#listen i know i posted the first part yesterday
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exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt 1 | pt3
— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader
— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)
— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.
— tags: conversing, getting to know one another
— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification
— word count: 6.2k
— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.
Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!
The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.
Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?
You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.
You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.
People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.
Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.
When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.
You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."
He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."
You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.
Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."
In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."
"Did you eat already?"
You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."
He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.
"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"
Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."
He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.
You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."
You look at him. "Ok..."
The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"
You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.
"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."
He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"
You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."
Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.
You shrug. "It's fine."
He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.
"Do you know anything about her?"
You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."
Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.
He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.
Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.
"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.
You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.
Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.
You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.
"Turn around."
Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.
Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.
You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.
When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.
You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."
You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.
"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.
"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."
"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.
Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."
You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."
"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."
You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.
"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.
Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.
"Just what?" Lexi prods.
"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."
Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.
Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."
Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.
"What do you mean by abusive?"
She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."
Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.
He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.
You put your things away, then look to Nate.
In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.
"You ready?"
You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.
Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.
Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.
You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.
Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.
It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.
But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.
He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.
And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.
He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.
“Do you sleep with this?”
Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”
He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.
In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.
He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.
Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.
And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.
It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.
You need him.
You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.
He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.
He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”
You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”
He nods.
He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.
He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.
He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.
You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.
He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.
He closes the doors in front of him.
What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.
He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.
He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.
Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.
He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.
He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.
And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.
Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.
You walk over, sitting in it.
He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.
“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.
You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.
He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”
Your brows furrow. “Do what?”
“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”
You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”
He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.
You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?
And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.
You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.
He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”
“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.
He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.
“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”
You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”
In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.
If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.
“What if it wasn’t?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”
You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”
You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.
“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”
He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.
“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.
“You won’t.”
You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?
You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”
He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”
“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”
He grows silent.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”
He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”
He doesn’t elaborate further than that.
“So…what’s your favorite color?”
He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”
Somehow it seems fitting for him.
He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”
“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”
He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”
You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”
He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”
“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”
He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”
Your brows furrow. “Who?”
“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”
“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.
He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”
Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.
“How come we were never friends?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”
You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”
“You know what they say: opposites attract.”
You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.
He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”
To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.
“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”
“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”
You let out a small laugh.
“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.
“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.
“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”
Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.
So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.
“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.
A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.
"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”
Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.
And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.
“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.
“Psychotic?”
You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”
He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.
“Have you ever dated before?”
You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”
He looks over at you. “Never?”
You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”
His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.
It surprises him.
“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.
You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”
He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.
No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.
He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?
God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.
But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.
“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”
You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”
He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”
You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.
You clear your throat. “My turn.”
He lays back again.
“Can I ask about your dad?”
He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”
You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”
“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.
Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.
He stands and you fill with guilt.
You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.
“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”
He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.
Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.
Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.
He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”
You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”
He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”
He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.
“Like what?” You ask quietly.
He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”
You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”
“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.
You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.
“Okay.”
He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.
You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”
He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.
“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”
You gently take the dress from him.
He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”
Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.
While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.
He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.
When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.
You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.
You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.
He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”
You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.
You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.
He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.
You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.
He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.
He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?
He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.
You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.
Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.
Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.
He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.
“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”
“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.
He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.
Today will be one step closer to getting that future.
He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.
He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.
Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.
#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs imagine#euphoria x reader
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Part 1
Steve visits Eddie often. He loves being around the other man, loves how kind Eddie is, how funny he is for someone who rules the dead. He seems to love making Steve laugh and is always cracking jokes that send the goddess into giggles.
Honestly, Steve spends more time than he should in the Underworld, but Eddie has so many duties to tend to, it makes more sense for Steve to come to him than the other way around.
It’s nearly a year since he met Eddie that his joy is brought to an end. Steve is summoned to Olympus, is told that his visits are sending the world into chaos.
He didn’t know that traveling to the Underworld would cut the human world off from his magic, that the plants that bloomed with his presence would die off when the connection is severed.
Zeus bans him from visiting Hades, and Steve ignores the smug look on Ares’ face, the pitying looks from Hera and Aphrodite. Not all of the gods are here to witness his humiliation, but there are enough to make him flush with shame, to have him leaving as soon as he's able to.
Aphrodite catches him before he gets too far, her hair and robes both immaculate even as tears stream down her face. “Ares told them where you were going. I tried to stop him, but he’s… bitter. Jealous.”
She takes his hand, holds it between her own. “I can tell that your feelings are true, and that Hades feels the same for you. I wish I could help you, Persephone. You both deserve happiness.”
And like a stroke of lightning, Steve knows what must be done.
He thanks her and leaves Olympus, finds the nearest gate and descends into the Underworld. Cerberus is given three loving pets as Steve passes by, heading to the garden behind Eddie’s home.
The plants have been thriving thanks to Steve’s frequent visits, the flowers are in full bloom and the plants that can fruit are full and heavy with produce. He plucks a pomegranate from its branch, and stares at it as he remembers.
The goddess had found Eddie eating one on his third or fourth visit, and the older had stopped him when he’d gone to grab a few of the seeds for himself.
“You can’t eat anything grown in this realm. You’ll be stuck here if you do.”
Eddie had looked almost sad as he’d said it, and Steve had tipped his head to the side.
“Are you saying you don’t want me around?”
“No! I mean, I would-” Eddie stopped himself, took a breath. “You don’t belong down here. This place is far too dark, too bleak. It doesn’t deserve you.”
And Steve could read between the lines, could hear what Eddie wasn’t saying. He had ignored it at the time, let Eddie be right, but now? Now Steve knows that Eddie is the only one who deserves him.
Call him selfish, but no one has ever treated Steve the way Eddie does, has cared for him so, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his days in the Underworld, side by side with the man he loves.
He tears open the pomegranate as a voice comes from the house.
“Steve? I didn’t realize you were here.”
Steve turns to face him, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s hands, dripping with red as he holds the fruit in his hands. His face pales and his eyes jump back to Steve’s.
“What are you doing?” he asks, taking a cautious step forward.
“Do you love me?” Steve asks in return. Just seeing Eddie has firmed his decision, and he stands, unwavering as he watches the other man pause at the question.
“I do. More than anything.” Eddie seems nervous, but his voice is steady, and Steve knows he's telling the truth.
“If I asked it, would you let me stay? Let me stand by your side for the rest of time itself?”
Eddie steps closer, now in arms reach. “I would. I would not turn you away, even if it meant my life.”
Steve’s eyes don’t waver from Eddie’s as he scrapes a handful of seeds from the fruit and shoves them in his mouth.
The juice is tart at first, but is followed by a delicious sweetness, something that reminds Steve of Eddie himself, and as he swallows, Steve can feel the shift within him.
Hands grab his face and the fruit falls to the ground as Steve grabs Eddie in return, both meeting in a desperate kiss. Magic flows between them, invisible threads tying them together in a bond so concrete, even the Fates themselves could not cut them.
They pull back after a moment, and Steve’s eyes drop to the red smear across Eddie’s mouth, something that is surely mirrored across his own.
“My wonderful little goddess,” Eddie mutters, awestruck as he places another kiss to Steve’s lips, more tender than the last.
“You're stuck with me now,” the goddess responds, sending them both into giggles, and yeah. It feels good to be selfish.
(Later, Steve will cut a deal with the rest of the gods. He will come back for half a year at a time and tend to his duties, leaving his beloved twin Demeter in charge while he’s gone, in exchange for Zeus’ blessing to have children. Zeus will have no choice but to agree.)
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Tagging @stardustonpages because they respectfully asked for more <3
#Im not specifying other gods but i did have characters in mind while writing them#The only thing ill confirm is that Robin is Demeter#Dustin is Zagreus and Max is Melinoe#I’m not joking when I say I think they grow them in the garden in the Underworld#They just grow two babies like plants and they’re fucking cherished#They come into the world screaming and covered in dirt#and Hades and Persephone experience love at first sight all over again but different#hades and persephone au#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve x eddie#stranger things#joey writes#listen i know i posted the first part yesterday#but yall#the muses have me tight in their grip#ficlet
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HAPPY MARRIAGE
- nanami kento x reader
“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.”
you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love
genre:
post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!
note:
this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos
to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3
listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
No divorce ever comes easy.
When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.
When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.
Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.
“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”
Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—
“Gojo, you prick!”
Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"
Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”
"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"
"Wha—"
"Because of you!"
"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"
You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"
Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.
"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."
Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.
He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"
You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"
"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"
"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"
You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.
And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.
. . .
He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.
More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.
Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.
Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.
Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.
“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”
Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...
“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”
“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”
He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.
“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”
"Nanami-san, you okay?"
He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."
"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.
Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."
Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.
Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."
Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.
It might verge on invading his privacy, but—
"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."
To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."
"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."
"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."
"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"
Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.
"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."
"But still... now—"
To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:
"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."
Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."
Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”
In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.
It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.
“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”
Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.
It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.
"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"
You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...
And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."
That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.
"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"
You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.
"I'm fine."
"Oh, that's good then."
Silence. This was the absolute worst.
Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.
He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"
You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."
Darn it. Another dry reply.
"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."
"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."
"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."
"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."
Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.
"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.
It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.
"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.
Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?
"I can take care of myse—"
"That's a whole load of bullshit!"
Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?
The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.
“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”
"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"
Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.
Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—
Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.
Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.
"Oiii, Nanami!"
He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.
"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"
"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."
“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”
“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”
What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.
“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”
But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.
Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"
"What exactly is she not good with?"
"Everything? You never ask her."
This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.
"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."
With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—
He knew you were there, hearing all of this.
Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."
. . .
There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.
But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.
But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.
By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.
Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.
You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.
At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.
Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.
This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.
If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.
Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.
"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"
And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.
Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."
"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"
For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.
"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"
Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.
Until—
"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"
...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.
You're hurt?
"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"
Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.
"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.
"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"
"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.
At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.
Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?
This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—
To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.
Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—
Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?
Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.
Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.
And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—
Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—
Huh, what?
The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.
"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.
His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.
“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”
“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”
“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”
“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”
“Gojo did—”
Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”
You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”
“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”
If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”
He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.
“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.
Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?
Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”
"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."
"Y/N, you're missing the—"
"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"
Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.
"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"
"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"
"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"
"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"
You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.
But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.
Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.
"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"
"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.
It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.
Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?
. . .
And that was when he decided it.
He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.
Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.
You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.
After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"
"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."
But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."
You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.
At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—
"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.
Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.
"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.
"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."
Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.
"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."
Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?
"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."
Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.
"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.
"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"
"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."
And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—
"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."
The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.
There was only one answer you had in mind.
Five years later
"Yes! Yes! Yay!"
Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.
A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.
The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.
The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.
As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.
"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.
"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"
"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.
Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"
"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."
"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."
"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."
Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.
Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...
And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.
#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#jjk x reader#kento nanami x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader angst#nanami kento x reader fluff#nanami kento x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento angst#jjk#nanami fluff#nanami kento#jjk angst#jjk fluff#kento nanami#kento nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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— MOST TO LEAST LIKELY TO GO TO MCDONALDS WITH YOU AT 3 AM : twisted wonderland
[synopsis] twisted wonderland characters that would accompany you to mcdonalds at 3 am
[characters] all (romantic) + ortho (platonic)
[disclaimer] this post talks about food a lot and mentions of unhealthy food (in vil's and riddle's part)
[extra] i'm having way too much fun writing character's reactions
── Most likely
★﹕LILIA VANROUGE
Bold of you to assume he was sleeping in the first place. Lilia was playing the equivalent of Overwatch in Twisted Wonderland when you suddenly asked him to go to the nearest McDonald's. He agreed instantly, and now you're both on a date, with you eating fries and Lilia eating a strawberry sundae and a cheeseburger..
★﹕ORTHO SHROUD (platonic)
He agreed instantly. Can robots even feel tired in the first place? Ortho will search on the internet for coupons and promos, but first let him equip his eating gear; he wants to eat too. Everything for his best friend. By the way, he wants to buy something for Idia too.
★﹕ROOK HUNT
Rook got out of bed even before you even mentioned you wanted to go out, he woke up when he felt you were awake. Rook is a light sleeper; he can even feel when you wake up to go to the bathroom. If you really want a meal at McDonald's, who is he to say no? It makes him happy to see you happy, but he will stare while drinking his strawberry shake. Not a "I'm judging you" stare, but a "I like to see you enjoy your meal" stare.
★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA
He has probably eaten McDonald's at least once because Lilia bought the whole of Diasomnia burgers. Alright, you're both going. Yes, he's still a little confused over why you would crave a really cheap burger at 3 am, but Malleus doesn't even care; the burgers are good and he enjoys indulging in human customs, plus he gets to see you smile. The only bad thing is that the employees got the fright of their lives when they saw the literal prince of Briar Valley enter the restaurant.
★﹕SILVER
Still sleepy, he agreed. There are times when he randomly awakes during the night, so he might as well spend it with you, even if it was at a fast food restaurant at 3 am. He'll order an iced coffee and some fries and listen to you while you speak about whatever comes to mind. You'll both have to make it quick though, he may fall asleep there, and you both need to get back before classes start.
★﹕DEUCE SPADE
He didn't even understand what you were saying; his mind was still foggy from being woken up so late. He said yes, not knowing what he was agreeing with, but a few minutes later he realized what he agreed to. Deuce, not wanting to have gotten your hopes up only for him to say no, got up and accompanied you anyway. He still enjoyed himself though, as long as he is with you, he's happy.
★﹕RUGGIE BUCCHI
He's tired because of how many errands Leona made him do yesterday, but you know what? He will still go. Food is food, and he could never refuse it. Leona lets him grab his credit card anyway, so order whatever you want, Leona will pay, even if he doesn't know that. It's not like he checks his credit card's expenses, so don't worry about it.
★﹕JACK HOWL
When he confessed to you a few months ago, he didn't expect that would mean signing up for you waking him up in the middle of the night, asking him to accompany you to eat fast food outside of campus. Still, he's your boyfriend, and he can't let you go alone, it's dangerous. Even if he doesn't feel like ordering anything, he will sit there with you until you finish your meal, chatting with you in the meantime.
★﹕ACE TRAPPOLA
You're lucky he loves you too much; he would have said no if you were another person. So now Ace is sitting at McDonald's, almost falling asleep while eating some nuggets. That one song they keep replaying will haunt him in his dreams; it got stuck in his head for like, a week. Riddle reprimanded him the next day for falling asleep during history class.
★﹕CATER DIAMOND
Out of everything he could have expected a person to say at 3 am, it certainly wasn't "I want to go to McDonald's". Cater takes a selfie with you inside and uploads it to his Magicam story, the close friends one, so Riddle doesn't realize he wasn't at the dorm. He still has no idea how you came up with this, but ok, it was for the funsies.
★﹕JADE LEECH
You're certainly unpredictable, aren't you? Jade stared at you for a good minute until he just got up, got changed, and went with you. Floyd has done weirder stuff during one of his mood swings; what harm can going to McDonald's do? He doesn't feel like cooking that late anyway. Just don't tell Azul you're both going to the competition, okay?
★﹕EPEL FELMIER
He had you repeat what you said twice to make sure he was hearing you correctly. You want to do what? Let him go back to sleep, please. Okay, whatever, he will accompany you, but make it quick. At least that's what he said before spending the next two hours chatting with you while eating. He sadly got caught by Vil when he came back. Rook snitched.
★﹕SEBEK ZIGVOLT
No, he has to make sure nobody attacks Malleus while he's sleeping. But with some reassurance from Lilia (and him asking Sebek to bring him a burger) and his love for you, he decided to accompany you. He'll ask for the biggest burger since he has a big appetite. He did enjoy it at the end; 10/10 would do it again (but he won't say that out loud).
★﹕KALIM AL-ASIM
He doesn't mind that you woke him up, and he would like to go, but there's a small problem: he isn't allowed to go anywhere without Jamil, which means he would need to wake him up. Jamil wouldn't be happy about that, and Kalim doesn't want to bother him either. So you both just order takeout and give the delivery guy a very generous tip.
★﹕IDIA SHROUD
Idia was awake, but he really doesn't want to go, and he's also farming for an event. Great, now he's craving McDonald's too. If you really want to go, you can have Ortho accompany you, but please bring him a chicken sandwich and some fries. You can use his debit card to pay.
★﹕TREY CLOVER
... What? What did you even dream about to crave McDonalds so late at night? Trey says you both can go on the weekend if you really want to, but go back to sleep, please. There's an important exam tomorrow, and you'll both be in trouble if you suddenly fall asleep in the middle of it.
★﹕FLOYD LEECH
He was not in a good mood after being woken up in the middle of the night. Floyd won't let you go, squeezing you so hard that you can't even move away from the bed. You're not going anywhere the whole night, and if you still want the meal, you can order some in the Mostro Lounge tomorrow.
★﹕LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
It's 3 am, what the heck. Leona says Ruggie can buy you some tomorrow; ask for as much as food as you want, but not at 3 am. He will fall asleep on top of you, so you can't even move, just in case you try to sneak out while he sleeps.
★﹕JAMIL VIPER
No, please, he's tired. He did so much work yesterday: laundry, cooking, folding clothes, tutoring Kalim, paperwork for an upcoming event, and preparing for an exam. He just wants to rest for at least a few hours. Go back to sleep, please. He promises he'll cook you a burger with some fries tomorrow. His cooking is way superior to fast food anyway.
★﹕RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
"No, that's unhealthy", he says. Somebody buy him a happy meal or something, Riddle has probably never eaten fast food in his life. Either way, there's class tomorrow, and he would never forgive himself if he arrived late to a lesson. So no, you aren't going anywhere.
★﹕AZUL ASHENGROTTO
Why would you want to eat at McDonalds when he has a literal restaurant? Are you trying to buy from the competition? Now Azul is offended at 3 am, so offended that he dragged you to the kitchen to make you a meal resembling the McDonald's one just to prove Mostro Lounge's food is better.
★﹕VIL SCHOENHEIT
Excuse you? Not only did you interrupt his beauty sleep, but you want to go eat McDonald's'? It's 3 am, please go back to sleep or you'll get dark circles. Lack of sleep is bad for your skin, and he won't take the risk, much less to eat unhealthy food.
── Least likely
#twisted wonderland#riddle rosehearts x riddle#trey clover x reader#cater diamond x reader#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#jack howl x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#kalim al asim x reader#jamil viper x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#rook hunt x reader#epel felmier x reader#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#silver x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#riddle x reader#leona x reader#azul x reader#kalim x reader#vil x reader#idia x reader
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BROKEN DECISIONS: HEALING| T.WOLFF
Pairing; Toto Wolff x fem!Schumacher!reader
Summary; You had learned to channel the pain from Toto’s actions into the need to protect and love your child. You were healing but will that be affected by Toto finding out the reason you suddenly disappeared?
Warnings; Age gap mentioned but not specified. Fluff.
