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daemour · 2 days

Text

Pairing: poly! WooSan x gn! Reader

Word Count: 4587

Warnings: cursing, implied sexual activity, arguing

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, T for teen

Summary: In a relationship with Wooyoung and San, you feel left out of their activities. One evening, it all blows up.

this is my baby :') (yes i keep saying that about my fics) but i spent a lot of time on this and i think its one of my best works lol,,,,i hope u enjoy! i do have a second, shorter, part with the aftermath if you'd be interested

thank you to @hobeemin for betaing <3

You’re sitting on the couch with two pairs of legs in your lap. To anyone else, it would look like a sweet scene. Your boyfriends cuddling while you watch them fondly. But you’ve never felt so alone before.

You knew you were the addition to the relationship—San and Wooyoung had been dating for a long while before they met you, and it took another few years for them to ask you to join their relationship. After crushing on the two of them for so long, you had leapt at the chance to.

At first, you were just happy to be there—to have them smile at you sweetly, hold your hand, and press you into the sheets so well. But as time passed, it felt like being there was all you had to be happy about.

Sometimes, you wonder if you had just misconstrued the whole thing. Maybe they just wanted a roommate they could fool around with. Or you’re just reading too much into it. It’s only been six months since you were invited into the relationship.

As you’re contemplating your relationship with the two, your boyfriends stand. You only notice because of the weight leaving your body. “Hey, babe, Sannie and I are going to the bedroom, okay?”

“Oh– is there anything I can do too?” The desperation in your voice is evident, and you hate that it is. San’s eyes soften but both he and Wooyoung chuckle. Not meanly, but not kindly.

“Not today. Enjoy the movie.”

They each drop a kiss on the top of your head, and just like that, you watch them slip right through your fingers again.

You do your best to sit there and not feel upset; you try, but the pinch in your heart doesn’t go away. They’ve never been so outwardly…dismissive of you, and you’ve had quite enough of it. After a long five minutes of unhappy thoughts swirling around your head, you stand. You’re not sitting around and letting yourself feel like the second (or third) fiddle.

You blink back the angry tears threatening to fall as you pull on your sweatshirt and search for your phone, only to remember you left it on the bedside table. You’re not about to barge in on and grab it so you settle with your keys. You won’t be out for too long anyway.

As you leave the apartment, you do your best to close the door behind you as quietly as possible. The crisp fall air clears your mind, and you can think properly about your relationship. You just cannot allow yourself to continue to hurt like this. They’re a package deal to you and will come hand-in-hand with you in your life. You may love them, and they may be fond of you, but in the end, you’re just a plus one.

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, and you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sob that escapes. It hurts you deeply, and you don’t want it to be true. You want to believe they need you just as much as you need them, although you know the thought is futile.

You shudder as you finally let your sobs calm down, and your heart returns to a normal pace. You can’t stay there much longer if you don’t want to lose yourself. As you head back to the apartment, you hurriedly wipe your eyes and clear your throat, unwilling for San and Wooyoung to see the state you’re in.

But that proves unnecessary—when you walk back in, San is sitting on the couch, a new movie is on the screen, and Wooyoung is prepping dinner. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you’ve been gone for about an hour and a half. Your blood boils as you realise they hardly noticed your disappearance, but you force it back to your gut. Blowing up now would be counter-productive.

Your phone is right where you left it, but as you try to escape, San calls out for you, “Oh, YN. Woo and I wanted to ask…” Your breath catches in your throat, hoping for something. “Do you want to join us next time?”

It takes all of your willpower not to laugh. “No, I don’t think I will.” Such a tone of mockery had never left your mouth directed at them before, and you snap your mouth shut before you say something else. San’s eyebrow rises high into his hairline.

You hear Wooyoung chuckle from the kitchen. “That’s fine. We have more fun without you anyway.”

