes research on how to get back to his own world.

Jason is shocked and horrified that any version of himself would make any attempt on Tim's life, let alone almost half a dozen! He snarls, "what do you mean it's *instinct* for them? What, is only one person allowed to be in the family at a time or some bullshit?!"

Tim and Jason go back and forth a few times with Tim refusing to explain fully, simply calling it Instincts and everyone calling bullshit on that until Tim snaps, scales spreading across his hands and face as his pupils become slits and a hood flares out of his neck that was previously hidden. In a blink, Tim has become some kind of human animal hybrid as he hisses, "because I'm a Viper, Jason is a Hawk, and Damian is a Mongoose!! They naturally hunt my kind, I don't blame them for not trusting me or attacking me if I don't warn them that I'm there! I don't blame either of them for trying to kill me on sight the first two times each of them met because I'm a Cobra!" Once Tim settles down he pinches the bridge of his nose and deshifts back to fully human as he grumbles, "I apologize. I shouldn't have snapped like that just. Just leave it."

Jason and Damian attacking him on instinct is all a lie. They just don't want to accept Tim into the family and this is an easy way to excuse any murder attempts. If Bruce or Dick catches them, they just lie through their teeth that Thr Pit makes it harder to control the more instinct driven side of them, or its lingering effects from whatever Rouge they got Poisoned by last, or Tim was shifted and didn't warn them when he walked up. Sure it's fine for everyone else in the family, hell in 99% of the world its considered perfectly OK to be shifted at all times, or at least it is for animal hybrids like mice and birds and dogs, but not as much for Spiders, Snakes, and Pathners.

As for what the rest of Snake Tim's family is, Bruce is some kind of Fancy Dog (as was his mother) and when he's Batman he fluffy up and puts temporary dye in his fur to look like a Rottweiler or Doberman, Dick is a Swan who used basically spray on hair dye that Bruce made special for his feathers so people thought he was a Robin Shifter, Jason is a Hawk who's wings got the same treatment, Tim is a King Cobra like his mom but when on patrol he keeps the hood hidden and chews black gum so the inside of his mouth looks black like a Mamba's, and Damian is a Mongoose like Ras and Talia but the public thinks he's a ferret. Steph is either a Possum or a Raccoon and makes jokes about having switched animals with Tim as birth. Cass is a black panther who loves the groom her family.

Shifter AU!!!!!!

I was not expecting that, so I was pleasantly surprised ^^

Snake comparisons for Tim are underutilized and beloved. I'd be down to see way more of them. As for this AU, I'm curious about what seems to be Shifter-ism (not sure if there's a better word for that), their instincts, and how often Jason and Damian get away with attacking Tim. Are they at least doing better now? It seems that Tim is weary of them, that they attacked him even with full control of their actions, but that he doesn't blame them.

Also, is one of Tim's instincts to take naps in sunny spots? Is he slower when he's cold?

For the cover-up that Tim did, it was brilliant. He crafted a perfectly logical reason for why they would attack him (especially for Bats who are presumably unfamiliar with shifter instincts and thus unable to call him out).

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#jason todd #bruce wayne #dc au #damian wayne

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bluesidez · 1 day

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HEY POOKS. Could you write a DBF!Miguel x dancer!reader. He just loves to watch her dance in competitions and recitals and helps her practice her routine by counting out 8’s for her <333

( maybe he can give reader a reward for doing so well but idk 🤭 )

[Rehearsal]

lab tester: Anonymous Participant (Hi @snails-doodles22) 🩻

summary: Miguel keeps you grounded as you prepare for a dance competition.

content warning: age gap (abeg she’s 21+), secret relationship, fluff, like two suggestive?? lowkey explicit scenes so MINORS BEWARE, a few thoughts of frustration/failure but nothing serious just the thoughts of an artist

word count: 1.9k, halfway proofread

a/n: Hi hi!! This one was really a challenge for me!! and Idk if I’ll write DBF again ngl Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it! I leaned more on the age gap aspect of the relationship and pulled from how I felt when practicing for my own recitals/competitions 🤠! (I get extremely snappy and mean lol)

A Grand Adage (as best as I, not a professional ballerina but I practiced for 3 years, can explain) is a slower dance move where you stretch your leg to the front, side, and back without losing your balance. You also have to switch legs…I think. It looks like it takes a LOT of core strength, especially without a partner.

I don’t think I mention it in the story, but I’m imagining this Miguel to have salt and pepper hair, but like, in its early stages. So only a few strands of gray.

“Damn it.”

The music started to sound more and more jaded as you failed another Grand Adage after powering through the more fast-paced part of your routine.

You don’t know why you had the bright idea to add the most pain-inducing ballet moves to your contemporary piece, but you were starting to hate yourself for it. It was supposed to represent a crash and burn of rushing perfection which was ironic because you were feeling those emotions tenfold.

“You’re not going to get it if you keep trying to force it like that.” You heard Miguel from across the room and the music finally stopped. “It’s a pause between those last two counts. You know this, chiquita.”

You huffed out a chuckle as you got up, “Knowing and doing are two different things. I know what’s coming, which is why I keep anticipating it and messing it up.”

“The studio is all yours for a few more hours,” Miguel sighed. “Take a breath and try it again.”

“That’s so easy for you to say. You’re not the one busting your ass,” you mumbled as you got back into your starting position.

Miguel crossed his arms, head leaning on the wall above the barre, “You want to say that again?”

You dropped your arms and stared at him, face blank.

After a minute or so of you going silent, he unfolded his arms and beckoned you towards him.

You dragged your feet to get to him, hands hugging yourself.

“I know you want this to be perfect, but snapping at me isn’t going to help that.” His hands made their way to the back of your thighs, rubbing up and down the tightened muscles.

