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thethingswedotomorrow · 6 months

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Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

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voltronisanobsession · 7 months

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Hello! Could you do Percy pinning after another Demi-god?

Percy Pinning Over Reader

Hiiii!! Percy pinning over someone in my opinion is just a really cute concept 😍

also guys I’m going to try and respond to the asks in my inbox, I have some free time now that it’s the weekend😜🔥🔥

He would the definition of puppy love

When he first sees reader at camp half blood, it’s like his entire world quite literally stopped

Heart eyes, blushing a little when you introduce yourself, Percy is absolutely SMITTEN for you

Omg he would be SO nervous around you for while

Like Percy’s fumbling over his words and making the WORST awkward jokes known to existence

He would try to be smooth when talking to you but he just gets too nervous to even finish his sentence

He would totally over explain a joke or saracastic comment he made when you’re around

He doesn’t want you to think his jokes suck ok💔

He’s always pairing up with you during games and training at camp since he likes being around you

It’s moments like those where he can act normally, making small jokes and being able to talk comfortably with you since there aren’t a bunch of people looking at you guys

His crush on you is super obvious but you just think he really wants to be you’re friend (but you do want to believe there’s something else)

Now the actual pining part

I feel like he would try and keep his distance from you because of how chaotic his life is

This dude goes years with his life being in danger every single time

The last thing he would want is to drag his crush head first into danger which is why he manages to keep some distance from you

Like come on guys, if Percy gave himself the big push something could totally happen between y’all

But he believes that with everyone basically out to get his head, he doesn’t deserve something as normal as being in a relationship

So he forces himself to stay behind that thin line of being just friends and something more

Forces himself to watch as you continue your life while he continues his

Forced to watch from a distance as you flourish over time

Like as much as it breaks him to see other people show romantic interest in you, he can’t bring himself to admit his feelings for you

Grover has caught him staring at you longingly multiple times and he’s starting to lowkey feel bad for him at this point😭😭

He would try hyping Percy up, to push him to finally make the game changing move

“Come on Percy! You can’t just stare at them forever!”

“I can sure try.”

You’re gonna have to tell them how you feel eventually.”

“And have them laugh in my face? Yeah right.”

Like Percy is clueless to your own pining as well, he’s too busy moping around to see you always looking towards his direction, almost like you’re waiting for him to come up to you

If he’s ever going to get out of the pining phase of your relationship, I think you would have to make the first move on him

He would be SO HAPPY if you did, he’s just so concerned about putting you in danger if you’re with him

As long as you reassure him that this is something you want, you really want, then he’s all down

This dude is super giddy and happy now the he won’t have to look at you from a distance anymore😭😭😭

Yeah for the most part, his pining could lead to two different scenarios

One where you make the move on him and start a relationship, or one where his pining turns to unrequited love

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo headcanons #pjo #Percy jackson #Percy jackson headcanons #percy pjo #x reader #headcanons #percy jackon and the olympians

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

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Take my hand (we'll make it, I swear)

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 3

Prompt: Mutual pining

Rated: G

CW: Steve getting vecna'd; Some violent imagery

Tags: Idiots in love; Fluff and angst

Notes: Based on this beautiful piece of art by @house-of-the-moving-image and that one "Steve gets vecna'd" brainworm I've had forever.

It's always different in the stories, Eddie thinks. When the heroes in the stories realize they're in love, it always comes as this big revelation. The sunlight will glisten off the fair lady's hair, or her eyes will sparkle like the stars in the sky and the hero will suddenly realize that he is in love.

It wasn't like that for him. No dramatic moment, no sudden epiphany. It just sort of … snuck up on him over the past year, and when he noticed, it was too late. He had fallen, completely and irredeemably.

Then again, he is no hero. And Steve is most certainly not a fair lady.

He is still beautiful, of course, lying here in the soft, green grass, hair tousled by the breeze, golden highlights brought out by the setting sun. Eddie's jacket draped over him to fight off the chill.

He's asleep, finally, after what seems like ages, pulled under by the exhaustion of the last few days and that fucking Bon Jovi song blaring from his headphones on an endless repeat loop.

Eddie huffs, twists the daisy he has plucked between his fingers. If he strains his ears, he can just make out the words.

Take my hand, we'll make it, I swear…

Steve's fingers twitch in the grass and Eddie's gaze flies to his face, half expecting to find his eyes wide open and sightless, half expecting him to start floating again and fuck, what will he do, he can't do shit, please, God, he can't-

But Steve’s eyes are closed, his face relaxed. Eddie sighs in relief. Then, following a sudden impulse, he reaches out and tucks the daisy into Steve's hair.

He's no hero and he can't do anything to protect him, but he can make sure he rests while he has the chance, can make sure he has music and beauty and sunlight surrounding him. It's what he deserves.

He deserves so much more.

The harsh snap of the tape ending almost makes him jump out of his skin. Steve flinches awake with an adorable little snort, hand flying up to pull the headphones off. His eyes dart around wildly for a second or two before they land on Eddie and he sags back to the ground.

"Hey," he smiles, voice still sleep-slurred and hoarse. "Sorry, did I doze off?"

The flower is still in his hair.

Eddie snorts, pillows his arms on his knees so that he can hide behind them.

"Are you kiddin' me, dude? You can sleep all you want."

Steve hums vaguely and props himself up on one elbow, busies himself with opening the walkman and turning the tape.

"Feels wrong though," he mutters. "Y’know… just chilling here while the kids-"

"Stevie," Eddie says. Maybe it comes out a bit too harsh, because those pretty eyes blink up at him, confused and a little hurt. He groans.

"The kids are old enough," he then continues, more softly. "They have Wheeler and Buckley with them. Not to mention Supergirl. You don't have to-"

"-babysit them anymore, I know." Steve flops back into the grass, worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "I still feel useless, though."

They stay silent for a while. The wind is getting chillier, now that the sun is dipping behind the trees, and Eddie is starting to shiver in his flannel.

"Thank you, though," Steve mumbles. "For staying around, I appreciate it."

He sounds so small and lost and scared. Eddie plucks another flower so he won't have to look at his face. Hopes that Supergirl will tear Vecna's shrivelled black heart out through his ass and squish it under her shoe like a bug.

"Anything for you, Stevie," he says. Means it.

Steve blinks at him and quickly turns his head, but Eddie imagines he sees the ghost of a smile twitching at his lips.

"Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"I …" Steve watches the blades of grass glide through his fingers. "There's, um … something I've been meaning to tell you, but … I think I'm scared of what you'll say."

Eddie chuckles. "Oh, I already know."

Steve's hand freezes. "You do?"

"Absolutely, man," Eddie nods. "You're not being exactly subtle. There's no way the snack mix comes with that few pretzels, of course you're stuffing them in your face in the kitchen. I mean, be hone- ow!"

Steve has just punched his arm.

"It's not about the pretzels, you asshole," he grins, but then his face goes serious again. "It's… shit, I didn't want to tell you like this, I-"

"Then don't."

Steve's brow crinkles. "But-"

Eddie talks right over him. "You wait until this is over and you tell me when you think the time is right. I'll be there and I'll be waiting. Just like you. We're both gonna be there, okay?"

Steve huffs an exasperated laugh and scrubs a hand down his face, pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he yawns.

"Promise?" His eyes are very bright.

Eddie nods, smiles so wide that his mouth hurts with it.

"Of course. Now go back to sleep, dumbass."

Steve doesn’t protest as he pushes the headphones back over his ears and presses play, just settles back under Eddie's jacket and lets his eyes slip shut. Eddie listens to the opening chords of the song for what must be the thousandth time and wonders if he should take Steve's hand and promise that they'll make it.

Instead, he tucks the second flower into Steve’s hair and prays that it'll be okay.

All of my holiday drabbles

Part 2

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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ace-of-zaun · 4 months

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It’s Because:

Silco x gn!reader - 1k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, pining, denial of feelings, falling in love, brief mentions of death, injury, and trauma, happy ending

summary: Silco is not in love. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

a/n: i’ve never written anything like this before, i hope it works!! (it really hurt to type as well but my physio told me i had to.) inspired by the song i’m not in love by 10cc

Silco is not in love.

Unequivocally, categorically not in love.

He doesn’t even know what love is when he meets you as a jaded, starving teenager, too busy trying to make ends meet to even think about something as trivial as love. But he does know that the easy way you smile when you meet his eyes makes his day just that little bit brighter.

He’s not in love when he spots you a few years later, standing quietly amongst the meagre crowd in the bar, listening to his rallying speech of change and independence. Although, the spark in your eyes as you watch him is like a match to the burning in his chest, and for once in his life, it makes him feel alive.

Silco isn’t in love when he accompanies you on mission after mission, learning to trust one another as he watches your back and you watch his in return, securing resources, and medicine, and meals for the starving children of his city. It’s just the adrenaline from the sprint back home, as you both narrowly escape the Enforcer’s clutches, that sets his heart racing to the dozen.

He can’t be in love when he watches you from across the bar, laughing, and singing, and dancing along to the jukebox, unaware of how effortlessly you light up the room. And so what if deep down he wants to join you and bathe in that light, soaking you in until you're his? It’s not like it means anything anyway.

There’s no such thing as love on his birthday when he refuses to tell anyone the significance of the day, instead scowling down at yet another shipping manifest. Except, when you hand him a cupcake and kiss his cheek as you walk through the bar on your way to the market, he hopes the red of his ears and the longing expression isn’t too noticeable.

Love isn’t present on the night you cry in his arms, heaving sobs that wrack your body as you mourn those lost in the fight, yet more casualties in this never ending fight for freedom. It’s simply the right thing to do when he lulls you to sleep, shushing your cries until your breathing slowly evens and your heart beats sync up with his.

Silco tells himself he isn’t in love when you sit side by side, legs dangling off the little bridge that crosses the river as he gifts you a starburst necklace that once was his mother’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean anything when you gaze up at him with the softest smile, intertwining your fingers with his while you gently rest your head on his shoulder.

He is not in love the day you stand with him in the little alcove across the street from the bar, sheltering from the rain that drips down to form galaxies of puddles along the square floor. You’re up on your tip-toes, his arm is around your waist, and when your nose bumps against his, his heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it-

But then his brother is suddenly there, pulling him away from you as he insists he goes for a walk with him, and Silco makes the worst decision of his life and agrees.

In thunder and rain, Silco knows that love ends in nothing but betrayal when he is forced to disappear, body pulsing with pain, mind in tatters. He’s hurting, and angry, and beyond scared. But weaved in between it all, he thinks of you and pictures the way you looked and felt beneath his fingertips, and thinks that maybe it’s not all bad.

There’s no time to think of love when, years later, he finally gets his revenge and reclaims his bar, his home; a second chance at raising the city his people deserve. Though, it’s almost like serendipity when he happens to take a break from arranging his schedule to look through the window down into the square, and there you are, standing in the middle of the street silently watching his workers carry in new furniture.

He isn’t in love when he runs down to you, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, pushing through the doors until you’re right there in front of him, the only place he truly feels safe. But when you don’t scream or slap him or curse him for leaving you, instead striding across the distance to throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, he forces himself to choke back his tears and allows yours to soak into his shoulder instead.

Silco continues to remind himself that he’s not in love in the coming months, while you sit beside him day after day, helping him put his plans into motion, listening to every word, every worry, every whisper. Really, who can even tell that his heart skips a beat when he spots that you’re still wearing his mother’s necklace, still so mirandous even after all this time?

He’s not in love the evening you sit atop the bar, laughing as you retell a story from your youth, caught delightfully off-guard when he can’t help but surge forward, capturing your lips while his hands cup your heated cheeks. It’s just one of those things, he supposes, to finally feel content standing between your legs, your own lips pressed in a smile against his, in a way that kick starts his once dead heart.

But now, nearly two decades after he’d first laid eyes on you as a naïve boy, he lays next to you in bed and watches you sleep peacefully, tangled in the sheets the same way you’ve weaved yourself into his heart. And in the quiet lull of the night, he runs his fingers over a shiny, jewelled ring, custom-forged to match his mother’s necklace that still rests around your neck.

He thinks of easy mornings and four-word questions, and for the first time in his life, allows himself to simply feel.

Maybe, just maybe, Silco is in love.

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco x gn!reader #silco x f!reader #silco x m!reader #silco #silco fic #silco arcane #one shot

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cheolism · 1 year

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good things from bad days

✧ wen junhui x f!reader ✧ summary: jun returns to the apartment after you've texted him that you've had a bad day. seeing you drunk, jun decides to take care of you like you've taken care of him. only you are much more honest with your feelings when you're not sober. ✧ wc is approx 5.6k ✧ tags: fluff and comedy; roommates-to-lovers, mutual pining. in a relationship but only you two don't know. domesticity, knowing someone intimately. drunken confessions. ✧ warnings: this is not edited. despite jun being sober while reader is drunk, he doesn't do anything that takes advantage of this. this is ultimately: we've loved each other for five years and you admitting you're in love with him while drunk gives jun the push he needs. drink responsibly, kiddos. ✧ drabble sequel here!!!!!

When you had texted Jun that you were having a bad day, Jun didn’t quite know what to expect. You had your fair share of bad days, unfortunately; Jun wished every day was filled with nothing but happiness and contentment for you, but he was just one man and couldn’t fight the whole world.

(Once, when you were having a bad day, a barista had nearly made you cry. She had given you a once-over, looking you up and down after you gave your order. Then she gave a little huff, irritated, before turning around and walking away.

Jun didn’t throw a punch at the barista because 1) she was, at the most, eighteen, and 2) it just wasn’t in his personality to do so. But he did leave a negative review and said he found a hair in his drink.)

Today had started out good, he had thought. But then around noon he got a message about your boss, and then twenty minutes later you were saying that you just wanted to be home, that you couldn't take another minute at work. His heart had broken, reading that.

But Jun did what he did whenever he noticed you were looking particularly sad. He went out and bought a bouquet of flowers, stopped at the little Chinese place that knew the both of you by name. Left a fiver at the little shrine in the back of the restaurant, placed his palms together, asked for your health and happiness, just as he always did whenever the two of you stopped.

“Say hi to your lover for me!” Auntie Meilan waved, grinning at him. “Bring them in next time!”

“I will!” Jun called back, saluting and neglecting to correct the Auntie that no, you weren’t his lover, you were just his longtime roommate that he had been in love with for far too long.

That was all.

Night had long fallen on the city, street lights dim and headlights bright. Jun hated getting off this late. He hated it because it meant he missed out on the normal mealtime for the both of you, and he knew that instead of you just making food for yourself or even making a meal and saving some of it in the fridge for him to have later, you would hold off on eating altogether until he got home so the two of you could share dinner and talk about your day.

Which was why he volunteered to grab food.

Jun’s stomach grumbled as he walked to the car, and if he was a lesser man he would’ve torn open the takeout box and ate his portion right then and there. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. No matter how hungry he was.

“You wouldn’t be so hungry if you actually ate a meal at lunch instead of just eating those shrimp chips you like so much.” You had said once, watching as Jun tore open a container of cherry tomatoes and began eating them whole as soon as he walked through the apartment door.

He had gasped dramatically, and still chewing the cherry tomatoes, scolding you. “How dare you talk about my precious chips as if they’re nothing more than a mere snack! They’re in a league of their own, they deserve an entire meal dedicated to them --”

“Okay, shrimp boy,” you had amended, your brow furrowing in adorable concern. You had rounded the island and went to the cupboard, withdrawing with a box of pasta. “Hold your horses and I’ll whip up some pasta. Don’t make yourself sick on those.”

The smell of takeout permeated the car, to the point where Jun couldn’t even smell it over the vanilla scentsy you had gotten him. It took far too long for Jun to get to the apartment, and every time the light switched to red Jun wanted to just slam his foot down on the pedal and speed through the intersection.

But he didn’t.

The man with the french bulldog was walking the dog around the parking lot when he pulled in, and gave Jun a short wave in greeting. Spotting the takeout bags in Jun’s hands, he called out, “Must be your night to make supper!”

Ignoring how misogynistic that seemed and how Jun was the one to primarily make your meals, Jun gave the man a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, haha. Nothing like takeout on a Friday night!”

“Tell your sweetheart I said hi!”

Again neglecting to correct the man, Jun made his way into the building. He greeted the old woman who always sat in the foyer because you always greeted her, remembering how you once commented on how she must live alone or feel lonely, to spend her entire day in the front watching people come and go.

Jun took the elevator on the right, despite knowing that you didn’t trust that particular elevator and all the squeaking and moaning it did. He felt bad for the next person who would use the elevator, knowing they would smell nothing but delicious Chinese food.

As Jun shoved his key into the hole to unlock your apartment door, he got the distinct feeling that something was off. He didn’t know how he knew, but Jun knew without even stepping foot into the apartment that something was wrong.

This didn’t dissuade him; instead he hurried in, calling out for you as soon as the door was open.

“I’m home! Food is acquired and ready for consumption as soon as you are!”

He kicked off his shoes, ignoring the shoe rack you had insisted on buying, and made his way to the kitchen. He set the takeout on the island, peering around the apartment for you.

As it was Friday, the apartment was slightly a mess. Socks littered the floor, and Jun spotted your pants near the corner of the couch. He entered the space, noting the nearly-empty bottles of vodka and pineapple juice. There was an empty bag of chips -- his shrimp chips.

He called out your name again, rounding the couch. The living room blankets were in complete disarray, and your laptop was propped up on the coffee table. There were a few crumbs on the couch, and Jun spotted a muffin wrapper on the floor.

“Wen Junhui!”

Arms were suddenly around his middle, pulling him back and squeezing. Jun immediately knew it was you, and turned in your arms. You were already grinning up at him, slightly too-wide and with eyes that glittered brighter than usual.

“Junnie,” you whined, pitching forward and burrowing your face into his chest. Bewildered, but slowly coming to a realization, Jun wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you to him. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he agreed. You tightened your grip around his waist, leading him into a swaying motion. “Are you okay?”

You pouted, resting your chin on his chest in order to look up at him. “No. I had a bad day. And I’m drunk.”

You may be drunk, Jun acknowledged, but you were no less beautiful than when he left you. You were smiling at him like he was your favorite person on the planet, as if he was the person most dear to you, as if he was someone you treasured and loved, and Jun couldn’t help but giggle and bend down to press a swift kiss to your forehead.

“Yes,” he laughed a little. “You are drunk. I brought food home.”

You gasped, mouth gaping and eyes widening dramatically. “For me?”

“For you!”

Squealing, you burrowed your face into his chest. He hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart was threatening to leap from it. “You’re amazing! You’re the bestest!”

Squeezing you one last time, Jun reluctantly pulled himself away. While he loved hugging and loving you, and would gladly do nothing but that for days on end, you were drunk and vulnerable. “No, you’re the bestest.”

You frowned at him as he untangled himself, whining. Jun couldn’t help but coo at you, reaching out and pressing your cheeks together. You were so fucking cute.

“Noooo,” you protested, hands reaching up to cover his. “Youuuuuu!”

“I greatly disagree,” Jun said. He pressed another kiss to your forehead and pulled away. He rounded you, hands going to your shoulders, and began guiding you towards the kitchen.

Jun was careful to make sure you didn’t hit a hand or foot on the couch leg, gentle and slow enough to ensure you weren’t going to stumble. All the while you were chattering to him, telling Jun about a show you had watched as a child.