And you know, deep down, he didn’t mean it maliciously. Wooyoung doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was just trying to be funny and lighten the mood from the tension he had heard in your voice. But he didn’t know he (and San) was the cause of the stress, and all he does is relight the anger in your gut.

“Oh, so I’ve realised,” you mutter, and this time, San’s other brow raises, and he interrupts.

“What do you mean by that?” He moves to cross his arms, and you scoff.

“I’m sure you know damn well what I mean, Choi San. I get it. You guys have been dating for…longer than you’ve known me. It’s understandable you guys sometimes just want to be together without me.” You pause to take a breath, and San looks just about constipated. “But…I genuinely cannot remember the last time the three of us went on a date or included me in anything other than just sex. And even that, once in a while. What is the point of me being here?”

“Why didn’t you just talk to us?” Wooyoung asks, having moved from the kitchen to stand in the doorway. His brows are furrowed, and he looks so confused that you almost want to forget your argument. But it’s gone too far already, and words won’t stop pouring out of your mouth.

“You would rethink your already comfortable relationship for me? Don’t be silly.” You cut off Wooyoung’s attempted argument. “Maybe you would’ve thought about it, but come on. I’m me. I’ve known you guys for four years; you’ve been dating for seven. I asked to join you guys all the damn time, but all I got was getting brushed off. Forgive me for not having the confidence to confront you two.”

You run your hand through your hair, blinking back your tears. “I can’t imagine this relationship without you guys, but to you two? I’m just an afterthought,” you state, shaking your head.

Before your soft heart gets the better of you and you fall to your knees and take it all back, you turn right back out the door, your phone clutched in your hands this time. Wooyoung and San make no move to go after you, and it hurts more than it should.

You’re not in the mood to walk and wallow, so you sit in the parking garage, ordering a taxi. As you wait for your ride, you hear footsteps thundering up to you, and you know what’s coming.

“Are you actually leaving?” San’s voice comes from behind you, a tightness to it you haven’t heard before.

You keep your eyes forward and nod. “Yes. I need some time to myself. I…I won’t leave forever, at least not for now. I don’t want to give us up, but I need time to rest my heart. And you guys need time to process, I’m sure.”

The taxi you called is pulling up now, and you stand. After hesitating, you turn around and wrap your arms around San’s waist. There’s no wait on his side; his warm and strong arms come around your shoulders to squeeze you gently. Your eyes are shut tightly, knowing that if you open them, you’ll want to go right back up to the apartment.

“Tell Wooyoung I said ‘sorry’,” you manage to choke out, and you can practically hear San’s melancholic smile.

“You have nothing to apologise for, but I will if it makes you feel better. The only reason he didn’t come down is because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.” San sighs, running a hand through his hair. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry we’ve made you feel so alone. It was never our intention, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that it happened.”

You sometimes wish San wasn’t so sweet and lovely and perfect. And you sure wish Wooyoung didn’t feel as strongly as he did. If they cared less, it would’ve made your hurt and betrayal less sharp in your chest. But you don’t want them to be guilty, and you don’t want Wooyoung to cry.

“I…won’t be gone for long,” is all you have left to say to San before you cram yourself into the taxi, and will your tears to not fall until you get into the safety of your apartment that doesn’t even feel like home.

As soon as you reach your apartment, you collapse to your knees and cry. With every sob, your chest heaves and your throat aches. But you’re finally able to let out all your hurt, and after an hour or so, you feel as refreshed as you can be. You hope it will work out in the end for your sake and theirs.

—

You sink into the familiar comfort of your couch, a sigh escaping your lips as the silence of your apartment envelops you. It's been two weeks since the tearful confrontation with San and Wooyoung, two weeks since you've allowed yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions. The initial relief of expressing your pent-up frustrations has given way to a dull ache of longing and uncertainty.

Days turn into nights, and the silence stretches, punctuated only by the occasional text message from San and Wooyoung, their words a mix of apologies, reassurance, and pleas for you to come back. You read and reread their messages, your heart torn between the desire to run back into their arms and the fear of being hurt again.