“I’m sorry, I just-” you rubbed your eyes with your palms. “The competition is so soon and I keep fucking the routine up.”

“And you’ve also done it perfectly countless other times. You’ve got this! I know you do. I’ve seen how much work you’ve put into dancing and that’s not going to change.”

“But Miguel-”

“But nothing. I’ve seen how you become a new person on the stage. You demand the attention of your audience in a way that your peers can’t. You’re captivating and alluring so I’m not going to sit here and let you think otherwise.”

You look at him with a face that says “I know you’re right, but I don’t want you to be,” and just fall onto his lap, wallowing in his arms while you breathe in his cologne.

He nuzzled you on the head, hands patting at your ass, hands warm and firm through your tights, “Now can you try again for me?”

“Can I have a kiss?” you say, lips rivaling a rubber duckie.

He chuckles at you but obliges, heart too soft when it comes to you.

You get up with new ambition, taking a deep breath as you stride back to the middle of the room.

“I’m going to count out loud for you this time, is that ok?”

“Yeah,” you reply, arms molding into a sharp form.

When the music starts this time, you hone in on Miguel’s voice, taking leaps and turns with his timbre. Your heart thumps all the same, but your brain isn’t as loud.

As the Grand Adage comes again, Miguel’s voice stays calm, never wavering. You tighten your core and lift your leg high, hands framed beautifully and foot pointed sharp as you hold your arms above your head. As you bring your leg back down to begin to turn, your heart almost stops when your body remains stable and strong. You can’t believe it but try to keep the piece's emotion steady.

You switch legs without trouble, eyes catching Miguel watching your form in the mirror. His face is serious but you can’t hear that in his voice, making you feel fuzzy. You keep up the pace, repeating the same move but gearing up to do an Illusion.

Like a flash, you bring your leg down and bend your body, foot spinning swiftly to perform the trick. Your heartbeat is roaring in your ears as you move through the rest of the routine, mind too excited from your success to completely portray the ending emotions of dance.

Once you finish, you’re quick to get out of your position, face lit up as you turn to Miguel. When you run to him, you’re screaming with glee. He only stumbles a bit when you jump in his arms, body wrapped around him like a koala.

“Miguel! Did’ya see it? Oh my god, I can’t believe it,” you laughed as he spun you around.

“I told you you could do it, amor. You just needed to get out of your head.”

“Ok ok, three more times and I think I’ll be ready to leave.”

“Well let’s get busy, chiquita. We’ve got work to do.”

You run through the routine again and again, becoming more confident each time. After every successful routine, Miguel’s praises get more and more loving. First a deep hug, then a few pecks to the lips, then a makeout session that has you squirming for more.

“Is your dad picking you up today?” he said, lips on your neck.

You turn your nose up at the mention of him, “No, I took the bus.”

“Could have asked me to drop you off.”

“You were at work, Miggy. Didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother,” he stopped to move his forehead to yours. “You can come over tonight. You need to relax after all of this hard work.”

“And what do I tell my dad when he asks where I am?” your eyes pan from his eyes to his lips, fingers reaching up to go through his hair.

“Tell him you’re at a girlfriend’s house.”

You twist your mouth to the side, pretending to think.

“How are you planning to relax me?”

“A hot bath.”

You snickered, knowing better than to believe that was all he was planning to do, but taking his word for it.

Hours later when you were laid on your back, hands gripping the sheets below you and Miguel holding your legs up as he stroked deep inside, your suspicions were confirmed. Your skin was soft from the bath and your muscles were like jelly after he spent an hour massaging every tight muscle out of you. The room was full of him, his smell surrounding you, and the noises of him attending to your every need. With every cry of his name, he brought you closer to the horizon.

On the day of your competition, you didn’t even look at Miguel before you went on, nerves too bad. If he gave you a pep talk, internally, you would be appreciative, but externally, you might tell him to leave you the fuck alone.

Knowing how you get, he supported you in the best way he could by sending you messages and a light breakfast in the morning.

“Break a leg, chiquita”

“Not literally of course”

“I’ll be waiting for you once it’s over”

“With a surprise :)”

It was enough to fill you with anticipation, ready to give it all on the floor.

Once your number was called, you went to the center and got into position. The crowd was dark enough to feel like it was just you in the room, but your heart knew otherwise with how fast it was beating.

When the music starts, it’s like Miguel’s voice is a soundtrack playing through your memory. You can’t see him, but you can feel him in the crowd cheering you on. Your feet move across the floor, body tightening and relaxing when needed. Your face wears a frustrated expression, portraying the sentiment of everything falling out of control. Your leaps and turns come one after another moving your form across the stage.

The Grand Adage comes to you like lightning, you don’t even notice you’re doing it until it happens. The muscle memory takes over and you transition to the Illusion like it's nothing. Your mind wanders as you go through to the end of the routine, finishing strongly with your pose on the floor.

The cheers of the audience are what bring you back to reality. A feeling of relief washes over you as you stand and bow, smiling brightly.

Standing with the other dancers from your category, you don’t expect the judges to call your name for first place, so when they all turn to look at you, you feel like you might have walked out in your underwear by accident.

It isn’t until you’re handed a bouquet of flowers and a trophy that it dawns on you that your hard work has paid off. The check was no measly amount of money either.

Looking out to the crowd, you can see Miguel standing up with his hands cupped over his mouth as he yells. Your family is standing next to him cheering as well. You wave at them, jumping up and down in excitement. Only you can see the wink Miguel gives you.

When you meet them out in the lobby, you have to stop yourself from keeping your attention on Miguel.

“You did amazing, honey,” your dad says, squeezing the life out of you. “That flip thing? I don’t know how you did it, but wow!”