“I don’t know that show,” he admitted, guiding you to sit down at the island. He left your side to return to the takeout, pulling the boxes out of the bag and setting them on the counter. He then went to the dishwasher and pulled out chopsticks. “I grew up in China, remember?”

“Ooh,” you said, eyes wide. It reminded him of Bambi, almost, how innocent and sweet you seemed like this. You were always sweet, he knew, but there was something especially child-like about you when you were like this. “I forgot.”

Jun set your chopsticks in front of you. He then went to the cupboard and withdrew two cups, quickly filling them with water and setting them down on the island. “It’s okay. We can always watch that show later.”

You nodded somberly, puffing out your cheeks. He couldn’t help but grin at how intently you were watching him open up the takeout boxes, your eyes taking in his every move. Jun picked up his chopsticks and clicked them at you once, watching your eyes focus, before reaching for the box of noodles.

“Hey!” You snapped, reaching out and smacking his hand. Jun startled, dropping a blob of noodles on the counter. “Where did you grow up! In a barn? We use plates when eating in this apartment, young man!”

“Yessir!” Jun returned, roughly saluting at you. He stood up and went to the dishwasher, and when he set down two plates you gave him a sharp nod of approval.

“Good.” You glanced down at the mess of noodles. Frowning, you hopped down from the barstool.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up your mess, Mr. Junhui,” you slurred, rounding the island to grab paper towels. He couldn’t help but laugh at the serious look on your face, as if he had committed a serious wrong.

He was going to clean it, of course, after your meal. But he said nothing as you walked to his elbow and leaned against his arm, reaching and collecting the fallen noodles. “Dirty boy.”

Jun nodded, still smiling. “Yes, I’m a dirty boy, aren’t I?”

You returned his nod, still serious. “But you’re my dirty boy.”

Suddenly feeling his heart warm with affection and adoration, Jun inclined his head. “Yes. I’m your boy.”

Satisfied, you tossed the noodles and paper towel into the sink and returned to your seat. You brought the plate between yourself and the boxes, and Jun watched as you, very carefully, lifted your chopsticks and grabbed the box of sesame chicken.

Even as the two of you ate, you were speaking. Jun listened as you talked about this woman at work who did nothing but complain about her children and husband, but then also said she was trying for a fourth, and how you didn’t think she had ever said a single nice thing about her family since you’ve met her.

Then you were frowning seriously at Jun, pointing at him with your chopsticks. “We won’t end like that no matter what, right, Junnie?”

“Right, darling.”

You set your chopsticks down on the table, reaching out with your other hand. Your hand wrapped around Jun’s cup and brought it to your lips. “Wait -- that’s my cup, I’ve already drank from it, it has my cooties.”

Jun watched you pause for a few seconds, eyeing him over the rim of the cup. And then you raised it to your lips and gulped it.

“There,” you said, sighing in satisfaction. “Now I have your cooties.”

You then opened up the steamed vegetables, delight taking over your features. Jun continued eating as you shifted through the vegetables, picking out the broccoli and placing each piece on his plate. Jun ate them dutifully, shoving each piece into his mouth.

“Careful,” you scolded, “you’ll choke.”

Jun watched as you then set down your chopsticks on the counter, the metal clinking against the surface. You pointed at him, peering at him with an extremely serious look on your face that didn’t really suit the situation and had Jun fighting to keep his smile off of his face.

“Listen here, Wen Junhui,” you slowly began, brows furrowing. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to not stuff your mouth. But I’m serious. Choking is not a joke. It’s not fun. Have you ever been choked before?”

You had begun gesturing with your hands during your little speech, and at the end of your statement you waved your hand and sent your cup tumbling.

Jun jumped up, rushing for the paper towels and rounding the island. You were blinking at the water even as it dripped into your lap, and Jun shoved away the cuteness of how you looked, confused and taken aback, and ushered you off the stoll.

“Oh,” you mumbled, moving.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “we just have a small ocean in our kitchen. I’ll clean it up while you get changed out of your pants.”

He spun a few too many towels from the roll, focusing on turning the cup upright and wiping down the counter before moving onto the mess on the floor. You were still muttering to yourself, and it wasn’t until you made a small “oh” sound, followed by the sound of something hitting the wall, did Jun turn around.

You were standing in front of him, legs completely bare and leggings sitting sadly on the floor from where you had thrown them against the wall. For a moment Jun couldn’t help but look -- look at your thighs and take in the shape of them, the color; his eyes trailed down over your knee and to your legs, taking in the spots where you had attempting waxing and given up halfway through, leaving bald patches on your leg surrounded by hair.

But fuck, if he didn’t want to wrap his hand around your leg and guide it around his waist, pull you tight against him and feel your body pressed against his.

“Staring is rude,” you said, flapping your hand towards Jun.

“Mm,” he hummed, turning his back to you. Jun dropped to the floor, beginning on the small puddle that had formed. “I won’t mention all the staring you do at me when I get out of the shower, then.”

“That’s not fair, though,” you argued. Jun stood, knees cracking, and watched as you stomped your foot. The fat of your thighs jiggled at the movement, and he wanted to dig his fingers into your flesh and see how it molded around his digits. “You know what you look like.”

“I do?”

“Irresistible,” you said matter-of-factly.

He echoed you, the word and its implications not really registering with him until he said it himself. And then the little light in Jun’s head flicked on, and he squinted at you.

It wasn’t like you made it a habit to be drunk; you didn’t. In the years Jun’s known you, in the years he’s been your roommate, he’s only seen you properly drunk a handful of times. But he knows what you’re like when you’re drunk: you’re giggly, silly, and honest.

“Alcohol is like a truth serum for me,” you had told him after a few weeks of meeting. “Get me drunk and I’ll tell you anything. It’s why I can’t be President: I’d reveal all the State secrets.”

And sure enough, Jun found out that when you were drunk, you were incredibly honest. He could ask you any question he wanted and you would answer. He had once tested this by asking you if you had ever lied to your grandma before. Sober you had frowned at him and shook your head, saying you had nothing to really lie about; drunk you had bursted into tears, sobbing about how you had lied to her about your whereabouts on your 21st birthday by saying you had been safely drinking with your friends at their apartment instead of being out at clubs.

So: drunk you was as honest as you could get. You weren’t inherently dishonest, but all of the little things you were ashamed of or kept secret bubbled out.

Irresistible.

Truthfully, Jun wanted to poke at this some more. He wanted to ask you to elaborate, and he knew that if he was quiet for much longer you would elaborate yourself.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

It felt wrong doing that. You trusted him. You trusted him when you were sick, when you were drunk, when you were in tears; you trusted Jun when you were at your most vulnerable, and taking advantage of you in this state, even to just question you about your feelings towards him, was wrong.

Jun instead began talking, filling up the empty space with his own chatter in order to get your mind off of him in the shower. He narrated what he was doing as he did it, loudly, speaking everything as it appeared in his mind.

“I’m going to throw away these towels. I know you don’t mind it when I leave wrappers around, because you do it too, but I know you hate it when dirty things are left. Like I remember you scolding Seungcheol for leaving his sweaty undershirt in our bathroom.

“Gosh, I’m going to have to take the trash down next time I leave the apartment. I know you don’t mind doing it, but I also know you don’t like it particularly either. I’m okay with that. You do enough for me, I don’t mind doing this.”

Jun rounded the counter once more, reaching out for you. You went easily, hugging yourself close to him. Despite the alcohol you had drank, you still smelled like you: fresh linen, oranges and lemons, the sort of things that reminded Jun of home. His favorite smells in the world.

He swooped down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, smoothing your hair away from your face. You blinked up at him lazily at the gesture, eyes taking just a moment too long to open. “Ooh, are you my tired baby?”

You hummed, nodding sleepily. Then you opened your eyes, your arms going over Jun’s to wrap around him in return. “Yes. Your baby.”

Jun tapped his hands against your lower back, leading you into a sway. You complied easily, grinning and rocking back and forth. Your warmth was pressed against his front, your weight in his arms a comforting one.

Sometimes he felt selfish for having you like this. Like he was keeping you from someone, like he was wrong for keeping you a secret from the world, keeping you up here in your shared apartment.

Sometimes it felt wrong, leading you into a dance during the late evening, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead. But the thing was, Jun wasn’t stupid.

You didn’t share an apartment with someone for nearly five years without there being something. You didn’t settle into a routine for five years, didn’t spend hundreds of nights pressed together on the couch watching television; didn’t wait up until late in the night for him to return, didn’t welcome his mother and little brother into the apartment with welcoming smiles and hugs.

He didn’t remember the last time you went on a date.

Or: Jun didn’t remember the last time you went on a date that wasn’t with him.

Yes: Jun wasn’t stupid.

He saw it. He saw how you took care of him, how you always made sure his favorite snacks were in the cupboard; how you went out and bought new soles for his shoes when he complained about his back hurting too much; how you looked at him when he wasn’t looking, how your voice always took this gentle tone with him, as if he was someone precious, someone you treasured.

He knew you were in love with him.

Just like he was in love with you.

But actually saying it, actually bridging the gap?

Jun sighed, pulling away. He looked down at you, his darling sweetheart with sparkling eyes. He brushed your hair back away from your forehead. “Let’s go find you some pants, baby.”

You blinked up at him, seemingly unable to process. Then you pouted, lips poking out and eyes furrowing.

Oh, how cute you were --

“‘m not cute,” you childishly protested. You blinked again, and Jun felt his heart plummet when your eyes took on a red hue and tears began to swell.

“Baby!” He gasped, hands moving to hold your cheeks. Jun brushed away the tears that began to drop with the tip of his fingers, feeling concern bubble up within him. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“You just --” A little sob left you, and you threw yourself forward and into his arms. Jun stumbled back at the sudden addition of your weight, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You nuzzled into him. “You just take such good care of me, Junnie.”

Jun chuckled, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m just returning --”

You shook your head against his chest. He reached up and brushed your hair back again, revealing a single red eye and tear tracks on your cheeks. “You don’t understand, Junnie! You -- you’re so good and handsome and sweet and silly, and I love you so much.”

His heart thudded against his ribcage; he was scared it was going to burst from his chest entirely.

Jun smiled down at you nonetheless, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. “And I love you.”

“No,” you shook your head again. “You don’t understand. I love you. Like. Like Captain Ri loves Seri.”

Jun’s heart flew out of his chest and left the building. It fucking flew away, soared through the sky and and rounded the earth. As a matter of fact, it took his brain with him, and the two decided to fly up to the moon and wave at the stars.

“You -- like. Like marry me levels of like?”

“Yes,” you sighed, as if he was dull. “We’re gonna move out of the apartment because we can’t have cats and then move into a little townhouse and adopt two of them so they don’t get lonely, and I’m gonna buy you a ring to match mine and we’ll share a bed and I love you so much.”

Jun’s heart returned to his chest and was fluttering and acting as if it were a butterfly trapped within his ribcage; his brain, however, was still up with the moon and sun.

Then you grinned up at him, tear tracks still visible against your cheeks. “Dude, we should adopt like, twelve cats.”

And he remembered the bottle of nearly-empty vodka, the spilled water, and his sensibilities. You were drunk, and while you were an honest drunk, it wasn’t fair of him to do this.

It wasn’t fair of Jun to pester you further, to make you unravel all your secrets; not when you were vulnerable like this. No matter how much he wanted to, how much he yearned to know about the sincerity of your words, he couldn’t.

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead again, closing his eyes and exhaling. He felt you mirror him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Love it when you give me kissies,” you mumbled against him.

“Well, I love kissing you.”

You blinked owlishly up at him, mouth agape. “Really?”

He laughed, both hands going to cup your cheeks and hold your face so he could press another kiss to your forehead. “Really, darling.”

Your smile was brighter than any star or sun in the universe. If you were sober, Jun would swoop down and press a kiss to your lips, but alas.

Instead he began guiding you towards your room. “I think we should get some pants on, don’t you? Wouldn’t want you getting cold. I heard that if you get too cold you turn into a penguin, no joke.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Jun returned, reaching over to turn on the light of your room. Your room was messy, proof of how hard of a time you’ve been having lately. Clothes were strewn about, and your blankets were in a tangled mess. One of your pillows was on the foot of your bed, and your precious stuffed koala Jun had gotten you during one of his and Joshua’s dates to the fair was on the floor.

“People don’t turn into penguins, Junnie,” you said.

“They do if they’re cold,” Jun said. He left you standing in the doorway, moving to your dresser and pulling out a pair of sweats. “That’s how we got penguins. They’re just evolved from cold people.”

You were squinting at him when he returned. Jun held out your pants for a few moments, but you made no move to grab them from him. Finally you took your pants, holding out your hand; he offered his arm, and you held onto Jun as you slowly stepped into your pants one foot at a time.

“I want you to know that I know you’re making this up,” you told Jun.

Jun laughed, shoulders shaking. He ducked his head, blonde bangs obscuring his vision. Your grip on his arm eased, and your other hand was smoothing back his bangs and revealing his eyes once more.

“There you are,” you cooed at him, “my pretty boy.”

Then you yawned, wide enough to where Jun swore he saw down your throat. Despite seeing that, Jun still felt nothing but love for you as you blinked up at him sleepily, smiling like a dope.

“Okay, why don’t you lay down in your bed?” Jun pulled away, capturing your hand and pressing a kiss to your fingers. “I’m going to go get you some water, and then I’ll be back. All right?”

Jun returned to your room a few minutes later, cold cup of water in one hand and headache pills in the other for the morning. Despite the overhead light being on you were splayed out on your bed, face down and limbs going in every direction.

He paused for a second, worried. Then he saw your back slowly move up and down. Assured he hadn’t walked in on a crime scene, Jun continued his way into your room. He set the cup and pills on your bedside table before leaning down and yanking the blankets out from under you.

Grumbling, you rolled over on the bed and allowed Jun to gather the blankets. He took a few seconds to unravel them, and when he did he laid each one over your body.

You hummed in approval as he tucked the blankets around your body, patting your arm and legs as he did so. “All snug?”

“Snug,” you agreed.

Jun grabbed your koala off the ground. He hugged it to his chest, breathing in your scent that had rubbed off on the stuffie. Jun pressed a kiss to the koala’s forehead before setting it on the bed next to you.

Your breathing was completely evened out as he smoothed your hair away from your face. He traced his fingers alongside your temple, your cheek. He ran his pointer finger over your nose, feeling the decline of it. Your lips, feeling the plush flesh give beneath his finger, watching as you subconsciously licked your lips.

God, Jun was a fucking creep.

Jun pressed a kiss to your forehead, finally retreating. He made his way from your bedroom, only pausing when he got to the doorway. Jun hovered his hand over the light switch for a moment, hesitating. And then:

“I love you.”

And the light was switched off.

You were conscious for only a handful of seconds before you were fleeing from the warmth of your bed and sprinting to the bathroom, the pressure of your bladder too great to wait a moment longer.

Jun was laughing loudly through the bathroom door, and you opened it once you were finished washing your hands. Glaring at him, you flicked your still-damp hands at him, splashing him with droplets of water.

“Hey!” He laughed, reeling back a little. His eyes were sparkling, and his pretty pink lips were parted to reveal his grin. “Stop bullying me!”

“You’re the bully,” you mumbled, reaching up and shielding your eyes. Natural sunlight shined through the windows of your living room, reaching into the bathroom and offending your sensitive eyes. You shot Jun a glare as he laughed some more, flicking off the bathroom light and retreating to your room once more.

The sound of footsteps followed you. “I left some medicine by your bed for your headache.”

“Don’t have much of one,” you replied.

“Probably because you’ve slept until three in the afternoon,” Jun returned.

You spun around, eyes wide. Jun was leaning against your door frame, arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves of his grey t-shirt were rolled up to reveal his biceps, which were constantly gaining size as he increased his visits to the gym. His blonde bangs brushed against his eyes, and you couldn’t help but follow their movement as he flicked his head to get them out of his eyes.

“Three?”

“In the afternoon,” Jun finished. You sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs. Jun sat down next to you, though he laid back and let his arms fall above his head. “Should’ve woken me up.”

“I tried, Grumpy,” Jun said. He reached out and tapped you, and you fell back to lay beside him. “Several times.”

“Evidently not hard enough.”

“Next time I’ll play the trumpet, if you want.”

“I guess that’ll work.” You stretched your arms over your head, and when you rested them your pinkie was brushing Jun’s. You tried not to think about it, but every time your fingers brushed it was as if every nerve in your body was concentrated on that one point. “I wasn’t horrible for you last night, was I?”

Jun shook his head. You turned your head slightly to see him already staring at you; when your eyes met, he smiled. “You’re never horrible for me when you’re drunk. Now when you’re sober --”

“Oh, hush,” you said, reaching out and slapping his arm. He let out a small noise of pain, but you ignored it. You shifted onto your side, leaning down and looking at him. “I really didn’t do anything bad?”

Humming, he tilted his head. He moved one hand to rest behind his head, and the other reached up for you. Your eyes fluttered as his hand brushed over your forehead, fingers gliding through your hair. “Nothing bad, but you said some interesting things.”

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you hissed. Your heart began to pick up speed, as if you were standing in front of a thousand people getting ready to perform a song you’d only heard once before. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry!” Jun assured you, his fingers tracing over the shell of your ear. He pinched the lobe of your ear, causing you to wince. “You only confessed that you found me irresistible. And that you love me like Captain Ri and Yoo Seri love each other.”

You furrowed your brow, watching Jun. He stared up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips twisting into a little grin. He looked perfectly at ease, but at the same time, there wasn’t a single hint of true mischief on his face.

“Did I really?” You asked, voice small.

Jun nodded. His fingers dipped underneath your ear and traced your jaw. “Really. It was cute.”

“And?”

His fingers rested on your chin. He shifted his hand, and then his fingers were brushing against your lips. You let Jun trace your mouth, still leaning over him, heart beginning to calm. Jun’s touch was easing your nerves, and his apparent acceptance and serenity soothed you into following suit.

This was what often happened, you knew. Jun and you were both introverts; you didn’t like new situations. You hated crowds, hated the loudness of them and how close everyone stood together; you hated the unknown. But then when Jun was beside you, his features neutral and seemingly unbothered, it did something to you. It was as if his tranquility tricked your anxiousness, leaked into your soul and tamed the rough seas.

“And,” Jun murmured, “I love you.”

It was like when you found a blanket at the store and sunk your fingers into it, the feeling of smooth softness encompassing your digits completely. But instead of just your fingers it was your entire soul.

It wasn’t a big revelation, you thought; not a huge unknown that needed to be answered.

It was just another fact of life, you figured as you lowered your head to Jun’s. He shifted, elbows pressing into your mattress, raising himself to you. It was just another fact. The sun was yellow, the moon was white, the ocean is big and Wen Junhui loves you.

With your lips pressed to his, you had one last fleeting thought before his mouth consumed yours entirely: now you didn’t have to feel bad about not correcting the Aunties at the restaurant about him being your boyfriend.

#!!!!!!!!!#my fic #was going to publish this last night but my phone fucked it up #jun #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun x reader #svt jun x reader #moon junhui x reader #wen junhui x reader #svt #svt x reader #svt fic #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt jun #my writing

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yuwuta · 26 days

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Nsfw // Remember the itfs talk?? Cause I was thinking, I was thinking so hard about what to answer cause like yesss!!!