Author’s Note; I know I said I’d post a Seb fic before this but this was so much easier to write and I had a lot more motivation for this. Possibly a part 3 if you want.
F1 Master List, Part 1
September 2024
The pain that had consumed you so overwhelmingly all those months ago had seemingly disappeared as you stared down at your daughter who lay in your lap, eyes closed as she slept peacefully, subtle puffs of air released as her chest raised every few seconds.
The thick tufts of bright white hair that sprouted from her head marked that little Alina Elisabeth was most certainly a Schumacher.
Maybe you should feel guilty for the relief that settled in you at the lack of resemblance she shared with her father but the love you felt in your heart as you stared down at the person you cared the most for in this world shrouded any negative emotion you could possibly feel.
The loneliness you had felt was also no longer lingering in your chest, your family had been your rock since the moment you arrived in Switzerland, your mother especially. Mick ensured her was there for you too, even though he was busy with the world endurance racing, he made sure he called frequently and tried to visit when he could.
You sent him a photo of his new niece as soon as you could after giving birth to her and he was already besotted and excited to meet her.
The pain from birthing her had also long been forgotten, unlike the memory of holding her for the first time.
It was hard to describe the rush of emotions that were bursting beneath your skin. You would go to hell and back again if just to experience this for the rest of your life, to continue living in this bubble of warmth and completion.
There was the slightest bit of lingering sadness towards the knowledge that Toto hadn’t been by your side yesterday and witnessing his daughter being brought into the world, maybe it was even unfair that he had been robbed of that opportunity but then you remembered how you had tried to tell him the news of your pregnancy before you left and how he refused to listen.
You weren’t going to beg and plead for him to listen to what you had to say, no matter what there news was.
You had a lot more respect for yourself than that.
It didn’t matter anyways, you didn’t need him and you’d ensure that Alina didn’t need him either. You have full confidence in your ability to raise her alone and give her the best life she could possibly have, a life that would provide her with opportunities others could only imagine having.
November 2024
Alina Elisabeth Schumacher was now two months old and each day it felt as though your love for her multiplied.
Even through the rough patches where you seemed lost in knowing what she needed or what was wrong, it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You had smiled more in the last two months than you had in the last ten years and it felt riveting.
Never would you have thought that a child could fill a gap in your life that you didn’t even know existed but here she is and your heart is full.
Your life felt whole and complete and you owed everything to her, to your little girl who had fixed your healing heart without even trying, just by simply existing.
Today was an important day, Mick was coming home after finishing the world endurance season, which he had performed amazingly in, and it was going to be his first time meeting his niece in person.
You had FaceTimed so much in the last few months, Mick hadn’t wanted to miss any part of his niece growing and so every night at around six he’d ring so that he could say goodnight to her, no matter what time is was where he was at.
Alina loved her uncle already.
It was around 2pm when you heard the front door open followed by the sound of bags dropping to the floor and Mick walking into the kitchen.
You didn’t waste any time in wrapping him into a hug. "Hey, how are you?"
Mick tucked his head into the crook of your neck and tightened his arms around you. "I’m great, it was amazing but how are you, are you okay?" He asked, pulling away and holding onto your shoulders as he looked you up and down.
You smiled at him in pure happiness. "I’m amazing, she’s amazing. Come and see her," you told him and grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs to your room.
Alina was napping which is all she ever did at her young age but you didn’t care if she woke up because the look of awe on Mick’s face as he set his eyes upon her would make it worth it.
"She’s tiny," he whispered, reaching a finger inside the cot and smiling as she wrapped her fist around it. "She looked so much bigger over the phone, she’s beautiful, Y/N, really." He looked up at you and smiled.
"That’s because she takes after me," you smirked and he rolled his eyes, slowly pulling his hand away before turning to you.
"Do Mum and Gina know?" He asked.
You didn’t need him to emphasise, you both knew what he meant, the unspoken topic that neither of you brought up throughout your entire pregnancy and even after.
"No," you replied honestly, swallowing uncomfortably.
"Y/N-" he sighed.
"Don’t," you cut him off. "He didn’t want to know, Mick. He didn’t care and I’m not going to beg him to."
The sympathetic look he gave you in response to the defeated words you spoke filled you with the need to cry but you didn’t.
You simply stood there for a moment before sighing. "I think I’m going to quit."
Mick gave you a look of horror. "What!?" He whisper shouted. "You can’t, you’ve been with Mercedes for nearly a decade!"
You shrugged. "I don’t want to work for him anymore, not when he is adamant on acting as though he didn’t give me the wrong impression, as though I don’t have his daughter at home who he doesn’t know about because he didn’t care enough for me to tell him."
He didn’t say anything, knowing that your point was completely reasonable. He just hoped this didn’t ruin everything you had worked for.
December 2024
You walked side by side with Mick through the pits of the Yas Marina circuit in Abu Dhabi, drawing quite a bit of attention to yourselves, not only because this is the first glimpse anyone has seen of you all year but because of the three month old you held in your arms.
You walked into the Mercedes garage as though you weren’t about to reveal why you hadn’t participated in this season, pretending you didn’t notice how everyone paused what they were doing to stare as soon as you crossed the threshold.
Their stares burned into your skin but none more than Toto’s, you felt the trail his eyes left across your entire body and the way they settled on the sleeping baby in your arms.
You ignored the burning sensation he was leaving on your skin, instead focusing on the mechanics and other team members that were approaching to speak to you and introduce themselves to Alina.
It was around twenty minutes later before you were left alone, Mick took this opportunity to take Alina to go and show her off to anyone who would give him the time of day, you loved how much of a proud uncle he was.
"Can we talk?" His voice was low and gravelly in your ear as he spoke in a hushed whisper, startling you momentarily.
You scoffed and shook your head. "You weren’t up for talking in January, I’m not up for talking now."
"It’s important," he tried to reason and you laughed.
"What I wanted to say was important but you didn’t care, what was important to me wasn’t important to you. It’s not nice being on the receiving end of that, is it?"
You had hit the nail on the head with that one and by the stunned silence Toto was confined into, he knew that as well.
"Please, I know I don’t deserve it but can you please just come and have a civil conversation with me in my office," he pleaded, knowing that he really had no leg to stand on because he was the one that was completely in the wrong.
You wanted to make a comment about how poetic it was that he wanted to go and talk in his office, just how you did all those months ago and yet you had no luck but you didn’t.
You relented and agreed but that did not mean you were going to be easy on him.
You sighed and stood up from your seat, following him to his office.
You refused to speak first as he shut the door which resulted in a thick, heavy silence for a couple of minutes as you both stood there, Toto staring at you whilst your eyes strained on the ground.
"What happened in Abu Dhabi last year-" he started causing you to look up at him, not expecting him to even bring that up considering how certain he was to avoid it before.
"It wasn’t a mistake, I just- I spent two years fighting my feelings for you because you deserve so much more than I am. The baggage I come with- I’m divorced twice and I have kids and I’m so much older than you and you deserve so much more than to be with a man that comes with all that and can’t give you everything."
You stared at him blankly though you were surprised that he had supposedly felt something for you for an entire year before you noticed anything.
"I never thought of you as anything but my boss and a friend but then last year, the way you looked at me and the way you acted, I thought you liked me and it confused me, my mind was baffled the entire season but no matter what you caused me to feel, I fought against it but then with his forward you were in Abu Dhabi, you made me think you actually wanted me and even if you didn’t then that’s fine but what isn’t fine is leading me on with your stares and your touches and then leaving me alone in a hotel the moment I gave in and even after that when I tried to speak with you, you ignored me and dismissed me. Do you know how used and disgusted I felt?"
You knew the look of guilt on his face wasn’t fake but that didn’t change anything, his guilt was nothing compared to what he had put you through.
"I thought I was doing what was best for you," he replied defeated, knowing how pathetic he sounded and how weak his response was.
"I couldn’t look at myself without feeling the urge to throw up after the way you left me there and it was all down to your insecurities which are ridiculous by the way. I can’t believe you think I’d care about how many times you’ve been married or how many kids you have or how old you are, I only ever wanted someone who loved me and treated me right, you could’ve done that but the man that spoke to me in January, I’ve never seen you like that and that man is not someone I would ever be with."
"You didn’t deserve that," he replied in agreement. "I was overwhelmed by the guilt I felt for leaving you there and trying to ignore my feelings for you which I thought were wrong to be feeling but it is not an excuse for the way I spoke or dismissed you, it was wrong of me. I’m sorry."
"I know," you shrugged. "But I don’t forgive you, not right now at least."
Toto shook his head. "I’ll earn your forgiveness." He said confidently.
"Okay." You whispered.
The air between the two of you shifted as Toto looked at you apprehensively, shifting on his feet. "Your baby-" your heart thumped loudly in your chest. "Is she?" He asked, not needing to continue.
You weren’t going to deny the truth and so you replied honestly. "Yes, it’s what I tried telling you in January."
The look of anguish that appeared on his face was heartbreaking to see because you could tell he truly regretted his actions but it was simply the consequences of his decisions, he was still able to make up for it.
"What did you name her?" He asked quietly.
"Alina Elisabeth Schumacher, Elisabeth after my grandmother."
"You chose well…. Could I meet her?" He asked carefully, not wanting to overstep with you but of course you would allow him to see her, not only because your daughter deserved a chance to have a father but because you knew he was a good father and he would’ve been there had you been given the chance to tell him of her.
"I’ll go and get her." You told him, swiftly walking passed him and out of the door.
It was George that happening to be holding her as you re-entered the garage, the man looking up at you with a pleased smile. "Y/N! I’m happy your back, am I getting my beginner back next year?" He asked as he handed her over to you.
You smiled weakly and shrugged your shoulders. "I’m honestly not too sure yet, George but I’ll let you know."
"No worries," he waved you off. "She’s beautiful by the way."
You thanked him before turning away and heading back to Toto’s office.
Alina was wide awake now and her dark eyes were looking around curiously as you walked through the small corridor.
As soon as Toto’s eyes laid upon her you practically saw how he immediately fell in love with her, his eyes softened as they took in her features, probably trying to find anything that resembled himself.
"I think she has your eyes, but that’s about it," you commented lightly causing him to laugh.
He stepped forward and held his hand out for her, smiling and laughing as she reached out and grabbed his finger before shoving it into her mouth.
He looked at her in awe, as if he couldn’t believe she was a part of him. He reached out with his other hand and tickled her cheek with his finger causing her to gurgle around his hand.
"You can hold her," you told him, lifting her out towards him. He looked at you unsurely but you encouraged him with a nod and that was everything he needed to take her into his arms.
Alina threw away her grip on his hand as he held her and instead pressed both of her hands into his cheeks and pressed her face up against his causing you both to burst out into laughter which resulted in her copying you.
"She’s so small," he muttered almost to himself but you heard him.
"She didn’t feel it when I was pushing her out but she does look it," you joked but also serious, it had hurt like hell.
The mention of her birth spiked a sudden interest. "When was she born?" He asked.
"September 3rd, she was two weeks late, didn’t want to leave I suppose so I had to get induced."
He looked at you worried. "You didn’t do it alone, did you?"
You shook your head, "No, don’t worry, my mum was there with me."
"That’s good," he replied, pulling away from Alina’s grabby hands and instead brought her into a hug, resting the side of his head against hers.
God did he look good holding her.
Alina cooed and babbled as she lied her head on his shoulder and reached her hand up to grab his ear and pull on it.
The immediate connection between the two was impossible to miss and it was sad they had both missed out on this but you refused to let yourself feel guilty about it.
"Thank you for this," Toto’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. "I know I don’t deserve it."
You shook your head. "You deserve a relationship with her, no matter what I wouldn’t have kept her from you."
He smiled and tightened his hold on Alina, still struggling to believe she was really his.
He had four kids. Wow.
He did not want to think about how he was going to explain this one to them.
"We should probably go back out there, there’s still a race that’s about to start." You mentioned, hating to break him out of his bubble but he had priorities.
After much coercing, you managed to get him out of his office but he kept his hold on Alina, he didn’t think the team would suspect anything, they probably just thought he wanted to hold her but even if they did have suspicions, he didn’t care.
Everything felt right as he held her, now he just needed to make it up to you and he would do everything needed for you to forgive him because he wanted this, he wanted you and this family you had created, no matter how long it took.
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People who asked to be tagged or asked for a part 2:
@pear-1206 @luckyladycreator2 @urmotheris @lightdragonrayne @viennakarma @woozarts @carolloliveerr @nuggetvirgo @myescapefromthislife @minkyungseokie @oatmealandsugar @hc-dutch @arieltwvdtohamflash @grayxiu @bigsimperika @emilyval1 @eternalharry @msbyjackal
#formula one x reader#f1 fanfiction#formula one#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#fluff#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff fanfic#toto wolff x y/n#toto wolff x oc#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff fanfiction#f1 fanfic#f1 imagines#f1 fic
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Happy 1 year anniversary to this blog!
It was yesterday...though I do find it fitting that I've been focused on writing so much that I forgot lmao
When I first had the idea for Infamous, I didn't work on it right away. The concept was cool, yeah, but was it enough for interactive fiction? A medium I never even tried before?
I let it marinate in my head for a while wondering if it would be a good story or not. I listened to a lot of music, made a lot of idea boards and outlined routes but told myself I wasn't actually writing it. Just playing in a new literary sandbox with no strings! I was very close to not publishing my idea because it felt like it wasn't a story that I could handle. And it was daunting. I've published stories before, but they were completed novels that I could just forget about it and move on from once I was done. This was a commitment! I kept asking myself if I was even a good enough writer for the plans I had haha
But it didn't stop bothering me and I was getting irritable over my own brain creating this whole world without my permission. So I posted the intro post on a whim just to see what would happen! Turns out, I'm really happy I did!
One year later and there's been a whole community of people who have enriched the story and elevated it to a place that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own. The amazing fanfics, the head canons, fan art and the suggestions, it's been really nice to work on this with the support and encouragement I've gotten. I think the best parts of the story so far have come from the collective, not me, and knowing that there are people who watched me serve my ideas on a platter like "here. take it pls." and accepted it is really nice. I'm grateful :)
thank you guys for reading the story and being kind to me and my ideas and having so many discussions over these characters that were once just in my mind, alone with me to tend to them. and to the if authors who have been here much longer, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. thank you to the group of if authors in particular who took me under their wing and gave me advice on how to handle things and how to move forward. you didn't have to come into my dm's and give me guidance or help me, but you did anyway and im eternally grateful!
I'm excited for 2024 to be the year that we really dive into the story. I still can't believe we're only 2 chapters in. it feels much longer, doesn't it? lololol
thanks!! <3
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psyche and cupid | one shot
happy valentine's, beautiful people. i love you with all of my heart. xx
shoutout to @familyvideostevie for putting joel's slutty little thigh holster into my head and, well. yeah.
pairing: jackson!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: valentine's day with joel doesn't go to plan.
warnings: part two never happened!!!!! abby who!!!, established relationship, cursing, half joel pov, unspecified age gap, hints to reader having a sliver of ptsd, jesse is alive and well because he is my prince and i said so, reader has dark pubic hair, masturbation, somnophilia (not discussed in this fic but she is a-ok with it) and therefore dubcon, sprinkle of praise kink, oral (f!receiving), someone comes in his underwear, these two goofballs are big in love
word count: 5.5k
main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩷
It’s not in his nightstand.
Not hung over the newel post, either.
He said he left it on the kitchen counter yesterday, right after he got home; said he woke up this morning and it was gone. And then he muttered something of an accusation that someone had tidied it away and forgotten where, and that started a whole new argument.
You know what, Joel? You’re following his tall figure as it sways down the hallway, his strides longer and considerably smoother than your flurrying shadow in his wake. Maybe if you weren’t going out today, we wouldn’t be having this problem.
His chin tilts upward, salt and pepper scruff angled to the ceiling with a ha slung from his throat. Yeah, he tosses a glance over his shoulder, we’d just be havin’ it tomorrow, instead.
You scoff in response, stepping where his boots lift off from, following the heavy thud thud thud like a cat at his heels until he’s rounding the corner towards your bedroom.
You pass over the messy trail of your jeans and Joel’s pajama bottoms, your underwear and his leading in a trail to the unmade bed – sheets like a rippled wave painted golden by the dawn.
The two of you split off – Joel lifts the cotton and watches it float back down over the flat of your mattress. Nothing.
You take the closet – the squeal of metal on metal harsh in your sleepy ears as you shove the hanging clothes aside, swiping around at the floor. Also, unsurprisingly, nothing.
Deflated, you straighten, stars peppering your vision and a tatty sleepshirt pinched in your fingers. Led Zeppelin – some band Joel was into before everything went to shit. You’ve listened to him out on the porch before, plucking strings in time with the record wobbling on the turntable inside.
The collar torn, sleeves pecked with holes, print lost to the years and the dryer – but each time you drape it over your shoulders, he smiles and hums some song from a world you’ll never know.
It’s sweet, when you’re in the mood to be wooed.
Which, incidentally, is not right fucking now.
His eyes flit down to the peeling, grayscale image – and that same smile attempts to bloom on his lips. That’s cute, but it ain’t my holster, pretty bird.
His smirk dampens quickly when he looks back up, snuffed by your stony expression.
You whip the tee down to the foot of the bed. You are a piece of fuckin’ work sometimes, do you know that? you growl, storming by him for the en suite.
Joel’s rough hand slips around your wrist, tugging gently but letting you drag him through to the bathroom.
Just go, Joel, you groan, the chill of the room prickling goosebumps on your naked legs. Give me some peace and quiet. ‘s not like I’m gonna be seein’ much of you today, anyways.
Is that what this is about? His voice echoes in the morning blue, round in your ears as you hang your head over the sink. Pickin’ a fight ‘cause you’re pissed I’m goin’ out?
I didn’t start the fight, you protest. You’re the one who lost his holster.
Didn’t lose it… he mumbles, lips closing around the sentence when he catches your glare in the mirror. He crosses one ankle over the other, toe of his dusty boot on the cracked tile, and sighs. What do you want me to do, baby? I gotta do my job.
On Valentine’s Day? When I worked extra to get it off, and you can’t even get your brother to swap one shift?
Joel’s expression seems to stiffen, tense with a realization that you know, and now he knows, too – he should’ve had days ago. A weighty breath falls from his nostrils, admitting some kind of defeat, and then he’s wandering carefully over to you, two hands curved over your shoulders.
He lowers his forehead onto the nape of your neck, a slow breath which flutters the loose collar of the flannel you’re wearing and sweeps down your spine. I’m sorry, pretty bird. I didn’t know it meant that much to ya.
It doesn’t, you admit, adding, usually. I just thought we could have a day to ourselves, for once.
He’s nodding, sweep of his fringe tickling the slope of your skin. It’d be a lot more romantic than spendin’ it with Jesse, that’s for sure.