“It’s called an Illusion,” Miguel shakes his head. “Keep up.”

“What are you, her coach or something?”

“C’mon you guys,” your mom fusses. “Don’t start bickering in the building. At least wait until we get dinner.”

“‘M gonna ride with Miguel,” you say to them.

Knowing how much you like his car, your parents think nothing of it and walk out to their own car.

Once they’re out the door, he turns and gives you a deep kiss, “You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you.”

“I just remembered what you said. Kept it in the back of my mind while I performed.”

He smiled and wrapped his hands around your waist, “Yeah?”

You nod and bring his lips to yours again.

“Where’s my surprise?”

“Always so impatient.”

“You wouldn’t like me any other way.”

“Tienes rázon,” Miguel chuckled.

Miguel brings a sparkly gift bag to your attention, placing it in your hands. You reach into the bag, tissue paper falling to the floor. You pull out an envelope and a long velvet box.

You open the box, eyes glittering when you see the necklace inside.

“Miguel, this is adorable!”

“Here,” he takes the necklace out of the box. “Let me help you put it on.”

You turn and focus your attention on the envelope, fingers sliding under the sealed flap.

Your breath halts when you pull the tickets out.

“To Paris?”

You turn to him once your necklace is latched together, eyes teary from happiness.

“You’ve been doing so amazing, I wanted to treat you to an amazing trip.”

“How much did this cost?”

“Nothing that you should worry your head about.”

You crowd his space, kissing his face all over, “Thank you so much, Miguel.”

“Of course. Anything for my girl.”

“I don’t want to go out to dinner now,” you sigh dramatically.

“Yeah? You know we can’t bail, though.”

“Not even if I give my thanks to you in the car?”

Miguel bit the inside of his cheek, watching you grin at him. He’s really way too soft when it comes to you.

“Vamos.”

As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

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annwrites · 3 days

Text

you need a hand with that, baby?

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: hurt from billy's constant hot & cold behavior toward you, you begin to pull away from him. refusing to lose you, he offers to open up to you, but only on his terms. he then wakes in the middle of the night to an unexpected sight beside him.

— tags: billy actually opening up and discussing his past and feelings toward you, at least a bit. angst.

— tw: drinking, childhood trauma, masturbation, fingering, handjob

— word count: 7,132

— a/n: oh yeah, it's all coming together. pun maybe intended.

find my other posts concerning billy here

When you enter the motel room—your hands full of a selection of things the motel was serving for breakfast—it’s to Billy falling over himself, trying to quickly pull on a pair of jeans, quietly cursing to himself.

And then he barely glances up to you as he finally yanks the zipper up. “There you are. Where the hell have you been?” He looks at you. “Do you have any idea how wor-”

A smile slowly forms on his lips, cutting short the lecture he was about to bestow upon you about never leaving his eyesight ever again unless you wanted to see him pissed...also again.

He settles his hands on his hips—still shirtless—giving you a long look-over before stepping closer and reaching up, twirling a teased curl around his finger.

“Thought you stopped doing your hair like this weeks ago, doll?”

You shrug, setting the food down on the table, sitting. “I just wanted to try it out again.”

He sits, not bothering with a shirt for the moment being, and watches as you take a bite of a pastry, your eyes flitting to his chest for only a moment, before looking down to the buffet of food before you, cheeks warming.

He leans back, biting into an apple. “Really going to sit there and pretend like it has nothing to do with trying to impress me, honey?”

You glance up to him with furrowed brows, pouring a small bottle of milk into a paper bowl full of cereal. “Why would I want to do that?”

Each day he’s spent with you has made him more bold in his advances, even minimally, and today is no different. He finally just throws it out there. “I see the way you look at me. Especially when I’m like this. Half-dressed, or less. Or working on the Camaro. If you want to keep playing hard-to-get, sweetheart, we still have plenty days of driving before us, so we can play that game. Just know you won’t win.” He leans toward you, eyes boring into your own. “I will get what I’ve been waiting patiently for weeks for.”

You stop chewing, suddenly swallowing. You don’t want to admit you’d spent the better part of an hour teasing your hair and using so much Aquanet you’d nearly finished off the entire can until it was perfect just to see his reaction. But he could see right through you.

You were tiring of this game to an extent—you pretending like you felt nothing toward him than annoyance, and him making sexual advances toward you every day.

It all amounted to nothing.

Maybe sometimes it did feel a bit exciting to be desired by another, but it wasn’t about you with him. It was about what you were: a collection of body parts for him to play with. He’d all but thrown as much in your face two nights ago. What was it he had said about you being just another pair of lips?

You suddenly regret doing your hair.

Maybe you have been leading him on a bit lately. You hadn’t intended to. You’d done your utmost to ignore him in Hawkins—he was the one who refused to leave you alone. And being on the road together…it’d simply been about getting from point a to point b. Now…you tell yourself that’s still all it is. Both of you leaving behind nightmares to find new dreams out West.

Once you reach California, you’ll both go separate ways and never see one another ever again. Because that’s what people do: they leave.

You look back down to your food, stirring your now-soggy cereal, mood dampened. And Billy notices your sudden shift in mood, wondering what the fuck just happened.

You stand, throwing your food away. “I’m not hungry anymore,” you state, picking up your chair and going to sit by the window.

He rolls his eyes. Women and their damn mood swings. “You on your rag or somethin’?”

Your head jerks back toward him. “What?”

“You’re sure as hell acting like it.”

You don’t bother arguing as you turn back to the window. “No.”

He takes a few more bites of his apple, watching you. He chooses to change the subject. “So, what’re we drinking tonight?”

You’d forgotten about that… You look back to him. “Can you even buy alcohol?”

He smirks. “I have a fake, honey.”