I want to focus on the latter tags cause.... Wow thats what I'm talking about!! Whenever I read itafushi I like top yuuji and bottom (and more often than not sub) megumi. So it makes so much sense that you'd want to take revenge for that cause he liked you but chose to ask yuuji out before asking you?? Or, yuuji knew megs liked you and still choose to ask him out?? So, in the first scenario it would be more than fair to dom him! Maybe you were all just talking about how you all ended up together and yuuji just lets that slip. maybe you're feeling like being a bit (or maybe a lot) mean to megumi, get him on his knees, sucking, deepthroating really, yuuji with you controlling his movements absolutely forcing him to take all of yuus length down his throat and gag like crazy with an obscene amount of spit oozing out of the corner of his lips. It was definitely personal too, they way you were treating megumi. Yuuji is not innocent in all of this ofc, but I'll let that slide for the sake of the moment. To continue punishing megs you would have your way with yuuji while he just sits there and... watch. It would end with yuuji giving you a huge creampie, it was such a lewd sight too, his dick was already shining cause of megumis spit, and even more after he entered you cause you were soaked. So there you are, full of your bfs cum seeping out and you ask megumi to clean you, cause that wouldn't be the first nor last time that he'd taste yuuji. Your revenge on yuuji is definitely happening another day too

gnaws on a steel plate… godddddddd okokokok yuuji has such an effortless dominate aura about him that’s a little scary once he hones in on it. most of the time, it’s purely his outgoing, charming nature and physical strength that lures other people into submission by will or force, whichever comes first, and he’s sort of naive to it. but when he chooses to exercise that strength, when he chooses to be stronger than you, than megumi, when he chooses to seduce, it’s mind-numbing, it’s boyish, but there’s still a distinct power struggle that it’s dizzying… insane…

anyway… you said two very important things in here and i only have the space (brainpower) to bring attention to one right now, and i will below, but just know we need to come back to the point about letting yuuji creampie you while megumi’s there bc i am firm believer that that’s actually one of megumi’s biggest fantasies. in general, seeing you and yuuji together does very bad things for his brain but not bad enough for him to deny that… also megumi king of safe sex until it comes to watching yuuji cum inside of you goddddd

yuuji is the one who instigates your revenge in the first place (and he will also do the opposite, will convince megumi that he deserves to take some frustration out on you, that you were sooo oblivious while he pined for you for all those years, how you weren’t very observant as his best friend and now he’s got the chance to show you exactly how badly he’s wanted you… but that’s for another time…)—but right now, yuuji’s getting into your head, he’s deceptively charming, not at all innocent, and far too calculated when he stops making out with megumi and turns to you, not too far away, sitting up against the headboard with wide eyes. yuuji thinks you look awfully cute—you always do when you three are together, you have this wide-eyed awe about you; not shy, but definitely still timid about the fact that you’re now dating your childhood best friend and his boyfriend. yuuji loves that look, but he thinks he’d like to ruin it more.

and he takes the opportunity to do so, much to megumi’s surprised and distaste—ignoring megumi’s pawing at the hem of his shirt, impatient, yuuji looks over his shoulder to you and poses, “can i ask you something?”

your eyebrows raise in surprise. megumi’s raise in suspicion, petulantly coming down from the high of making out with yuuji, and craning his head back to look at you. your eyes shift to his briefly, and then back to yuuji’s, almost embarrassed, and when he looks at megumi, there’s a slight blush at the tips of his ears. cute. you two are very cute, and yuuji likes it a lot. it confirms to him exactly what he wants to happen tonight.

“you remember how i told you about yuuta-senpai? and how he’s my best friend, but when he started dating inumaki-senpai, i kinda hated him because they spent so much time together?” yuuji recounts casually, biting back a grin when megumi huffs. you nod, evidently confused, but yuuji continues, slowly reaching a hand up megumi’s arm, over his shoulder, up his jaw, until he reaches the shell of his ear, then asks, “did you ever feel that way about me?”

he can see the shock on your face, hear it from megumi when he gasps a bit and pulls away from yuuji’s touch, “what kind of a—”

but yuuji doesn’t want to hear his side of the story right now. in fact, if all goes his way, he won’t be hearing much of anything from megumi tonight—he reaches his hand back up to pinch at megumi’s ear, and hushes him, “i’m just asking her, meg. she’s my girlfriend now, too. don’t i get to know these things?”

your mouth is slightly ajar, and yuuji chuckles. you’re so quiet, he’s beginning to think he’s scared you, but soon, you smile, sweet, and gentle, and he can’t even blame megumi for fawning over you since middle school. “i—i didn’t hate you yuuji,” you reply, “i thought—think—you’re good for megumi. i just wanted him to be happy, and you make him happy.”

yuuji hums. no wonder you two never got together before. “so you’re the self-sacrificing type, too, huh?” he smiles, far less innocently than you might think, “maybe i should have gotten you and yuuta-senpai together, instead.”

you look like you’re about to refute, but megumi pulls back again, throughly annoyed when he interjects, “what the hell are you—”

but yuuji is quick to move his hand from his ear to his throat, pinching his fingers around his neck with just enough pressure to stutter and silence him.

“i’m still not talking to you,” he reminds megumi, eyes sharp. he squeezes around megumi’s neck a bit tighter, before turning his attention back to you, “was he always like this? always biting before you can bark? must have been kind of annoying to deal with, huh?”

your eyes widen, bambi-like and yuuji almost coos. from where you’re sitting against the headboard, you can’t see megumi’s face completely, just a sliver of his cheek, but you can probably tell by the reddening skin around his neck and ears that yuuji’s not just choking him for show.

“i—uh… it’s not like that, it’s just… yuuji you’re gonna hurt him…”

but, you should also be able to tell that megumi’s not fighting it either.

“you’re always so worried about him,” yuuji pushes megumi back against the pillows, paying no mind to his panting, simply ordering, “stay down.”

yuuji then reaches out for you instead, gently pulling your body towards in him stark contrast to how he’d treated megumi a moment ago—twirling you as best he can while you’re kneeling on the mattress, maneuvering your body so that you’re straddling megumi and yuuji’s back is pressed against yours.

yuuji hears you gasp, ever so lightly, when you inadvertently press your crotch against megumi’s. he almost wants to watch you two do that instead, but right now he’s a man on a mission, so instead, he puts his hands on his hips to keep you still, “see—he can take it. he even likes it.”

you raise a hand to reach out to megumi, but yuuji stops you, forcing your back flush against his front, and caging you in with his arms and resting his chin against your shoulder. he turns his head to kiss you on the cheek, slow, once, and then again, and then against your earlobe, “you wanna try?”

“try—what, choking him?” you ask, trying to turn your head to face yuuji, but he keeps it steady, keeps you facing megumi.

“it’s not like you’re gonna hurt him,” yuuji hums against your skin, trails open-mouthed kisses along your neck. “it’ll feel good, i promise.”

“well, uh... megumi, do you—”

but yuuji raises a hand to squish your cheeks together before you can finish, turns your head to him and tuts, “i’m telling you it’s okay. megumi didn’t ask you before he asked me out, right? you don’t need his permission for everything, princess.”

yuuji’s not just leveraging your feelings against each other now—now it’s sexual knowledge too, all the fantasies megumi has indulged him in about you, all the kinks he has that you’re clueless to. yuuji knows that despite the history you and megumi have, he’s the bridge between you now—and right now, yuuji wants you on his side.

“must bother you a little bit, right?” yuuji coos, releasing his grasp on your cheeks and using his hand to tilt your chin upwards to face him, “that he asked me out when he still had a crush on you. it still bothers me sometimes—and yet he had the nerve to get upset when i asked you about it. kinda selfish, no?”

“i’m just saying, i think you should teach him a lesson,” yuuji continues, using his other hand to help your body rock against megumi’s, drinking in the sight of your pliant lips and the sound of his strained sighs.

megumi’s probably not far from cumming in his boxers at this point, and you’re not far from helping yuuji make him do worse.

“come on, princess,” yuuji smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before looking at megumi, “you gonna help me put a leash on him?”

it’s an invitation and a threat, this you seem to understand. you can say yes to yuuji, say yes to having megumi between you two tonight, say yes and have a little bit of power; or you can say no, and be on the receiving end of punishment.

yuuji almost thinks you’ll choose the latter out of loyalty, out of devotion to your best friend, out of shyness and inexperience in taking what you want, but you’re not just megumi’s anymore—your his girl now, too, and you make it known when your soft hand crawls up megumi chest and to his neck, and hesitantly wraps around his throat.

tonight, megumi’s yours and yuuji’s.

“good girl,” yuuji grins, wicked with intent when he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, “now lets have some fun with him.”

#.........immense intense brain rot i didn't even put into words right how yuuji has so much inadvertent power and [blacks out]#GODDDDDDD #tumblr user yuwuta ever stop using dog analogies when writing about megumi level impossible #HNNNNNNN i need to BITE him #yuuji is so effortless seductive it's crazy it's crazy it's CRAZYYYY #the twist of using your and megumi's feelings for each other to get you three together #to then using it to tear you two apart for his own devices............. yuuji itadori when i catch you.............#this reminds me i have more itfs asks to answer i just need to relax and be coherent....#itafushi #itafushi x reader #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #yuuji smut #megumi smut #itafushi smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Code Broken (4/5) SERIES dark!Joel x f!reader

Summary: After your last horrible interaction with Joel you run into him months later. Things don't go as expected.

Rating: 18+ (

Word Count: 3.2

Warnings: This is a very dark!Joel fic with lots of dubious consent. Yes, the f!reader gets into it eventually but I believe y'all can see how its dubious. Unprotected p in v sex, coming on v, semi-public sex, desk sex, rough sex.

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Chapter 4: I will Survive

You barely make it through the night.

You've begun packing, throwing your clothes into a duffel before the sun cracks through the sky.

For the next two months you stay at Trish's. In her guest room that will soon become the babies room. It's decorated in blues and greens and feels peaceful.

You tell her that your home needs repairs. That you need somewhere to stay. Cliff is so kind to you, never making you feel like a burden.

"When do you think the repairs will be done?" Trish asks you one morning, sounding strained and you can tell your visit is rapidly becoming overstayed.

"Funny you mention that, because it's actually finished tomorrow," you chirp happily. "Just found out."

Despite the community's size you haven't run into Joel. You overheard rumors that he has left for a few months on some mission with Tommy, but you never care to check the veracity.

You don't care. You never want to see Joel Miller again.

///

It's April before you do.

He's returned after months away. He looks leaner, his hair longer, it curls at the back. You catch him leaving his house just as your walking up to yours.

You both lock eyes and go still. He blinks rapidly, his mouth parting slightly when all of a sudden you hear Tess call your name and you flinch.

She gives you a short wave which you return weakly before she walks up to Joel with a strained smile.

You dart into the house, feeling Joel's eyes on you the whole time.

////

When you have Trish over one night and she sees Joel walking into his house she tells you that Tess and Joel aren't together anymore.

"She's with some guy across town," Trish tells you as she strokes her swollen belly one night over at your place. "Has been for a while. Does patrols with him."

You realize it only took so long to notice because you willed yourself not to think about that house or its inhabitants.

"Makes more sense to me than grumpy ever did," Trish says with a wave towards his place.

You nod but Trish has adopted a frown and her eyeline is wet. Ever since she's been pregnant she's been more emotional.

"But now he's all alone again."

'"Maybe he deserves it," you answer tightly.

///

In early June there's an unexpected heat wave that has all sorts of insects popping up.

You talk with your coworkers and they tell you the horses will need blankets to keep them protected. Midges, one of the women tell you. Midges are horrible for those baby foals.

You're in charge of delivering them that warm afternoon, your hair sticking to your temples as you round the barn.

Markus is there tethering some of the horses. He smiles when he sees you arrive, waving and ushering you into the large office to cool down.

It’s nice in here, a large desk and window with chairs that smell like fresh pine. They must have been carved here because they are so ornate, so delicate to have been moved from place to place.

"I like your dress," Markus offers with a shy smile as he passes you the metal water bottle he carries everywhere. You take a grateful sip before pushing it back to him.

"Oh," you thank him, fingering the skirt of the dress with its warm butter yellow color and sweet hand embroidered daisies. You motion to the blankets in your arms.

"Just dropping these off before I head home."

"Perfect," Markus takes some of the pile from you gratefully. "The new babies are gonna love 'em. The midges are brutal this year."

"Happy to help."

Another figure strides into the building, shaking the bag his shoulder as he enters, speaking gruffly.

"Fucking hot out there. Gonna need extra water for the foals. And something to cover 'em with."

It's Joel Miller.

Of course it is.

"Good timing," Markus laughs in Joel's direction before motioning to you standing there with the blankets in your arms. "She just brought a bunch of blankets for them."

Joel stills as his focus moves to include you. He holds himself stiffly, trying not to draw attention to his sudden behavioral anomaly. You're hidden behind Markus, not wanting to be seen by Joel.

"Uh, Nightshade needs to be tied up," Joel finishes lamely, his words drifting off when he sees how close you are to Markus.

"Already done."

Joel glances at the bundle of blankets that are still in your arms then casts a sharp look at your face. You drag your eyes away, forcing them to Markus.

“Thanks for the water.”

Joel moves into the cramped office in the back of the building, his wide shoulders flexing under his t-shirt as he goes. You do your best not to follow his frame as it leaves.

"It's nice to talk to ya,' Markus says, turning back to face you. "Feels like it's been a while. Miss us all hangin' out."

You see Joel stopping at the door of the office, reaching to grab something on the wall. You try your best to ignore him.

Despite the fact that Markus and you aren't dating, you realize it must not look that way to Joel.

"Same here." You feel your pulse picking up a bit. "I'm happy the baby is here safe and healthy. Just not happy that it came so early we didn't have a proper send off party."

"There's always the wedding next month," Markus suggests. "You better save me a dance."

You can feel Joel's glare from here.

"Only if you don't mind being seen in public with the worst dancer in Jackson City," you laugh. Your voice is cheery and you're smiling warmly, but the chill of Joel's glare is going through you.

You make a move to leave, anxious to be away from him. But Markus taps you gently on the wrist, forcing your attention back.

"I wanted to know if you were around for a drink tonight." Markus says abruptly, his voice lowered so Joel can't hear.

He winds rope around his palm and bicep, looking to you expectantly. You're confused at the intensity in Markus' face.

"Should we invite -"

"Just you and me."

His reply surprises you. After the incident in your bedroom with Markus back in December you two haven't been alone together. Haven't spoken about it and that's suited you just fine.

You'd just thought about it as a onetime fling for the both of you. But judging by the way Markus' gaze is drifting down your body he's hoping for a repeat performance. And why not? You're both single, both attractive. Why shouldn't you give into those carnal desires?

"I thought maybe we could hang out at your place after," Markus says softly. "Only if you want."

You feel your cheeks pink at the confirmation. You can see Joel in your peripherals busying himself. You wonder how much he's heard and then decide you hope he's heard it all. Fuck him.

"Sure. I'd love to."

"Yeah?" Markus looks both relieved and excited. "Pick you up at eight?"

"Sounds great."

"Markus!" Joel barks sharply from inside his office. "Last time I checked animals die when they're dehydrated."

Markus ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry Joel! On it!"

You watch him give a pleased smile that rouges his cheeks as be begins filling up the water pails. Markus moves past you out into the stables, the door shutting behind him.

Then it's just you and Joel. He's in the office writing, you can hear the scratch of the old ballpoint. You consider just leaving but you hate how he just treated Markus. And if you don't stop it now, it'll just continue.

You march into his office with the bundle of blankets.

"Couldn't give them water yourself?"

"It's his job," Joel replies.

"You know what I mean." Your tone is cool and even. "Shouting at him like that? Ordering him around?"

"I wasn't. You must be reading into things. You're good at that." He lets the pen fall onto the desk at that. "You're not actually going out with him are you?"

"Why do you care?"

Any amusement in Joel's eyes is gone. "Gonna let him fuck you?"

You bite back a scathing comment and instead you throw the bundle of blankets you've been holding onto his desk. His notes go fluttering everywhere.

"Tell the group if you need more," you spit. "I'll get Mary to drop them off next time."

Joel's cheeks have gone red, his jaw ticking at her clenches his teeth. You knew messing up his desk would piss him off and you're pleased. But his eyes aren't hard, they're impossibly heated and they're trailing over your dress, exposed now that you've dropped the fabric onto his desk.

You can almost hear the sound of his brain buffering when he realizes what you're wearing.

The yellow sundress with embroidered daisies. And you’re taken back to months ago, standing outside the Tipsy Bison with Joel looking uncharacteristically earnest as he spoke.

“Do you remember what you were wearin’ that night?”

“No”

“Dress. Yellow with little flowers. You could see your tits through the fabric, hard nipples 'n all. You kept bumping into me, your skin all smooth. I couldn't stay there beside you the whole movie. Not when you looked like that. Not when all I could think about was fucking you.”

You don't have enough time to react. He rises up from behind his desk, stalking in your direction before he kicks the door behind you closed.

"Joel what-"

He large hands go to your shoulders and he brings down the straps of your dress harshly, tugging the top down and freeing your naked breasts to the air. You gasp.

"I was mad at myself for wantin' you so bad. Wanted to punish you for makin’ me want you.”

Your nipples crinkle under his tongue, his hands cupping your breasts, kneading them between licks and sucks to those straining nubs.

Anything you were about to say is erased. Gone from your mind and replaced with the sensation of Joel's mouth on you. He sucks, tongue laving at you as shots of electricity pull through your body, tugging at your navel.

Your hand is at the back of his neck, tangled in his curls, urging him to take more. To suck and taste and lick. You tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat.

But then he stretches and takes you by the elbow, whirling you around to face away from him. With a sharp movement he clears his desk completely, sending blankets and paper and pens sailing to the ground before bending you over it.

He bunches your dress up to your hips before tugging down your panties.

"You're fucking cruel," Joel grunts and you can hear him fumbling with his belt buckle and zipper. You know he's not going to be patient when you feel his cock being slotted against the seam of your cunt.

"You knew what you were doing," he grunts as he thrusts up into you causing your body to jolt. "You knew the minute you put on that dress."

You moan by way of reply because right now he feels so fucking good. He's got one hand braced between your shoulder blades, holding you down and propping your ass at an angle so you can best take his cock through your swollen and dripping folds.

He feels so right between your thighs and you never want him to stop. You don't care that he's a bastard. You want him, you need him.

"Tried to make me feel bad all those months," Joel is mumbling through hisses of pleasure. "Acted like you didn't want me."

"I didn’t"

"Well she did," Joel growls, sliding his fingers over your clit. Tingles shoot their way through your entire body.

You moan at the desire clouding his voice like smoke. You’re nodding, gasping "Yes" over and over like a prayer.

"You let me taste paradise and took it away," Joel growls as he fucks you. "Ignored me. Let me believe you didn't want me."

"I don't want you," you gasp, your cheek biting into the wood of the table.

“Yeah you do," Joel says as he licks his lips. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here letting me fuck you on my desk with a pussy so wet she's already left a puddle."

"I'm not --"

"If you hated this you wouldn't be tryin' to keep quiet so your little boyfriend doesn't hear me fucking you."

"Not my b-boyfriend," you argue without power behind your words. You don't care about Markus. All you care about is coming on Joel's cock.

"Good ,"Joel rasps, pulling at your hair and causing you to arch back off the table. "Cuz he hasn't been fucking you right. Maybe he needs some lessons on satisfying you because I know how much you love taking cock."

You're trying to formulate a reply but you're boneless, your body jolting with every thrust. He feels so good, his fingers working your clit as he slams into you. He's nudging your feet apart with his boots so he can fuck you deeper.