Your bodies fall together with a shared laugh, a bright and charming thing in the dull bathroom light. Joel kisses the soft cushion of your shoulder and hooks his chin over, beard grazing your skin.
I’ll be back before you know it. ‘n then we can do whatever the hell you got planned for us, hm?
He’s steady behind you when you lean back, turning to place a damp kiss to the hinge of his jaw. A reply, a plea – a promise.
In the echoing dripdripdrip from the faucet, Joel pulls apart from you, two fingers pinching the hem of your shirt to pull you back into the bedroom.
You wanna walk me to the gate? he asks, pulling the zipper on his jacket.
What about your holster?
He smiles. I’m sure I’ll survive without it. C’mon. Put some pants on.
February is bitter even by Jackson’s standards – a bite of ice in the air which numbs the tip of your nose and stings the helix of your ears. The chill slips a long, sharp finger down the collar of your – Joel’s jacket, and you wrap the baggy canvas tighter around yourself.
Told you to wear som’ thicker. Joel sighs, grip light around the strap of his shotgun. His elbow nudges into yours, a wide arm wraps around your shoulder and draws you flush against his side. Head on back if you’re cold, he says, rubbing until the friction warms your upper arm.
I’m fine, you lie, eyeing the line of horses up ahead. The eager crunch of their hooves in the frozen ground, the pinkish light on their backs from the sky flooded crimson overhead – a warning from the horizon, you think.
It seems to agitate the animals as much as it does you, their heavy heads tossing nervously, ears flicking and inky eyes blinking.
Jesse meets you by the paddock, slipping Joel the reins of his horse with a curt nod, before hoisting himself atop his own.
It bleats from your lips before you can hold it back. Be careful.
Your frozen fingers claw around the zipper of his coat, tugging it upwards until it brushes against his bottom lip. The weather gets bad, you turn back. Okay?
He’s nodding, paying half his attention to your words, the other half to the little crease between your brows. Sure could use my holster against the cold, baby, he mutters, smirk lifting his cheeks and folding similar creases at the corners of his eyes.
Your eyes narrow, palms landing flat against his strong chest. Home soon?
He hums a little laugh, lips ghosting across your temple as he shifts by. Home soon, he mutters, breath steaming against your cold skin, and he leads the mare off towards the gate.
There’s a lot about Joel you admire.
Each part of him like a pebble stolen on a hike; some more jagged, a little more weathered than others, some well-rounded and smooth to the touch. Each one turned and turned and turned between your fingers until you’re fluent in every pore and vein, then dropped into your pocket alongside the others you’ve collected.
Clacking against one another until you arrive home, coat heavier with the happy burden of how much you love him. The same weight you feel behind your ribcage when you think too much about it.
He takes good care of you – has done since you first happened across one another. As if hanging his hunting jacket over your frail body was a wing over your shoulders; as if, from then on, you would never make a single move again without your grizzly bear of a man making it first.
Quiet about it, sure. Subtle. Opens the crook of his elbow for you to hook your wrist around as you wander through town together, and waits until you’re under the cover of nightfall or behind the close of your front door to do much else.
Asks with little more than a fleeting glance if you’re okay; a squeeze of your knee under the table in the dining hall. A conversation shared between closed lips and the meeting of his honey-flecked gaze, and yours. A language which lives and dies with the pair of you.
He’s guarded – and for all that he’s been through, you figure you can allow him that. Allow him his private peace. For all that he says without saying, all he does without making some big song and dance of it – there hasn’t been a second since you arrived here on the back of his horse, that you haven’t known he loves you.
It’s in him like it’s in you. A fever which broke at the first touch of his hand and yours, the first meeting of his warmth and your chill. Two opposites – cooling the painful sear in his heart, warming the barren frost in yours. Something sewn deep into your flesh, carved right through to the hollow of your bones.
And Jesus, if it doesn’t drive you fucking insane.
The front yard needs tidied up after winter, you notice, as you scuff your way up the path towards the porch. Once the last of the snow dries up, you two can get to repairing the damage done by the blizzards and the gales: fitting new shutters, planting new bulbs.
A cycle you’re still getting used to: the upkeep of a place called home. The strange feeling of having someone you call the same thing.
Your extra shifts at the stables and Joel’s long mornings out on the trails mean your home has gone neglected for a few days. Dishes and cutlery left in the sink, a pile of laundry slowly sprouting to new heights like a wild plant each time you cast a wary glance at it.
It’s not like you’ve much else to do, given Joel won’t be home for at least another couple hours. So you shuck off your jeans, letting the tail of his shirt dangle from your behind, and pick your way around each room – wiping counters and dusting corners, humming along to the crooning old records as they spin in the background.
Playing house at the end of the world. Pretending to listen for the tired exhale of a yellow school bus, mimicking the electrified babble of radio presenters between each track.
The bedroom is arguably the worst offender. Bedsheets used a few days too long, clothes strung across the floor – the relics of a late one at the Tipsy Bison. It’s no wonder you’re so fucking tired.
Echoes of stumbling footsteps and hushed, drunken giggles loop your ears, the groaning bedsprings and blunt thud of the headboard. You pluck the underwear and socks one by one, your body wincing around a satisfied ache still lingering, and shuffle over to the laundry hamper, lifting the lid to –
The dopey smile on your lips dissolves instantly. You gotta be fucking…
The buckle glints in the light, silver blinking up at you from its bed of dirty laundry. The tan strap coiled and neatly slung through its fastener; the pouch empty. Awkward and ashamed, lying there in front of you. Apologetic, almost.
Your eyes roll closed; a short, hot breath seeping past your lips. A silent promise embedding beneath your tongue to take him by the sleeve as soon as he crosses the threshold, force him to lift the lid himself. An I told you so already brewing in the pit of your stomach.
The holster’s actually pretty heavy when you lift it up in the light. Leather a little worn, stitching frayed where it should clip around his belt.
It’s the size and width of him: a thick, toned thigh slotted inside the loop of leather, fixed by fingers long void of feeling when he’s been riding to the outpost, chasing infected, plunging his knife deep into their necks.
Patrol was never your thing. Joel took you out just once – but there are cracks in your past which threaten to split you in two, it seems, the longer you spend outside the settlement walls. Phantoms which follow close behind in the form of snapping twigs, of the wind rustling in the trees overhead. Shadows living in your periphery with curled sneers and spits of filth.
You lasted twenty minutes, that first and only day, before Joel had your horses tied together and your body shelled in his own, taking you straight back home.
But the thought of this around his thigh, the thought of him adjusting it to the waistband of his jeans; his hand floating down to settle gently atop it when he’s listening for danger approaching, two fingers slipping into the trigger guard.
It…stirs something.
You pad over to the bathroom, hopping as you step into the strap. He wears it on his right leg, right? You pull it past your ankle, ball of your foot slamming clumsily back down on the tile.
Adjusting it to fit your thigh, you bunch the hem of his shirt in one fist and stare back at your reflection. Her nervous stance, hips swaying left to right as she peruses the figure opposite.
Who is she, this mirage – naked thigh decorated with her man’s leather, fingernails tracing the messy stitching and imagining the weight of his gun, keen in the pouch?
A strange aura of possession about it, like a part of him locked firm around a part of you, from however many miles away. You swear you can feel the ghost of his warmth on the inside of the strap, wrapped around your sensitive skin.
Yeah.
Stirs something, alright.
Joel’s been gone little over an hour. He’s probably at the outpost by now, logging All clear and pretending to let Jesse take the lead. Wide shoulders swaying as he wanders from room to room, a careful scope of the valley from each window, tongue tracing the bottom of his teeth.
Ridges of his knuckles white around the grip of his shotgun, squinting down the barrel. Lines drawn between his brows and at the corners of his eyes like scores on parchment, focus and concentration tight on his face.
You sink back into the cradle of your bed, that divot where his body and yours meet each night. Each part of you intertwining with a part of him: the place where you become one. His smell and your touch, your giggle and his teeth.
A sudden, powerful thing which hammers through your veins and jumps your body for a few seconds – you pull the first orgasm from between your legs within a matter of minutes. The sight of his shirt disturbed over your stomach, the feeling of blood squeezing past taut leather enough to throw you under by itself, never mind the fast snap of your fingers deep inside your body.
Another – slower, lazier, still vibrating from the first – then almost a third, but the crinkle of sheets at your ears, the pillow-soft landscape beneath your heavy body, begins to sweep you off somewhere.
And in as little time as it took to entice you into the water in the first place, you slip beneath the waves.
The house is quiet when he finally makes it home.
Jesus, Joel thinks, what a shift.
Not one infected the entire run, he can’t quite believe – but Jesse caught his palm on some warped sheet of chain link fence, then almost passed out when he looked down and saw the scarlet seeping from his shredded skin.
The pair sat for half an hour, unsheltered in the unforgiving wind, waiting for the kid’s head to stop spinning and the cold to rob the feeling from his hand.
All Joel wanted was to get home to you. You, and your hips swaying as you stand by the stove, and his hands kneading into the velvet plush of your waist, and the smell of burnt sausages and spatter of angry oil from the pan.
He’s so late. He said he’d be as quick as he could, said you’d barely know he was gone, and he’s so fucking late.
But he’s here now, at least.
He’s home.
As he kicks off his boots, snow sprinkling from the soles onto the doormat, he notices the absence of your arms around his waist. The missing weight at the back of him, no ear flat against his spine and hands interlocked above his belt. No relieved, I missed you, no nuzzle of your head under his arm.
The house is still and dim. The turntable spins in the corner, a dead crackle playing nothing for no one. Joel sniffs, eyeing the room and its new, orderly form: the books slotted neatly on their shelves, the rings of coffee wiped clean from the table.
Lifting the needle from the record, Joel calls out, Baby?
Maybe you’re in town somewhere. Maybe you’ve gone to spend the morning with the horses. But then, you would’ve been watching for his arrival. Would’ve skipped out from the stables and swung around his body, a gleeful smile and an outstretched hand. Take me home, cowboy.
And you wouldn’t have left the lights still burning, the player still turning. Your coat is still on its hook, smaller and brighter and where it belongs on the right of Joel’s. The cushions on the couch are fluffed and smooth, perched contentedly in place; the curtains draped in their tie backs.
You’re home. You’ve been home all morning.
So where the fuck are you?
Joel crosses over to the bottom of the stairs, blinking up at the painted cowboys and horses staring down from the landing. Calls your name, a faint singsong as he slowly ascends the stairs. You up there?
Down the wintery dull hallway to the bedroom door, figuring he knows the answer. And he’s right, isn’t he, when he nudges the door open and peers inside, spots the tiny lump of you in your double bed. Sunk deep into the mattress – covers you’d come in here to change, swallowing you whole.
A crooked, exhausted smile pulls across his lips; his thumb hooks around a belt loop, knee cocking.
You’re so…perfect. So heavenly, so still like this – stretched out on your front, breathing in the scent of his pillow and breathing out little puffs of air.
Joel leans over you, a heavy hand pushing into the mattress above your shoulder, and runs a featherlight knuckle over your cheek.
Pretty bird? he whispers, lighter than the long breaths from your sleep-swollen lips.
You don’t stir. No movement, save for the rise and fall of your shoulders wrapped up in his flannel.
Joel feels a pang of guilt, numbed only by the chill still through his body: he woke you this morning, before even the sun had lifted her head. Had you hunting all over the house with him, for some dumb holster that he wound up not even n–
His eyes trail down the shape of your body, draped in the sheets like white marble carved into the round shape of something beautiful, hands following the curve of your thigh. His wrist freezes when it meets the odd bulge of something, an awkward bump beneath the cotton.
He peels the sheet back, lifting it from your shoulders, your waist, your hips – until your angled thigh lies on full display for his feasting eyes.
His fucking holster…wrapped tight around your fucking thigh.
A disbelieving laugh at first – a She told me so, before he notices the indents in your skin, the stretched leather snug around your leg, riding higher than it should at the doing of your slumber.
Christ, baby, he breathes, stare glued to the folds of plaid hooked around the belt loop. Following the tatty hem down past your hip, along the underside of your ass – riding up some, right where your legs part.
And between them, all sheer and thin, twisted around itself and slipping between: your underwear. The threading of pubic hair peeking over the frilled hem of it; the sight filling Joel’s mouth with saliva.
A heavy heat forms in his jeans, an irritable weight which aches when he moves; which hardens when he pictures the image of you in his bed, his shirt, his holster wrapped around your thigh – playing with yourself while he’s been gone.
Fuck. Fuckin’…shit.
He lowers, running lips he knows are freezing cold along the burning surface of your skin, tongue slipping past his teeth to drag a wet trail along your thigh.
Your leg shifts under his touch, the startle of his chilled fingertips behind your knee, nuzzling of his nose where the holster sits smugly on your thigh. Smelling like leather and salt, the sticky sheen of sweat still glowing on your skin.
Joel takes your waist in two hands – he can’t fucking help himself, can he? – and turns you, patiently, watching as you roll onto your back so he can drag you further down the bed. Tongue flicking at the corners of his lips, thirsty for something he only wants you to feed him.
Slow, slowly. Every effort put into not waking you, to keeping you in this peachy haze between asleep and awake; your movements long and staggered, held firm against the mattress by the weight of your doze.
With a sigh, your jaw turns to one side. Joel pulls you in, kneeling at the edge of the bed with your socked feet resting on his shoulders. His shirt gathers around your waist; your hips and the thin twine of your underwear spotlighted by stripes of weakened sunlight spilling in through the blinds.
Oh, pretty bird, he groans, slipping his open palms under your ass, rough and squeezing the pillows of flesh in his hands. This all for me?
A moan wrapped in a hefty breath twists from your lips. Your knees fall limp; legs open almost eagerly, like your body inviting him in. And he accepts, takes it with eyes blown black and hungry lips parted – leans in and nestles his nose against the thrumming heartbeat pounding through your clit.
Such a good girl, he whispers, closing his lips in a kiss over your clothed mound, and your hips jolt.
You’re so fucking warm. So wet; sticky and so ready for him. He kisses your folds, suckling gently and letting his tongue dart along the inseam of your lips in flicking movements – collecting the taste of salt and feeling his cock throb against rough denim.
Off? he asks – you and the room and himself – fingers hooking around the underwear rolled on your hips.
When your back arches, body feeling the loss of his tender kiss, rolling like a wave seeking to crash against the steady rock form of his – he smirks to himself.
Joel nods. Off.
He takes his time peeling them from your body, watching as more and more of his paradise is revealed. The waves of your folds, the sheer glisten of arousal along them; the dark hair peppering either side as damp and slick as the skin beneath it.
Your panties drop from a hooked finger without a sound and he turns back, hovering over your waiting cunt with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Out front, voices call back and forth to one another – some neighborly greeting and affable conversation – but Joel doesn’t hear. Deafened to anything but the sound of your sighs and his own blood hammering through his ears.
It’s a little rushed, a tad rough, the way he presses his lips back to yours. The way his beard grazes against your most sensitive spot, and the gasp he swears he hears lift from your tongue.
But fuck, he’s missed this, the way he always does – without knowing, without actively thinking about it, without knowing it was even at home waiting for him. If his mind weren’t on an entirely different planet right now, he’d curse that goddamn chain link for holding him up, for keeping him away longer than thirty seconds from the sweet little angel resting in his bed, and the sweet little pussy between her legs.
He parts your thighs wider, tongue dipping lower and deeper as he laps at your core, almost fucking panting against it.
You squirm lazily beneath him, shoulders tensing and untensing, a half-limp wrist lifting to pet his hair and an attempt at his name between your lips. Joel, you whimper, thick with sleep and something more dangerous.
I know, baby, he’s telling you, I know, and his tongue slips inside again. His hips grind into the mattress, cock an agonizing stiff against the sturdy edge. He can feel the wet in his boxers, the precome sticking to the inside of the cotton.
Fuck, he wants to be inside you so badly, so desperately.
Another gasp sputters across your lips, cut short in your throat when his teeth bump against your clit.
Too hungry, too brash, he thinks. You’re too soft, too open for him to let it go to waste. Not like this.
He pulls back, a filthy thread of arousal and saliva between his open lips and yours, and places a sodden kiss to the inside of your thigh.
But you whine, you poor little thing – your head twisting to the other side, a second hand now blindly surfing across his shoulder, past the brush of his beard and sifting through his still-chilly hair. The loss of attention to your pussy aching between your legs; your hips lifting weakly to meet the scratch of his chin again.
And that same sound – that same Jo-oel – a sound like song, like saccharine dripping over his shoulders.
So, he lifts a hand – two middle fingers coming together to push open your cunt, instantly sliding in knuckle-deep. Sucked in by the wet mess left behind by his lips, stretching you out with slow, round movements.
You’re slowly stirring, blossoming from your sleep and turning slowly back into this world. The cold edges seeping in, the warm flush of pleasure sharpening at their meeting. He’d do anything, he thinks, to keep you here; keep you teetering on the edge, tangled up between your world and his.
J– oh, fu-uck, you whine, and he can tell you’re still blinkered by sleep. But you grind on him again – a long, languid movement which seems to spatter out at its end when the coarse hair of his beard catches against your clit.
The breath stops in your throat, punching out in a shuddered moan. Joel could come just from the sound of it.
You gonna give me one, baby girl? he pleads, forearms clamping down on the underside of your thighs. Desperate – desperate to feel you, hear you, taste you as you come undone. Just one.
You’re writhing around beneath him, as needy as he is. A winding which matches his, coiling at the bottom of your stomach; a feeling which pulls at the corners of your lips and shocks them into a smutty, half-conscious smile. Your eyes roll back, fluttering open and then snapping shut when the light floods in.
There, you say, clearest so far, movements the strongest he’s felt. Your fingers root in his hair, rough over his scalp. Keep – keep doin’ that.
Joel smiles against your mound; a cocky thing, emboldened by the sound of that little Texan twang, the curl of an accent which doesn’t belong to you. Rather, a result of your years spent with him, watching the way his mouth shapes the words, learning the low swing and swirling melody of his tongue.
As if he’s as alive within you as he is within himself; every little thing Joel knows is him, injected into your bloodstream – his dry wit, his blunt honesty, his thick fingers and his insatiable tongue.
He slips in a third, flicking them perfectly inside of you. Beckoning your release; tongue sitting in wait, a resting point for you to grind your clit against.
And he wants it as much as you do: wants to feel the clamping of your body around him, wants to taste the flood of your orgasm as it shocks through every bone in your body.
Wants to pull three soaked, pruned fingers from your pussy and slip them over your tongue, letting you clasp your fingers around his wrist; watching the half-dozing flutter of your eyelashes as you suckle on them and make those pretty little sounds for him.