You raise a brow, not entirely surprised. “You do?”

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket, slipping the card out and tossing it to you.

You pick it up off the floor and look it over. ‘Billy Squier’, really? You look at him and he has a smirk on his face.

“What, don’t tell me you don’t get the name?”

You walk it back over to him, extending the plastic card toward him. “You must’ve thought it was terribly clever, since you both share the same first name.”

He considers you for a moment, grabbing the card, tossing it onto the table, then yanking on your hand, pulling you into his lap.

You immediately try to stand up, but his arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him.

“Let go!”

He holds a piece of bacon up to your face. “Not until you’ve eaten something.”

You snub your nose at the offered food, so he just holds it closer. “I have no problem hand-feeding you, princess.”

You sigh dramatically and he uses that opportunity to shove the food into your mouth.

Once you’ve finished chewing do you try getting up again.

“You can get up just as soon as you tell me what the fuck that was a minute ago.”

You roll your eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do,” he says casually, taking a bite of the pastry you hadn’t finished.

Feeling your temper growing shorter, you let him have it as you turn the least bit more back toward him so you can look at him. “Stop pretending like you give a damn about me. We both know what this is. That as soon as we get to California, we’re both going our separate ways. Nothing you do is going to change the fact that I refuse to fuck you before then.”

His jaw feathers. He knows you’re not trying to make him angry. You’re just hurt yourself from his vulgar behavior—his being hot and cold toward you. He decides he does not like the taste of his own medicine. You’d tried to connect with him more than once now, had tried to get him to open up like you had with him, but he’d shut it down at every turn.

You were clearly beginning to grow tired of it. He doesn’t entirely blame you. When was the last time you’d had someone show the least bit of concern for you? Even his step-mom, at times, had tried to show him some kindness.

He reaches up and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m nothing if not a man of my word, baby. I told you that you were stuck with me. I meant that. So I’ll wait for however long you want to keep holding out for. You take that to mean whatever you want it to.”

Your brows furrow and your hands come to rest atop his arm. “I… You…” You have no idea what you even want to say.

He holds another pastry up to you. “Muffin?”

Once breakfast was through—Billy refusing to let you off of his lap for the next hour; he’d taken his time eating and hadn’t tried to fight against the erection your constant squirming had caused, even if you’d ceased the moment you’d felt it—the two of you had gotten into his car and driven around town aimlessly, just sight-seeing, even if there wasn’t much to see here in the first place.

Some small Oklahoma town had to be one of the worst places to be stranded. He’d mused to himself that there was a reason it was known as a fly-over state.

You’d stayed mostly silent, even as he’d obnoxiously blared his rock music, trying to get your attention.

He could feel your interest—attentions—toward him beginning to wane, and it was an unsettling feeling. So, he’d, at every red light and stop and yield sign, reached over and touched you. You thought it’d been just to get under your skin. For him, it was just a reminder that you were still there beside him.

Once lunch time hit, he’d pulled into a family-owned diner, and even bothered holding your hand as the two of you went inside. You’d tried to tug away, but he’d held firm, twining his fingers between yours.

Once the two of you were eating—you refusing to even look in his direction, but instead watching the view outside the window at your side—he’d tapped your foot under the table and you’d rolled your eyes, pulling your leg back toward you.

He’d sighed then. “Your hair looks nice, since I never told you. I was right: it makes you look hot.”

“Thanks.”

He’d frowned. “Fine. Since it’s clearly what you’re after—five questions. That’s all you get. So, ask whatever you want and I’ll answer.”

You’d looked to him in surprise. Shocked he was offering such a thing. You were sure he’d never bother to open up. Or, if he did, it would be only when he was ready and deigned to divulge bits and pieces of himself and his life to you here and there. But putting you in control of what he was to share? You weren’t sure what to make of that.

You sit back, idly stabbing at your garden salad. You look up to him then, expression serious. “Why did you pick on me so much back in Hawkins?”

He raises a brow, forearms resting atop the table. “Why do you think?” He gestures as if the answer should be obvious.

You look back down and shift, and you suddenly seem uncomfortable to him.

“I… I thought that… Maybe…” You look out the window and a pained look seeps into your eyes. He reaches over, having no idea why the fuck he’s doing it, and takes one of your hands in his.

You look at him again. You let out a shaky breath, your hand trembling slightly in his firm grip. “Maybe something was wrong with me. I mean…my dad and the way he treated me. And then you show up and…” You swallow thickly.

That’s what you’d thought the last two months? That he’d been giving getting on your last nerve his every effort because what? You just attracted that kind of treatment—cruelty? Especially from men?

You’re now staring intently down at the table, lost in thought, like you’re somewhere else.

“Angel, look at me.”

You do, hesitantly. “You think I acted that way because I didn’t like you?”

You nod, hand shaking harder.

He leans in toward you. “It’s the very opposite. You should know that by now, honey.”

You blink at him. “You don’t actually like me, though.”

He raises a brow again. “Reading my thoughts now?”

“It’s…” You stop yourself short, pulling your hand back, settling it in your lap. You didn’t want to say this. Didn’t want to let on that you, at the very least, thought you felt something more toward him. Not when you knew how he thought of you. You never meant more toward anyone—they just did for you. Because you were always stupid enough to get attached.

“Go on.”

You clasp your shaking hands together. Opening up…you’d never been able to do that before. Had wanted to. With someone—anyone. But even just crying in front of your dad… That was an excellent way to get hit.

Your heart-rate quickens. You can’t do this. He’ll get angry, too. Just like the other night when he put his fist through a wall.

No man was a safe place for you.

“I don’t remember now.”

He stands then, sitting beside you, pressing his body against yours, arm behind you. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he says lowly, cupping your cheek in his other hand.