"Or maybe I'll just get you to make deliveries here every week," Joel grunts into your ear, his hips slapping into your ass loudly. "Then I'll make you suck my cock under my desk while I have a meeting with your boyfriend. How does that sound?"

You're moaning at the thought of it. You hate that this taboo acknowledgement is turning you on so much.

"You like that?" Joel is pounding you harder now, his movements severe. His hips snack against your bare ass as you take his cock deeper. The desk jumps a little with each thrust.

"You like the idea of bein' fucked in secret, pretty eyes? My dirty little secret?"

The pleasure of his words and his cock is rolling you over the edge. He feels so perfectly there filling you so wonderfully. He’s jerked you back to him, his tongue licking at the pulse of your neck.

"You locked your window," Joel rasps, nipping your chin. "Why’d you keep it locked?"

"I was mad at you," you answer through grunts.

"Liar," Joel hisses at you, his cock thrusting in and out, grazing your clit. He forces you back over the desk, bending and accommodating his girth as his hips shifts against the meat of your ass. "Tell the truth."

"I was . .. scared."

"Of what."

"Of you."

A swift palm comes to strike your ass cheek. Not hard, not painful, but surprising.

"Truth," is all he says before his palm rubs over where he slapped. He's pulling you back against his cock, fucking you still.

"I was afraid Tess-"

Another smack to your ass. "Try again."

"People breaking in -"

Another smack. And another one when you try another lie.

"Cuz if I left it unlocked I knew you were gonna use it," you finally admit, your face flushed and your eyes wet. "And I wasn't gonna be able to say no."

"There we go," Joel soothes, rubbing his palm along your flanks. His thumb comes to your chin, tilting your head back so your eyes are on him. "You want me to use it, don't you?"

"No," you lie, your hips moving in tandem with his. You're close, so close to that bliss..

"Fucking liar," Joel growls lowly.

Then he pulls from you viciously and you cry out, immediately missing the sensation. He whirls you around to face him before shoving you up onto the desk. He steps between your parted thighs with your legs on either side of his hips and his cock is slipping into you again. You hold his shoulders, bouncing against him and biting your lip to keep from moaning.

"You walk around in this fucking dress, throwing yourself anyone but me?" Joel is panting as he glares down at you, his thumb circling the pearl of your clit as you arch against him. "I already told you this cunt is mine. No one fucks it but me."

"Not yours-" you're slurring.

"She's mine, baby" Joel assures you, pulling out savagely and then realigning himself up at you entrance. "Just look how she takes me."

You hate yourself for looking, but you do. You look down the length of your body and watch as Joel's beautiful cock slides into you. Its wet and thick and so fucking gorgeous. But it's Joel's eyes, his big beautiful blackened eyes half-lidded and smirking down at you that has you squirming with pleasure.

"Joel," you whimper. "Feels..."

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

His voice so soft and smooth. You nod, your body jerking with every deep thrust.

"Cuz this cunt is mine, isn't she, pretty eyes?"

You nod again.

"You gonna let that boy touch my cunt?"

You shake your head.

"Gonna let him fuck your mouth?"

Another shake of your head.

"Use your words."

"Only you."

He smiles serenely at you, his hips shifting and circling. He extends this pleasure, watching your face as you groan out his name, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Atta girl," Joel coos.

Your body is tingling as your orgasm hits through you like a warm bath, spreading through every part of your body, making you tremble and whimper, making a mess where the two of you remained joined, Joel’s cock still.

"Oh yes, baby," Joel croons as he watches you spasm on his cock. "Feels so good doesn't it? I always know how to make you feel good."

When you come down he pulls himself out with a long grunt and begins to stroke himself in earnest.

"Where do you want it?"

Still panting you look up at Joel with a dazed smile. He watches you lean back until you're laying with your spine flush on the desk. You spread your legs for him there, putting yourself on full display for him.

He makes a low groaning noise, murmuring about her can't wait to taste you again as you're sliding your palm down your abdomen, your second and middle finger coming to part the glistening lips of your pussy to him. You look up at him through your lashes, smiling.

"There?" Joel chokes out, his eyes fixed on the delicious sight of your soaking cunt exposed lascivious for him.

"Yeah," you say with a sigh, tilting back. "Right there."

"F-fuck-k," he chokes out, his eyes fixed between your legs. "She wants my come."

"She does," you whimper, parting your thighs further.

Joel's hand is a blur, pumping and circling.

"Mark my pussy with your come, Joel." You beg, your hands pressing your thighs open to the desk. "She's yours."

He gives out a garbled grunt as he comes, thick ropes hitting your thighs and cunt, decorating you with his spend as you murmur your desire for more and more.

He's panting above you, one hand still braced on the desk. He watches you laying there looking up at the ceiling with a small smile on your face.

With one of the blankets he cleans you up the best he can, tucking himself away and then he grins, reaching for you and pulling you to sit atop the desk. He's still in the vee of your legs but he brings your dress down, covering you.

You look at him questioningly. This is usually the part where he leaves. The silence. Instead his eyes are warm and one of his hands comes to cup your cheek.

"So perfect," he says moving his face towards yours. You know he's about to kiss you and you tilt away from him. You two don’t kiss. Not really. He looks irritated until he sees the tears gathered along your lash line.

Joel's other hand goes to cup your other cheek and he gently cranes your face towards his.

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m horrible,” you whisper, sniffling.

"How are you horrible?"

"Because I don't do things like this," you explain through sniffling. "I don't have sex with perfectly nice guys in windows so other guys can jerk off to it. I don't let strangers fuck my mouth and come on me and then have them go down on me and act don't care if I see them again. I don’t hate someone and then let them fuck me like this. I don't fuck men in relationships."

"I'm not with-"

"But you were and we did."

"It was my fuck up," Joel tells you in a rumble. "Not yours. You went along with it but I never shoulda done it. Not when I was with Tess, not when I knew how I felt about y-"

He stops abruptly seeing that you’re shaking your head, tears beginning in earnest.

"Pretty eyes don't cry, please."

It's the first time he's used the nickname outside of a sexual activity between the two of you and it startles you to staring up at him.

"Please," he all but whispers. He's so close you could count the freckles along his lean neck.

"Stop," you insist, wrenching from him.

Joel stumbles back as you push him from you. You throw yourself from the table and stride from the room out into the barn, slamming the door before he can say another word.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #dad joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel

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stereotypicalsanriofemme · 9 months

Note

Double pen from carabiner butches yay or nay

Oh ABSOLUTE YAY… one in the front and one in the back….

Just imagine it— two pretty butches, fighting over you day in and out. One’s a sweetheart. She’s got darker hair cut short and pretty full lips, eyes full of the need to treasure you. The other’s a blonde, all strong jawline and predatory gazes, calculating, possessive.

You really don’t know how you ended up here— pressed between their bodies, with the brunette prodding at your pussy and the blonde with two fingers in your ass.

“Was there really a reason…” you moan lightly, the sensitivity of fingers skimming past your clit making you shudder, “to do all of— ah! …This?”

“We just wanted to see which of us you liked more,” the brunette pouted, tracing little shapes and circles around your clit. “You’re always so cold to us, bunny…”

“I thought it was already clear who this pretty girl liked the most,” the blonde drawled, sliding her fingers out of your ass with a soft pop. You can feel her cock rutting between your cheeks, making your face burn bright pink from the stimulation.

“Well, she’s dripping all over my fingers like this,” the brunette says, rubbing their fingers over your sopping cunt, barely skimming over the entrance yet making you full-body shiver.

“Hm, she is,” the blonde says. She smacks your ass lightly and you whimper again, barely able to contain how aroused you are.

“Slut,” the blonde murmurs in your ear. “You like this, don’t you?” Her hands skim over your breasts, the rings on her fingers giving your hardened nipples a cold shock.

“Don’t be so mean to her,” the brunette scolds, making an irritated face at the other. “She deserves to be treasured, not treated like fuckmeat.”

The blonde lets out a tch. “This is treasuring her. You would think you knew better after all of those years of pining, huh? That your precious, innocent girl next door likes getting fucked like a whore.” She growls out the last syllable, shoving her face closer into the other’s direction. “This is treasuring her— this is loving her.”

The brunette bares her teeth. “You…”

The rest of what the brunette says blurs out of your mind as you feel the blunt tip of the blonde’s cock pop past your rim, making you shriek.

“Hah, you got the short end of this— fuck, just like that, princess….” You gag on a moan as she continues sliding her cock gently into your ass, turning moans into broken whimpers.

“Oh yeah?” The other scoffs, and you choke at the feeling of the tip of her cock at your cunt’s entrance. “Why’s that, pretty boy?”

It’s a darker chuckle that comes from the blonde. “She squirts the most when you fuck her in the ass.” She jabs another thrust into you. “So— haah, fuck— we both know who’s making her come when she does that.”

“Ignore her, bunny,” the brunette coos, barely making it through your melted mind. Feeling the slide of her cock into your cunt left you gasping with each precious noise you let out— fuck, you were so full. You could feel it in your throat, how firm they were in your stomach, the pressure from your ass forcing the brunette’s cock to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your eyes rolled and eyelids fluttered as even a slight drag from the blonde set your nerves on fire with stimulation.

“Fuck…” you slurred out, mouth pooling with saliva at the sheer friction inside of you. “Stop argui…please, fuck m’, I need ‘t…”

“Oh, sweet thing can’t even talk anymore,” the blonde sweetly whispered. “It’s okay, honey. Daddy’s here for you,” she said, pressing her fingers against your tongue and molesting your mouth with light touches. Your veins were filled with liquid fire as the brunette nipped hickeys across your breasts and collarbones, sending each shock through your body like strikes of lightening.

It couldn’t compare to the first proper strokes inside of you, making you shriek out. Your nails desperately clawed into the back of the brunette as the blonde took you from behind; the brunette dominating your front. A calloused finger came down and brushed over your clit, wrenching an overstimulated wail from you as you squirted for the first time.

“Good girl,” the blonde growled in your ear. You sighed, feeling the slide outwards— thank god, they’re pulling out, you won’t have to deal with this pleasurable hell much longer—

Both slid in at the same time, bottoming out fully. A scream wrenched out of your chest.

Fuck.

This was going to break you.

[men dni this is about LESBIANS BABY!

comissions are open on my kofi! use code TUMBLRINA for 10% off!!]

#lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #wlw nsft #nsft #daddy k!nk #butch bait #lesbian #sapphic #butch daddy #femme4butch #butch4femme #femme lesbian #femme princess #guys wake up I’m back!!!!!#this is the most degenerate thing I’ve written in a minute #femme nsft #butch nsft #literally writing this on public transport I need to be put down

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elliesmainhoe · 1 year

Text

You deserve more

Ellie Williams x fem!reader (modern!au)

Summary: after you caught your boyfriend making out with another girl at a bar, you call Ellie for a ride home.

Content: cheating, slight angst, fluff fluff fluff and more fluff, gay panic, a bit of internalised homophobia, comfort, pining, confessions, kissing.❤️

My Masterlist

God. This shit was not helping your mental state. Tears streaming down red cheeks, blood shot eyes and puffy lips as you walked down the road trying desperately to get away from that bar.

Ankles throbbing in pain as your heels fell into a rhythmic shuffle on the slippery pavement, dodging puddles occasionally due to the current downpour of rain. Sobs crept up your throat begging to be released but you swallowed them down. Men like him don't deserve your tears, men don't deserve tears at all, stuck up entitled dicks.

The image of your (now ex) boyfriend of 4 months sloppily making out with a beautiful, gorgeous girl infuriated you in so many ways. One of those being that you were jealous, not of her, but of him. The intrusive thought of kissing that beautiful blonde in a green dress creeping into your mind but leaving just as quickly as it came. Another is that it was Ingrained in your head as much as the blonde in the green dress was beautiful and perfect all from just the quick glance you saw of her, the thought of someone else sharing a kiss with you slipped into your mind.

Shaking your head to rid those unnecessary thoughts as cars flew past you on the road causing you to stumble slightly, your thin square toe heels giving up beneath you, your body collapsing on to the wet cold concrete. A whimper left your lips at the harsh impact as a stab of pain ran up your ankle into your legs.

You don't know why you did this to yourself, having come to the conclusion that heels were invented for sadists by masochists and were a torture device that slowly eliminated any ankle support you posses, years ago.

But here you are sitting on the dirty floor by the side of a road you couldn't name, unable to get up, drenched tangled hair, running makeup and snotty nose. Grabbing your phone you gazed at the screen.

"Shit"

A large crack split your screen in half, nervousness now increasing and your hands shake as you press the on button.

The light flickers on and a verbal sigh leaves your lips, a small smile grazes your lips at the photos of you and Ellie in a photo booth showing off cheesy grins and back to back, you swipe to your contacts and your fingers hover over the contact.

'Ells ❤️💪⭐🧟🚀🦕🦖👨‍🚀🔭'

The contact name remained the same from the day you first met, the coffee shop where she spilt her hot chocolate all over your new flowy white dress and patchwork jacket. One thing lead to another and she offered to pay for a new dress, which lead to a trip to the mall, and then the park and then a new Mexican resteraunt that opened downtown and the rest was history.

You have been best friends for three years, knowing eachother a little too much for comfort. Ellie always knew if something you did wouldn't work out or not, it was slightly unnerving but you tried not dwell on it too much.

Ellie always said that dating that 'ass hat' was a bad idea, and to be honest, I knew that too. But my feelings were getting too much and the adoration couldn't be applied to Ellie in a platonic way anymore, so I had to find someone else to love. The hurt of not feeling comfortable with any pretty girl let alone the hottest woman who had ever walked the earth (who just happened to be your best friend) fucking sucked.

Ellie was so perfect, her beautiful fucking smile, her soft eyes, her plush lips, her gorgeous hands, her laugh, her humour. She was your everything. She was so unapologetically herself, so open about her sexuality, her up bringing, you envied her.

You were the peak idea of femininity and you hated it, always dating the athletic boys, clad in pink and dresses, always wearing makeup, you were quiet, smart and pretty. You never liked the boys you dated, always analysing them and picking a half decent boy to date just so you wouldn't rouse suspision.

A loud van drove past music blasting as your head came back to your current situation, your fingers trembled as the cold of the wind had began getting you and you clicked on her name and keyboard smash of emojis.

Ring

"hey, what's up?" A gravely voice traveled out your phone speaker, sleep evident in her voice. "did I wake you I'm, uh, I'm sorry." You say trying to seem as normal as you could, although the hoarse voice and sniffs said otherwise.

"Oh what did that fucker do now, do you want me to beat him up? You know I will if you give me the word" she says seemingly more awake."I uh, don't want to talk about it right now Ells, can you come pick me up, I slipped and rolled my ankle. Can't get home. I don't know the road I'm on but it's opposite the salons parking lot." You sniff as you look around your surroundings trying to find a landmark so Ellie could come find you.

"Got it. I'll be there in ten, stay safe till I get there, yeah?" "yeah, see you in a bit Ells"

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

And as promised when the time finally went from 1:43 to 1:53, a red pickup truck pulled up and Ellie got out the driver's side picking you up from the floor clad in a grey hoodie and matching sweats, hair pulled up messily and concern etched upon her features. God, she was so beautiful.

She opened the passenger door, not yet saying a word and put you down on the seat, leaning over to buckle you up, seemingly forgetting it was just your leg you couldn't move not your arms. Hot air drifted out of the trucks dashboard and you closed your eyes letting the warmth consume your being, and eventually your shaking body slowly eased.

The rumble of the old trucks engine brought you back to reality, eyes zeroing onto Ellie's face, worry obvious on her face but you could tell she was holding back, trying not to impose.

"I found AssHat making out with this blonde chick at the bar on fourth street" you say bluntly and emotionlessly. Your ability to cry had now been used up and tears could no longer physically form.

"what the actual fuck, he was so lucky he even got a chance with you and he wasted it just like that! You're so hot, way to hot for him and he wasted that. Ungrateful shitbag... On a serious note though... You good? " She says looking into the rearview mirror at your expressionless face.

Shrugging "I don't know Ells. I'm so confused, I don't know what I feel, I'm sad but I'm not sad. I fucking hate it. Jus' wanna go home" she hummed in acknowledgement.

"you wanna stay over tonight, pretty girl?, got loads of junk food you can binge eat and theres a few films I've been meaning to watch with you, could make you feel a bit better." "I'd really like that Ells, thanks" you say, a smile gracing your face at the nickname making Ellie smile back at you.

"never a problem for you, gorgeous"

----------

Thirty minutes into a shitty horror film about a haunted house and some creepy ass poltergeists that Ellie seemed far to enamoured with, a small smile graced your face when you looked at her, Ellie made everything better, just her presence made anything and everything clear for you.

Ellie felt your gaze burn into the side of her face, but she didn't move to look at you. She had been thinking about what to say to you. It was weird... You just got cheated on and yeah you seem a little down, but right now you seem quite contempt, bundled up under a cocoon of blankets on her cheap second hand leather couch and gazing at her. You were so beautiful, inside and out.

She couldn't understand men. Why would they let such a beautiful, stunning, funny, amazing girl like you down. Ellie always thought about your shitty ex boyfriends, scoffing as she recalled horror stories you told her about. She would treat you so much better, she'd show you off to everyone, be so affectionate, cheer you up when you're upset, cook you breakfast in the morning, buy you flowers unprompted.

Fuck it.

"Hey Y/N..." She whispers still looking at the TV screen, scared to meet your eyes... your mesmerising eyes. She received a soft hum in response, telling her to continue.

"we've been friends for years now and I can't imagine my life without you. I know I seem like I have my shit together, but without you I would be so hopeless, so lost. You're such a wonderful person and so so beautiful, and you deserve someone who values that just as much as I do. And whatever boy ends up being that for you, who wins your heart, is so so so fucking lucky."

She finally looks at you, your eyes wide and watering, a small meek smile painted on your lips, you were suddenly so close to her, you bite down on your lip softly preparing yourself for what you want to say.

"oh Ellie... I don't want a boy, he can't have my heart. I want you Ellie, in every way possible, I want you to brush your hands through my hair, I want to steal your hoodies, I want to kiss you and hug you and love you. Your all I've ever wanted" you said, you were both so close now, centimeters away from eachother.

Ellie tilted her head and softly attached her lips with yours her hand going towards the back of your head pulling you in closer, you could feel her smile through the kiss, her lips were so soft and you could taste the vanilla ice-cream that still lingered on her lips. The kiss was soft, gentle and every once in a while you would break apart, Ellie mumbled words like "pretty, baby, mine", whether it was mumbled when they left her mouth or became incoherent when they reached your hazy mine is unknown.

Her hands softly combed through your hair, detangling and plaiting, your hand rested on her cheek rubbing circles on her skin. A sudden laugh startled you as you looked up at the blushing brunette you were now straddling.

"God that was so fucking cheesy" she laughed, and you joined in.

"well at least we're self aware" you said back a stupid smile on your face.

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

Omg. My first fic ever and I don't think I like it 💀. But anything for Ellie(the love of my life). Anyways I hope you enjoyed the very basic fic you just read, constructive criticism and requests are appreciated.

PROOF READ

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #the last of us #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x f!reader #lesbian #lesbian fic #wlw #the last of us fic #bella ramsey #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader fluff #ellie x reader #elliesmainhoe #ellie x fem reader

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sitp-recs · 3 months

Note

Could you please recommend a fic where Harry falls for Draco first and Draco wasn't pining for all those years?