Your hand knots tighter in his hair, pelvis circling steady against his suckling lips. He can smell it on you: smell the need seeping from your pores. The sleep spilling from the corners of your mouth, the happy whimpers and quiet cries for more, more, Joel, more.
And – Shit, he breathes against you, feeling a sudden rush of electricity he knows all too well between his hips. Not now, not now not before he’s been inside – Shit, baby, gotta let me go.
You whine in refusal – a petulant sound, all stubborn and greedy. ‘m so close, I –
Pretty bird, he groans, lifting his jaw. He places a messy kiss to the crease between your core and your thigh, wrist stammering with his sudden movements. You gotta – you gotta let go, you’re gonna make me come –
You’re echoing him, mumbling the words gonna, gonna come – fuck, Joel, ‘m gonna –
Shit.
Not – Fuck – not right n– Christ, baby girl, you’re gonna – you’re –
Your walls spasm, clamping and relaxing, squeezing around his huge fingers. But it’s not that – it’s not the gush of warm fluid which seeps from between your legs, coating his knuckles and dripping into his palm.
It’s not the arch of your back, the way your breasts lift to the ceiling and his shirt slips below one nipple. Not the way your head rolls back against the mattress, a broken moan tearing in shards from your throat.
No.
It’s the way your hands leave his hair in an instant, and grip around the leather on your thigh. Skin stretching thin over your knuckles, thumbs between the strap and your sticky skin; hips still riding out your high as you ground yourself, holding onto his holster.
And it makes Joel come. Hard.
Harder than he knew possible, grinding against a mattress and the inside of his fucking jeans.
He falls forward, breathing a guttural moan into the soft swell of your stomach below your navel, fingers hooking into the baggy shirt around your arms.
Shitshitshit, he pants, feeling the warm ejaculate spurt from his cock and all over the inside of his boxers. Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck me.
His hips shudder a few more times, pressing hard into the edge of the mattress before he’s coming down, slowing to a stop – still a leaden weight on your stomach. His cock almost painful, overstimulated and oversensitive.
But then – something gently tittering. A bird singing, cooing above his head. The ground beneath his temple shakes, tremors with laughter. The dust twinkles in the sunlight, now brighter, golden, streaming through the window.
You’re awake.
Joel drags his gaze upwards, bleary and glazed with sex, and catches your eye.
Feel good? you ask, sifting hair away from his damp forehead. When was the last time that happened? Fourteen?
I don’t wanna talk about it, he mumbles into your belly.
Your chest jumps, a laugh which echoes into Joel’s ear. Tastes that good, huh?
It takes a mighty effort for him to push up on his palms, slowly crawling up the length of your body until his elbows plant firm into the mattress either side of your head. He groans as he lowers his lips, parting them to let you slip your tongue inside.
The kiss is slow, tender. Your bodies melding together, teeth clacking and jaws moving in sync. A sharp taste, sweet with a singe of bitterness to it. Perfect, you think, smirking against Joel’s cool lips.
He pulls away, lips tickling the tip of your nose deliberately.
With a giggle, you push on his chest. You should shower. You smell like patrol.
Joel cocks an eyebrow. You comin’ in with me?
Nope. I got even more laundry to do now, old man.
He entertains the quip with a subtle smile, a thing which softens the creases on his face and lights a twinkle in his eyes. Quietly, genuinely, in a way which makes your heart ache a little, he whispers, Sorry I was workin’, pretty bird.
You shrug. ‘s okay. You made up for it. And – I found your holster. You lift your knee, letting the buckle shine in the sunlight.
You did that, Joel agrees, nodding and glancing down at the thing. He hooks a finger around the strap, giving it a little shake. Maybe I oughta lose it more often.
Hm, you shrug, or I can just keep it safe for ya. Looks good, don’t it?
He feigns a disappointed smile, a resigned sigh before he looks back up.
Better ‘n when I wear it, he admits, and his lips crash down to yours again.
#same universe as 'wish you were here' - if you want#joel miller#jackson!joel#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#tw somnophilia#tw dubcon
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DON’T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND || MASTERLIST
best friend!Coriolanus x capitol!reader
concept post || my Coriolanus Snow masterlist
Summary:
You and Coryo have been best friends ever since you can remember. You’ve been through everything together and you’ve always been there for each other.
You’ve always thought of him as the protective older brother you’ve never had, but lately, your feelings towards him have changed - not quite so pure and innocent anymore.
First, you think that it’s only you, but then Coryo starts behaving differently towards you as well, lingering touches, teasing comments and burning stares that only add to your confusion.
As the lines of friendship become more and more blurred, you feel yourself starting to fall more and more for your best friend - the one thing you’d never wanted to do, because you know that, ultimately, it will just end in heartbreak for you … right?
I’m so excited to get started on this mini series!! thank you guys so much for all the love you’ve shown my little concept post I made yesterday!!
so far I’m planning on 4 parts (yes, there will be smut later on, but first we need some build up and some delicious tension), but who knows how many more ideas I’ll get while writing ;)
also: yes, I’ve been listening to Dress and So It Goes … on repeat whilst working on the concept for this story, hence the chapter titles lol
Part I: don’t want you like a best friend || find a teaser and another one here :) 🦋🪷💫 (17+, no super intense smut - yet)
Part II: gold cage, hostage to my feelings (coming soon!!; find a teaser here!) 🦋🪷
Part III: only bought this dress so you could take it off 🦋💫
Part IV: so it goes … 💫
🦋 fluff
🪷 angst
💫 smut
the tag for this will be don’t want you like a best friend 🦋!
series taglist:
@asapkyndall @slitsphilia @ravenclawprincess33 @mckennah123 @serving-targaryen-realness @mentallyyy-unstable @mizuki80 @snows-wife @prettyinsatiable @ashcosmo @generally-awqward @snowflxke @nallasstuff @ajs-222 @spiritofbuddha @notyourwildestdream @earthangel-111 @bhdem @toogardenheart @iheartinkonpaper @daisiesformylove @ebsmind @dominqueeekk @cherrybomb8484 @dangelnleif @minmin1328 @xhyaryx @nycweb-slinger @acatwriteshere @lookclosernow @allcheesemelts @bxtchopolis @hopefulcupcakerebel @squidscottjeans @evan-peters-wife @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @ghsface @spear-bearing-bi-witch @loxbbg @floralcyanide @ilikefictionalmen @smxipixie @devils-blackrose @lcvecstiel @leigh-kay @r02eg0ld @gottoomanycelebritycrushes @nomorespahgetti @wpdarlingpan @sabrinasbd @alwaysvettel1 @flu0re @alpha-mommy69 @iwantosleep @hikarikram @scarletttargaryen @angelicblondie @ultrav10l3nce @kuroosbby001 @coriosgf @tristanswildcat @insomniac1345 @reapers-lover @wearemadeofstardust0 @i-understand-vangogh @loiita-xo
comment or dm me if you want to be on the taglist for this! :)
tumblr won’t let me tag some of you guys, please check your settings (settings —> general —> mentions —> anyone) whether anyone can tag you in posts! :)
#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus smut#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus imagine#coriolanus x y/n#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x y/n#coriolanus snow smut#best friends to lovers#best friend Coryo#thg#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#maysileewrites#don’t want you like a best friend 🦋
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Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 4
Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Read parts 1-3 first if you haven't!
Summary: The somewhat hostile dynamic between you and Bucky shifts the morning after a questionable chain of events. The tension between you seems to be mostly resolved...until it isn't.
Warnings: profanity, teasing, alcohol consumption, mentions of previous smut, gunshot wounds, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 3.1k
A/N: It took me too long to write this and I don't love it, but it'll do. My mind has been all over the place lately and I have a hundred different things going on irl. Side note for anyone who reads my A/Ns, I kinda wanna post a pic of me in a slutty little dress next week for absolutely no reason. That questionable decision is still under advisement.
Bucky wakes up to an ache in his side and the feeling of a wet sheet stuck against his bare abdomen. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes fully to know it’s his wounds from last night, bleeding through the bandages you’d fashioned for him. He heals quickly, but deeper wounds take a little more time. Only a couple of minutes later, Bucky is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pressing a wet cloth to the exit wound on his lower left side. The bandage you put on his lower left back is still intact and fine, but the one in front just didn’t cut it.
Fuck, I’m cumming. Those three little words in your soft, breathy voice suddenly come to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. That’s the final thing he heard last night before he fell asleep. It all comes flooding back to him. The charged banter in the kitchen, the teasing, locking yourselves in your separate bedrooms for the night and then getting yourselves off. He remembers your moans and whimpers carrying through the walls, straight to his ears. What the hell were you the two of you thinking? You weren’t thinking, and Bucky sure as hell wasn’t thinking.
He glances down and peels the wet cloth away from his skin but sees a fresh stream of blood threatening to spill from the wound and drip into the waistband of his sweats, so he quickly presses it to his skin again and braces his free hand against the edge of the bathroom sink. He’s so lost in thought about last night that he doesn’t even notice your bedroom door opening a few feet down the hall and you shuffling out in your oversized t-shirt.
“Are you bleeding again?” Your raspy morning voice has an almost uncharacteristic meekness to it, and Bucky freezes at the sound of it. His gaze flits to the side and he sees you through the open bathroom door, standing a few feet down the hall, staring at him. Your hair is messy and your faded blue shirt looks like it could be fifteen years old, but your appearance and your soft tone send a bit of blush to his cheeks.
“It’s fine, it’s not bad.” He says flatly, watching as your eyes float down his bare torso and land on the red-tinged cloth he’s holding against his abs. You don’t listen to a word he says, and instead quickly begin walking toward him. You can tell it really isn’t all that bad as you place your palm over his hand and force him to pull the cloth away. It’s a steady bleed but it’s by no means a major hemorrhage.
“Are you going to let me fix it?” You ask, letting go of his hand and letting him press the cloth back to the wound. You stand between him and the bathroom vanity now, looking up at him with a raised brow. Bucky doesn’t really understand the difference in the dynamic of last night versus the dynamic of this morning. You were up in arms all yesterday evening after the incident at the club, and then the entire drive back to the apartment and even in the kitchen you were pissy with him. Is one self-serving orgasm all it takes to completely turn your mood around? Is that why you’re almost being nice this morning? Bucky’s confusion is evident on his face, but you continue to wait for his answer.
“You’re asking this time?”
“If you want to bleed out on the bathroom floor I won’t interfere, but try not to stain the rugs.” You say, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Bucky gauges the situation. You’re in a better mood than yesterday, it almost seems like you’ve forgotten the disaster that was last night’s mission. He isn’t going to ruin that and end up with you driving him mad for the rest of the day.
A few moments later, Bucky is sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you sit on your knees between his feet, using a special kind of quick-clotting gauze to fashion a new bandage for his wound. The atmosphere around the two of you doesn’t feel so electrically charged this time, there isn’t an undeniable tension threatening to snap with a single word or touch. Bucky peers down at you with a cloudy gaze as you carefully size the gauze and place it where it needs to be. He can’t help but wonder for a moment how the two of you went from sharing takeout and beer on his couch to being at each other’s throats yesterday. He thinks back to the night he invited you in, the night he said that you and Vision should switch apartments. He liked you that night. After your second beer, you talked to him like you hadn’t lived across the hall from each other for 6 months and simply been acquaintances all of that time. He never would have thought he’d end up taking a bullet for you within the first two days of sharing a place.
The sound of a key sliding into the apartment door catches the attention of you both, and your hands falter against Bucky’s lower abdomen as you look up at him with questioning eyes. Does Vision still have a key?
“Bucky, I swear to god if you laid up in this apartment and bled to death last night—” Sam stops short when the apartment door swings shut behind him and his eyes land on the two of you. He can see straight down the short hallway, through the open bathroom door, to where you sit between Bucky’s feet on the floor, still facing his torso. “Shit, I should’ve knocked.”
“Why the hell do you have a key to my apartment?” Bucky asks gruffly, lifting one hand from the edge of the bathtub and running it through his hair. It takes Sam two more seconds to figure out that it’s you on the floor, and that you’re not doing Bucky the kind of favor you appear to be doing him.
“Why the hell are the two of you half-dressed, sitting in there like that?” Sam’s question reminds you that you’re not wearing any pants. You let out a soft sigh before continuing your work on Bucky’s wound, placing the last piece of medical tape firmly against his skin to secure the three layers of gauze you so neatly arranged. “Wait, did you sleep here last night?” Sam asks with an obvious hint of amusement in his tone. Bucky narrows his eyes at the man and notices the playful smile taking over his features across the apartment.
“Why are you here, Sam?” Bucky responds with his own question. Placing your hands on Bucky’s knees, you push yourself up to a standing position and step away from him. For the quickest moment, he's staring right at the line where your t-shirt ends and your thighs begin, but then you’re gone, moving to the sink to wash your hands, and he’s left staring at Sam.
“I texted you three times last night and you didn’t answer me once. It’s sort of basic human decency to respond to texts after you’ve been shot.” Sam points out. He walks further into the apartment and turns in the direction of the kitchen. You shoot Bucky a look over your shoulder as you dry your hands on a towel. It’s a look that says are we not telling Sam I moved in here? Bucky understands it instantly and returns it with his own look that says I don’t know what to tell him. So, neither of you say anything about it.
You head back to your own room to find some pants while Bucky heads to the kitchen to see what Sam’s on about.
“It’s making more sense now.” Sam chuckles, just as Bucky rounds the corner of the hall and comes into his view. Sam pulls the fridge open and starts rummaging through its limited contents, searching for any semblance of breakfast food. Bucky leans his back against the nearest edge of the kitchen counter and listens to the soft fabric sounds down the hall as you search for a pair of sweats to pull on.
“What is?”
“You two being at each other’s throats last night. It didn’t make sense to me then but it makes sense now.” Sam has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he closes the fridge and turns around to face Bucky.
“How so?” Bucky really shouldn’t be egging him on, but here he is.
“You’re into each other.” Sam says assuredly. Bucky scoffs, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his still bare chest. “She slept over last night, didn’t she? Did you two take your heated differences straight to the bedroom after I dropped you both off here?”
“I slept in my own bed last night.” You interject. You’re tying the drawstrings on a pair of joggers as you step into the kitchen and shoot both of the men passing glances. Your claim may be blurring the truth in the slightest way, but it’s not a lie. Sam looks between the two of you with narrowed eyes and disbelief written all over his face.
“Fine. I’ll give it a rest.” Sam concedes, holding his hands up. He steps toward the middle of the kitchen and plants his hands on the surface of the island while you begin filling a small glass with water. Bucky’s eyes are heavy on you. He’s watching you closely, and you can tell, though your back is to him.
One orgasm. One orgasm is all it took to turn you back into the girl you were when he found you standing outside of his door with a bag of takeout and an offer to share with him. He doesn’t even tune into what you and Sam begin conversing about. He’s stuck in his head, thinking about how you went from becoming his roommate, to becoming his enemy, to patching him up, and then to getting yourself off at the end of it all. He thinks if he dwells on the chain of events too long, he may end up with whiplash.
—
You lie on your back on the living room floor with the backs of your thighs against the front side of the couch and your lower legs resting atop the seat cushion. You’re two and a half beers in and feeling buzzed, listening to good music and drowning in your own thoughts when you hear the apartment door handle turning.
Bucky had been out with Sam all day after he stopped by this morning. They were doing a bit of recon on Elias Leveaux. It was something you should’ve been a part of, and Sam had indeed asked you to ride over to SHIELD headquarters with them and spend the day working on it, but you politely declined.
“After last night, I think I deserve a day off.” You had said. “I would’ve nailed him last night if someone hadn’t interfered.” You were obviously referring to Bucky.
“I’m sure you would have.” Bucky grumbled back. You knew exactly what he was implying, yet your only response was a roll of your eyes in his direction and a friendly goodbye to Sam before they left.
You turn your head to the side and watch as the door swings open and Bucky steps inside, immediately looking to his right and taking in the sight of you half on the floor and half on the couch, with a couple of empty bottles and a few unopened ones scattered around your body. The first thing you notice when you meet his gaze is how tense he looks. You can see the beginnings of dark circles forming under his eyes, the way the muscles in his neck and jaw look taut, the unreadable look on his face. You’re sure he planned to come in, shower, and go straight to bed, even though it’s barely past eight at night. You’re so sure he had no intention of engaging with you, especially after last night. After the heated exchange in the kitchen and the following mutual masturbation through the walls of the apartment he probably wanted nothing more than to pretend you don’t exist. Letting you patch him up again this morning was likely just a lapse in judgment, or maybe he’d forgotten about last night entirely. For a second, you get the horrifying feeling that your moans and sensual sounds might’ve actually been forgettable for him. Wait, why does that possibility bother you?
As you lie on your shared living room floor, still staring at Bucky as you overthink, he starts tugging off his leather jacket.
“Drink with me.” You say softly, nudging one of the unopened bottles of beer across the floor with your index finger. Bucky drops his jacket on the arm of the couch nearest to him and weighs his options. He can hear a hot shower calling his name, but the way you’re looking at him is tugging at him a little more than it should. You smile to yourself when he narrows his eyes at you, yet sinks into the far seat of the couch and reaches down to the floor, accepting the beer you pushed in his direction. “Did you guys find anything good today?” You ask, returning your gaze back to the ceiling above.
“Nothing you don’t already know.” Bucky pops the cap of the beer with ease and raises the bottle to his lips, taking one long sip.
“But you were out there for almost twelve hours.” You say incredulously, giving him a questioning side-eye. Bucky raises a brow at you and cocks his head to one side.
“You were counting?”
“Counting every hour of pure, rejuvenating quiet time I got today.” You retort.
“Oh? After what I heard last night, I was sure that quiet wasn’t really your thing.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth and they come as a shock to him as much as they do to you. He’d like to blame the beer for his slip of the tongue, but only being one sip in and having the metabolism that he does renders the excuse unusable.
“If you want to talk about that, can we also talk about your volume? I heard you loud and clear, soldier.” With your heavenly sounds from last night replaying in his mind, Bucky begins to notice the way the front of his pants are starting to have a little less room than usual. He takes another sip of his beer and lifts his gaze from where you are on the floor to look out the windows making up the wall to your left. Ignore it, he thinks to himself.
“You started it.” He grumbles, his words sounding a bit like those of a child. You laugh to yourself as you tug your legs down from the couch and move to sit upright on the floor.
“But we both finished it, didn’t we?” When you look into each other’s eyes this time, you’re definitely feeling the effects of the drinks you downed before he made it back home. You’re thinking about him wrapping his hand around the shaft of his hard cock, working up and down the length of it while he lies in his bed and listens to you through the walls. You’re lost in thought, as evidenced by the look on your face, and Bucky narrows his eyes at you.
“Is that why you seemed so normal this morning?” The question comes tumbling out before he can second-guess himself and stop his tongue from forming the words. “Because you…finished?” He chooses to go with your safe choice of words.