Yeosang, your closest friend, becomes your lifeline during this time, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He listens patiently as you pour out your doubts and fears, offering his unwavering support and gentle guidance. "They miss you, you know," he often reminds you softly, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of your inner turmoil.

"I miss them too," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But what if it's not enough? What if we can't bridge the gap that's grown between us?"

Yeosang squeezes your hand reassuringly. "You won't know until you try. They're willing to work on things, YN. Don't let your fear rob you of a chance at happiness."

His words echo in your mind, a constant reminder that you can't stay hidden forever. You need to confront your fears, to have that difficult conversation, and to decide whether the love you share is strong enough to overcome the challenges you face.

As the days pass, you find yourself slowly emerging from the cocoon of your self-imposed isolation. You start venturing out, meeting friends for coffee, taking walks in the park, trying to rediscover a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions.

But the longing for San and Wooyoung never truly fades. It lingers in the quiet moments, in the empty spaces beside you on the couch, in the memories that flood your mind when you least expect them.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you call Yeosang, asking him to meet up with you for coffee so that you can figure out how to approach your relationship with San and Wooyoung. He agrees readily, and promises to set aside some time at lunch tomorrow to hear you out.

“You miss them, too.” You blink at Yeosang’s statement, before heaving a sigh and taking a sip of your drink. As usual, he doesn’t waste time with small talk and just starts with the point of the meet-up. “You’re putting off this discussion for far too long, YN.”

And he’s right, as he usually is. It’s been about two weeks since the breakdown, and you’ve managed to avoid most attempts at reaching you, placating them with a ‘soon’ whenever they text you to ask. But you’re a little too scared to reopen the conversation. What if they hate you and don’t want you anymore?

“They don’t hate you,” Yeosang interrupts your spiralling with an all-knowing look. You swear he can read your mind, and he swears you’re just easy to read. “You both just need to have a long conversation. Of course, it may not work out properly, but if not, they need to know it for future reference.”

You bite your lip, sighing like the weight of the world rests upon your shoulders. “Stop being so smart, okay? I know I should. I’m just…I don’t know how to start.”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “First, you should set up a date to talk. I recommend calling them.” He easily dodges your slap. “Seriously, YN. I can’t tell you what to say. Just go talk to them properly. They’re not gonna be unreasonable. They like you.”

If you sighed anymore, Yeosang would probably smack you himself. “Fine. I’ll call them tomorrow.” Yeosang narrows his eyes, and you know he’s seen right through your lie.

“Call them now. I won’t bother you or be loud.”

You start to whine, but Yeosang fixes you with such a glare that you pull out your phone begrudgingly. Your hands tremble as you dial Wooyoung's number, knowing San would probably be at work right now. The phone rings once, twice, and your heart squeezes in hope and disappointment that he hasn’t picked up yet.

You’re just about to hang up when the phone picks up, and Wooyoung’s breathy voice crackles over the receiver. “Hello? YN?” He sounds like he just ran a marathon, and you can’t help but smile. The sound of his voice on the other end of the line sends a wave of warmth through you, a bittersweet reminder of the love you've been missing.

“Hey, Wooyoung. Sorry for never getting back to you guys.” You can already feel the awkwardness and tension through the phone call. “Uh…when are you guys free to talk?”

You can hear the eagerness in Wooyoung’s voice as he responds almost immediately. “Don’t apologise, YN, okay? San and I are free tonight after five. Would you like to come round to have dinner? I’m making spicy pork belly soup. If not, tomorrow evening also works at the same time. If you need more time.”

He’s one word away from practically begging on his knees, and you feel your heartstrings tug. “Yeah, tonight works if that’s okay. Is six-thirty okay?”

“Yes!” Wooyoung has no hesitation when he answers you. “Just come up whenever—you know the door code.”