Sort of like a temporarily unrequited love.

Thank you

Hello! Absolutely, love me a smitten Harry. Here are some recs for you:

Solve Us Like a Mystery by tryslora (T, 11k)

When Harry stops in at the bookstore where Draco works, they find a surprising shared interest in mysteries. Draco doesn't expect to see Harry again, and he definitely doesn't expect to become the subject of unexpected investigation that may endanger the life of his unborn child, and at the same time, may bring him the kind of happiness he never thought he'd have after the war.

Voices From The Fog by noeon (E, 13k)

After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

We Might Be Too Old for a Bildungsroman by calrissian18 (T, 21k)

Harry finds something he’s been looking for since the war’s end. Admittedly, the packaging’s a bit odder than he expected.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

Faint Indirections by ignatiustrout (T, 29k)

Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works.

Take the Air by dysonrules (M, 51k)

Someone or something is attacking Muggles and leaving them for dead. Auror Harry Potter is assigned to the case, but with his usual partner unavailable, he is stuck with the most annoying Auror ever to walk the halls of the Ministry.

Modern Love by tackytiger (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Azoth by zeitgeistic (E, 88k)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (M, 131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Can't Sit Still by wilteddaisy (E, 193k)

Five years after the war, Harry finds himself drawn to Draco Malfoy by memories that aren't his own.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

Turn by Saras_Girl (E, 306k)

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #Harry falls first #smitten Harry

81 notes · View notes

podiumsitter · 2 years

Text

best friend privilege 🏁 gr

summary; george takes you to as many races as he can, because you're his best friend. but that's not the only privilege you have.

warnings; so filthy i'm sorry. pining, masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, kinda praise kink, slooow burn,cocky george obviously, will probably have a part two i think

word count; 5926

You’ve been George’s best friend for a few years new, having met before he even got his seat at Williams. You were friends through it all—supporting him through the harder years, and celebrating with him when he won the F2 championship, when he got his first points for his team, and when he finally signed his contract to drive for Mercedes like you knew he deserved.

There was never any doubt in your mind that you and George would be best friends for as long as you two were on this earth, if you were being dramatic about it, and you had no doubt that George felt the same about your relationship.

You were friends, best friends, it has always been that way.

However, ever since he joined the top team, something changed about him. He was more serious, more determined than you’ve ever seen him (even more so than before his qualifying session in Spa) and that changed something in you, too.

His blue eyes were always filled with a fire, a hunger—one you were so so used to seeing, but now, that fire was burning against your skin every time he looked at you.

Perhaps, you had some sort of feelings for your best friend.

And that was absolutely fine, because feelings come and go—but you knew your friendship with George was forever. So this was just something that was going to pass, it was just because of how close you two were, it was just that stupid black suit.

It must’ve been—because you noticed something similar moving in your stomach that night in Sakhir. That black suit had powers, ‘sall.

And if anything, it was definitely only physical, considering you only noticed a longing for him when you were at the races with him. On those weekend when you couldn’t travel out with him, you felt normal things people feel for their friends; pride, joy, happiness, as you watched him on the podium, or sometimes disappointment when his weekend wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. And then he’d call you after, and the pair of you would discuss the race and his weekend and then your weekend and it was all normal.

It was just that suit—you swore—as you walked next to him all day on the Friday. You were in Barcelona, so the weather was intensely warm, and George pushed that black suit to his hips, as low as it could possibly go, and strutted to the media pen.

You were talking about something unimportant, George asked you to find out the details of your mutual friends’ birthday party, and you told him what your friends had planned, and he was trying to remember if he was free to join, and you were so not listening as he sucked on that stupidly long straw of his.

“Water is important,” you said when the conversation stopped midway as George drank half his bottle in one go.

“It’s so fucking hot,” he complained. As if on cue, his trainer appeared beside him with a towel. George wiped the sweat off his forehead as the four of you arrived to the media pen. His trainer handed him another bottle, and his press officer was telling him something and you were just standing there and, frankly, admiring the view.

“Can I take these fireproofs off?” He groaned, as he tried pulling them away from his skin—but they were clinging onto him for dear life. You remembered a race last year, god knows where in the world you were, with similar weather to today. His white fireproofs were so tight you could see the outline of his stomach and--

“You can’t do the interviews shirtless, George,” his press officer rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure people would love that, though,” he smirked down at her.

“I’m sure they will,” she indulged him with a roll of her eyes, “but you’re on national television.”

“We’ll keep that for the late night shows, then?” He asked with a glint in his eyes.

“George,” she chuckled, shoving him slightly.

George was such a fucking flirt.

“Can you talk some sense into him?” She turned to you with a sigh, the same way she did almost every weekend you were around.

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you shrugged. “I think it’s best to wait for a shower before you take anything off,” was the best you could come up with. In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind it if George needed to rid himself from some layers. Who would blame him in this heat?

“Shower!” George said, snapping his fingers and pointing at you as if you came up with the best idea he’s heard all day.

George turned to his trainer, grabbing the second bottle from him, and pouring half of it on his head. He took his towel, drying himself up, and running it over his short hair. Suddenly, you had an urge to tug on those locks, wanting to see them get that messy from your pulling as his face sat in between your---

“Right,” his press officer said, “now that you’ve cooled down, let’s go.”

George nodded, making sure he didn’t look too unpresentable and took his hat from his trainer, placing it neatly on his head as is expected of him.

“We’ll be about an hour,” she turned to you.

“I’ll be in your driver’s room?” You offered.

“Yeah, figure out where you want us to eat tonight,” George said, offering you a thumbs up before walking over to the nearest unoccupied microphone.

You easily made your way back to the Mercedes hospitality, the layout of the paddock staying more or less the same regardless of where you were in the world. It was easy enough to remember, considering it was the first one in the long row of buildings—definitely an upgrade from the thirty minutes it took you to get from the centre of activities back to the Williams hospitality every weekend in the last three years.

Once back inside, you grabbed a can of Monster from the mini fridge at the front and made your way into George’s room.

You settled down, scrolling through your phone and relaxing under the breeze of the AC in George’s room. Once you finished your drink, and you checked your social media, you let your mind wander to where it was a few minutes ago. Where it always went when you spent time with George.

The pair of you doing things that friends don’t usually do with each other. Him using that cocky tone with you, him using his mouth on you, his fingers.

As you let your imagination linger on the way his lips sucked on his straw, you pushed your Mercedes shirt (the one with 63 on the back) up enough for you to have access to your tits. You rolled your nipple in between your fingers, the coolness in the room helping the sensations you were feeling, as you imagined your best friend’s fingers working on you instead.

His lips working on you, wrapping around your nipples as you tug on his short brown locks. How his stubble would feel against your abdomen.

His blue eyes looking up at you as he slid down your body and onto his knees.

You brought your free hand into your skirt, gasping at how definitely wet you were from your imagination alone. And well, maybe it helped that you were sitting on the sofa in his driver’s room that always smelled so strongly of his shampoo.

Your fingers rubbed against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your thighs. You wondered to yourself, as you did many times before, just how cocky George would get when he had you gasping above him. He’d smirk at you constantly, wouldn’t he? And he probably loves hearing how good he is, he probably lets out that little chuckle of his every time you ask for more.

You sped up your fingers, pinching at your nipples as you tried to imagine just how big he was—if that’s what made him so unbearable cocky, so attractively cocky.

You could feel it building up and you went faster, urging yourself (or rather, the imaginary George in your head) to keep going, that you were so close, that please baby, that--

“He’s such a fucking prick sometimes, I swear to god!”

You jumped up, noticing the very real George in front of you and the stunned look on his face.

Holy fuck.

“Who, um, who’s a prick?” You asked quickly, tugging your shirt down and covering yourself up.

George took a moment, or maybe six, to look over you—to confirm he saw what he thinks he just saw. Although your heart was beating incredibly quick, and you could feel the blood rushing to your toes, and you made a very strong point of keeping your legs shut, you weren’t shy under his gaze.

He seemed like he was almost, unbothered at all, but what he saw.

“Will Buxton,” he answered finally. He took the hat off his head, ran a hand through his hair with a huff, and kept talking, “he was going on and on about how happy I must be to be beating Lewis.”

“Well, we both know what he was trying to get you to say,” you offered, and neither of you acknowledged the water George offered you, a very knowing look accompanying his actions.

You took a very large sip as you listened on to what George had to say, and the promise he made to one day mount Will’s head above his fireplace.

“Anyway,” George sighed as he plopped himself on the sofa next to you, “I’m starving.”

“There’s a place that looks nice about twenty minutes from here,” George nodded, “I reckon the traffic is more or less done at this point.”

“Yeah,” George nodded. “Are you gonna change first?”

You swallowed, thinking maybe now was finally the time he’ll talk about what he saw when he walked in and how you were so very clearly touching yourself and how your tits were just out but he just said, “You know I love that shirt on you but it makes us stand out.”

“Bro, I think the Formula One driver is what makes us stand out,” you retorted, grabbing one of the grey pillows beside you and throwing it at his chest.

George caught it with ease, chuckling at you as he flashed you that beautiful smile of his.

“I wanna wear my Georgie merch,” you pouted at him.

“Yeah, um, alright,” he stuttered slightly, before getting up and grabbing a change of clothes. “Shower and we’ll go.”

The dinner was no different than any other dinner you shared with George. Neither of you mentioned what George walked in on and by the time the race on Sunday was over all the pair of you could talk about was George’s phenomenal battle with the reigning world champion.

“Fuck, that felt so good,” he smiled in conclusion, and you reciprocated that smile as he rewatched the race highlights a few hours later. If you saved that soundbite for later that evening, that was between you and your trusted toy.

Canada was too long of a flight, and you only had two days off work that week anyway, and so you decided not to join George for that weekend. That didn’t stop the pair of you from texting each other through the day like you always did, and concluding your night with a FaceTime call. George was frustrating in the sense that whenever he called you before bed he was already shirtless under the covers.

And how the fuck were you supposed to deal with that like a normal person who was definitely not attracted to their best friend?

“So, Mr. Consistency,” you greeted him, trying your hardest to focus on his face or even your face and definitely not the dark curve of his pecs. “P4.”

“Got beat by my teammate though,” George shook his head, that determination you loved so much about him shining through your screen.

“This time, but it’s a close fight babes,” you assured him.

“I know,” he sighed, “just wanted another podium.”

“You’ll get that.”

“If we’re talking about things I want,” George said, licking his lips slowly. Your heart (and your pussy) skipped a beat, “I want that fucking win already.”

You chuckled, hoping your desire wasn’t written all over your face in capital letter.

“You’ll get that too, Georgie.”

George shifted slightly, his hand disappearing from behind his head to somewhere you couldn’t see as he coughed slightly.

“How was your day, though?”

And then the pair of you talked about your boss’ new obsession with performance reports and the new coffee place that opened up by your house and the conversation went on and on and on until you were starting to dose off.

“I think I need to sleep now, babe,” you mumbled, your phone tucked in front of you as you snuggled on your side. George smiled at you.

“Good night, beautiful,” he said, and that’s the last thing you remembered.

Silverstone wasn’t a good weekend. Seeing his teammate on the podium again when it could’ve been him broke George’s heart, and it upset him even more to be unable to even finish the first lap of his home race. Finally he had a chance to do something incredible on British soil, and that chance was taken away from him. It’s been a while since you last saw George crying, and it was your job (and honour) to rub his shoulders as he let his sobs out.

You listened to him ranting about how stupid the FIA is and how scared he was to see what happened and how Toto didn’t even have his back and all you could do was nod and listen.

“There’s next year,” you tried, and George knew that already. All he did was just shake his head.

“Is there something we can do to get your mind off it?”

George’s eyes gaped at you, taking in what you just said. You didn’t think too much of it, really, as you said it but then you realised how close the pair of you were. Your thighs were pressed against each others, and your hand around his shoulder was pulling him nearer to you, and you could see the little stubble on his cheek.

For a moment, you thought you saw George’s blue eyes flick towards your lips.

“How do you mean?” He all but whispered.

You swallowed, your throat dry and scratchy. You brought your free hand over his bicep, squeezing him. “Whatever you need to put today behind you, Georgie.”

George exhaled slowly, eyes focused on you, his breath hitting your skin. You felt warmth spread through your stomach.

“You’ll do whatever I need?” George tried to confirm, and this time you were sure George was looking at your lips. You hoped they didn’t look too dry—you licked them just to check.

You noticed his jaw got tighter for a moment.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that he could ask for anything and you’d give him that—but you didn’t know how to say it, and the more you considered it the warmer your stomach got and you were scared you might actually just stutter and it wouldn’t come out as cool as you thought it would and what were you even going to say that wouldn’t be extremely inappropriate in the very real chance that he didn’t think about you that way at all and what if you just leaned in and kissed him and--

“George!” A knock came from behind the door, pulling the pair of you away from each other. “It’s Seb!”

And then the pair had to go have a lengthy chat about the events of today, as the two heads of the GPDA, and George only came back three hours later. By that point, he had concluded watching a movie would make him forget about today.

You weren’t sure why you thought it would be anything else.

Austria was another weekend to forget, and although still scoring a top five finish—George was outraged. He was so upset he didn’t even want to say anything, repeating the mantra that at least it was good points for the team.

“You don’t have to say the media shit with me, babes,” you tried, but George just shook his head and said it again.

“Let me shower and then we can go check out that club you spotted?” You offered, thinking maybe a dance and some drinks will put him in a better mood. George nodded.

“Can I join you?”

“Yeah, I’m not going to the club alone,” you joked as you rummaged through your suitcase for something a little nicer than the baby blue shirt George gave you in Silverstone. It was a very nice shirt, the 63 on it your favourite part, but maybe it wasn’t exactly right for a night out.

“I meant in the shower,” George said, his jaw tightening for a moment.

“What?”

Silence took over the room as the pair of you just looked at each other—George’s eyes turned grey. He licked over his lips once, his teeth catching his lower lip for a moment and you could’ve sworn he looked you up and down. You’ve seen George give people this look before, but you were never on the receiving end of it.

Now—you realised that was a good thing, because seeing that look on your best friend’s face had rendered you speechless.

“I, um,” you helpfully said, after approximately twenty minutes. Seconds. One of the two.

George flashed that smile of his, then chuckled. It was empty.

“See you in a bit,” he said, walking away with his head down. You’ve never seen George look… insecure before.

That was different.

You met up with a few other drivers there, and the music was just alright, and so a bit after midnight you decided you were tired and wanted to go back to the hotel. George put his drink down in an instant and grabbed your hand, taking you outside to find a taxi.

“So,” he started, hands tucked into his pocket, “did you find anyone nice in there?”

You were a few shots in, and if you weren’t so concerned about the chance of losing George, you would’ve told him there’s no one you want other than him. You would’ve told him it’s his face you see as you touch yourself at night, you would’ve told him you’d do anything to be able to kiss him and suck him off and ride him.

But you weren’t drunk enough to say anything like that. Instead, “wasn’t looking for that tonight. Just wanted a dance. What about you, racing driver?”

George chuckled, his eyes finding a spot way above your head as his smile took over his face.

“No one I could have really,” he shrugged.

“You? Striking out?” You fake gasped at him, adding a hand to your chest for dramatic effect.

“I didn’t even try,” he confessed.

“What?” You grabbed his arm, shaking him slightly. “Since when do you chicken out?”

“What does that mean?” He asked, eyes gleaming, as you drunkly swayed next to him—his bicep acting as a form of anchor for your body.

“I’ve never met anyone as confident as you are, Georgie, it’s truly inspiring.”

He shook his head, the smile still stuck to his face. “Well, it’s a bit more complex.”

“Oooooh,” you let out loudly. “Tea?”

“Stop,” he laughed, rolling his eyes at you.

“Come on,” you gasped, “you’re not gonna tell your bestie all about it?”

“I will when you’re not this hammered,” he said, bringing a hand around your shoulder. You let him pull you into his chest, finding warmth in his body as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I think you could get anyone you wanted,” you said, rubbing your hands up his back, “you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks,” he said, lightly pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Plus you’re fit as fuck,” you said, speaking in the lower voice you used when you were mocking George and your other male friends.

“You’re fit as fuck, too,” he laughed, and escorted you into the taxi that had finally arrived.

France was good. France was really really good. Not only did George take his first pole position in F1, but he managed to convert it into a win—and the pair of you were out celebrating all night.

George hugged you first as he got out of the car and he gave you the comically large champagne bottle for safe keeping and he wouldn’t keep his arm off your shoulder as the four of you (press officer and trainer included) walked throughout the paddock so George could speak to absolutely everyone that wanted to hear from the new race winner.

The smile just wouldn’t leave his beautiful face all night, and honestly, you weren’t complaining. You’d pay good money to see that smile so vividly on his face—and you were lucky enough to be in pole position of that sight.

You even got a new lockscreen out of it; George’s arm around you as you held the champagne and he held the gorilla trophy, his pirelli hat soaked through from the podium showers.

It was the prettiest picture you’ve had of George, and the fact you looked oddly like a couple in it didn’t go unnoticed by your mutual friends.

But they didn’t comment on it to your face.

You weren’t able to attend another race after that, but George promised you it was alright. It was the summer break soon anyway—and he had planned to spend as much of it as he could with you and your friendship group.

You couldn’t take any time off until Amsterdam, and George was always understanding of that, so you made the most of the time he got to spend back in the UK. Nights out and picnics and beach days and sight seeing and anything the group of you wanted to do, and it was so refreshing to have George there with you guys.

It was three days before he was meant to fly out to Spa and one of your friends was having a house party at theirs.

There was beer pong and shots and Spotify’s Top 40 playing in the living room. Naturally, you and George teamed up together to become unbeatable at beer pong—although truly, it was mostly George that did the work. You just drank if someone scored into your cups.

The night went on and on and at one point a few of you went to sit on the huge trampoline in your friend’s garden.

Without thinking, you rested your head on George’s lap. His fingers found your hair in an instance.

“So George,” one of your friends prompted, “you’re gonna win another one this year?”

“Damn hope so,” he said, and even though you couldn’t see his face you knew his eyebrows jumped up at that.

“You better,” they offered back.

“Wait until Zandvoort though because I don’t wanna miss it,” you said. George soothingly rubbed circles into your scalp.

“You should come to all my races, I could win any of them,” he said. There’s a reason he’s called Mr. Consistency, you thought to yourself.

“Sadly, I have bills to pay, sir,” you huffed.

“If George makes you his trophy wife you’ll be sorted,” your friend pointed out. The fingers in your hair stopped moving.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you managed to say.

The conversation shifted when one of your friends came from inside the house to beg for a teammate in another round of beer pong, and the talks of a trophy wife were forgotten. But you very much noticed how stiff George became after that.

A few weeks (and one Monza podium) later, you were back with George. Maybe all your friends noticed you were attending a lot more races than you did last year—and a lot more than all of them combined. Most of your friends came to Monaco and Silverstone, and sometimes Abu Dhabi. But you already had half a dozen under your belt.

You weren’t complaining though, you loved going to the tracks, and your best friend wanted you there—so what was wrong with it?

You thought maybe you should encourage George to invite a few of your other friends out as often, too.

“Yeah, but your my best friend,” George pointed out once you brought up the subject. “I don’t want a bunch of people around me all weekend.”

“I’m around you all weekend,” you said.

“I want you around me all weekend.” And maybe you didn’t quite hear the end of that sentence, as a blush took over your face.