“I seemed normal this morning?” You raise a brow at him. He runs a hand through his messy hair and holds his beer atop his knee with the other hand.
“You weren’t pissed like you were yesterday.” He’s watching you carefully, studying the way your expression softens and your eyes roll away from him, toward the ceiling again.
“I guess an orgasm does that to a girl.”
As the two of you continue drinking in the unexpectedly comfortable silence, you find yourself wondering if last night’s orgasm did him as much good as it did you. You woke up feeling refreshed and at ease, even though, just as Bucky said, you were pissed yesterday. It was the perfect solution to your anger. Just by listening to Bucky and touching yourself you were able to lull yourself into a nice sleep and your bad mood had seemingly dissipated by sunrise this morning.
“Maybe you should do that more often.” Bucky says under his breath. Though he doesn’t know why he decided to say it, he didn’t feel like holding the words back. He watches you with the most nonchalant gaze as your lips part and your eyes begin to search his. He shouldn’t have said it, he knows that. But it’s just like when he said maybe you and Vision should switch rooms. He sits down and drinks with you and somehow, his inhibitions melt away and he says shit that he shouldn’t say. He watches as your bewildered expression turns into a more adjusted, thoughtful expression. You push yourself up off of the floor, coming to stand on your bare feet as you continue looking into his steely blue eyes.
“On my own?” Now Bucky’s the bewildered one. He does a good job of masking it as he sips on his beer, but you know you’ve gotten to him with just three little words. You smirk at him before turning on your heel and bending over to gather your empty bottles from the floor. You don’t even think about the view you’re giving him. You have no idea that the combination of your insinuating question and your current stance in front of him have his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, squeezing his eyes shut for a second until he hears the clang of the last beer bottle being gathered into your arms. He looks back at you just as you’re turning around to face him once more.
Fuck it. Bucky shrugs his shoulders and you shoot him a quizzical look, frozen in place a foot to his right, with all of those bottles in your grasp. You follow every move he makes as he rises from the couch and downs the last sip of his beer, keeping his eyes trained on yours. His stare is hard and penetrating, feeling as if it’s going right through you.
“Did I say on your own?”
TAG LIST (FULL):
@spngingerbread21 @sadeyes61 @edelweissbarnes @mayamacall @imemeriebarnes @ladyvenera @buckbuckybuckaroo @urlocalpillowprincess @sagebarness @mrs-marc-spector @srlover40 @valhalla-kristin @phoenixstark1708 @samfreakingwinchester @ordelixxx @hellfirebabe @dashis-posts @literaryavenger @ahlookatallthelonelypeople @fandomsfeminismandme @buckysbaby-dolll @lissame @armystay89 @its-daydreamer23 @ziawbarnes @winterslove1917 @wintermischief @mondaycomingdown @yujyujjj @blackrigel @scoonsalicious @violetwinterwidow01 @frombkjar @wheelsupkels @bubblevicioussss @mikisworls @itvy5601 @dawnissunnysideup @obsessed-oops @coffeeshub @barnesxstan @regics @happyglitterturtle @whiminiferous @sebas-ass @mistressmkay @pedrosprincess @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @j23r23 @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace
#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#mcu#bucky barnes x you#the winter soldier#winter soldier
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Part two of this post on celebrity Steve and oblivious Eddie.
———
Eddie’s met with the first line of defense at Steve’s door. He had expected to at least make it into Steve’s place before being ambushed by Robin but it seems Dustin beat her to it. Eddie would’ve laughed if it was any other day, seeing Dustin guarding Steve’s front door on his bicycle like a mighty knight on his steed.
“You weren’t here yesterday,” Dustin says and Eddie nods slowly.
“I had a campaign with the guys,”
“So it wasn’t because of the pictures?” He has an eyebrow raised skeptically in a move so Steve, Eddie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Listen, Dusty, I love you and I know you love Steve but I’m not talking to you about this before I speak to him okay? It’s just not—” The door swings open halfway through his sentence, which was good because Dustin showed no signs of budging.
Steve’s standing there bundled in a hoodie, and says, “Get out of my doorway Dustin,”
“No,”
“Dustin,” Steve’s tone goes stern but Dustin only relents after a fifteen second stare down during which Eddie is too afraid to move.
“Fine,” He says, tossing Eddie a dark look. “But I’ll be back in an hour,” And then he’s cycling away.
Steve’s unusually quiet and withdrawn all the way to the kitchen and then occupies himself with the coffee machine, facing away from Eddie.
“We need to talk,” Eddie starts then cringes as how bad it sounds.
“Yeah we do,” Steve places two mugs on the island and stays on the other side of it, arms crossed. Eddie hates not being able to read Steve’s face. It’s not the first time they’re having a fight— if this even considered a fight— but he’s never been shut out like this. He prepares to grovel but Steve interrupts him again. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth,”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew at first,” Steve sighs heavily. “I thought you just didn’t want to mention it, then you asked what I did for work,”
“And you told me you were in between jobs,” Steve mumbles something that sounds like technically but he still wasn’t looking at Eddie. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to ignore you,”
“Didn’t you though?”
“I was confused, Steve, and overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to say to you even if I answered your calls,”
“Now you do?”
“Yeah, now I do,” Eddie says. “It’s kind of intimidating you know, to find out your only boyfriend is a global superstar—” He takes the win when Steve snorts into his coffee.
“I’m not that famous,” Steve tries to protest but Eddie presses on.
“But I love you—”
“What?”
“And I don’t give a shit what anyone has to say about it—”
“You love me?”
“Have I not told you that before?” Eddie rounds the island to hold Steve face in his hands. “Do you have any idea how easy you are to love, baby?”
Steve blinks fast like he’s blinking away tears. “I can’t promise you it won’t happen again,”
“I know,”
“It might even get worse,”
“I was raised in a small town babe, I don’t mind being called your satanic boy toy once in a while,” Eddie says and Steve laughter rings out much brighter this time. They’re going to be just fine.
———
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie modern au#mine#there’s probably gonna be a third part not sure yet#it’s late so I’ll tag everyone in the morning
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because i liked a boy , part ii. | carlos sainz x fem! reader
part one.
summary: carlos sees how y/n is thriving after their break up and he couldn’t help but feel regret, especially after seeing how she moved on.
fc; nicki nicole
warnings; cursing , reader is implied to be a spanish speaker, uhhh idk what else
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs
note; requested ! this is set over a span of a couple of months btw ! this is a long one for me icl
masterlist !
liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, and others
yourusername: por las noches [at night] remix out now!
thank you pesopluma for giving me the chance to feature on this track, had so much fun collabing with you!
tagged; pesopluma
username: OMG MOTHER
username: this song is so….💔💔
username: her voice + peso’s voice 😫
username: yall think it’s abt carlos???
pesopluma: fue tan divertido trabajar contigo, hasta la próxima! 🖤😁 [it was so fun working with you, until next time!]
yourusername: gracias por darme la oportunidad 🥹🖤 [thank you for giving me the opportunity]
username: omg wasn’t she rumored to date him before carlos??
username: they just shared a mutual friend 😭
username: ‘solita me dejarás’ [you’ll leave me alone] was 100% aimed at carlos for not defending her 🙁
username: the emotions in her voice, i just know that break up hurt her
lilymhe: idk what you’re saying but your pretty voice makes up for it 😫🫶
yourusername: love uuuuuu
username: when she said ‘todo lo que yo te di y todo lo que me diste, fue pa' nada’ [everything i gave to you and everything you gave to me, was for nothing] i felt that shit in MY SOUL😖😖
username: omg omg omg carlos liked!!!
username: my roman empire is cary/n
username: carlos still liking her posts and following her 🥹🥹
username: “voy a preguntar por qué todos nuestros sentimientos se quedaron en ayer” [i’m going to ask why all of our feelings stayed in yesterday] has me in my FEELS, miss y/n you ate w that🤒
alexandrasaintmleux: amazing! always so talented 🩷💐
yourusername: thank u alex 🥹🫶
username: my ferrari wags💔💔
username: this song seems like the last goodbye to carlos tbh, like she’s letting alllll of her feelings out before moving on bc in her recents she looks so happy🥹🥹🥹🥹 liked by yourusername !
liked by carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and others!
yourusername: “ALMA”, my first album, is finally out! and if that wasn’t enough, official dates for ALMA tour is also out! presale link in my bio. 🖤🖤🖤
username: HELLOOOO?????
username: IM SLDKSKDO
username: trust I WILL BE GOING TO MADRID TO SEE HER
carmenmmundt: i better get front row seats in madrid!!
yourusername: i’ll get them for you #trust
username: anybody notice how the opening show is in madrid ??? coincidentally before the start of the season??
username: i noticed too omg, i’m convinced the tour was planned before her and carlos broke up so he could see her🥹
username: carlos liked this post too!
lilymhe: OH EM GEEEEE IM SO EXCITEDDDDDD liked by yourusername!
username: working extra shifts rn
carlossainz55: felicitaciones! [congratulations] knew you could do it! liked by yourusername!
username: cary/n💔💔😭😭
username: IM SO HYPED FOR THIS
username: so you’re telling me we might hear ‘because i liked a boy’ and ‘por las noches’ LIVE???!!
yourusername: maybeeeeeee
alexandrasaintmleux: already ready for when they officially go on sale! making charles also use his phone and laptop😌😌
yourusername: alexxxxx🥹🥹🫶🫶
carlos congratulations on the album and the tour, i know how hard you’ve been working on both.
y/n thank you, carlos. yeah, i have been working hard despite certain bumps in the road 😊
carlos listen, i’m so sorry. i should’ve defended you more. it was my mistake and i was blind and stupid and i lost you. i lost an amazing girl.
y/n yeah! you were stupid
y/n i was getting death threats and i was told that it was ‘complicated’ to make a post!
y/n but it’s fine, i’m over it.
carlos well i’m not over you.
y/n deal with it, carlos sainz. you messed up. you lost me.
carlos just give me one more chance, por favor, mi amor. [please, my love] te lo juro, [i swear to you] i won’t fuck it up. please.
y/n no. i have a tour to prepare for. goodbye, carlos.
liked by carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and others
yourusername: MADRIDDDDD❤️🇪🇸 thank you for creating happier memories for me in this beautiful city. you’re all so special to me🖤🖤
username: ‘happier memories’ rmbr when she’d always be seen in madrid w carlos 🥹
username: OOMF ON TWT SAID SHE SAW CARLOS THERE W CARMEN AND GEORGE AND A MYSTERY GIRL
carmenmmundt: i think i lost my voice from screaming so much🤣 george is even worse!! but amazing like always 💞💞
georgerussell63: broken spanish and don’t have a clue what you said, but i somehow lost my voice
yourusername: it means sm to me that you both enjoyed 🥹🖤
username: MOTHER HAS MOTHERED
username: buenos días y k vivan los mujeres😍 [good morning and long live women]
username: el mejor concierto de mi vida😫😫 [the best concert of my life]
username: streets are saying carlos was there w another girl????
username: the way you guys stopped hating on her the moment she ended things w carlos, you guys are sick!!
username: literally, she was always that girl but since she was dating their fave……
username: idc i never liked her
landonorris: womp womp!
landonorris: waiting for u to come to england
yourusername: soooooon😁
alexandrasaintmleux: so excited for the monaco concert 🩷🩷
yourusername: can’t wait to see you and charles!🫶
liked by carlossainz55, pesopluma, and others
yourusername: special guest in cdmx [mexico city] tonight 🙈 tqm [ilysm] 🖤🖤
tagged; pesopluma
pesopluma: MI REINAAAAAA😍😍😍 [my queen]
pesopluma: la vida es mejor contigoooooo, tqm❤️❤️ [life is better with you, ilysm]
yourusername: 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶🖤🖤🖤
username: the way he looks at her, i am unwell
username: she looks so happy w him🙁🙁
username: friends to lovers is REALLL
username: mis faves
username: cdmx concert was the best one
username: POR LAS NOCHES LIVE>>
lilymhe: cuties🫶 2x date next time ur in town??
yourusername: of course 😖
username: not carlos liking 😭
username: wonder how carlos feels realizing he fumbled a bad bitch like y/n for not defending her online
username: the way peso pluma said ‘i’d defend her with my life, that’s how much i love her’ during his lil speech during the concert was so🥹🥹
username: i’m so happy that she looks so happy and relieved, AND THE COMMENT SECTION HAS NO TOXIC FANS!!
username: 😖😖😖😖😖😫😫😫💞
carlos so you’re dating your ‘friend’ now huh
y/n weird i don’t remember asking.🤣
y/n he was there for me when i was getting death threats and being called a slut for nothing. he was there to comfort me when i cried over the thousands of hate comments under every post.
y/n something you never did.
carlos wait until he finds another girl and will dump you. you know how it is when people get that famous that fast. he won’t treat you well.
y/n HA what a joke. very funny, sainz.
y/n weren’t you the one to bring a girl to MY concert?? but i’m the bad guy for moving on and dating someone else???
y/n you’re pathetic, sainz.
carlos admit it, you know i’m right
y/n fuck off, he treats me better than you ever did
carlos sure. sure he does.
y/n move on, sainz. move on.
liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, and others!
yourusername: princess treatment only 💞🥹 muchas gracias, mi rey🖤 [thank you very much, my king]
tagged; pesopluma
pesopluma: lo mejor para usted, mi reina❤️ [the best for you, my queen]
yourusername: mi amor 🥹🫶
username: literal goals
username: mis padres
username: a relationship like them pls
username: the way she went from carlos to peso pluma>>>>
username: SHE SAID PRINCESS TREATMENT ONLY ‼️‼️ WE ONLY WANT MEN WHO DEFEND US‼️‼️ liked by yourusername !
username: she looks sooooo happy n free i love it
username: as much as i miss cary/n, peso pluma really does treat her like a queen
lilymhe: ITS WHAT YOU DESERVE BBY!!!!! liked by yourusername !
username: oh i just know lily knows the real shit abt carlos and y/n
lilymhe: i am neither confirming not denying…
landonorris: cool but can u tell him to get on his pc and join the game🙄🙄🙄🙄
pesopluma: on it 🫡
charles_leclerc: WAIT FOR ME
username: wait omg he’s friends w the drivers????
username: duh, she’s besties w the wags , ofc he’s gonna know their bfs
alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous gorgeous girls date wonderful amazing guys who make them happy💐🩷🩷
yourusername: well that also makes you a gorgeous gorgeous girl! ilysm🫶🖤🥹
username: wonder how carlos feels knowing he lost y/n to a guy who treats her better AND is friends w his friends 😭😭
username: if i was him i’d be sooo pissed 😭
username: imagine if he was begging for her to take him back
yourusername: lol imagine
#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 scenario#formula one scenarios#f1 imagine#formula one imagines#formula one imagine#f1 scenarios#formula one social media au#carlos sainz smau#carlos sainz social media au#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine
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say cheese 📸
pairing: charles leclerc/fem!photographer!reader
type: instagram imagine, social media au
notes: lucky me this made it out of my drafts 🎉 lmk what you guys think! also if anyone wants to be part of my permanent taglist, pls lmk hehe
about: fans absolutely adore the way you are able to capture charles in photos (plus what's a little harm with an accidental post that made its way to your account)
scuderiaferrari
liked by charloslover, finemidnight, arthurleclerc, and 782,221 others
scuderiaferrari Outtakes from Montreal 🍁
lightningleclerc I FEEL BLESSED
forzaforeva Congratulations, Charles! Amazed by the amount of work you put in every race weekend. Hoping for good results next GP 💪
livelovecarlos whoever took the last photo needs a raise actually
lecssaint i think y/n took this photo! but true lol she photographs charles so well its crazy
scuderiaferrari
liked by mercdefender, lewham, c2buddy, and 561,223 others
scuderiaferrari Mode: push 🏎️
vettelegend Such a good picture! Good luck, Charles! ❤️
lestappenfilmz ferrari's photographer in love with charles' eyes just as much as i am
f1thusiast y/n please speak into the mic
ssainzluvr carlos version where?????
scuderiaferrari Just posted! We'd never leave a driver behind 🤗
lecssssainz who the fuck are you tryin to fool
scuderiaferrari
liked by ferrariswift, pumasports, monacoprince, and 893,331 others
scuderiaferrari Charles clad in his special colors ❤️🤍
alonstroll The photographer working overtime so the Ferrari admins can distract us once again from the terrible strategy lol
popstarz LOOOVE THIS GIVE Y/N A RAISE IMMEDIATELY
finelineleclerc real when charles doesnt post i head over to her account just to get crumbs pls
ynfilms
liked by charles_leclerc, joris__trouche, lovers1989, and 56,445 others
ynfilms back in monaco 🌊
charles_leclerc Props for taking the second picture, not thrilled on diving a fourth time if ever you didn't 😁
landonando THE FIRST PICTURE??? I CANT BREATHE???
eudeleclerc he's definitely carved by god himself like
charmleclerc thank you for your service, queen 🙏
moneqazques came back here after all the y/n hype on twitter, what a legend
ynfilms
liked by monegasquez, swiftfeld, loveleclerc, and 67,221 others
ynfilms hard at work; improving day by day.
charles_leclerc Ah so that's why there was a click sound behind me yesterday
ynfilms just doing my job, charlie 🙏
forzaforeva the il predestinato is il predestinato-ing
schumangels Love this ❤️
ynfilms
liked by charles_leclerc, pascale_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 45,667 others
ynfilms out and about in barcelona 🏔️
lecs1655 queen providing our delusional asses we thank you, really
sainzchamp Charles and his pista god what a combo
ynfilms
liked by sainzhero, hamilchamp, leclove, and 23,445 others
ynfilms love you to the moon and saturn :)
landonando MAM???? WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO POST THIS
oconsgirl HELLO???SJSNJJ
grandprizcx im fucking crying so much for soft launches?????
ricciardos My best guess is this wasn't supposed to be posted in this account....
lecshamilt0n posting a picture of charles so boyfriend-y and so intimate to a taylor swift lyric is just so sick!!!
charles_leclerc
liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen, pierregasly, and 1,230,778 others
charles_leclerc I always thought I was just a fan of cameras, turns out, I loved smiling in photos when you're the one behind the lenses. I do not know the first thing about photography, but I do know every picture of you I have deserves to be treasured.