You shake your head, your body trembling in fear.

He leans down toward you. “Please.”

You look at him, blinking back tears and his heart fucking breaks.

“What if you get mad at me?” You ask, voice breaking on the last word.

“I won’t.”

You open your mouth to speak, until the waitress interrupts the both of you with the check.

Billy lets out a low swear, snatching it from her.

When he looks back to you, the moment is gone. You having withdrawn further away from him.

It seems he’s not the only one with difficulties sharing parts of himself.

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and you whimper. He pulls back, and you still don’t look at him.

After lunch, Billy pulls into a gas station. Getting you drunk probably isn’t the best idea right now, but it’s the only way he’s going to get you to talk—get himself to, even.

So he heads inside, purchases a bottle of Crown Royal, and then comes back out, handing it to you.

You look it over for a moment, then look at him. “This is a stupid idea.”

He shrugs. “We made a deal, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

You look back down at the bottle. “I only do stupid stuff when I’m with you.”

He smirks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Once the two of you are locked in your motel room, you sit on the bed—him leaned back against the headboard, and you at the foot of it facing him.

“So…what do we do now?” You ask nervously.

“Could always play a drinking game. Or just start chugging until one of us is shit-faced. Or…” He grows quiet for a moment, then unscrews the lid, taking a long swig. “There’s a reason they call this shit liquid courage. Drink enough and you don’t feel afraid anymore. You want to talk, then we’ll talk. But I need to get my blood-alcohol level up first,” he says, taking another long drink.

He holds the bottle out toward you and you take it from him gingerly, taking a small sip. Your face screws and he laughs.

“That’s disgusting.”

He shrugs. “It’s one of my favorites. But when it comes to booze, you don’t always drink it for the taste.”

You take another sip and it still tastes just as bad as the first time. You then feel heat pool between your legs and you flush. You look up to him and see he’s just waiting on you to make your next move. You briefly wonder if this is what alcohol does for everyone—cause this kind of reaction. And if so, if he’d really meant the ‘taking advantage of you’ comment from last night.

You take another drink, then hand it back to him.

“So, you want to continue what you were saying at the diner?” He asks, taking a sip.

You’d had so many thoughts racing through your mind afterward that you honestly couldn’t remember now.

You’d asked him about his treatment toward you. He’d insinuated that he’d done it because he liked you and…you were going to imply you felt something for him, but were worried he saw you as just a sex toy.

You have half-a-mind to feign ignorance; that you’d forgotten, but you reach for the bottle again and take a long drink, swallowing multiple times, head beginning to feel light when you lower it down to your lap.

You smile to yourself and Billy only feels mild surprise that the liquor is working so quickly on you. With him having a good bit more body weight—not to mention tolerance—it would take him a few more drinks yet.

You look up to him, caressing the glass bottle. “I think you were right.”

He raises a brow, making a beckoning motion with his finger for the bottle and you hand it to him. “Oh, yeah? What about?”

“Me being attracted to you.” Your words already sound a bit slurred.

He’s not taken aback in the slightest by your admittance. He was aware of your physical attraction awhile ago. Knew you were too, even if you didn’t want to admit it—or, rather, wanted to try and bury it.

He drinks. “Read you like a book weeks ago on that, honey.”

You balk. “Weeks?” You’d not liked him back in Hawkins. Not in the least. Not his leather jacket or stupid car or dumb smirk. Not his deep voice or pretty eyes or swagger.

“Mhm.”

“Don’t humor yourself.”

He drinks again. "No?"

You stare at him for a moment and he smirks, thinking. He has an idea, but chooses to hold off for the moment being. He won't make this just another opportunity for him to try at getting in your pants. He's done enough damage to whatever was tentatively starting to grow between the two of you. He fears he's nearly killed it altogether.

This is him trying to dial it back.

You don't respond, instead reaching out for the bottle and he gives it to you. You drink, and then giggle lightly, and his lip twitches at the sound.

"So, the hell happened this morning when you started acting like a sour-puss all of a sudden?"

You look down at the bottle, tracing your finger along the comforter beneath you. You suddenly realize he's right about the whole liquid courage thing when you look up at him and suddenly don't feel so afraid anymore. "You make me feel safe sometimes. You've...done a lot for me. Even if you almost put a hole in my head..."

His jaw feathers. "I wouldn't have done it. Should've never raised a hand to you in the first place." He's quiet for a few seconds, then, "So I make you feel safe, huh?"

That was a first for him. The only person he ever had any responsibility in looking out for previously was Max, and he knew he scared the shit out of her. Not that he didn't do so on purpose at least half the time. They couldn't stand each other. He never pretended otherwise.

You pull the bottle into your lap and he licks his lips as you make a fist around the neck of it. "Mm, yeah."

"How's that?" He asks, unbuttoning his shirt halfway.

Your cheeks grow warm and you lower the bottle between your legs where a pulse is beginning to form. "I don't know. It's just the whole package, I guess."

Unable to help himself, he smirks before giving his reply. "You like my package, sweetheart?"

You groan, rolling your eyes, flopping back on the mattress, feet still planted atop it, knees bent.

He glances between your spread legs, growing hard.

You stare up at the ceiling. You're not drunk yet. And so you choose to revert back to more serious topics while you're still able to think straight.

"You said at the diner I could ask you questions. I still had four to go."

His eyes trail over your pert breasts. "How about we make things a bit more interesting?"

You lull your head to the side, looking at him, his shirt now fully undone. "How?"

His lip twitches, eyes growing dark. "I answer, but once I have, you have to remove a piece of clothing."

You roll your eyes back to the ceiling, sighing dramatically.

He laughs.

"Only if I get to choose what item."

His eyes widen. "Wait, really? You'll do it?"