“But if you don’t want to come so much that’s fine, I know it’s exhausting to travel and you’re using all your time off work to be here--”

“—don’t be ridiculous, Russell,” you threw a hand around.

“Last naming me?” He gasped at you.

“That’s how ridiculous you’re being,” you said, and George accepted that with a meaningful nod.

At that, you got back to your phone, and so did George, and the pair of you sat on the sofa in his hotel room as you spent your Friday night relaxing before George’s big day tomorrow.

You perched your legs on his lap, and at one point or another George moved closer to you so his large hand rested on your thigh.

If he drew circles on your leggings, inching up and down your thigh, you definitely weren’t going to tell him to stop.

“Y/N,” he said, bringing your eyes away from the never ending scroll you were putting yourself through, “can I ask something?”

“Sure,” you locked your phone, bringing your attention over to your best friend.

“Remember Barcelona?”

You nodded slowly.

“Those moves on Max?” You tried confirming, thinking back to that weekend and not remembering much else of note.

“What happened in my driver’s room,” he corrected you. The hand on your thigh had stopped moving, George tucking it in between your legs like he usually did when his hands were cold.

It wasn’t cold in September.

As soon as George said it, you remembered exactly what happened. You must’ve blocked it out of your mind but now it was coming back to you in it’s full glory—reminding you of the terrifying moment your half naked body just sat there as George looked at you.

Why was he bringing this up?

“Um, George, I,”

“I’m sorry I interrupted you that day,” he said, looking at the hand tucked between your legs.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you chuckled lightly, “it would’ve been weird if I kept going, I think.”

“Would it?” George finally turned to look at you, his eyes showing you that same beautiful fire they had before George got in a car on a Saturday. Maybe it was just starting early this week.

“I was in your room, it’s not like I should’ve done that there…” you trailed off.

“I didn’t mind,” he said simply, “I don’t mind.”

“Sorry?”

“If you wanted to do that again in my room, you can,” he licked his lips. You realised his hand wasn’t as close to your knees as it was last time you checked. It sat much higher now.

“We’re in your room now,” you pointed out, your voice catching in your throat lightly.

“We are,” George agreed.

You locked eyes, his stare burning into you as he raised his eyebrows lightly. As if to ask if he can push you any more. You nodded.

George moved his hand down your inner thigh and grabbed it, pulling your leg upwards and disconnecting your thighs from each other. You wondered if there was a visible wet patch—but your leggings were black. You could feel the wetness either way.

“It was a really interesting sight, you know,” George said, watching as you slowly spread your legs in front of him, “you touching yourself in a Mercedes shirt.”

“Can’t recreate it for you,” you smiled apologetically at him, shrugging at your blue tank top.

Before you could even predict his next move, George pulled his own Mercedes shirt off and handed it to you.

You felt your breath hitch.

You nodded slightly, grabbing the shirt from him as you ripped off your tank top.

George was staring, his eyes raking over your skin like a lion after its prey.

It made you feel powerful, and his heavy gaze on your blue bra gave you the courage to reach behind your back and drop the bra to his floor.

“Fuck,” he let out as he looked at your exposed chest.

A twitch in his hand made it seem like he wanted to reach forward and grab your tits, but something stopped him from doing so—and all he did was watch as you pulled his shirt over your head, your nipples poking out against the white material.

“What now?” You asked him, as if to give him a way out of this. But George didn’t want one, and instead he smirked at you in that cocky way of his.

“Touch yourself.”

You never thought you’d hear George say those words, let alone to you, and so how could you deny him that request?

You brought one hand to your chest, glad you freed yourself from the constrict of your bra, and swirled your nipple in between your fingers. Your mouth hung open as you tried to control your breathing—the pleasure already running up and down your body.

“You don’t have to be quiet,” George suggested, leaning back as he took in the sight in front of him, “it’s not like you aren’t allowed to touch.”

As soon as he said those words, you let a moan escape your lips. Maybe it was the words themselves, the implications behind them, or his stupid cocky tone, but it turned you on even more.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked.

“Oh, fuck,” you let out, and George’s eyes sparkled at that reaction.

You scrunched the shirt up, getting a whiff of George’s perfume, and brought both your hands to your chest—the fabric no longer in the way as you pinched and twisted and pulled.

“There you go,” George encouraged, “make sure it feels good.”

“It feels really good, George,” you sighed, gasping as you pulled harder on your nipples.

“Do you wanna touch anywhere else?” He asked, looking you up and down with a glimmer of a lust on his features. It almost felt like he wanted to devour you.

You wanted that, too.

“Yeah,” you gasped.

“Where do you wanna touch, baby?”

“Wanna, fuck, wanna touch my pussy,” you said, your eyes glazing over slightly as you couldn’t quite comprehend you just said that word to George.

“You wanna touch your pussy?” He confirmed. You nodded desperately at him. “Was that what you were doing in my room?”

“Yes,”

“You were touching yourself when you knew I could walk in, huh?”

You knew where this was going now, and you knew how insufferably cocky he was going to get in two seconds, but you didn’t fucking care. You wanted to play whatever this game was—and if it was possible, you wanted to win it.

“I wanna show you how I touch myself, Georgie,” you let out.

It almost sounded like George growled at you, and he quickly nodded his head—leaning forward to get a closer look at your hands.

You brought them down towards your clothed pussy, gasping as you realised you soaked through your underwear and leggings. You felt your face heat up.

“What is it?” George asked, seeing the surprise on your features.

“It’s really wet,” you gasped, rubbing circles on your clit.

“Show me,” George demanded. You dipped a finger inside your underwear, gasping at the contact, making sure to coat it in your wetness before you showed it off for George to see.

He bit his lip at the sight, his hand running over his hair.

“That’s fucking hot,” he praised, palming himself for a moment before he brought his attention back to you.

You kept going, using your fingers on yourself in the ways you knew would send you over the edge, and having George’s tight gaze on you only made it feel better,

You took in his features, how tight his jaw looked, the way his eyebrows scrunched in the middle slightly, the way his chest stood so beautifully in front of you—just asking to be touched and kissed and marked.

Then, you noticed the tent in his sweats.

“Touch yourself, George,” you let out quickly, wanting nothing more than to see George in the exact position he put you in.

George didn’t need to be told twice, and he quickly moved his sweats down to his thighs, a small wet patch on his boxers.

He freed himself, the sight of him fully hard making your mouth water.

“I think I have some catching up to do,” he said when he noticed your breathing got a lot heavier, and your movements much quicker.

You nodded frantically at him, barely able to say anything, as you watched his fist pumping up and down his length.

He definitely had a reason to be as cocky as he was.

The pair of you locked eyes again, each focusing on the movements of your own hands, and the sinful sights in front of you, and before long George was shutting his eyes as he moaned into the room.

That was the best sound you’ve ever heard.

“I’m close,” you said desperately.

“I’m close, too,” he nodded.

“Together?”

“Fuck, yes,”

You sped up your movements even more, the noises coming out of your mouth even more desperate than they’ve been all night, and in a matter of seconds you felt something snap within you and that fantastic curl in your toes.

It wasn’t long after that George threw his head back, a hot white pleasure taking over his face as cum shot onto his exposed stomach.

“Fucking hell, George,” you let out in a chuckle.

All you wanted to do was lean forward and clean his stomach with your tongue, but instead you reached over for a few tissues on the side table by the sofa.

“Thanks,” he cleaned himself off quickly, taking a second to catch his breath. “Can I get you something?”

“Water, please,” George quickly got up and grabbed a drink from the mini fridge, opening the bottle for you and handing it over. You could barely sit up straight, the sensitivity in your core sending tingles up and down your body.

You were almost tempted to ask George if you could go again.

But instead, the pair of you just sank back to your previous position, George shifting your legs so they were back on his lap.

“Want some food?”

And that was that.

George got on the podium that Sunday, and Max invited everyone to go out to his favourite part of Amsterdam, and what happened on Friday night was all but forgotten.

Or at least that’s how you acted. But almost every night, when you couldn’t fall asleep, you replayed the events of that day in your head—your orgasm hitting you just as strongly as the night before.

But it was never as good as when George was right there in front of you.

#george russell x reader #george russell smut #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #idk what to tag this as #is this my first smut here i think it is #gr #myfics #f1 x reader #george russell

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beomurang · 6 months

Text

𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 ✦ 𝗛𝗨𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗞𝗔𝗜 💫

pairing : huening kai x reader

genre : fluff (?), angst, unrequited love, one side pining on your best friend

word count : 517

synopsis : again at 2am you find yourself lying on the vast green field, staring at the starry night sky. with your enchanter lying beside, a sense of longing and delusion fills you inside.

warning : angst, tissues maybe, reader is delusional (we all are), sad sad sad

a/n : my first fic! idk why this song reminds me of your name. it reminds me of hyuka as well, cuz he's so mystical and moon night sky water painting coded as you see in the pics up there (if that makes any sense). i cried while writing this, i hope you enjoy! m.list

Under the numerous stars, you are both lying on the soft field of grass, the leaves tickling your skin as a breeze blows by. The two pairs of gleaming eyes are mesmerised, absorbed with counting the endless glitter granules sprayed across the prussian blue sky. At times you break contact to look at the boy beside you, who represents a star himself. You can call him the sun. Though hidden in the depths of the night sky, the sun has it's presence through it's glowing moon. You can call yourself the moon, basked in his bright light that makes you shine in the darkness.

He stops his random rambles, which have been deflected from his counting, to look back at you. The sound of the breeze fills the silence between you two, while you have your eyes locked with each other. After a minute of silence, a gentle smile graces his lips that your lips reciprocate. A warm nostalgic feeling fills your heart, which reminds you of all those coffee hangouts you had with him in the winter mornings.

The last 2am you are spending with him before who knows when you will see him again, or will you ever. Shifting to a far away place to pursue your dream has its prices. If that includes losing another dream of yours, another star that you want to keep close to you forever, you nod. As if a needle has pricked your heart, the bittersweet nostalgia has morphed into the sourness of despair and hopelessness. Anyways it's too late, the words you wanted to say all along would be meaningless if you aren't going to stay for another tomorrow with him.

Your eyes well up with tears and he reaches out his hand to wipe them off. The smiles are now laces to keep the emotions within yourselves intact. You feel it is far fetched but you can't help yourself but hope that he has just you as someone who will wait for him and that he would do the same for you for years. It feels foolish and selfish to want to keep him all to yourself as you will never be ready to let him go. Those buried feelings made you hope that there isn't someone else he will fall for in that undefined timeline. You hope it isn't someone else that may cross his mind every time he looks at a star. And you feel guilty. Because you know, you don't deserve him. And you know deep down, that the stars will not fall for your wish.

That's when his phone rang. He takes out his phone, his smile spreads a little wider as he reads the name on the phone screen. He does have someone who has been waiting for him already, the same who he has fallen in love with. And it isn't you. Will never be.

taglist : @itz-yerin @minholing @cathyun @bobabeomii @ix-luna

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likes, feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated 🫶🏻

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

Text

Title: A Long Time Coming {1}

Lewis Hamilton x Friend Group Reader

Warning: Cursing, Teasing, Slow Burn, Plot

Words: 5.5k

Summary: After a long, grueling and stressful 2023 season where Lewis dominated and showed the world once again why he was the best at what he does. He walks away with his 8th championship title and plans with his closest and bestest for some much-needed R&R.

Note: If you couldn’t tell by the summary, we are manifesting with this fic, MANIFESTING HARD for Lewis for 2023. Also, thank you Ru for filling in some of the friend info for me. XOXO

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

~~~~~~~

"Just fuck already! Everyone knows you both want to. Shit it’s been years of this pining from a distance, and will they won’t they suspense. Years of both of you playing too many fucking games!"

Your eyes widened at her unexpected outburst; an outburst geared to you.

"Hey, hey, easy with those accusations, matter of fact baseless accusations."

You continued to apply her your makeup. Everyone was set to meet at the airfield at a certain time and though you were usually late for most things that didn’t include work, you really wanted to get there on time.

"Baseless? Y/N! The looks you both share, the undercover flirting that everyone has peeped at some time or another over the years since you reconnected, the connection, the--."

"Aht, Aht, Aht, stop all that mess. Whatever you're smoking please bring some along cause we all deserve to be this delusional at some point on this trip."

Gisella hip bumper you so hard that you went flying onto the bed. When you landed you busted out into a fit of giggles. "What have I told you about using that weapon against friendlies?"

"Friendlies my ass! I’m just tryna help your kitty kat finally purr. No one should have to be celibate for 4 years."

"Ain’t nobody forcing me. It's a choice," you countered.

"A choice because you’ve been dealing with fools, assholes and below subpar men and you don’t have to when you have Lewis."

"I don’t have Lewis, everyone has Lewis," you teased taking a stab at his philandering reputation.

Gisella couldn’t help but giggle. Lew's reputation was legendary. You’d heard so many rumors about every aspect of him over the years it was insane. You tried to steer clear of the majority of it but there were bombs that were dropped among your friend group and those bombs had made you know more about his alleged stroke game and alleged baseball bat pleasure stick than you should.

Those bits lived rent free in your head, but you'd never admit it out loud or to yourself for that matter. Before your head could drift off to those rent-free thoughts, you shook your head hoping to clear it. Just then Nikki walked in dressed as if this trip was a fashion show. No doubt she was wearing everything from her new line, Baciami.

"Another Lewis denial?"

"You know it!”

You rolled your eyes. When these two decided to gang up on you, you didn't stand a chance. Rolling off the bed, you scurried into the ensuite to grab the rest of your beauty items to pack. Though you knew where each item was, you took your sweet time, not wanting to hurry back into the bedroom for your friends to continue the current conversation. The vibration of your phone tucked into your front tie top buzzed against your breast. You knew it wasn’t a good thing to keep your phone against your breast, but it was usually always the most convenient place for you.

MSG Lewis: Wheels up at 8 no if, ands, or buts, I’m not even playing, kitten.

You rolled your eyes then tapped out a reply. Before you sent yours another text from him came in.

MSG Lewis: I’m not afraid to leave your ass behind.

“Ha,” you said to yourself.

Opting for a voice reply, you went off.

“Listen you may be fucking eight-time championship holder and feeling yourself hard over this newly long awaited and much deserved title but don’t get it twisted. I am the life of this party, have always been the life of this party, and will always be the life of this party. Just sit there looking pretty and expect me when you see me.”

You made sure all your sass and attitude dripped from every single word, then hit send with a smile on your face as you waited for his no doubt equally sass filled response. Sure, enough about half a minute later you got his reply, a voice one.

“Put some respect on my name and run me my respect. I am an eight-time title holder, and I don’t take anyone’s shit no matter how beautiful they are. Get your fine ass here on time or else, kitten.”

You heard the words he emphasized and the way his voice oozed of authority and control and your belly clenched. Your head went back to the rumors of his Dom kink, and you slumped against the bathroom sink with a sigh. It was just another bit of evidence you had to lock away in the untouchable, unspeakable box of things pretraining to Lewis. The man himself was in this box and definitely classified under untouchable. You listened to the message again and clung to him calling you beautiful and pointing out your fine ass. You sighed again knowing that he would see you taking this long to reply as his victory. The man was competitive in everything.

“Or else what? You know damn well that I’ve got you wrapped around my pinky finger. You ain’t goin nowhere without me and that’s that on that!”

You giggled as you send the voice reply. When you turned, there stood Gisella and Nikki both with snarky “I told you so, you’re caught” looks on their faces.

“Oh the foreplay is very telling,” Nikki said.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your things and walking back into the bedroom.

“Ugh, whatever. He says he’ll leave us if we’re not on time. So let’s try not to get left ladies.”

You disappeared across the way into your closet determined to finish up everything you still had to do. Thirty minutes later, you were all in the SUV that had been sent for you with your bags loaded in the back finally on your way to the airfield. On the drive you replied to the last emails from your agent and editor ensuring they knew you weren’t going to be too attached to your emails. Their reminders to have the rest of the chapters for your book completed by the time your returned from this trip made you roll your eyes to the back of your head.

They’d been hounding you for these chapters for three months now. Three months of daily “friendly” email remainders, three months of weekly drop ins to check on” your wellbeing, and monthly sit-down meetings that stretched for hours for mapping and plans all centered around this second book that apparently everyone was anticipating. Maybe the anticipation was the reason why you were so reluctant to write it. maybe your stroke of luck with the pen had fizzled, maybe you just weren’t into the idea anymore.

Those were the reasons you gave them when they asked what was taking so long. Those were the PC reasons. You couldn’t very well tell them that your well of inspiration for sex, smut and sultry human connections had dried and caved into the center of the Earth. You couldn’t tell them that you were dry in more ways than one. So instead of exposing yourself in that unfavorable way, you tapped out a very professional response.

Consider it done.

Exiting your emails, you sighed. Hopefully this trip ended up being for more than celebrating Lewis’ 8th title. Perhaps by the end of this vacation you’d come back with a hundred pages of unputdownable content, even if you had to fake it till you made it.

“Why is there such a huge wave of stress coming off of you now?”

“Just my manager and editor on my back again. They worse than Sallie Mae!”

Your friends laughed.

“That’s why you shouldn’t have made that first book so damn good. Now everybody waiting, tapping their feet expecting a slab of gold to drop into their hands,” Gisella said.

“So she should be mediocre?”

“I say just write something. You’ve been dragging your feet for three months. Just give them something and be done with it.”

“I mean that is an option, Nikki added.

“I don’t want to just give something half assed. I wanna feel it and I just haven’t been feeling it no matter how hard I try,” you admitted.

The silence stretched for a few moments before Nikki piped up. “Maybe a change of scenery is what you need. This trip will do you some good. We promise to give you time to write.”

You squeezed her hand as a thank you before you bounced your shoulder into Gisella for the same purpose. They may mess with you mercilessly, but they also had your back to the end.

Miraculously you made it to the airfield with five minutes to spar. The driver unloaded your bags once you got the private jet while the three of you approached the others waiting there. Once Daniel shouted your name, they all turned. You waved at Daniel, his girlfriend Cassie, and Mabdulle, his girlfriend Robin, Miles, and Andrew. They four happily waved back at you but the closer you got you realized there was another person there.

Squinting your eyes, you peered closer behind your dark sunglasses. There stood a slim, brunette with high lights at the ends of her hair giving her the ombre look. She wore tiny shorts and a crop top and knee high sparkly heeled boots. You watched her put her arm around Lewis’ shoulder then scoffed because you immediately knew why she was there. His plaything for the trip.

“Who is that boney girl?”

You snorted at Gisella. She always acted like this was the first time she’d ever seen Lewis’ antics on display.

“She is how I know Iont got Lewis, everyone’s got Lewis. “

Nikki snorted and threw her head back laughing. “This trip is sure going to be interesting.”

“Whatever, she won’t last three days before he’s sent her packing,” Gisella voiced.

“Three days huh?”

Nikki looked as if she were contemplating deeply over those words before she added to the wager. “I give it two.”

You looked between them and shook your head. You were not going to partake in this bet because they both had good odds.

“I see your ass likes playing with fire,” Lewis said holding up his designer gold and diamond watch that you knew had to have cost him half a mil.

“You know I like it when it hurts.”

“Yoooo!”

Daniel spun around in his exaggerated fashion heightening the antics. You loved him dearly. You considered him the best of Lewis’ friends. He always seemed to be genuinely looking out for him and his best interests.

“Bruv, that’s very telling,” Miles added.

You shrugged, “I’m a grown ass woman, not tryna keep no secrets. “Hi, I’m Justice!”

You looked to the beauty because Lewis. She had her hand held out a wide smile on her face and her sunglasses atop her head. no one else spoke and you felt all the eyes on you watching to see what you’d do. You didn’t know what the interest was for. You glanced at Daniel and Cassie who both lifted their brow like the synchronized couple they were while Miles has a Cheshire cat smile on his face looking like that creature in the movie Grimcutty. He clearly was expecting some showdown.

“Hey, I’m Y/N, this is Nikki and Gisella.”

You shook her hand in a pleasant way, your mother didn’t raise no ill-mannered child. Soon after, Nikki and Gisella both shook her hand, but it was done with complete lackluster. They didn’t like her for no other reason than she was coming along.

“Cute glasses,” Justice said pointing to the ones you were wearing.

“LewLewBoo has the same ones.”

LewLewBoo you thought while stifling your amusement. Lewis hated cutesy cutesy nicknames. He wasn’t against a few of them but this one you knew he hated. Lewis nudged Justice as if to say cut it out and she gave him an apologetic look, shrinking back slightly.

“Well, LewLewBoo is always trying to cop my style and be like me what more can we expect from the 8-time champion.”

His smile widened and you couldn’t help but smile back. The two of you squared up neither budging until you both went in for a hug. He lifted you then spun you.

“I am so proud of you again. So proud and so so happy!”

His arms held you off the ground like you didn’t weigh a thing. The tight squeeze gave you ever impression of how strong those arms were.

“Thank you for always being there,” Lewis said so only you could hear.

“Of course. What’re friends for?”

Your eyes locked and you saw how much your actions throughout the season meant to him. You’d been to every weekend, every event. You’d been more than just a friend to him over the last nine months. You’d been a therapist when things went wrong and he was expected to smile through it, a sounding board on different ideas he’d come up with both for racing and his other ventures, alternate strategist when you saw things a little differently than the rest and your vision connected with his, comic when he needed a good laugh about all the bullshit, entertainer when he needed to relieve some stress with a song or some other shit, storyteller when the nights were too much and he needed a soft voice with calming words to soothe the madness inside his head and everything in between. You didn’t mind. That was what friends were for.

“Are we lifting off?”

Mabdulle’s uncertain question filtered between the two of you breaking the moment. When Lewis returned you to your feet, you stepped back securing your sunglasses right back on your nose. The group of you made your way to the jet then piled in. Everyone scattered for their version of the perfect seat. The guys congregated around Lewis while the ladies broke off for their own space.

“Did you hear where we’re going?”

“Where?”

“Don’t tell her shit,” Lewis shouted spinning back to look at the group.

“Come on there is no point in keeping it a secret anymore. I’m here,” you whined.

“Quit your whining girl. You said you’d go anywhere with me and I’m ‘bout to test that shit.”

“Oh god, are we going to Switzerland so you can fuck with me Lewis?”

“I can fuck with you anywhere, girl!”

Your belly flipped from those words, and it was the most unexpected thing that you had no words for a smartass rebuttal. Lewis saw it too and cocked his head to the side as you dropped down into your seat with a perplexed look on your face.

Gisella leaned to your ear and whispered, “I’m jumping on Nikki’s bet, 2 days max cause that was clear flirting.”

You rolled your eyes and did what you did best, faked it till you made it.

“Whatever.”

The flight was as rowdy as it always was when all of you got together. The banter was what you all were known for. At every opportunity you took the bait to clown Miles because he was always coming for you. It wasn’t that you hated him, you just liked to push his buttons, liked to rile him up and tease him mercilessly. Sometimes there was this vibe to him that there was something darker to him that he kept hidden at all costs. Sometimes you saw it though. You’d told Lewis about it, but he wasn’t surprised to hear it. He was a great people reader, and he was always aware of the vibes people gave off.

You were unable to blot Justice out though. She seemed like a nice enough girl to you. An upcoming model, of course, that met Lewis at some fashion event he was at, again of course. She definitely seemed infatuated with him, definitely DTF. You didn’t knock her for that because there was absolutely nothing wrong with being DTF. However, every time she sashayed toward Lewis and sat in his lap to giggle and whisper with him you noted the way your belly rolled like you’d eaten something bad, and it was wrestling you inside. It was interesting and it was something you shoved into the travel bag of untouchable things that you absolutely should stay away from and avoid.