“Okay, thank you again,” you say, seconds from hanging up when his voice cuts through the phone.

“YN. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I’ll see you tonight.”

He ends the call before you can say anything else, and you’re left staring at the phone longingly. Yeosang’s chuckle brings you out of your thoughts. “Told you they don’t hate you,” he hums, a small smile on his lips, and you roll your eyes at him even though your heart warms.

“Should I bring a gift? Like wine or something? I don’t know…they’re feeding me. And it could be a peace offering.”

Yeosang laughs again, amused by your dilemma. “If you want to, it could be a nice gesture. But really, I think they just want to see you again.” He reaches over to you to squeeze your hand. “You guys will be just fine, okay?”

You nod, offering him your own crooked smile. “Thanks for sitting and talking, Sang. I appreciate it.” Your eyes dart to the side. “I should probably go see if I can find a proper bottle of wine, though.”

The bottle of wine in your hands is clutched so tightly you fear it may shatter in your sweaty grasp. You’re almost too scared to knock, but your longing to see your boyfriends (were they still your boyfriends?) overrides your fear, and you tap on the door lightly. It might be presumptuous to just walk in, even though Wooyoung told you they didn’t change the door code. You’ve done it many times before, but these circumstances are different.

Before you can chicken out and call it off, the door swings open, and San stands before you, his hair messy like it always ends when he tries to style it without help. Your fingers twitch as you keep yourself from reaching up to smooth it over. “...Hi,” you greet him instead, eyes flitting down to your hands. “I brought wine.”

“Thanks. Come on in. Wooyoung’s finishing up now.”

He steps aside, and you pass him, trying not to flinch as his comforting scent fills your brain. Oh, how you missed him and Wooyoung. The apartment is unchanged, and a picture of the three of you is still hung on the wall. “I hope you’ve been well?”

“Yea. I’ve been keeping busy.” San closes the door behind you, running a hand through his messy hair, which only serves to worsen it. “How about you?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I’m doing well. Just been working…” There’s a long pause where neither of you knows what to do. “Do you need help with anything? Where do you want me to put the wine?”

San shrugs. “There’s not much to do. The table has already been set. Do you want to wash up or anything? I can pour the wine.”

You nod, handing over the bottle, being careful to avoid San’s touch before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You can practically hear the disappointed sigh leaving San’s mouth and you feel a sharp stab in your heart at how upset he seems to be but you remind yourself this is important. As Yeosang said, they have to be aware of what issues you’re having.

You glance at your weary face in the mirror, wiping at some smudged makeup and fixing your hair, taking any moment you can get to calm yourself down. When you can hear low murmurs in the kitchen of San and Wooyoung talking you know it’s about time for you to get out of the bathroom.

When you turn the corner into the kitchen, Wooyoung greets you with a tentative smile and a wake of his spatula. “Hey, YN. Hope you’re doing well. Are…are you hungry? It’s almost done.” Wooyoung speaks carefully like he’s triple-checking the words he wants to say before they come out of his mouth.

“Of course,” you laugh awkwardly. “Your food is always good. I hope you’re doing well too.”

It’s almost painful how tense the atmosphere is, and both you and Wooyoung cast a glance at San as if pleading silently for him to resolve it for you two. Before any of you guys can speak, the rice cooker beeps, slicing the thick stress in half and all three of you laugh. “Let’s eat,” San cheers, his eyes crinkling in the smile you missed.

The three of you move towards the seats, where three glasses of wine sit and side dishes are scattered around. Wooyoung holds the stew in his hands, setting it down in the middle of the table as you and San take your seats.