The day you took your first picture of me was the same day you captured my heart. It's been yours ever since.
tagged: yourusername and ynfilms
carlossainz55 Does this mean Y/N will stop being my photographer at Ferrari
charles_leclerc Yeah cause she's my girlfriend
yourusername no carlos, don't listen to him
charlosfan god no wonder she captures charles so well??? cause they have each other's hearts???
gaslysgirl Did not think going on Instagram will only remind me how loveless my life really is but ok
sainznorris FINALLY MY PARENTS
yourusername you know what i'm kinda glad i forgot to switch accounts and posted that on my work photography ig (hehe love you, baby)
charles_leclerc More glad than you cause I finally get to show you off
pierregasly You put the cheesy in say cheese mate
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, franciscagomes, pierregasly, and 567,212 others
yourusername i was about to quit photography as a whole when i got accepted as a photographer for ferrari. who knew accepting this job when i was on the brink of losing what i was passionate about would only be the reason why i wake up every day doing what i love and living my best life.
bonus: i met the love of my life while doing it 🤍 it was later that i realized i don't just love taking pictures in general, i adored who i was taking photos of.
took a while before we shared with the world what we meant to each other, but the answer to why i capture charles so well — i take photos from my heart, which incidentally, belongs to him.
reputationcl who's cutting onions whhy are there tears in my eyes
sainzoperator THIS SOME SWEET ASS SHIT I CANT TAKE IT
lovingscuderia sleeping on a highway doesnt sound like a bad idea
danielricciardo EVERYONE RUN! The ants are here...
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tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12
notes: this took like 2 hours lolol lmk what u guys think <3 hopefully i can finish all my wip's and get to the requests hehe thank you for reading :D
#writtenbyrae#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc insta au#charles leclerc instagram imagine#charles leclerc social media au#charles leclerc ig imagine#charles leclerc fluff#formula 1#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 instagram imagine#f1 instagram au#f1 social media au#f1 fluff#formula 1 instagram imagine#formula 1 insta au#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 ig imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader
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need a ride? — python333
— — — —
synopsis ur walking home from school and theres a weirdo following you, luckily the 141 are there and they help u out!! :3
relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.
characters cap. price, soap (for like 2 seconds, so sorry soap enjoyers), ghost, gaz.
word count 2.4k
warnings a creepy old man following [reader], [reader] intended to be in high school, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of y/n [your name].
note i have like 5 drafts and all of them are requests from people so im so sorry i havent been working on those!! i pinky prom once i get the motivation to write them--which probably sounds weird since i wrote this but trust me when i had to force myself to write this lmao--i will be posting them :3 i hope u all enjoy this fic, its all fluff and emotional hurt/comfort + protective-ish 141!!
You really wish you had listened to that first warning light.
For a whole two days, your car had been in an auto repair shop, because you decided to ignore four whole warnings signs that something was seriously wrong with your car. Suspension and alignment issues, they’d told you yesterday, The wheels need to be realigned, the damaged suspension components need to be replaced, and the whole thing would take a day or two.
Fast forward to now, it’s 3:30 in the afternoon and you’ve been walking from school to your house for about ten minutes. The sun is close to being fully set—one of the worst parts of winter—and there’s been a guy following you for about five minutes now.
He showed up once you’d exited the school premises and since then had been very determined to follow you home. You obviously did not want this to happen. But it didn’t matter if you walked faster, because he would only match your pace. If you tried to run, you assume, he’d just run after you, and seeing as he had far longer legs than you—you were pretty fucked if you decided to run.
You would try to call an Uber, but your phone had been dead since fifth period. And you would try and catch a bus or something, but there were no bus stops near where you live, and even if there were, you weren’t carrying any cash or any cards on you.
So, again, you’re pretty fucked.
You look back at the man again, and turn your head right back around to look ahead of yourself once you see him looking right back at you, closer than you remember him being. Is he walking faster? Do I have to walk faster?
You let out a shaky breath and keep walking, speeding up your walk just a bit and widening your strides, trying to think of what you should do. You didn’t want to just lead him to your house, that was just stupid. But you couldn’t just not go home—where else would you go?
You continue to walk, speeding up a bit when you start to hear the man behind you speed up, and you try to control your panicked breathing. What are you supposed to do? You mentally curse yourself out for not carrying any self defense on your person, and continue your walking.
Then suddenly, as if they were sent by God himself, you see four men come into view—one with a mohawk, one wearing some sort of skull mask-balaclava, one with sunglasses on even when the sun is almost set, and one with a boonie hat on—all walking together, all engaged in a casual conversation.
You wonder for a moment if you should try and get closer to them to see if the guy would leave you alone. You hear the guy behind you speed up as you think and you take a deep breath before walking significantly faster to get closer to the men ahead of you.
Am I really gonna trust a group that has a guy wearing a fucking skull mask in it? You hear the man behind you speed up as well and you speed up in retaliation, trying to think more about what to do, Do I just walk near them or do I straight up pretend I know them?
You think that the second option would be more likely to ward the weirdo following you away, but how would you even go about it? Do you just walk near them, or actually talk to them and join in on their conversation?
You look behind you again and see the man significantly closer to you.
Deciding to take the risk, you rush up to them, swallowing down your panic when you hear the man behind you’s footsteps speed up to try and match your own speed.
“Hey, guys!” All four of the guys turn around to look at you, their expressions all varying looks of confusion as you continue to talk, “Crazy seeing you guys here, it— it’s been so long.”
You try to get as close to them as possible while not touching them and end up standing right by who you assume is the oldest. You try to subtly gesture to the man who was just following you, and the man you’re standing next to seems even more confused for a moment.
“Uh, I don—” One of his friends cuts him off with a swat to the arm and when he turns his head to look at them in confusion, they nod over at the man whose just now catching up with you, and his mouth shapes into an ‘o’ before he looks back at you with a bit more understanding in his eyes.
“Right, yeah, it has been really long,” He corrects himself, the other two of his friends catching on and stepping closer to you, almost creating a shield around you. He looks you over for a moment, before asking, “You just get out of school?”
“Yeah, yeah, I did,” You nod, grateful that they caught on, hoping your gratitude is somewhat apparent, “About ten minutes ago.”
“Nobody picked you up this time?” The older man asks, tilting his head to the side a bit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man who’d been following you getting closer, but you force yourself to ignore him.
“Yeah, no, everyone was kind of busy, so I have to walk home,” You respond, shoving your hands into the pocket of your hoodie to hide their shakiness as the other man stopped to stare at you two’s conversation.
“Aw, well that sucks,” The other man frowns, before offering, “I was just heading back to my car, I could drive you back to your house? It’s on the way to the hotel we’re staying at, anyway.”
You hesitate, trying to see if the man who’d been following you was still there, and much to your disappointment, he was. It was like he was just waiting for you to make a decision.
Not knowing if you had any other choice, you nod affirmatively, “Yeah, sure. If that’s okay.”
The older man gives you a small smile and pats your shoulder, “Of course it’s okay. I don’t want you just walking out here by yourself.”
You almost sobbed in relief when you heard the creep that was following you scoff and finally walk back to wherever he came from after hearing that you accepted their offer of a ride. The older man takes his hand off of your shoulder and looks over, noticing the man has left as well, then looks back at you with a more concerned expression on his face.
“Sorry, I almost gave you away at the beginning there,” He sincerely apologizes.
“It’s fine, he probably didn’t even notice,” You put on a small smile and take a deep breath before adding on, “Thank you for that. I didn’t think he was ever gonna go away.”
“Yeah, no problem,” The older man smiles at you, and tacks on, “I was serious about the ride, by the way. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”
You pause for a moment at that and think about if you trust them enough to have him drive you to your house and know your address and everything.
“It’s my car, by the way,” The guy with the sunglasses butts in, “I’m the one paying for it. No clue why he said it was his.”
“Because it was easier than saying it was yours,” The other guy sighs.
“Actually—” The one with a mohawk interrupts, before immediately being cut off by the other two with a simple ‘shut up’. He rolls his eyes, and does indeed shut up.
The one with a skull mask must notice your slight confusion, because he comments, “We’re renting a car for this week. Gaz is paying for it.”
“Don’t call me Gaz in public,” Gaz grumbles, “That’s weird. Just call me Kyle.”
“That sounds weirder,” The one with the skull mask argues, before the one with the almost-bucket hat sighs exasperatedly, the sound enough to make the two others shut up.
“Uh…” All their attention is back on you as you talk, making you resist the urge to shrink back in on yourself, “I mean, if you guys are totally okay with it, then I’d be… okay with getting a ride home.”
“Great!” Gaz smiles at you before dropping the smile and turning to the one with the skull mask, “You’re getting an Uber or something. I’m not driving you after that.”
“Wh—” The one in the skull mask, despite you only being able to see his eyes, looks baffled, “I didn’t do anything, fuckin’ kick out Soap or something!”
“Me? Why me?” The one with the mohawk—Soap, you assume—squawks, watching as Gaz actually thinks about it before nodding.
“Good point. Soap, call an Uber so…” Gaz pauses before turning to you, “What’s your name, love?”
You give him your name and he nods before turning back to Soap, “So that [y/n] can take your spot in the car.”
“I—” Soap begins to argue, before sighing and rolling his eyes, reaching into his back pocket for his phone, “Fine. Whatever. Fuck all of ye.”
“Sorrows, sorrows, prayers,” Gaz says dryly before turning back to you, “The car’s just another block up.”
“Got it,” You nod, “So I should just follow you guys then, or…?”
“Yeah,” Gaz confirms, “Stay a little closer in case that guy decides to come back, or if anyone else tries to follow you, alright, love?”
You nod again and take another step closer to the man with the skull mask and follow everyone else as they continue walking down to their car. They’re silent for the rest of the walk back, the man in the skull mask and the one with the almost-dad-going-fishing-hat keeping an eye out for any creeps while Gaz leads the way to the car.
Once you’ve all reached the car, Gaz unlocks it and the man in the skull mask and the one in the almost-bass-pro-shops-hat immediately get into the back seats, letting you have shotgun. You mentally thank them for it and wordlessly get into the passenger’s seat, happy that it’s not too dirty in the car, closing the car door once you’re in.
You buckle yourself in immediately and look right out the front window whilst Gaz gets in. This definitely won’t end up in me being kidnapped, You tell yourself, Totally not. This is the best idea I’ve ever had. Getting in a car with someone who goes by Gaz, someone who wears a mask from Spirit Halloween, and someone’s dad who somehow ended up here. Fucking perfect idea. I should do this more often.
Gaz gets in and buckles himself in, putting the car key into the ignition and twisting it, starting up the engine. You continue to stare out the window wordlessly as Gaz pulls out of the parking lot he’d been in and gets onto the road.
“Could you give me the directions to get to your place?” He asks you once he’s stopped at a red light right outside of the parking lot. Silently, you nod.
“Yeah, just, uh, keep going straight then take a left on Monroe,” You instruct him quietly. He nods and presses on the gas once the light turns green, continuing straight like you’d said.
“You alright?” The bearded man in the back pipes up, making you twist your head back to look at him.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” You assure him, half-lying, “Just a little tired and creeped out.”
“Reasonable,” He hums, before adding on, “I’m John, by the way, and this is Simon.”
Simon, the dude wearing the Spirit Halloween mask, perks up at the sound of his name, but otherwise doesn’t say anything.
“Good to know,” You respond, wondering if you should say anything else before awkwardly turning back in your seat to continue staring out the window, watching as Gaz takes a left.
“Take the next right, then just continue straight and then take a right on Balboa,” You tell him. He nods and takes the next right just as you told him to.
It’s probably safe to assume they aren’t kidnapping you, You think, your breathing finally back to normal now that you know you’re probably not in any danger.
“So what’s with the name ‘Gaz’?” You ask Gaz without thinking, tired of the silence in the car. Based on the way Gaz groans and John huffs out a laugh, you assume it’s somewhat of a long story.
“It’s kind of a long story?” Bingo. “But in short, I just don’t talk too much, and someone decided to make a big deal out of that.”
“I never made it a big deal!” John insists, all while Simon looks at him like he knows he’s lying, “It’s just a nickname!”
You listen in on their bickering, grateful to finally have some noise in the car, and huff out a small, amused laugh at their antics.
Soon enough, Gaz is turning right on Balboa, and he drives right into your neighborhood.
“It’s the house right up there,” You point to it, and he looks at the house you pointed at and speeds up a bit to reach it faster.
Once he’s at the house he thinks you pointed at, he asks, “This one, right?” and pulls into the driveway when you nod in confirmation.
He parks the car in your driveway and turns off the engine, immediately unlocking the car and turning to you.
“Well, I hope you have a good rest of your day,” He says politely, offering you a smile.
“Thank you, you too,” You smile back, feeling a little bad for being so eager to get out of the car. Then again, you really just want to get inside of your house where it’s safe, so you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door.
You carefully get out and close it behind you, fishing your keys out from your back pocket, walking up to the front door of your house and unlocking it, only hearing Gaz’s car pulling out of your driveway after you’ve successfully opened your front door.
You yawn as you walk in, and close the door behind you, toeing off your shoes and leaving them by the front door.
You think, in the back of your head, about how weird it is that you didn’t get kidnapped despite that being the perfect opportunity for them to do so—but you don’t think about it too hard. You’re just grateful to have gotten home safe.
#cod#cod hcs#hcs#task force 141#tf141#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#platonic taskforce141#simon ghost riley#platonic task force 141#platonic task force 141 x reader#platonic cod#task force 141 x reader#price#soap#ghost#gaz#its 2:44 am currently#and i dont feel tired#which is an issue#because i really need to go to sleep#but its fine!!!#yall ever think about the 141 just being ur dads to fall asleep and just think about them comforting you to sleep#no?? just me??#alright then#fluff#hurt/comfort#emotional hurt/comfort#technically proofread
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Part of Me QH43
You had been in love with your best Friends brother for as long as you could remember. So much so he was a part of you.
Word Count: 3.3K
Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI, oral (f receiving), not proofread, I think that's all of it please lmk if there's anything else.
This is only my second fic i've actually posted, if you like it please let me know. Also this is kind of rushed at the end, but I'd be stressing about this for over a week so hopefully i've done it some justice. Anyways I love all of you who take the time to read my work! Go Canucks and all that jazz.
Summer was quickly approaching in Ann Arbor Michigan, and you were all but prepared for your trip to the lake house this summer. Every summer for as long as you could remember was spent at your best friend Luke’s family lake house. Your mom and Ellen Hughes (his mother) had met their sophomore year in college from playing on the women’s hockey team together. Their friendship had continued over the years and became even stronger when they became pregnant around the same time having you and Luke only a week apart from each other (him being the older of you two).
You and Luke were destined to be best friends, practically inseparable. Always going to the same schools, hanging out daily, becoming part of each other's families. Growing up with Luke meant growing up with his older brothers; Jack and Quinn as well. Jack was like an older brother to you, always being so protective over you. Even back when you were in elementary school, Luke’s other friends would tease you about being a girl and having cooties. After Jack had threatened them, they never bothered you again. Quinn was a different story, you had always had a little crush on him, (you’d never admit that to Luke, but it was true). Even though you had been so into him, he had never seemed to reciprocate your feelings, making you feel like his younger brother’s annoying best friend. For years you tried to get over your crush on Quinn Hughes, but to no avail, your heart still belonged to him even at the end of your sophomore year of college. You knew deep down, he would always be a part of you.
Always going to the same schools with Luke led you to where you are now, at the University of Michigan, sitting in your dorm room, clothes scattered everywhere. It was the end of the term, and you were meant to be leaving for the lake house in a mere 5 days, but excitement filled your mind. You were excited to be reunited with Luke, considering you hadn’t seen him in over a month due to him leaving for Jersey to fulfill his lifelong dream of playing in the NHL with his two older brothers. Though you were extremely proud of him for all of his hard work and accomplishments, you still missed him more than anything, having never spent this much time apart from him.Even though you were excited, the mere thought of spending another summer around Quinn had your stomach in knots. The two of you kept contact throughout the years, even with his busy hockey schedule and your school schedule you still made time to stay in touch. You weren't sure if it was your imagination, but something felt different about this summer, even if you weren’t quite sure what it was yet.
The drive to the lake house was peaceful as you listened to music and traffic was low. As you got closer to the lake house the more free you felt. All of the stress of the school year slowly leaving your body and the relaxation of summer being let in. Luke had texted you the day before that he and Jack were on their way, considering it took far longer to get to the lake house from Jersey. You had expected to be the first one there as you usually were, but to your surprise, there was already a car in the driveway when you had pulled up. It was not a car you had seen before, both Quinn and Jack had gotten new cars since the last time you had seen them, but considering you hadn't heard anything from Luke since yesterday you had a very strong feeling that it was Quinn's.
You entered the house voicing a quick “Hello?” announcing your arrival to whoever was in the house. At the sound of your voice a very tousled looking Quinn came rushing down the stairs to greet you. The sight of his messy brown hair and bright but tired eyes brought a smile to your face. Your smile was contagious as it brought one upon his face just before he engulfed you in a bone crushing hug. The hug was comforting, like coming home after a long time away, but that didn't stop the feeling of butterflies from erupting throughout your stomach. “Hi Quinn” your voice came out barely above a whisper, being slightly muffled against his chest. “Hey y/n/n, long time no see huh” he jokes. You can't help but chuckle at him as you begin to pull away. Though, Quinn clearly wasn't ready to pull away, as he pulled you back in and gripped you tighter than before. The slight action had you flushing and you were grateful he couldn't see your face at that moment.
Finally as the two of you pulled away, Quinn spoke up asking “Have you heard anything from tweedle dee and tweedle dumb? They haven't said a word to me since they left Jersey yesterday.” The old nickname had you grinning as you responded “No, I haven't heard from them since about the same time.”
“Well then,” Quinn smiled, “it looks like it's just you and me for a while.” You were sure he didn't mean to sound so suggestive when saying that, but that didn't stop the warm feeling you got from his words. Your time together was slightly awkward at first given the fact that you hadn't truly seen each other in a year, but as the minutes passed the awkwardness subsided and you both began to grow comfortable in each other's presence. Conversation came easily with Quinn, talking about anything ranging from your favorite music to how life at U of M had been. It shocked you how comfortable talking to him was, because even though you had grown up around him, Jack and Luke had always been there as a buffer, even when you had wished they hadn't. After about an hour of talking with Quinn you heard the familiar sound of another car pulling into the gravel driveway announcing the arrival of Jack and Luke.
Quinn and you immediately hopped up heading towards the door to meet the two boys. You were surprised when Luke dropped his suitcase bounding towards you before spinning you around in his arms. The suddenness of it all caused you to burst out with a pure laughter having missed your best friend so much. You and Luke had missed the look Quinn had given the two of you, but Jack sure didn't, smirking at the look of jealousy on his big brother's face.
“Let he breathe Lukey” Jack spoke teasing his brother “not all of us have had the chance to say hello to her yet” Jack had finished his thought as he pulled you out of the other boy's grasp enveloping you in a hug of his own. Luke pouts as his best friend is stolen from a grasp, crossing his arm as he speaks up. “Last time I checked she was MY best friend, not yours” His whiny tone elicited a laugh from all of you as you pulled away from Jack.