~~~~~

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our decent into our destination. Local time is 4pm. Please buckle your seatbelts and prepare for landing. Thank you for flying today Sir Hamilton.”

You sat up and tried to get a look out the window to get something about where you were, but it was useless, you couldn’t see at all.

MSG Lewis: Don’t worry. Sit back. You’ll love it here. You won’t want to leave in a week.

You glanced across the jet to find him sitting by himself with one leg resting on the other at the ankle. He was leaned back in the seat looking as if he were expecting someone to approach him and give him a lap dance.

MSG: You told me to take three weeks. Where are we going after?

MSG Lewis: You’ll see.

You gave him a death glare then rolled your eyes.

MSG: If I’m stressing about where we’re going this whole time, I’m going to blame you to my editor and manager when I come back with not even a page of the one hundred I’m supposed to have written.

He smiled.

MSG Lewis: Not my fault you’re curious George. One day that curiosity is gonna get you into some shit you can’t get out of.

MSG: Like what sir?

You watched his face morph through different emotions, surprise, interest, confusion then regret. You were slightly fascinated wondering what it was he was thinking. Before he could answer, Justice reached out and squeezed his thigh in a spot that said she was familiar with his body. Again, that feeling in your stomach returned but this one irritated you and you found it was harder to push it into that travel bag.

By the time everyone marched out of the jet, you were more than ready for a drink and a shower. The heat hit you like a low hanging branch to the face. This definitely wasn’t Switzerland. Once all the bags were offloaded, a tall lanky man approached the group.

“Welcome Mr. Hamilton. It is an honor to have you with us. My name is Mosi.”

He had a thick African accent. Your eyes widened. Were you where you wanted to go? If so, how did he know you wanted to come here?

“Thank you for having us, Mosi “Lewis replied.

You tried to keep your giddiness under wraps, but it was incredibly difficult.

“Follow me and my team will gather your luggage.”

A line of four people walked toward the jet while the rest of you followed Mosi. Lewis chatted with him in hushed voices that you couldn’t pick up. You wondered if he was talking so low because of you.

“Why can’t you just let him surprise you?”

You hadn’t even noticed Mabdulle moseying up beside you. You snorted realizing you’d been caught eavesdropping or attempting to.

“I mean I can, I just—want to know.”

He nodded slowly then shook his head. “He’s been planning this for a bit, couldn’t make up his mind where until like a few days ago. Sit back and let him rock.”

You began to wonder if he was so indecisive because of you. Before you even asked, Mabdulle nodded.

“The things we do for friends.”

With that he walked ahead over to Daniel and Cassie leaving you to wonder what he meant by that and why he’d said it the way he did.

After a few more steps, you saw the two charter planes that had paddles attached to the bottom of them. Another clue you said to yourself. You were in Africa and going to land somewhere with water. Everyone split up to load into the two planes. You made sure to get into the plane that Lewis and Justice weren’t getting into. You didn’t want to watch any sort of PDA. Just before Lewis got into the plane you watched he glance around as if searching for something. When his eyes landed on yours you noted the clench of his jaw but before he could make another move Justice called his name in a cutesy whine. You clenched your jaw from annoyance because if this was what you were going to have to listen to this whole trip you were going to jump out this plane without a chute.

Your jaw was dropped, hands pressed to the glass and tongue practically hanging out as you watched the scenery coast by. The turquoise in the ocean called to you, the variation of the shades of greens in the trees complimented it perfectly and you imagined sitting underneath them enjoying a nice breeze and a cocktail. To the horizon the rural lands were such a contrast to the sandy beaches it did nothing but take your breath away. It was perfect. It was everything you’d wanted when you’d seen a random picture and said in passing it was your idea of a perfect vacation. You couldn’t wait to soak it all up.

The plane landed in the ocean and glided its way to a full stop right on the beach and slowly everyone disembarked.

“Wow, this is gorgeous,” Robin said staring out into the water once she was on the sand.

“I can’t wait to get in,” Nikki added.

You were too busy snapping pictures for memories to join in on the conversation. Every shot was even better than the last and every shot had you more and more excited. The breathtaking sunset was the perfect backdrop and opening for what you hoped was going to be a great vacation.

“Welcome to & Beyond, Mozambique’s most popular destination,” Mosi said as he stood to the front of the group with his back to the uber luxurious dwellings on the property.

Your smile was so wide you knew you looked like an idiot. Lewis caught your eye, and he was smiling just as wide as you were. You mouthed “thank you” and gave you a nod while tapping the side of his nose. It was a thing both of you always did to the other to say, “I got you”. It had always been like that. he’d do whatever he could for you no matter what it was you asked for, and you’d do the same. It wasn’t a tit for tat type of thing or favor for favor it was genuine care all the time.

After a quick tour of the massive property that Lewis had taken liberty to rent out completely just so your group could really relax without any eyes, you all split up to lock down your rooms and settle in. The local time was nearing dinner and you were teetering on ravenous thanks to you skipping breakfast and only opting for a small fruit salad on the plane as lunch. Your room was perfect, it faced the ocean and gave you quite the view. You knew it would be the perfect view for any late-night writing sessions. And if this was what you were working with then you were excited to get to it.

You took a shower then plopped onto the floor in your towel to go through your luggage for something to wear for dinner. With your headphones in you went through your choices until you heard the notification sound from your phone. When you glanced down, you found a message from Lewis.

MSG Lewis: I hope you like the room; you got the best view. I hope it helps with your writer’s block.

Realization hit you, he’d planned all of this. He’d chosen this place because of you, given you the room with the best view all in hopes to get your groove back. you could have released an audible “oof” right then and there.

MSG: You didn’t have to do all of this for me.

MSG Lewis: Shut up.

MSG: I’m serious.

MSG Lewis: I like doing things for you. Plus it’s nothing more than all you’ve done for me over the years. WAFF.

The ball of tension in your belly faded and left a sinking feeling. What are friends for. You took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then slowly let it out. It was then you put your phone down and continued what you were doing with your music much higher than before. After a while you managed to put together something cute and just as you were putting on a lite layer of makeup Nikki walked in.

“What’s taking you so long?”

“Perfection takes time.”

“Heeeeeyyy!”

You laughed, bringing your attention back to the mirror to finish your brows.

“Where’s Gisella?”

“Trying to get all the gossip on Justice. She did a dive on IG and found out she’s a model but also an IG—persona. She saw a few pictures of her with a few other celebs and now she is trying to get the tea.”

You nodded, of course she was. Gisella could find out anything about anyone. She was better than TMZ, better than any other gossip blog hands down.

“You don’t seem to care about it though.”

“Why should I care? I’m all good until she proves to be a problem.”

Nikki studied you for a moment. You could feel her eyes boring holes into your back. You were not going to fall for it though. She wanted you to open up but opening up was the last thing you planned on doing on this vacation.

Dinner was amazing, the food on display across the banquet style table was exquisite. Michelin star restaurants in the states could never. Everything you put into your mouth you moaned for, every dish placed before you, you devoured, every flavor that burst over your tastebuds had you rocking in your seat. There was nothing that was off. You tried to keep up with the conversations around you while enjoying the food, but you were sure you missed plenty of useful tidbits.

When dessert came you slowly ate the decadent cake and looked around the table at all your friends. Time together like this was rare. Lewis’ schedule was nuts, and then when you added yours, it was difficult to get everyone together. Across the table, you noticed Lewis doing the same thing. He was probably thinking the same thing you were. When your eyes met, his smile widened. It was soft and inviting, so similar to him. It slipped for a moment and was replaced by a crinkled brow and a screwed jaw. He looked like he was thinking deeply about something. However, the look quickly disappeared. Raising his glass to you, he bopped his head. You returned the gesture and returned your attention to your plate.

After dinner, no one seemed eager to go to bed, instead the drinks rolled out and the stories began. No one was safe from being put on blast, no one was left untouched from some embarrassing story from some point in their life and because of that the laughs never ended. When everyone said their goodbyes, you decided to set yourself up to write. After getting everything ready and setting your atmosphere just the way you wanted you sat down with the view of the soft rolling waves of the ocean as your focal point and a bottle of wine beside you. After taking the time to reread your last written chapter you were half a bottle down in the wine with worries of how you were going to match that steam.

“All right, Y/N, let’s get this down and done.”

You cracked your knuckles then set your hands ready to fly across the keyboard. Twenty minutes later, your screen was empty and your fingers still hovering over the keyboard.

“Shit.”

You grabbed the wine and guzzled the rest then groaned when you realized it was finished. You ventured through the villa to one of the bars and picked out two more bottles. You were determined to get something down. You’d take anything at this point, a sentence, a word. Hell, even a period. Sitting back down, you popped the top of the wine and took a few gulps foregoing the glass sitting to your left. what was the point? This wine tasted a lot stronger than the one you’d just had, and you were grateful for that. With a mouthful of wine, you set yourself for attempt number two.

Like the first attempt, twenty minutes later you had nothing. That led you to finish the second bottle of wine as you talked to yourself about nothing in particular just your failure to do the simplest of tasks. An hour later, the only thing you’d accomplished was finishing the wine you’d gotten from the bar. You were surrounded by the empty bottles that were scattered around the floor while you were sprawled on the bed. You’d abandoned your laptop and was just staring at the ceiling waiting for the wine to put you to sleep. As your eyes lulled closed, you heard muffled moans that sounded as if they were coming from the room beside you. With your eyes wide, you held still waiting to see if you’d imagined it. A few seconds later, they sounded again.

What the hell? You knew either Nikki or Gisella were beside you and you also knew that they couldn’t be busting it down with anyone. Your eyes widened even more than you thought it was Gisella and Mabdulle. You’d always gotten the vibes that they were into each other but wanted to keep it on the low.

“Oh my gosh.”

You sprang up and pressed your ear to the wall like a total creeper. You planned on holding this over her head for the rest of eternity whenever she tried to come for you. It was quiet over there and you didn’t know if you should be thankful or feel bad about it. Someone was not putting in work.

“Just stop.”

You pressed closer hearing that. Stop what?

“I can make you feel good.”

You began to wonder why she was pleading with him. This was not Gisella. She took what she wanted, and you knew for a fact she knew how to have a grown man sounding like a whimpering child. You heard slurping sounds and more muffled moaning then gagging. Other than that, it was silent. This definitely wasn’t Gisella. whoever it was did not know their way around a dick. The silence was very telling. You stifled a laugh because you hoped it was Miles, hoped he’d somehow picked someone up and was getting the worst lackluster head of his life. However, it was not.

“Mmm, Lewis.”

Your smile dropped, your eyed bugged and you made a face of disgust. No fucking way. Lewis took the room beside you. He knew this was the room he’d chosen for you, which meant this was a deliberate choice. What the fuck? Was he fucking with you? Why?

“It's not working, it’s cool.”

“No, let me try some more. What’re you thinking about?”

He sighed. “W-A-F-F.”

At that you pulled away from the wall as if it had turned into lava. What the actual fuck! The slurping and moaning began again but you could tell it was not from Lewis, you could tell that he was completely disinterested. As you listened part of you wanted to laugh because this was just pathetic. Another part of you wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear. You’d never been on this side of things, never overheard his shenanigans, never been the fly on the wall. You didn’t know how to act, much less what to think. Another part of you wanted to kick the wall down and show her how it’s done, but another part that was seeing radioactive green and all you wanted to do was She Hulk smash her ass then Sparta kick her into the ocean telling her to doggy paddle back to the states. Was it a strong reaction? Yes, it was. Did you understand it? Not at all.

So you laid there hearing her failed attempts at making him feel good while letting your thoughts wander on what he meant by saying he was thinking about the code between you, the code he’d said to you several times that day. You knew one thing for certain, tomorrow you were changing your room.

PT 2 Coming....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#a long time coming duo 1 #a long time coming one shot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x black reader #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic #f1 fanfic

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monstersandmaw · 8 months

Note

So I've just read the entirety of Gabe and Odessa's story for the first time today.

Ghosti. It's so good wtf. I don't have the words to tell you how much I adore those two idiots in love and all the sweetness and fluff that surrounds them.

I am astonished. Positively befuddled. Absolutely and undoubtedly stunned by how beautifully written everything is.

Thank you so much for sharing all that hard work with us.

Thank you???? SO MUCH???? FOR THIS??????? :D :D

Here's a WIP of Gabe's POV from the 'between seasons interlude' thing I worked on, as a thank you, and hopefully a treat?

Contents: shifting, pining, mention of mating/true mates, estranged family, and fluff Wordcount: 2957

The shift was already prickling along his skin the moment her little red VW was out of sight through the trees.

Thunder sensed it first, going tense before herding Axel gently away from the metal fence and chuffing at Mia to follow. For once, they both obeyed without question, and Gabe’s awareness of them faded.

A series of tiny tremors skittered through his muscles and he snarled as a frisson of pain shot up his spine. He needed to get out of sight of the main road and into the woods, but each step he took away from the direction she’d gone felt like he was being torn apart. His wolf was screaming at him to chase after her, throwing itself against the walls of his mind in desperation to make right whatever he’d done wrong, and no amount of human reasoning that she had just been there on holiday would placate it. Wolves didn’t understand time the way humans did and he found no way to convince his wolf that this wasn’t goodbye forever; that he’d see her again in no time.

Her.

Odessa.

His mate.

That did make him pause, with one foot through the front door, the other still out on the veranda.

He’d mated her.

After leaving the city at just shy of nineteen, he’d spent the intervening fourteen years never expecting to mate anyone, and in less time than a single cycle of the moon after meeting her, he’d mated her.

“Fuck.”

Gabe’s eyes rolled closed and he clutched the doorframe as real, genuine pain lanced through his chest at the growing physical distance between them, and he let out a muted grunt through clenched teeth. He was bound to her for life, and he’d chickened out of telling her what he’d done. “You moon-damned idiot,” he snarled at himself, kicking his legs back into action and slamming the front door shut behind him so hard it made the OS map on the wall to his right vibrate. “You bloody well should have told her.”

He’d told himself that he was holding off telling her because he hadn’t wanted her to feel obliged to stay with him in any way, and while that was the case, he knew he had also just been a coward about it. He might have been certain of his feelings for her, but he had a wolf’s instinct to rely on. She was human, and she deserved the time to make up her own mind about him.

Silently, as he levered off his boots and crossed the living room that still smelled of pancakes and strawberries and of Odessa, he vowed to tell her the next time he saw her face to face. Mating wasn’t like a human marriage ceremony, where it was fundamentally just words, no matter how earnestly they were spoken. This was something that went down to his bones, that bound him to her forever, and he’d chosen it after only two weeks of knowing her. She was his One though. He’d known it the moment he’d looked at her in the Centre and her wide, dark eyes had skated down his body in a way he’d almost been able to feel like a physical touch. There would never be another for him now, no matter what.

The wolf paced and snarled about in his head and in his heart, and he knew there was no way to silence it now. With the moon this close and his mate drawing further and further away, he was facing a shift whether he wanted to or not.

He just about managed to get his clothes off before the cramping began in his shoulders and back, and he pitched forwards onto his hands and knees to let the shift sweep over him in the middle of his living room. God, the last time he’d done this, abandoned himself to the shift, he’d mated her. Just the memory of sinking his knot into her wet heat was enough to make him howl and forget the pain of the transformation.