The dinner is mostly silent, aside from a couple of hums in delight at the taste of Wooyoung’s cooking. As much as you would deny it, you missed this. You missed being near them, being able to share the same space with them. As the three of you eat, you sneak glances at both San and Wooyoung. Aside from the tousled hair, San seems pretty put-together, with an easygoing smile on his face and dimples still prominent. But the dullness in his eyes is clear and he smiles and giggles way less than usual. Wooyoung’s face is lined with worry, hints of stubble peeking out, and you’re embarrassed to admit you find it attractive. His hands fiddle with his silverware as he eats, and the guilt returns to eat at your stomach.

“So…” you try and break the silence carefully, and both men’s eyes quickly focus on you. “...my brother’s boyfriend adopted a cat secretly and Hongjoong is livid, but I caught him cuddling with the cat just two days ago.”

San chuckles. “Sounds about right. Seonghwa definitely seems the type to. What, did he find the cat on the side of the road and ‘just couldn’t let it starve out there’?” You snort at San’s imitation of your brother.

“Almost spot on. It’s like Seonghwa is sitting right here, really.”

And with that, the conversation continues almost completely normally, like nothing had happened two weeks prior. Wooyoung prods at San’s cooking like always and you defend San but can’t help but throw in a jab of your own, one that San reaches over and pushes gently at your shoulder for.

At the touch, you freeze and Wooyoung’s eyes dart between the two of you. A long moment passes until you finally laugh stiffly and push him back. “What can I say? It’s true.”

Wooyoung smiles at the both of you, the corner of his lips crooked. “Good to see you take his side as always when it comes to cooking,” he teases. “Maybe I’ll make him cook next time.”

Next time. Your breath catches at those words and both San and Wooyoung take note of your hopeful reaction. “I’ll hold you to that.”

After dinner, all of you shuffle into the living room slowly, knowing exactly what must come. None of you want to start the conversation, but it must happen. You sit first, hands wringing in your lap. San and Wooyoung sit right next to each other, but not far from you.

“We could draw straws?” Wooyoung speaks up, his hands gripping the couch beside him. “To see who goes first.”

You don’t quite know how to react, but unlike the last time Wooyoung tried to be silly, you understand it isn’t coming from a place of malice. “I think that’s a great idea, Wooyoung,” both you and San agree, and although Wooyoung’s body tenses a tad more, his eyes soften.

“Thanks.”

With shaking hands, you hold out the straws Wooyoung had given you. Both San and Wooyoung draw, keeping their pick hidden until you pick yours. Long. San uncurls his hand and reveals his. Long.

Your gaze shifts to Wooyoung who looks just about ready to throw up at the prospect of going first. “Of course it’s me,” he laughs soullessly. “I suggested it, so I end up being first.”

“If you’re not comfortable–”

Wooyoung stops San with a quick squeeze of his hand. “No, it’s okay. I have a lot to say.” Without further ado, he turns to face you, his eyes pleading and his brows furrowed. “YN, I’m sorry. I was inconsiderate of you in the relationship, and although I meant no harm, I hurt you when I commented on ‘having more fun without you’. Although I tried to keep tension low, it only served to hurt you and I apologise for that. I should’ve been more attentive to you and considered how you may have felt when San and I went off to do our own thing without you.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, your heart warming at his heartfelt apology. “I really appreciate that, Wooyoung,” you hum. “I missed you a lot, and after a couple days of cooling down, I realised you meant no harm, and I could’ve told you how I felt about that with more maturity. I…I hope you don’t mind if I go next.”

San waves his hand, gesturing for you to go on. “Of course,” he agrees readily, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand gently.

“I’m sure my…complaints…about our dynamic were pretty clear. I felt left out, excluded, and separated from the two of you. And what I was feeling was valid, but my reaction wasn’t. I am sorry about how I went about talking to you guys. I assumed you wouldn’t care, and so I kept it to myself and let it boil over. And just running out on you guys was unfair of me. I didn’t explain, nor give you guys a chance to explain.”

San nods empathetically. “I was indeed hurt by your immediate assumption that we wouldn’t care. I thought it was clear we care about you—I mean, we did watch that show together and we asked if you wanted to join us next time. If you were really feeling hurt, I do wish you brought it up sooner.”