“Oh Lukey, you don't know how much I've missed you.” Noticing Jack's smile falter at your words you spoke up again “before you say anything, I missed you just as much Jack” your words caused a giant smile to break out on the two boys faces.
After you all spent some time together catching up, you had excused yourself up to your room to begin unpacking for the summer. Your room was just as you left it, your bed made nicely and littered with stuffed animals from fairs and arcades that you had collected over the years. The walls were covered in pictures that seemed to show the story of you growing up, with photos of you at your first birthday party leading up to a photo of you and the Hughes boys last summer. That newest photo was your favorite, it was taken your last day of the trip when Ellen and Jim had stopped by, you were on Luke's back smiling as widely as your face would allow, while Jack was trying to act all cool for the camera. Your heart always seemed to stop whenever you looked at Quinn in that picture, he was wearing just a pair of swim trunks, showing off his toned body, but that wasn't what caught your eye, it was the way he had looked at you and Luke, he had so much admiration in his eyes, and if you didn't know any better, you would've believed that look was pointed at you and you only.
You're broken from your train of thought by the sound of a knock on your door. You muster a quick “Come in” expecting to see Luke, and are pleasantly surprised to see Quinn. “Hey Quinn, what’s up?”
“Nothing I just wanted to spend some time with you, I don't see or hear from you as much as the others do” Quinn admits rubbing the back of his neck.
“To be fair Quinn I you've never made me feel like you wanted to talk to me so I’ve given you your space.”
“I always want to hear from you y/n/n.”
Quinns confession has your heart beating faster in your chest, so much so that you're almost certain he can hear it from across the room.
“Yo- you do?” you struggle to form the words as you try to process what Quinn just said to you.
“Of course I do, I care about you, I want to know what's going on in your life, hell I want to be a part of your life, and not just in the summers.” his eyes are watching you so closely, as if he's trying to read your mind, trying to know your every thought. Your mind is running a million miles a minute as you try to think of a response, as you try to pinpoint the context for which he's saying these things.
“What do you mean Quinn, you are part of my life, you always have been” you finally utter out.
“I mean..” he says as he steps closer to you grabbing your hands “I want to be in your life as more than just your best friend's brother. I want to be the first person you talk to when you wake up in the morning and the last person you talk to before you go to sleep. I want you in the stands of my games cheering me on. I want to spend more time with you than I get, whether that means me coming down to Michigan, or you coming up to Vancouver. I want to be with you y/n. I’m so in love with you, and I have been for years. I can't keep that to myself any longer.”
Never in a million years would you have expected that from Quinn. You stared at him in such awe trying to figure out if this was real or some cruel prank the boys thought would be funny. And as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, Quinn speaks up again
“I know you weren't expecting this from me, I wasn't expecting it either, but after we spent all of that time talking before Jack and Luke got here, and after I saw how touchy Luke was with you, I just knew I couldn't hide this anymore.
After you still hadn't responded, Quinn began to panic a little.
“y/n… please say something.” That was all it took for you to snap out of the trance you were in and respond.
“Quinn, I’m so in love with you. I have been since I was eight years old and you held my hand after I had scraped my knee open. I've tried for years to push my feelings down for the sake of Luke, but also because I never thought you would be interested in me. I've never seen you as just ‘my best friend's brother’ , you're so much more than that to me, and I want all of those things too.”
The second those words left your mouth, Quinn wasted no time grabbing your face and bringing your lips to meet his. At first you were shocked, but you were quick to kiss him back as this has been something you had wanted for years. The kiss was full of passion and promise. Years of pining being made up for by one breathtaking kiss. You only pull away when you're both out of breath, leaning your foreheads together. It's in that moment you remember one detail. Luke.
“Quinn?” you ask, breaking the silence, only receiving a hum in response. “What are we going to do about Luke? How are we going to tell him? Are we even ready to tell him?” you start to ramble, leading Quinn to cut you off with another kiss. This one is much shorter than the last, as he begins to speak “Let's not worry about Luke right now hm? We can focus on us for now and tell him, and everybody else when we're ready. Okay?” The look in his eyes is so comforting, it genuinely has you questioning if you'll ever be able to say no to him. You know deep down you won't, which is why you say “Okay.”
So that's what you did. You and Quinn spent the whole summer focusing on your relationship by keeping it to yourself. That consisted of sneaky make out sessions in dark corners of the house, sneaking into each other's rooms in the middle of the night, holding hands under the blankets during movie nights, and sneaking glances that lasted longer than they should have. It sucked keeping such a big secret from your best friend, but you weren't ready to tell him yet, and you were enjoying your time with the man you loved.
Summer had come to an end much faster than you had ever expected, and that meant you would all be going back to your regular lives soon. You were worried about what that meant for your relationship with Quinn, being new to the whole long distance thing, but you were hopeful nonetheless. Today was the last day you would all be together, and you wanted it to be memorable. Luke had decided that going out to the local club would be the best way to spend your last night together, and of course Jack agreed 100%.
That's how you ended up here in a crowded sea of people cradling a vodka cranberry trying to make your way back to the booth the boys had saved for all of you. You hadn't even made it more than three feet away from the bar when a hand was grabbing your wrist. Turning you come face to face with a strange man who's very clearly drunk. You try taking your wrist back, but his grip only tightens and he speaks up in a dark gravelly tone “What's the rush doll, I jus’ wanna dance” his words slurring as he speaks
“I don't think my boyfriend would like me dancing with you, i’m trying to get back to him if you don't mind” you tried to stay calm as you tried pulling your wrist free again, his grip bruising now.
“You don't have to lie about having a boyfriend doll, if you don't want t’ dance jus’ say that”
before you get the chance to respond you feel an arm wrap around your waist and hear the voice of your boyfriend say “She doesn't want to dance pal, leave my girl alone before we have problems”
My girl, even though you knew you were his girl the words still sent butterflies to your stomach and a heat down to your core. At the sight of your boyfriend, the creep lets go of your wrist putting his hands up in surrender leaving you and Quinn alone.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Quinn practically screams, trying to speak to you over the music. It doesn't take you more than a minute to respond with a yes. The two of you find Jack and Luke and tell them what happened and that Quinn had offered to take you home, and let them enjoy the rest of their night. Luke was worried and didn't want to leave you alone, but you managed to convince him to stay and have fun.
The ride back to the lake house was torture. Quinn's hand rested on your thigh while his other gripped the steering wheel, and he was drawing shapes into your skin, his hand occasionally going higher messing with the hem of your dress. He knew exactly what he was doing, though it was the slightest of touch, it still had you squeezing your thighs together. You glanced over to look at him seeing the mischievous smirk on his face. Shaking your head you tried not to focus on his touch and focus on the scenery on the drive back (it didn't work.)
The second you had made your way into the lake house Quinn was on you. His lips attached themselves to your neck leaving open mouth kisses and nibbling just below your ear eliciting a gasp from your mouth. You turn around in Quinn's hold bringing him in for a needy, almost desperate kiss. His tongue running against your bottom lip requesting access, which you'd be crazy to refuse him. He slips his tongue into your mouth massaging your tongue with his, as his hands start to explore your body. You break away trying to catch your breath as you grab his hand dragging you up to your room. You attach your lips to his again once you're in the safety of your room, hands reaching up to unbutton the slutty black shirt he was wearing. No matter how long you had been with Quinn, you still got nervous in intimate situations like this with him causing you to have shaky hands. You could feel him smirk into the kiss at the shakiness of your hands, as his own reached up to slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders. He was pleasantly surprised to find out you weren't wearing a bra, groaning into the kiss as his hands groped your breasts nimble fingers flicking over your nipples. The sensation had you pulling away from his lips letting out a low moan, spurring him in further as he lowered his mouth taking your left nipple into his mouth. Your hands made their way into his hair holding him to your chest, Quinn backing you up until your knees hit the bed causing you to sit on the edge of the bed. Lowering himself in front of you, Quinn looks into your eyes looking for permission as he hooks his fingers into your panties, you mutter out a quick yes and he wastes no time pulling them off and licking a long stripe up your pussy. The sensation has you arching your back lacing your fingers through his messy brown hair. The only noises that can be heard through the room are the pornographic moans and groans coming from you and Quinn as well as the slick sound of Quinn eating you out. It doesn't take much more before you're coming undone on Quinn's tongue as he helps you ride out your high. You and Quinn spent your last night together, sanctifying your love for each other and cherishing each other's bodies as much as you can before you get separated.
Nothing could ruin the bubble of bliss you and Quinn had made for yourselves. Or so you thought until you were woken up in the morning by the sound of “WHAT THE FUCK” causing your head to shoot up to see your best friend, whose eyes are locked on the sight of you and his older brother laying naked in your bed.
This was not how you wanted him to find out.
Fin
#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes#jack hughes#jack hughes imagine#hockey smut#vancouver#vancouver canucks#hockey imagine
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we could hide away
(late night talking part 4)
Summary: when a photo of you and harry is leaked, your relationship suffers. can you manage to mend it despite hurt and miscommunication?
Warnings: pure angsty, fluffy goodness, smut (f and m receiving)
A/n: thank you as always for everyone’s support on the previous parts 😭🫶🏼 it means the world to me , especially for the very idea that inspired me to start writing again! please let me know if there’s anything you want to see from our babies, any requests etc in general. i don’t know how much i like this part, my head is sooo fuzzy but i wanted to get it out, so edits may be made in the next few days !!
part one
part two
part three
my masterlist can be found here!
The first thing you heard the next morning was the incessant buzzing of a phone. Notification after notification, call after call. You woke up groggy after passing out in Harry’s arms, still fully clothed on top of the duvet. A headache hit you instantly, a cruel reminder of your perfect night. Harry woke up as you peeled yourself out of his hold, stretching your arms above your head before padding over to the kitchen for some water. His eyes were glazed over, still half asleep as he reached over to shut his phone off.
Harry scrolled through the notifications silently, eyes wide as he clicked on screenshots and messages. You placed a glass of water on his nightstand, crawling back on the bed beside him and wrapping an arm around him from behind. He placed a strong hand over yours, fiddling with the giant S ring you were still wearing. “Fuck, I’m sorry baby, gotta take this,” he mumbled, voice raspy and dry, as he slid off the bed and strode out to the balcony, phone to his ear immediately.
You watched as he shut the door behind himself, placing his phone on the table as he paced around the small space, hands dragging through his messy hair. Your phone was tucked under your pillow, completely drained of battery since you hadn’t managed to charge it. You leaned over to plug it in, eyes still fixed on Harry. Whatever he was talking about, whoever he was talking to, it seemed heated. He was fiddling with anything he could find, jaw tensing up as he breathed in and out. “We can talk about this later,” he said, slamming the sliding door behind him as he re-entered the room. He marched immediately into the bathroom, banging and crashing as he went. You walked over to find him slumped over the sink, cold water dripping off the end of his nose and the point of his chin.
You had no idea how to act. You didn’t know whether to comfort him, stay out of his way, share his anger. Whatever this was, was it even any of your business? It was in your nature to comfort, however, so you walked over and placed a gentle hand on his back. “Hey,” you said softly, pushing his hair out of his face with your free hand. “What’s happened?” Harry turned around and gave you a small smile, pulling his phone out of his pocket to show you. You were totally blindsided, your mouth falling open. It was a couple of grainy pictures, Harry and you in the hotel hallway yesterday morning. You in just his robe and some socks, walking down the hallway with his hand pressed against your lower back. You walking into the room, your hands laced together. The photos were captioned:
exclusive: harry styles pictured with a mystery woman in london
He scrolled to the next screenshot, the same pictures, now captioned:
who is harry styles’ rumoured girlfriend? we’ve narrowed it down!
He continued scrolling, showing you at least 25 posts and news articles about the pictures. They were taken from behind, so it wasn’t even obvious it was him, let alone you. Even still, your perfect, private little bubble had burst. “Harry I- I didn’t even know someone was there, how did this happen?” you looked into his eyes as you spoke, searching for some kind of answer or clue as to how he felt. Just as his lips parted, his phone rang again. He listened to the voice on the other end for a few minutes, nibbling at the skin around his fingers. One strong hand pushed through his hair once the call ended, grabbing a thick fistful of curls as he threw his head back, eyes closed. Harry still hasn’t said a real word to you since he woke up, and seemed to be holding a lot back from whoever called him. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say. It hurt him that people sought to invade his privacy. It angered him that your relationship was at risk of being exposed because people couldn’t resist selling stories about his life. It infuriated him that he now had to spend the day dealing with his management instead of nursing a sore head with you.
Harry strode into the living room to pull his trainers on, grabbing his trademark Pleasing tote bag from a hook next to the door. He slipped sunglasses onto his head, pushing his unbrushed curls out of his face. You lingered on the opposite side of the room, arms wrapped tight around your chest. “Harry, where are y-,” you started, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as he interrupted you. “Need to sort this out. Y/n, I don’t want to ask but I need t’know. Was this anything at all to do with you?” He asked. You couldn’t believe he was pointing the finger at you. “Harry, no! No. I wouldn’t- I’d never,” you told him, hurt at the accusation. He nodded curtly, then disappeared out of the room, leaving you wounded and alone.
—
You’d decided to head to Joanie’s after Harry left, needing quality time with your best friend. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around much,” you rushed into your best friends arms as she opened her front door. She pulled you inside, thrusting a pre-made cup of tea into your arms as you slumped in the corner of her ragged sofa. “I’ve been seeing someone,” you started to explain. “He’s been here in london with me, but I think that’s all over now.” You spilled as much as you could to your best friend, twisting the story slightly to keep Harry’s identity secret.
Wiping your hands against your thighs, you stood up, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from your purse. “Do you have a lighter?,” you asked Joanie, scanning the room. You’d never particularly enjoyed smoking but it was just habit for you to have a couple of ciggies when you were sad or stressed. It started when you and Joanie were much younger, newly 18 and enjoying pubs, clubs and boys far too much. Every time one of you had your heartbroken, got rejected at the club or simply drank too much, you needed to share a pack. Now 6 years down the line, it was a dirty little secret you shared, one that Joanie’s long time boyfriend and new husband didn’t even know about.
You sat on the little brick wall outside her house, talking about your plans for the show tonight. “I want to be where we were on Tuesday,” Joanie sighed dreamily, flicking the ash from the end of her cigarette. You smiled meekly in response, dreading even being in the same venue as Harry, let alone so close to him again. “Did you see he was spotted with someone?” Joanie gasped, slapping her hand down on your knee. “I wouldn’t have married Tom if I knew Harry was dating.”
“Oh yes, your marital status is the one reason he’s gone for somebody else,” you scoffed, the pair of you collapsing into each other in a fit of giggles. You were so glad you had your best friend by your side through all of this, even if you couldn’t be totally honest with her. Joanie had always been the perfect opposite to you - the smart to your silly, the rose-tint to your pessimism, the light to your dark. Or whatever way it needed to go. She always managed to oppose your views and feelings, but in a way that gave both of you exactly what you needed. She lifted you up, mellowed you out, always opposite sides of the same coin. You had even spent your teenage years trying to convince school friends that you were destined to be best friends. Joanie was born on the hottest day of that year, and you on the coldest. It took fourteen years for life to bring the two of you together, but you felt as though you’d known her from birth. She was your soulmate, and it was eating up at you that you couldn’t tell her everything about Harry.
—
On the other side of London, Harry was sprawled across an armchair stuffed far too firm to be comfortable, though he knew that was the point. His long fingers were tapping a rhythm across his thigh, his eyes glued to the empty space left by his still-missing S ring. The tan line left behind sent a twinge through Harry’s chest. He regretted questioning you as soon as he’d said it, though he really didn’t know you well enough to be sure you weren’t involved. For all he knew, this could have been your plan all along. Get friendly with Harry Styles then sell your story to make a quick buck. Truthfully, he felt as though he could trust you, wanted to trust you, but he’d been burned too many times to fully count on his instincts.
“You best start explaining this, H.” Jeff’s voice was kind but stern, a cloud of frustration hanging over his head. Harry held his hands up in surrender, telling his manager, “it’s just a girl I’ve been seeing. Didn’t realise I had t’tell you and the world about it.”
“Harry- I’m your manager, for fucks sake. If you’re out doing things that could make a good story, it’s wise to tell me first. You know we need to get on top of things before anything like this happens.” Jeff’s words were now laced with annoyance. Annoyance with Harry, with the situation, with the media. When Harry failed to say anything further, Jeff pushed again. “So? Tell me what there is to tell and I can find a way out of this for you.”
Harry explained as much as he could, leaving out the raunchier details. He started to speak about ‘kiwi girl’ (as twitter had affectionately nicknamed you), when Jeff held up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there, H. Do not tell me this girl is a fan.” Harry’s silence and hanging head was a dead giveaway that you were, in fact, a fan. “And I’m assuming this is the same girl you upgraded the night after?” Harry nodded this time, standing from his seat to pace the length of the room instead. Jeff’s head was in his hands, sighing as he half-yelled “rule number one is you do. not. sleep. with. fans,” slamming the tip of his pen into the table with every word.
“It’s not-“ Harry started. “Not like that, I know. It’s never like that, mate.” Jeff finished for Harry, eyes finding the back of Harry’s head. “Listen, let’s set up an opportunity for more photos with a different woman. Make out you’re having a bit of a phase. Takes the heat off, means you can keep playing with your little fuck-toy in private.”
“She’s not my little fuck-toy,” Harry growled, his irritation threatening to explode out of him. “And I’ve been fucking doing it in private. All of it. Haven’t been with her outside the hotel, not since the first night. Haven’t entered and left at the same time, done everything to keep it fucking private.”
“And no one knows it’s this girl?”
“No, mate. No one else.”
The frosted door swung open, Glenne’s high heels tip-tapping across the marble floor with every step. “Harry!”, she beamed, pulling him in for a lingering hug. “Has my lovely husband been tormenting you?” She looked Harry up and down, eyes full of love and care. He chuckled bitterly, his tired eyes following her back across the room to where she perched on the edge of Jeff’s desk. “This isn’t such a big deal, you know.”
“No, seriously!” she insisted as both men scoffed. “It’s hardly a scandal. ‘Young single man spotted with woman’. It’s not exactly the headline of the century.”
“It is when the world finds out she’s a fan. He’ll be tormented by young girls for the rest of his career now,” Jeff told his wife. “So we don’t let that part get out - not unless you’re serious about her, H. Her family and friends might know if you’re spotted together again, but by the time it has to come out, you’ll be off the market. If you’re not serious, not seeing her again, how you met never has to leave this room. Besides, you’ve been tormented by young girls for years already.”