When it was over, he was out the back door and halfway through the wolf-dog enclosure before he had even realised it. Thunder kept the others back, physically penning them into the den, and Gabe lifted his lip to warn him to stay put. Thunder dropped his head and licked his lips in submissive understanding, and let him go without asking to come along.

Mud beneath his paws, claws digging into the soft, cold earth. Damp air filling his nose. Pine needles. Deer scent.

South.

Run.

Find her.

He drew up short at the edge of an open meadow and stood stock still apart from his heaving chest.

A fly buzzed past his ear and he twitched it in irritation.

This was too close to being feral. Spooked by that realisation, he shook himself and forced himself to take a step back, to think.

I am not an animal. I am a wolf, but I am a man.

Mate.

Find her.

Again, he shook his head, snapping and snarling.

Think.

His mind was like the mud of the forest behind him — cloying and slow.

He skirted the forest at a steady lope, still on all fours since it was easier to run like that despite his slightly longer hind legs, and as he turned instinctively south west, he realised where he was going. The road cut through a rocky pass that was blanketed in thick trees, and if he was careful about it, he might be able to get there before Odessa’s little red car did. He could watch her.

He knew it was stupid and reckless and dangerous, but the wolf leapt at the thought of catching up to their mate, as though it had become a game of long-distance tag.

They did make it to the promontory before her, and when that red VW trundled into view, he lifted his nose to the sky and howled in triumph. The car didn’t stop though. It didn’t slow, and the sound died in his throat. She didn’t know he was there. She couldn’t sense him the way he could feel her, like a tug on his soul.

The wolf lay down on the rock with his muzzle on his paws and watched the car vanish for a second time. The day drifted by, and he didn’t stir for hours. He felt the moon rising though — another tug in his chest like the pull of his mate, only even more primal — and he threw back his head again and sang his heartache out to her like a child crying to his mother. The moon had always been there for him, in a way his own mother never had been. Ruth Kirkbride was a hard woman, all sharp angles and cutting words, even when her boys had been young children, but the moon was soft curves and gentle guidance, and he lost himself to the wolf that night for the first time in years.

When he woke up, it was to the sound of a car engine and running water, and he panicked. Looking around, he found a small, human building made from cut trees. A cabin.

Shit, he thought, realising exactly what he’d done. His wolf had brought him to the place where his mate’s scent was strongest and he’d lain like an oversized hound outside the door, waiting for her to come back.

And now someone was here to tend to the cabin and ready it for the next visitors. He growled. They were going to destroy her scent with chemicals that burned his nose, and —

Hide!

The wolf took him into the trees in a swirl of dark fur and he lay low in the bracken, just as he had that first night when he’d glimpsed Odessa through the pines in the dark. Except the person who drove up to the cabin and got out of the 4x4 was not Odessa. It was Tala. He backed away and skirted many miles around to avoid her, following the soft calling of Thunder’s warm baritone, checking in. He lifted his muzzle while he paused to lap at another fast-flowing stream and, with his chops still running with icy water, he told them he was coming back.

Slinking back into his house like a thief, Gabe felt ashamed of himself. He forced the shift to ripple through him the moment he was indoors and he hobbled upstairs to run himself a bath. Odessa’s scent filled the bedroom and he considered climbing into bed and losing himself in it for a while, but he knew he should wash the mud off his hands and feet and make himself feel human again. The wolf was angry and brooding, unsettled by the absence of his mate from the den, and confused about why they weren’t going after her.

Gabe phoned in sick after his bath and curled up under the sheets, burying his nose in Odessa’s pillow before exhaustion claimed him and he slept the rest of the day away. It was only the yipping rebukes of Mia that brought him to consciousness again, and after nuzzling once more at Odessa’s pillow and filling his lungs with the scent of her, he got up, dressed, and went to take proper care of his dogs.

Life resumed its pattern after that, though it was hard to keep his focus. It got better when he acquired a smartphone and had an engineer come out to install internet at his cabin. Odessa’s answering selfie had taken him off guard, and when he hit video-call it had gone a long way to quieting his pacing wolf once more. She looked happy and safe. Jake had not resurfaced. She’d been out with her friends, who were apparently dying to meet him and had teased her endlessly about falling in love like it was a Hallmark movie.

She was also looking at job options, but she seemed a little cagey about the details, so he left that subject alone for the time being and made a note to ask Carys if she knew of anything that might appeal to Odessa in the area. The park service must need some kind of legal team, though he was embarrassed to admit to himself that he had no idea what that might involve. He knew the woods and how they worked, but much beyond that was a foggy mystery to him. Until Odessa, he’d never had any reason to think much about it.

A week after Odessa had returned to the city, he opened his piece of shit laptop and began an email to his brother. It took eleven drafts and three complete re-writes to get something he was confident about, and before he lost his nerve completely, he hit send at 2:03am.

Raph,

It’s been a while, I know. Somehow it’s almost Christmas and the last email you had from me was back in the spring. I hope you’re doing ok. I think about you a lot.

Something’s happened in my life lately that’s made me rethink a lot of stuff, and I know I’ve not been the brother I maybe used to be, and certainly not the brother you deserved, and I truly am sorry for that. We were out of touch for so long, and when we started to email again all those years later, it was all so distant and cold. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I never expected to find someone out here that I wanted to share my life with, but it’s happened all the same. I met someone while she was visiting, and she’s my One, Raph. I know it. We’re mated. She lives in the city though, and for the time being, we have to do distance. It’s been rough, but I’m handling it better than I thought I would. We talk every day, which helps.

I know I don’t have any right to ask you for favours, but I have one to ask of you anyway. I’d like to visit my mate for a weekend, but you know as well as I do that I’ll have to speak to mother first. Would you advocate for me if it becomes necessary? I don’t want to interfere with the pack — I don’t intend to see anyone or involve myself with pack business while I’m visiting at all, though if you wanted to meet somewhere neutral, I’d love that.

Let me know your answer when you can.

Gabe

Less than a day later, Raph had replied.

Gabe,

I could hardly believe my eyes when I read your last email. It’s always good to hear from you again, though I was surprised to hear that you’re mated! She must be one hell of a woman. Can’t promise she’ll let you stay, but if you need someone in your corner, Gabe, you have me. When are you planning to come? Let me know and I’ll set something formal up for you with mother. She won’t like it, but she’ll at least have to give you an audience.

Raph

Relief flooded through him so violently that his vision swam and he sat back against the soft sofa cushions, dizzy. The fans on his brick of a laptop whirred and for a moment he wondered if the sound was in his own skull it was so loud. His heart thudded and the early morning light felt far too bright against his eyes. Outside, snow had piled up on the gravel and on the roof of his house, insulating it like a proper den in the winter, and the wolf-dogs were loving the snowfall. He could hear Mia already haring around the enclosure, snapping at snowflakes and careering to a sliding halt, face first, ass in the air as she troughed through the snow like a pig in mud. Even Axel was enjoying himself.

Did Odessa like the snow? The realisation that he had no idea suddenly pained him, and he shook himself. That discovery could wait. Hitting her contact info in his recent calls list, he was three rings in when he realised it was six o’clock in the morning on a Saturday, but it was too late now. She answered blearily, the phone camera struggling in the dark room, and his heart clenched at the sight of her looking so sweetly dishevelled and sleepy.

“Morning,” he grinned apologetically.

“What?” she frowned, squinting in the light of her phone as she fumbled for the light beside her. “What is it?”

“I’ve been emailing my brother,” he said. That got her attention, and he smiled as she came more sharply awake.

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Raph said he’ll advocate for me. I’d… I’d like to come and see you…” he said, trying to ignore the fact that his sudden burst of courage and elation was sputtering out like a guttering candle flame. “If that’s still alright?” If she was having second thoughts about having him there, it would crush him, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it off his face.

“Alright?” she practically shrieked at him, grinning so that her cheeks bunched up in a way that made him want to hold them in his hands.

She scrabbled around like an upturned spider, flailing with one hand get the duvet out of the way, and revealed her adorable cupcake pyjamas in the process. The neckline sank down to reveal her bare collarbones and Gabe ached all over to run his teeth over them and suck bruises into her delicate skin and cover her with the scent of him so that she would know he was hers. Instead, she caught him looking and he smiled bashfully.

“Of course it’s alright! Yes! When? I was going to suggest making a trip to see you soon, but that works too, if you’re sure about it?”

“I’m sure,” he said, trying not to sound too intense. “How does next weekend sound?”

A look of wide-eyed joy spread across her face. “Yes! Oh my god, perfect!” she actually made some kind of inhuman screeching noise that got a bit garbled over her phone’s microphone, but he didn’t overly mind. He was fairly certain Thunder and the others would have been able to hear it. “Why are you awake now anyway?” she asked. “You do know what a weekend is, right?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’ve just picked up Raph’s message. He’s an early morning person too, so…”

“Oh my god, you’ve only just this second heard back from him?” she asked. He wondered fleetingly how she could have been a good lawyer when she wore all her emotions so plainly on her face, but perhaps she was different when she was at work. The thought of seeing her dressing down some scumbag in a courtroom made him unexpectedly hot under the collar, and he nearly missed her next question, which followed on the heels of the first without waiting for an answer. “…long will you be staying?”

He scrubbed at his beard and thought idly that he needed to trim it, and shrugged. “I’d set off early from here on Saturday morning to be with you by about nine or ten, and then, if she lets me stay, I’d go back on Sunday night or Monday morning. Does that work?”

“Of course,” she said, and he could practically feel the excitement rolling off her. God, he wished he could smell it too — practically taste the way her body was reacting — but he would have to make do with just being able to see her. His mate. God, she looked so happy. That was miracle enough for him, he supposed.

Hopefully one day there'll be Season Two of Gabe and Odessa - I've written bits and bobs and snippets of it, and I know the rough outline. It just takes a lot of time and effort...

If you enjoyed this, which I hope you did, please consider reblogging it, as well as the original Season One story.

Take care of yourselves, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#gabe & odessa #werewolf #werewolf x human #exophilia #werewolf boyfriend #male werewolf x female character #shifter romance

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sparkysxi · 24 days

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Alien Stage Predictions

so ROUND 6 dropped. As an Ivan fan I am DEVASTATED. but we must move on (have copium he and sua are secretly ok) (this is VIVINOS we’re talking about those bitches are dead) so I decided to have a little speculation about future content in order to strengthen myself against the inevitable heartbreak I will feel

ROUND 6 is the official halfway point of the series, so here are a few things I think could happen/future videos likely to drop:

An IVANTILL video like MIZISUA explaining their backstory (the lab/adoption center)

A solo Luka video and a solo Mizi video

perhaps a video for Isaac and Dewey. I just think they deserve a duet but I am not as confident in this prediction

A video about the human rebellion (perhaps rescuing Till?)

A video in the style of TOP 3, as an in-universe advertisement for the Finals/ROUND 7

Speaking of the finals, that’s literally going to be a self-harm-off.

Till has lost two of the most important people in his life and was already Not There during ROUND 6 he is not doing well, and I think Luka only really feels “alive” on the Alien Stage, so he may be trying to kill himself through entering the competition multiple times

Or Luka is fucking insane and wants a mountain of bodies behind him to prove his worth to the aliens

maybe because of his laundry list of physical illnesses-perhaps Luka is scared he will be abandoned or killed for being a burden to his owner?

I think I will go INSANE if Mizi manages to rescue Till, like they get out of the arena, but Till’s crazy ass goes BACK INSIDE, like how he did for Mizi all those years ago, because he’s not leaving without Ivan’s body to at least bury him properly

like the cinematic parallels that could be achieved here UGH *chefs kiss*

also I think it would be really cool if Till’s character became an exploration of heteronormativity-he’s been pining after Mizi after all this time, but he realizes that the admiration he has for her is not the same as the love she shared with Sua or the love/obsession Ivan had for him

maybe Till is gay/bisexual-or on the ace/aro spectrum

regardless of what he is the societal expectations are likely that girl humans like boy humans and boy humans like girl humans

Till enters his queer rebellion era how DARE these aliens expect him to do ANYTHING

alien historians will call MiziSua and IvanTill “just really good friends”

anyway I also expect more Sua and Ivan hallucinations

perhaps they’ll act as “guiding spirits” from here on out??

wouldn’t it be cool if we got a post-death Ivan and Sua duet? maybe they’re singing to Till and Mizi from the afterlife

I’m less confident about that one as well but I think it would be neat

a video of saving the children from Anakt Garden-with Till at the helm using skills Ivan taught him-less confident here again but would be fun nonetheless

I think it’s pretty likely BOTH Hyuna and Luka will die by the end of the series-Hyuna’s already injured and Luka has death flags (wearing all white and having feelings of love/affection/obsession towards another who does not reciprocate it equally)

The non reciprocated love appears to be a common thread between our male contestants, doesn’t it?

However Hyuna may survive-half the cast lives, half the cast dies kinda thing

They all end up missing their counterparts

I think ultimately the final scene of the series will be very melancholy-they’ve won, but at what cost

And a lot of choking

Also: one very emotional scene where the characters actually talk to one another. Not singing: talking to one another

#these are just my thoughts and speculations ill be happy with whatever vivinos is cooking for us #i was wrong with my round 6 predictions so take these with a healthy pinch of salt #alien stage #alnst #...does alnst merch do international shipping #i dont think so

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cinnbar-bun · 1 month

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The Outlaw Torn

Pairing: Risotto Nero x GN!Reader

Summary: "The more I search, the more my need for you / The more I bless, the more I bleed for you."

Risotto Nero reflects during a rainy day, all while trying to avoid the way everything reminds him of you.

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~1.3k

Notes: Risotto Nero you will always be famous <3 enjoy some pining Risotto who broods for you. Title based off 'The Outlaw Torn' by Metallica. No spoilers, pre-VA, reader is GN.

AO3 link here!

Napoli during this time of year rains plenty. The smell of the rain against the stone roads makes him pause and inhale deeply. A young child accidentally brushes past him, clinging to her hat as she carries a roll of bread from the nearby bakery. He glances to the other side of the road and notices a businessman holding an umbrella and jogging while he clings to his business papers, some of which were flying behind him.

Napoli is full of life, even in the rain, something you taught him. Every lesson he learns from you, he keeps close to his heart. He closes his eyes, just letting the rain drench him. A bike bell rings as he feels a draft of air zoom past him. A young boy swears at him in Italian for just standing there, but he does not move or even flinch.

Napoli is beautiful, but it will never be as beautiful as you. It will never be enough, not in the way you were.

But he knows why you are not here, by his side, with him, for him. He opens his eyes and looks at his reflection in a window on at a small jewelry store.

Black sclera… red eyes… those are his most standout and defining traits. You said they were entrancing, that you wanted to look at them for a long time- something he didn’t usually allow. But for you, he could spare the time and have you appreciate his form.

The jewelers were releasing a new type of ring and diamond cut for the season. A teardrop shape to recognize the rainy season in Napoli.

Would you like something like that?

His mind wanders briefly before he turns away and continues to walk back to the hideout.

Patience. Don’t think of such things yet.

It’s rather selfish, really. It is because of him that you did not get closer to one another.

Risotto Nero knows better than to let his emotions get the best of him.

But you, you are an anomaly that ruined him, took parts of him and held it hostage, refusing to give them back.

He almost wished for you to keep them so you could remember him, at the very least.

Risotto knows it’s in poor taste to pursue you, after all, what assassin would ever keep a living trace of their existence somewhere? Who would ever allow for someone to get so close to them? Who would allow a piece of their heart to be free outside and possibly get injured as collateral?

Selfishness, really, is what keeps him thinking about you. If he was the same 18 year old who mercilessly hunted and killed his cousin’s murderer, you wouldn’t even be on his mind. He wouldn’t have ever entertained such a thing. But twenty-something Risotto has admittedly grown softer- perhaps due to a combination of La Squadra and your continued presence in his life.

He knows you would wait for him forever if he asked. He knows that you love him too deeply, too much for him to ever deserve. He couldn’t have found a more devoted and loyal person in all of Italy if he tried. He knows that and it kills him in more ways than it has any right to.

But the Risotto in his twenties knows something his younger self would never know.

You shouldn’t be with him.

You should be free, loved by a man who can offer you safety, comfort, and an easy life that does not put you in danger at every turn.

Even though every drop of blood in his body rushes for you, even though he would gladly bleed out for you- you don’t deserve his bullshit, he reckons. Even though he yearns to hold you close, prays for a chance to call you his and his alone, he knows it’s for the best you’re not beside him.

He can’t trust himself around you. You make him want something beyond revenge or money or territory. You’ll be a distraction.

That’s what he tells himself over and over, because Risotto is a selfish man who only has one thing on his mind- power.

He’s too good at his job, too good at killing and ending lives for the sake of his mission. And yet, here he is, untrusted by that very same boss who orders him around, no territory to claim for his squad, and hardly any money from the drug trafficking in the streets. It pisses him off that due to his success, he cannot reap the rewards from his completed assassinations.

If he allowed himself to be swayed by you, he probably wouldn’t mind this arrangement and would continue to do as told.

But it’s quite a headache, he has to admit. He knows a few of the leaders even live in mansions by the shore or expensive penthouses and can overlook their territory. He has none of those, and it’s apparent with every passing day how little his boss thinks of him and his squad.

I don’t even need a mansion… I need that villa near the gardens and the shops below.

That villa has been your dream for a long time. He can remember the first time you absentmindedly pointed it out to him, wistfully sighing as you admitted you wanted it.

“My dear grandfather was friends with the owner, so we’d visit sometimes. It’s the most beautiful house ever.”

Risotto hadn’t ever cared about houses or decorations much, but after a curious look around the place at night, he had to agree that it is a nice home. It would be a lovely place to call his own, but more than that, it would have you, and that immediately made everything better.

Would you be happy in that home? Would you like to walk beside him to the marketplace below? Would you enjoy sitting on the veranda with him while you two drank cappuccinos in the morning?

These questions and the many what-ifs he would conjure up plagued him like this every day. He didn’t feel the cold rain pour down on him continuously, only thinking of you smiling at him in your shared villa. It was sunny in that dream, warm and loving. He didn’t mind the terrible weather now, even with how it soaked his clothes and chilled his bones.

He exhales and lets the rain wash over him more before he decides to continue walking back to the hideout.

He couldn’t see you yet. Not yet… he wasn’t ready. He didn’t have the influence he wanted- needed- to offer you what you deserved.

The walk to his place is somber and silent as Napoli is sheltered inside warm houses from the rain. He curses himself for encouraging you to stay away. The farther you are, the closer he wants you. The more he tells himself to stop, the more he wants to go. The more he tries to shield himself from these feelings, the more he falls deeper into these desires.

Just as he is about to cross the street, he glances to your house. It’s right there, a mere block from his hideout. So close, yet so far. He stops in front of your door, unsure if he should take the risk or make such a jump.

He’s torn, torn between protecting you from his lifestyle and keeping you bound to him as his love.

He aches for you, desires you, needs you. But he can’t say that without complicating everything. He swallows, ready to turn heel and continue to his home, to La Squadra and his dirty life.

Yet, for some reason, he finds himself stepping toward your door. It’s as if his body is on autopilot, forcing him, magnetizing him to you again. He sighs and makes a fist, rapping his knuckles against your door.

…Well… a few moments away from the rain is never a bad idea. Especially in Napoli, where life is beautiful all around.

#x reader #reader insert #jojo vento aureo #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jjba imagines #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader

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