You shrug. "If it's the only way."

"What's your first question, doll?"

You consider what you want to know the most about him. What best to start with. "Tell me about your mom."

He considers whether seeing you undressed is really all that important to him now. "Take another drink."

Maybe if he can get you plastered, you won't remember any of this conversation come morning.

Not understanding why he wants you to, you sit up a bit, swallowing another sip, then lie back down.

He reaches forward, taking the bottle from you and taking multiple pulls before leaning his head back, closing his eyes. "She..." His brow twitches as he imagines her on that beach, watching him in the water, a loving look in her eyes. "She tried with him. But I guess, like you, there was only so much she could take." He's unsure whether he's referring to the situation with your dad, or the other night on the interstate. "He was always fighting with her—accusing her of cheating and shit, not that I'd blame her—hitting her, pushing her around. I guess one day she'd had enough and hit the road. Maybe she just forgot me. Or didn't want me anymore. Maybe she only saw him when she looked at me. Who the fuck knows? She got out, I didn't. Until now. End of story."

You look at him and see that he's now staring up at the ceiling, his eyes a bit bloodshot, nose red. You want to reach out and touch him—give him a comforting gesture, but fear it will only make him feel worse. So you instead extend one of your legs, lying it atop his own.

He looks at you then, smirking, and he slides one of his hands along your calf. "So, what piece is comin' off first?"

You wiggle your foot that's currently resting atop his thigh. He shakes his head. "Of course it's something boring."

He slips your sock off, tossing it on the floor, then pauses, looking at you and a wide smile breaks out on his face as he grabs your ankle in one hand and starts tickling your foot with his other.

You squirm, letting out panicked laughs. "S-stop. N-noooo, please, aha!"

He lets up after a minute, hand sliding along your smooth leg again, chuckling to himself. "Three left to go, sweetheart."

For your next question, you tread as lightly as you possibly can. You make your voice light, soft. "You hate your dad for what he's done to you and your mom. For what he is—who. I guess I understand why you're so angry all the time. But why act similarly? Picking on me at school by pulling my hair...and what happened the other night... Is it just because that's the only example you've ever had set of how a man acts?"

He stays quiet, thinking. He begins to massage your foot with both his thumbs. Then, "I haven't been this open—vulnerable—with someone since before my mom left." He glances up to you. "I was ten then."

He looks back down. "I'm a man now. Not some kid. And a man doesn't cry or broadcast his shit to the world. He gets angry and fights back."

"Is that really what you think? That's how your dad—mine—are. Do you think they're real men?"

He stares at you then, hands stilling.

You wonder if he'd ever thought about it like that before. You continue. "You know what they say: you catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

He smirks. "Oh, I intend to get myself some honey eventually."

"Do you ever take anything seriously?"

"Not if I can help it," he says, taking the bottle and drinking again. "That your way of asking me to be sweet on you, baby?"

You reach for the bottle again, taking a drink yourself, wiggling your other foot.

He pulls your sock off, tossing it next to the other one. He doesn't tickle you this time. "Two more."

You're both thankful and not that he'd only offered you five. Had he done more, you'd be naked before you were done. And you were sure at that point he'd cut the questioning short, neither of you able to concentrate then. But you have so many things to ask—him still a bit of an enigma to you, or, rather, how he works.

You want to ask about his past with surfing, want to know how many girls he's been with—but know that question is far too juvenile and will make your feelings too obvious. You want to ask about his fascination with cars, what his favorite subject in school was, what about rock music appeals to him so much, maybe even ask about his step-sister. Instead, you ask about yourself.

"Why me?"

He begins rubbing your other foot. "Why you what, beautiful?"

That was a new one. And 'princess' earlier.

"You said it yourself the other night: you could've had any girl you wanted at Hawkins. I mean, I saw the way they all looked at you. So why me?"

He shrugs. "Like you said earlier, I guess it's just 'the whole package'."

You shake your head. "Try again, James Dean."

He laughs then, resting his head back, fighting the smirk on his lips. The last thing he needs is you thinking you're funny and it going to your head.

He looks down at you, the expression on his face now soft. "I only had eyes for you since day one, baby. There was just somethin' about you, I guess. Honestly, I think it was the fact you never tried to get my attention." He smirks. "Every man likes a chase. And I'll be damned if you haven't given me one. A few times."

He thinks about chasing you down on the interstate the other night.

"What about Angie?"

He raises a brow. "Were you jealous?"

You don't respond, just continue looking at him.

He shrugs. "It was what it was. I just did it to piss you off. Try to, at least. But once I had her in the backseat and we got down to business, there was only one girl on my mind, and it sure as hell wasn't her."

You blame your sudden sense of dizziness on the alcohol. "Oh."

"That surprise you?"

"Yes." You reach for the bottle and he hands it to you, your fingers brushing against one another as you take a few gulps. Your head really starts to spin then.

He leans forward, running his hand up your thigh. "Time to take something else off, darlin'."

You hand him the bottle, and with nervous hands, reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off, balling it up and tossing it at him.

"Now we're talkin'," he says, throwing your shirt across the room.

You shrug. "You already saw me in a bathing suit."

He smirks. "Context, doll."

His eyes glance down to your shorts. "Last one."

You're silent, for a long while, Billy taking a few sips from the bottle.

And then you speak.

"When we get to California...what happens?"

"I've been thinking about getting back into surfing again. I used to be really good at it. But that was almost a decade ago now. Might take a bit of practice to get back to where I was on the board." He shrugs. "Maybe I start competing and do odd jobs on the side until I maybe make it into something full-time."

You stay quiet.

"But that's not really what you're asking, is it?" He says.

You look at him.

"You're asking what happens to us when we get there."

You look at the wall. "No, I wasn't."