Harry had no idea how Glenne did it. She always managed to find the best solution, easy fixes that passed right under his and Jeff’s noses. “That works for me,” he sighed, the rubber band snapping from around his chest, finally able to breathe fully and deeply. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out quickly, praying it would be from you. It was Anne.
mum: Just got to the station. Think you have a bit of a situation so will see you later !! Xx
“Mum’s here. I need to go, Jeff. Thank you, Glenne,” Harry muttered as he fled the office, holding his hands up in a prayer position. He sent you a quick text as he left, having not heard from you since he’d left you this morning. Harry was relieved to have a plan, but his heart was still heavy. He should have warned you how quickly things can get real when you’re associated with him. He was so used to fooling around with other women in the industry, women who already knew the ins and outs of life with a celebrity. If the world learned your name, your life would be changed irreversibly. He’d seen what it had done to others, how the media had shared their private details, their families details. You might have known it was a risk, but neither of you had seen this coming so quickly. You hadn’t even discussed it, it was far too soon to even think about what would happen when the bubble burst.
—
You and Joanie had ended up in almost the exact position you were for night one, just as she wanted. You were wearing your red outfit today, wishing you’d worn that on Tuesday to match with Harry. Everything came back to Tuesday. A white denim skirt hugged your hips, carefully hand-painted red hearts dotted all over the material. You’d paired it with a bright red off the shoulder top, and Joanie next to you was wearing the same but in inverted colours. You were glad to have her close by your side tonight, glad to have been able to tell her the bare minimum about your aching heart. She’d insisted on bringing a funny sign tonight, desperate to catch Harry’s attention and make you smile. ‘my bestie had her heart broken, can you cheer her up ?!’, the sign read. You would keep your fingers crossed for the rest of your life if it meant Harry didn’t see the sign, didn’t notice you at all tonight.
He seemed more muted than usual, his dances and energy toned down in comparison to his usual self. You wondered if he’d tried to contact you at all today. Your phone had barely charged before you left for Joanie’s, then died again on your way over. You hadn’t bothered to charge it up since, preferring to ignore the internet for today at least. Harry knew where you were if he wanted to see you.
Joanie’s fingernails were digging into your arm, her screams bordering on nutty as Harry pulled his guitar strap over his head, mere feet in front of you once again. His eyes had glanced over you a few times, but he hadn’t noticed you. Either because he didn’t want to, or his mind was elsewhere. “Don’t tell me he’s going to-“, Joanie started, screaming again as the opening chords to ‘boyfriends’ echoed through the stadium. You couldn’t help the tears that immediately welled in your eyes, threatening to spill down your blushed cheeks. You hadn’t even thought about crying all day, hadn’t felt as though you needed to and now it was all pushing to the surface.
Boyfriends
Are they just pretending?
Joanie wrapped an arm around your waist, using her thumb to wipe a tear from your eye. You rested your head against her shoulder, giving a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You weren’t even sure what made you so upset, but your heart couldn’t stop aching now that you thought about what had happened that morning- then it hit you. Harry hadn’t even asked you how you felt this morning, thought for a second how these pictures could affect you. After how attentive he’d been for days, it felt like a slap in the face. Had he been pretending? Did he only want you in his bed, only care when it was your secret?
They don't tell you where it's heading
You kept your eyes fixed on Harry, his dark pupils scanning the crowd in front of him through heavy eyelids. They lingered on you for only half a second, not long enough for anyone to notice but long enough for you to watch his breath catch in his throat. His eyes clouded over, blinking rapidly as he cleared his throat and looked away from you.
And you know the game's never ending
He stepped back from the microphone, signalling to the crowd to sing for him as he turned his back, the gut-wrenching glisten of tears in his eyes visible for a split second.
He whispered something to Sarah as the song finished and stepped closer to the microphone, his rich voice suddenly crooning, “baby, you were the love of my life”. Harry’s eyes looked anywhere except for you, hurt and shame written all over his face. He knew he’d acted like a dick today, from the way he handled the situation with you, to the way he spoke to Jeff, to the way he made almost no time for his darling mum and sister before the show. He needed to make it all alright, most of all with you. He silently prayed that you’d know these songs were for you, feel what he was trying to convey.
He moved over to the opposite side of the stage, turning to point at Jonny’s place when he mentioned it. Yours and Joanie’s faces flashed up on the screen, Joanie waving her sign around like a mad woman while you wiped your teary eyes. You laughed at the sight of the two of you, you made an insane pair. Harry was watching the screen as he sang, desperate to let his eyes linger on you without actually doing just that. He blew a kiss to your general area as the band played out, girls around you screaming. He walked past you on his way back to the main stage, watching you subtly catch his kiss with the hand still trying to dry your eyes. That soothed him a little, lifted his mood just enough to get through the remainder of the show.
—
Harry explained everything to Anne and Gemma after the show, head in his hands as they sighed and groaned at his story. “Harry Edward, you’re a very bad man sometimes,” Anne gasped, swatting at his knee. “You got this poor girl obsessed with you, then you ditch her at the first sign of trouble?”
“Oi, I didn’t ditch her!,” he said, his vibe not too far from that of a petulant teenager’s. “I needed to deal with the business side, needed t’sort out Jeff.”
Gemma placed a hand on Harry’s forearm, “have you spoken to her? Explained it all? Y/n is probably going out of her mind right now, H.”
“I think her phones off, we haven’t spoken all day,” Harry sighed. He didn’t have the words to explain to himself, or his family, why this felt like a much bigger problem than it was. Why his heart was so much heavier than it should have been for someone he’d only known for 4 days. “It’s getting late now, go and get some rest darling. See if you can reach her tonight, you’ve got us all day tomorrow.” Anne rose from her seat, tugging on Harry’s wrists to get him moving. She pulled him in for a cuddle when he stood, knowing a mother’s hug can make the biggest problems seem smaller. He held her tight, taking a deep sniff of her floral, earthy scent. She smelled like home. It always seemed to calm him down.
“You did amazing tonight, my special baby boy. Love you so much, we can’t wait to get some proper time with you tomorrow,” Anne said, a radiant grin spreading across her face. She never wanted to see him torn up about anything, hated watching him fall in and out of love every so often, healing the hurt and heartbreak he wore so well. But having her little boy in her arms was more than enough to warm her heart.
—
Harry knocked on your door, feeling sheepish. He was usually far too stubborn to trail back with his tail between his legs so soon, but this was different. You hadn’t done him wrong, hadn’t bought him anything other than joy. You were the innocent pawn in someone else’s game, a game that he hadn’t realised could, and had, hurt you both. He let the gift bag he held fall to his side when you didn’t answer, his clenched wrist going limp.
He knocked again after a few minutes, and again a few minutes after that. He couldn’t hear anything inside, but that didn’t mean you weren’t in there. He turned on his heel, deciding to head back upstairs, hoping he’d at least get a text from you before he slept. Then he saw you, trudging towards the door, eyes fixed on your phone screen. Your hair was hanging down your back in a messy braid, the t-shirt Harry had loaned to you on Monday night engulfing your slender frame. You looked up as you got nearer, brown eyes locking onto his. Stopping in your tracks, you felt the wings of a thousand butterflies knocking against the inner walls of your belly, heart beating like a ticking time bomb. The hallway was silent, the weight of a thousand things you wanted to say to each other but couldn’t find the words to say hanging over your heads. “Hey,” you smiled, reaching for your keycard. “I just went to get some food, is everything okay?”
Harry let out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding, stepping forward to wrap you up in his arms. Your bodies melted into each other, your hands splayed against Harry’s back, cradling him so tight you thought you might never let go. “Everything’s okay,” he mumbled, pink lips spreading into a warm smile. Holding onto each other, just being close, was enough to make it right.
You let the two of you inside, unpacking your food onto the countertop as Harry lingered behind you. “I got sushi, there’s enough for two if you want to stay,” you offered.
You both sat on the bed to eat, giggles cutting through a peaceful silence as you watched reruns of the Office. Harry’s fingers found yours after a while, his thumb tracing shapes on the back of your hand. “I got you something,” he told you, standing up to grab the gift bag from where he’d left it.
Your eyes were wide with curiosity as you untied the white ribbon, pulling a handwritten note from a tiny envelope.
‘heard you got your heart broken. thought this could cheer you up’.
You shook your head as you read it, a deep blush creeping up your cheeks. “I told her not to take that sign,” you laughed. “I tried to tell her a bit this morning but it’s a little hard to explain.” Harry grinned, “it was sweet. Though I bet she’ll be mortified if she knows she told me I broke your heart.”
A dark green velvet jewellery box sat in the bottom of the bag, slimline and dainty. You looked up at Harry, as if unsure this was for you. “Open it,” he smiled, words coming out small. Inside was the most beautiful necklace you’d ever seen. A tiny chain, the perfect shade of gold to complement your other jewellery. At the bottom of the chain sat a tiny H, studded with imitation diamonds. You bought the box closer to your face, fingers tracing delicately over the elegant design. “H,” you whispered, totally taken aback by the gift. “For Harry,” he smirked. “Do you like it?”
You were stunned, your mouth trying and failing to form words. All you could do was keep tracing over the pendant, eyes glancing between the necklace and the man sitting in front of you. “I love it, Harry. I really do,” you eventually managed, grateful tears filling up your eyes. You set the box down beside you, closing the distance between you and Harry. He held a warm hand to your cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to the end of your nose. “Turn around, let me help you put it on.”
He secured the chain around your neck, peppering soft kisses across your back. “It’s beautiful Harry, really. I can’t thank you enough,” you sighed, fiddling with the H as you spoke. You leaned back against his chest, turning your head slightly to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry baby, I really am,” he spoke. “Didn’t mean t’rush out on you in such a hurry.”
“Harry, it’s f-“, you interrupted, wanting to put the whole day behind you now that you had him back. “It’s not fine. Didn’t like you seeing me so pissed off, I wanted to get away and sort it all out. But I hurt you.” He was speaking softer now, his voice gentle. “You didn’t Harry, I was confused that’s all. I didn’t know what any of this meant, for you or for us.”
“And I should’ve spoken to you, got on the same page so we could handle it together.” You pulled away from him as he spoke, turning your body around to face him again. You could see the shame etched into every line on his face, the way he’d beaten himself up all day showing in his eyes. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, thumb stroking the sharp edge of his jawline. “You got it sorted though?” you asked. “All sorted, princess. Had to tell everyone everything though. Even told my mum,” he smiled meekly. “Yeah? Told her how pretty and perfect I am?” you grinned, fluttering your eyelashes. “Told her you’re the prettiest girl in the world. After her of course.”
He really did think you were the prettiest girl in the world. Especially now, in his t-shirt, wearing his initial around your neck. Your hair was messy, your skin fresh. The evening light seeping in from the window was illuminating you from behind, giving you an angelic glow.
“Have you showered?” you asked him. “Yeah. But I’ll have another one if it means more time with you,” he grinned, already yanking his hoodie over his head.
—
You were taking turns under the water, laughing and joking as you manoeuvred around each other in the small space. “Give me a kiss,” Harry smiled. “Since when have you asked for kisses?” you laughed, poking at his chest. “Don’t know if I deserve one today.”
“Lucky for you, I can’t deny you any,” you said as you leaned towards him. He held onto the back of your head as his lips met yours. His lips were as warm and as soft as they’d ever been, the tickle of his hot breath sending sparks down your spine. Your tongue darted out of your parted lips, licking a trail across his bottom teeth before slipping into his mouth. Harry moved his mouth to your throat, suckling on your wet skin. “Gonna mark you up, show everyone you’re mine,” he whispered. He ran his tongue over the bruise he left behind, before continuing to kiss down your body, pausing to nibble on your perky nipple. He licked a circle around your belly button as your hands found his wet hair, shifting your body to lean against the tiled wall.
“Open up for me,” he asked, nose nudging into the space where your thighs met. He rested back on his heels, admiring your pussy. “So perfect, my sweet girl,” he drawled, fingers tracing up the inside of your thigh. His warm face was so close to right where you needed him, mouth so close that his tongue could reach out and have a taste. His mouth was watering at the sight of your arousal wetting your folds. He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to taste you, wet his face with your juices, have you screaming as you came on his tongue.
You were whimpering as soon as Harry’s lips made contact with your pussy, his tongue lapping into your folds. He was eating you like he’d been starving, like your pussy was the first and only thing he’d ever be allowed to enjoy. His nose grazed over your clit as he licked at your entrance, sending your hips bucking into his mouth as the bundle of nerves lit on fire. He chuckled at your body’s reaction, murmuring a slurred, “need daddy to give you more?” You tugged on his curls in response, breathless and unable to speak. He moved immediately to focus on your clit, his lips wrapping around your button as he sucked and popped. He moaned against you, the vibrations shooting pleasure deep into your core.
You’d never found much pleasure from someone’s mouth, yet Harry’s was taking you to places you’d never been before. Your back was arched off the wall, fingertips buried so deep in his hair you could pierce his scalp. Your eyes were grainy, the hot steam from the shower swirling around your head. You felt like you were in a trance, moans and incoherent words slipping out of your mouth uncontrollably.
Harry gripped onto the back of your thigh, steadying himself as he pulled his mouth closer into your entrance. His tongue was licking deeper into you, one finger rubbing circles around your clit. “Harry,” you whimpered, feeling your legs begin to buckle beneath you. Your orgasm rolled over you in waves, your body so limp yet so tense under his touch. His tongue kept fucking into you, his hard cock twitching between his legs as you screamed out a strangled moan. You pulled one hand out of his curls, gripping onto the shower caddy to keep yourself from collapsing. Your head was spinning, stars all you could see as Harry rode you through your high. Between the water dripping from his hair, and your juices drenching his face, Harry thought he could drown. He’d die happily here, nestled between your legs, lips attached to your perfect pussy for eternity.
He pulled away after a moment, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit before standing, pulling your weak body into his arms. “Always do so good for me, baby girl,” he cooed, pushing the wet strands of hair off of your forehead. He could get drunk off the way you looked post-orgasm, your cheeks flushed and pupils blown. The way your mouth never fully closed and your breasts jumped as your chest heaved. Harry got a kick out of knowing he did that to you, he bought you that pleasure.
His cock bumped against your hips as he helped you out the shower, your hands all over each other as you pushed him towards the granite countertop. “What’s bought this on?” Harry smirked, not used to seeing you take such an active role. It had been established pretty early on that Harry was a giver, all he wanted was to pleasure you, and you had no problems being a taker. But his cock had been calling out to you for days, begging you for a taste. “Where you going?” he asked you, head tilting to the side as your hands slithered down his body, your knees hitting the tiled floor. You stayed silent, pressing kisses up the inside of his thigh. You bit down into the fleshy part near the top, quickly licking over the teeth marks. Harry shuddered as you nipped at his skin, repeating the move up and down both his thighs. You suckled at the skin next to his base, leaving your mark. A perfect little purple bruise, a matching tattoo.
You looked up at him as he reached down to swipe his thumb over your bottom lip, his butterfly tattoo seemingly flapping its wings as he breathed in and out. “Gonna stuff daddy’s cock into that pretty little mouth?” he rasped, his thighs tensing as you hacked spit into your palms. You stroked his member up and down, up and down, again and again as you pressed swollen-mouthed kisses to his thick tip. Holding a hand at his base, you licked a line down the underside of his shaft, then took his tip in your mouth hungrily. He was far bigger than you’d ever had, and you were unsure of how well your usual tricks would work on someone his size.
He whimpered as you took him further in your mouth, your warm cheeks tightening against his length as you sucked. Your hand moved up and down the inches of him you couldn’t manage to take, swirling your heated tongue around his head as you pulled him further out. “Knew you could be a good little slut for daddy,” he drawled, gathering your dripping hair and using it to guide your head up and down his cock. He kept his free hand steadied on the countertop, mouth dropping open as you popped off of his head and moved your mouth to his balls. Harry threw his head back as you suckled at his sack, rolling your tongue against the soft, sensitive skin. Your hand continued tugging against his length as you worked, your nose bumping the underside of his foreskin. “Fuck baby, give me more, please,” he groaned, wrapping your long hair around his fist. You switched your hand and your mouth, fondling his balls while you stuffed his cock back into your mouth. You looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as you took his member further than you had before, reaching as far as you could before gagging against his head. His hand tugged at your hair somewhat involuntarily as your throat closed around him, a choked moan squeezing out against his tip. Your eyes were red, tears brewing above your lower lashes. “Taste so fucking good daddy,” you told him, mouth moving up and down faster now, humming in appreciation as his cock twitched in your throat.
Harry had never seen you look so sexy, not when you took his cock so well, not when you were coming on his tongue. Like this, stark naked on the bathroom floor, his cock lodged between your perfect swollen pout, this is what he wanted to remember. Have the image etched in his brain forever, see you like this every time he closed his eyes. His balls felt heavy in your hand, loaded with the cum he couldn’t wait to shoot down your pretty little throat. “Fuck, princess. I’m gonn- gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warned, his voice deep with lust. You moaned against him, keeping your lips wrapped tightly around his girthy member, your perfect H pendant swinging against your chest as you bobbed back and forth. You splayed your free hand against his thigh as it started to shake, looking up his body to see his abs tensing, his pecs twitching as you bought him close to climax. “Come for me daddy,” you whined against him, words muffled by his cock taking over your throat. He pulled his head down to his chest, eyes screwed tight and jaw slack as he came violently, thick cum splashing against the back of your throat. You swallowed around his head, ribbons of cum flooding your cheeks. You moved the hand cradling his sack to stroke his length, riding him through his orgasm. His hips jutted towards you, your hair wound tightly around his clenched fist.
His grip eased up as he came down from his high, darkened eyes opening to look down at you as you removed your mouth from him completely. You had his juices dripping out of your mouth, eyes threatening to spill over as you wiped them with the back of your hand. “Never seen anything so pretty in my whole life,” Harry smiled, rubbing the curve of your neck.
You dried yourselves off, fluffy towels soothing your aching, exhausted bodies. Crawling into bed still naked, you and Harry faced each other, whispering sweet nothings as you kissed over each others faces. He fell asleep before you, one arm draped across your chest, hand still cupping your jaw. Your phone lit up with a text from Joanie,
J: everything ok? you happy?
You snapped a selfie, Harry’s strong hand barely visible in the pitch black room. You sent it to her, captioned simply, the happiest
part five
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The Big Damn Kiss
Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.
This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.
I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.
DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!
Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?
Ahem.
Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.
I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)
Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:
And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:
And the next:
And our last Clue:
With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies. Edit: Found it!
Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:
One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.
Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?
So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.
Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.
Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!
Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.
I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.
I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:
(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)
My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.
Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.
(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)
What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?
A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?
Oh yes.
Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.
Here's Aziraphale reading the records:
Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:
And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:
That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.
That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.
#good omens#good omens 2#crowley#good omens meta#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens analysis#good omens fan theory#ineffable mystery#aziraphale elevator#corporate heaven#the big damn kiss#the kiss#good omens muriel#good omens gabriel#good omens beelzebub
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