He clicks his tongue. "Thought we were being honest tonight."

You don't say anything, nor do you look at him.

His lip twitches. "You could always be my own personal cheerleader."

You look at him. "Would you even want that?"

He shrugs. "Someone's gotta do it."

A small smile comes onto your lips. "What's my rate-of-pay?"

His brow raises. "How about I just pay you in sexual favors? Your uniform will be covered."

Your face heats, remembering that comment. Stupid girl.

"Yeah, I still haven't forgotten about that, by the way."

"You wouldn't, would you?"

"No way in hell." He states matter-of-factly.

He then leans over you and reaches down, unbuttoning your jean shorts, slowly easing down the zipper and when you feel your body's reaction to it—rather, the reaction it's been having to him for awhile now—you desperately don't want him to pull them down. But a deal is a deal. And you know he won't be letting you out of this one either.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and begins tugging them down your hips, sliding them off of your legs and he keeps his eyes trained on yours as he tosses them to the side.

And then he looks down and your face feels like it's boiling when his eyes grow wide at the sight before him.

He looks up to you then, removing his eyes from your panties that're now soaked through and sticking to you.

And for the first time in all the while you've known him, he's speechless.

But you are as well. So you simply push your thighs together, drawing your feet toward you.

He then shakes his head, letting out a low curse. "I should've let you ask more questions."

Once the two of you have showered and are in bed for the night—you'd gotten delivery for the night, Billy refusing to let you put your clothes back on all the while as you ate, and you pretending not to see his erection the entire time—you lied down in bed.

In truth, Billy had gotten off in the shower after your little drinking game—unable to think of anything else but the lovely sight between your legs, all for and from him. He'd not been quiet when he came, either. And when he emerged naked, going to lay down, he'd noticed a wet spot on the seat you got up from as you silently went to bathe.

It'd taken some time for him to calm down enough to sleep. His mind and body both, wondering if he shouldn't have taken a cold shower instead.

You, however, lied awake next to him, your own body still on fire, head still swimming, replaying the sight of him removing your shorts over and over again. The look in his eyes, his fingers pulling down the zipper, the veins in his hands as he gently yanked them off of you, curls falling over his shoulders, the scent of his cologne. The sight of him coming naked out of the bathroom. The sound of him orgasming in the shower.

You feel dampness in your panties again and you glance to him, still fast asleep. You then make what may very-well be a stupid decision and slip your hand beneath the waistband of them and begin to circle your clit with your fingers and your body jerks in response. You honestly couldn't remember the last time you'd not only touched yourself, but felt turned-on in general.

Living in that house with him...it killed all sense of hope and happiness and normality for you.

You look to Billy, your eyes trailing down his bare muscled chest, to his waist—his privates the only part of him that's covered, and barely at that, with a top sheet—and you slide your fingers between your wet folds and bite your lip.

You glance to his face, his lips, and circle your clit again, closing your eyes.

You spread your legs the least bit wider, closing your eyes, softly panting as you cup one of your breasts in your free hand.

Billy had been just on the verge of sleep when he'd heard you whimper beside him. His first thought had been that you were having a nightmare—stomach dropping at the thought of it being about him, about the other night—and then freezes when he looks at you and sees you touching yourself.

Your hand is in your panties, your other touching your breast, your lips slightly parted as you quietly moan.

His erection quickly returns to him then and he slowly turns onto his side. "You need a hand with that, baby?"

Your ministrations cease immediately, your eyes shooting open and head jerking to the right, looking at him. You open your mouth to reply and at first nothing comes out. Then, "I-I'm sorry."

He raises a brow, moving closer to you, erection brushing against your thigh. "For what, darlin'?"

You stare up at him.

"So, do you? Maybe I should just call in that offer for a sexual favor now. What do you think?"

You feel like your brain is suddenly misfiring as you actually consider saying yes. It's the alcohol. You're not thinking clearly. Not as you usually would without it in your system. But the thought of him touching you like that... It ignited something in you just when he looked at you.

He props himself up on his left forearm, his right hand coming to rest atop your stomach, then slowly moving lower and lower, his eyes trained on yours all the while.

Once his hand is just above the waist of your panties, you slowly pull your own hand out, resting it beside you, your heart now pounding.

He takes that as permission and slips his own between your legs, looking down.

"Fuck," he swears, looking back to you. "Are you always this wet?"

You consider telling him 'only with you', knowing that would most certainly get you a reaction. "S-sometimes."

His fingers explore between your hot folds, erection coming to settle atop your right thigh. It's only then you realize just how lengthy he truly is.

You turn more onto your right side, facing him and he slowly slips one finger inside of you, groaning at the tight feel, the slick sensation of you.

He then slowly—very slowly—leans down, pressing his lips gently to your own. And you let him this time. You kiss him back. And his heart fucking jumps.

Something it's never done with a girl before. The last time it had? The first time he set eyes on you in the parking lot at school as you walked inside. He'd known right then and there it was over for him.

He eases another finger into you and circles your clit with his thumb and you gasp against his mouth, then wrap your left arm around his neck, pulling your body against his own, and you begin to kiss him more fervently.

He circles that sensitive bundle again and again and slips his tongue in your mouth and you whimper, your own coming to dance with his.

He arches his strong fingers upward and you pull away, sighing, your lips brushing against his own.

"That feel good, honey?"

You nod, crushing your lips back to his own.

He massages that ledge inside of you and your body shudders and he smirks, continuing to kiss you, barely believing this is finally happening. That he's getting to touch you like this and you're allowing him to—enjoying it.

The entire time he'd been at the drive-in with Angela, all he'd been able to think about was you and Harrington in his car doing what he was doing with her.

What if he was your first time? What if you fell for him? What if he made you his instead? What if he lost any chance with you for good while Steve became your whole fucking world?

And for the first time, while having sex, he'd nearly been unable to finish. So, he'd closed his eyes, flipping her over, imaging it was you. And he'd finished almost-instantly then. Had damn-near yelled your name as he filled his condom.

And when he came back to reality, his erection had softened quickly as he pulled out and away from her, wanting—wishing—for someone else instead.

You'd never know the relief he'd felt—utter fucking joy—when you'd let it slip that you were a virgin, that you didn't even like Harrington like that.

And then he'd felt secure in knowing he didn't have any competition. Not for the moment being. You could still be his.

He moves his lips to your neck and you ease your head back, whimpering at the feeling of him licking and kissing and gently biting your hot sensitive skin. He then trails wet kisses to your ear and speaks lowly into it—you clenching around him when he does.

"When you come, sweetheart, I want you to fucking scream my name. I want half this damn place to hear it." He crushes his lips back to your own, tongue flicking against yours and you spread your legs wider, his fingers diving deeper.

Just as his arm begins to grow tired, your body jerks, your pants becoming more frequent, harder.

"That's it, baby, come for me. C'mon, sweetheart, you're almost there."

You begin to rock your hips against his hand, whimpering at the feel, clit growing more and more sensitive.

"Mm, please." You look up to him, kissing him again. Then, "Ah, right there."

His fingers work rapidly, rubbing and plunging in and out of you, your body responding accordingly.

Both of you are sweating now, panting, hearts pounding. His excitement grows knowing he'll be the first man to give you an orgasm. That he's the first to have his hand between your legs. The first for, well, a lot of things. And even more to come, he hopes.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breaths coming in shallow gasps and he knows he has you right on the edge. "C'mon, baby. C'mon, fuckin' come for me. That's it."

And then, "Billy! Ah, mm." You practically scream his name as you finish, your walls clenching rapidly around him, his callused hand now soaked in you.

He chuckles excitedly. "That's my fuckin' girl," he says between satisfied laughs, fingers still plunging away between your legs, until your hand comes down to grip his wrist, his movements ceasing.

He slips his fingers out of you, resting his forearm atop his naked hip as he looks down at you and you up at him from under hooded lids, lips swollen, face flushed, hair messy, the look on your face that of satisfaction.

"Thank you," you say shyly.

He presses a long kiss to your lips, then brushes some hair behind your ear. "No, thank you."

And then you do something unexpected: you take his throbbing erection in your hand and stroke him once, then twice.

He looks down, then back up to you. "Yeah?" He asks, brow raised, wondering if maybe you're just curious about touching him there after feeling it pressed against you so many times.

And then you nod, stroking a few more times.

He then wraps his fist around yours. "A bit tighter, baby. Yeah, no, tighter. You're not going to hurt me, sweetie." Then, "Fuck, that's fuckin' perfect. Just like that, angel."

You press your lips back to his, kissing him more softly this time, until his left arm snakes under your neck, gripping the back of your head, tugging at your hair and he devours your lips with his own. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to him again, then slides down your thigh, lifting it onto his waist while you continue stroking away.

He squeezes your ass-cheek, then gives it a light slap, slipping his hand under your panties, keeping his hand there, squeezing and massaging as you continue to get him off.

Your strokes are a bit sloppy, and unsure, but he ignores that, just enjoying the feeling of being in your grip, of you bothering to return the favor. He then reaches down, pushing your t-shirt up and it's only then that he notices you're wearing one of his—the front design the cover of Def Leppard's Pyromania album. It only turns him on all the more.

Once your breasts are visible, he cranes his neck down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking, then rolling it between his teeth and you moan his name.

He trails his tongue along your chest, taking your other nipple in his mouth, precum dripping onto your hand.

He begins kissing upwards, to your neck, then back down again. God, he's never felt this fucking turned-on before.

His cock twitches in your hand, then does it again and he knows he's close. He should've gotten up and grabbed a towel, but it would've risked ruining the moment.

His hips jerk, sliding through your grip, and then he calms. He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to your own, his right hand cupping your cheek now. "I'm so fuckin' close, baby. I'm about to cum. Fuck, keep going. Jesus Christ."

You begin to stroke faster and faster, and then he pushes you onto your back, taking himself in his hand as he comes all over your stomach in hot sticky spurts, groaning all the while, hips bucking, wishing he was doing this between your legs instead.

Once he's calmed—his cock softening—does he lie down for a moment next to you, trying to catch his breath. He then smiles up at the ceiling and starts to laugh.

You look at him and he swings his arms over his stomach. "Woo! Fuck yeah, baby!"

He looks at you, then leans over you again, kissing you, tongue licking your lips, dancing against your own. And then he pulls back, smiling down at you, curls hanging down, framing his face, and he flashes you a smile, showing his brilliant white teeth. "I'll go grab you a towel, sweetheart."

You nod, smiling yourself, pecking him on the lips.

You watch as he walks to the bathroom and he smirks, feeling your eyes on his ass.

You hear the sound of water, him washing up quickly, and then he returns with a damp towel and begins to wipe you down.

He then tosses the towel on the floor and climbs on top of you, resting his forearms on your breasts and his chin atop his arms, looking up at you. "God, that was fuckin' perfect."

You smile. "So I did a good job?"

You'd been afraid he would've eventually gotten bored, or tired of how long things were taking, but he'd not complained once.

He then scoots higher, resting on his right forearm, left hand smoothing hair away from your face as he hovers over you. "Yeah, baby, you did."

He kisses you again, then scoots back down a bit, resting his cheek between your breasts and your arms come to wrap around his warm shoulders. And then you move your hands higher, tangling in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

And he falls asleep in your arms.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader

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