You sigh, looking down at your twisting hands, bringing one of them up to your mouth to chew lightly on the nail. “Like I said way back, I was insecure about the two of you changing your relationship dynamic just because I wanted it. Maybe it was stupid, I don’t know, but the hurt I felt wasn’t stupid. Sure, we watched the show, and sure, you asked me if I wanted to join next time. But that was it! I was an afterthought. You dismissed me when I said I wanted to join, and yet you asked me why I didn’t bring it up before?”

Before you can sink your teeth any further into your nail, Wooyoung leans forward, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth and bringing it to his lap. “Don’t bite your nails, YN. I’m sure San didn’t mean to be dismissive,” he pleads, elbowing San lightly in the ribs, who winces and nods sincerely. “I’m sure you understand, we were just hurt you didn’t trust us enough, although your reasons are understandable. We want to make things right, though, and we want you to be comfortable to talk to us about your insecurities and worries.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to be so defensive,” San concedes. “I got too caught up in wanting everyone to get along, I got ahead of myself. I pride myself on being the calm one, but I was too passive and that quickly turned into self-righteousness.” His hand moves to rest atop yours and Wooyoung’s, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the soft skin.

“We still want you with us, YN,” Wooyoung cuts in, “and we want to change for you. We talked about this when you were gone, and we’ll respect your decision to leave if you so wish, but we really would like to try and work this through.”

You pause for a moment. You could walk away right now, minimizing any potential hurt that could follow. But as your eyes land on your conjoined hands, any minute wish to leave is immediately squashed and you smile up at the two of them. “I want to stay too.”

San matches your smile and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. Before anything else happens, he pulls you forward, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders as he engulfs you in a warm hug. Without hesitation, San quickly joins, pressing a kiss to the top of both your and Wooyoung’s head.

As they murmur promises of how they can include you more, as well as soft ‘I love you’s in your ear, you can’t help but relax at their showcase of love. Things will turn out all right.

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whowantslovergirl · 1 day

Text

Casual

Paige Bueckers x reader (reader is female with she/her pronouns)

warnings: angst, italics are flashbacks, no happy ending, loosely based on a true story 🤣, paige is SUPER clueless,suggestive but no smut so tht one part will not be in this story, cursing, again paige is kinda mean in this, NOT ASSUMING HER SEXUALITY THIS IS PURELY FOR THE STORY gonna make a new masterlist once there’s more stories 😫

Summary: Y/n knew what her and Paige had but she never wanted that and Paige just wanted this casual

posted: May 30,2024

This has been going on for months. Ever since I hooked up with Paige we had this little thing going on. Then I did the one thing you shouldn’t, catch feelings. Technically it’s not my fault she shouldn’t be acting like a girlfriend, giving me gifts, taking me on surprise dates and even saying ‘I love you.’ I mean my friends call me a loser 'cause I'm still hanging around. Which is completely understandable it’s been like six months and she hasn’t asked me to be her girlfriend.

______

“Oh that’s Paige’s girl.”

“Yea Paige is dating that chick over there.”

“I heard they’re not even together yet.”

Every single day. I walk around campus and I hear the same thing. “That’s Paige’s girl.” Like my name is Y/n.

Then you heard someone say.

“Paige said she’s just fucking her nothing more nothing less.”

What the hell. I've heard so many rumors that I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch but I never believed it was true. You texted Paige saying you’re coming over and she said okay see you soon.

______

“Why would you say shit like that?!” This always happens we always get into an argument about something she said or something I did. It’s like a routine.

“Well are we not just fucking Y/n?!” Paige yelled back. Then you started to tear up. “Well I- I thought you thought of me better, you know like someone you couldn't lose or something.”

She shook her head and took my hands in hers. “I don’t know what you wanna hear Y/n.”

"We're not together"

Well that hurt. “Yea I know Paige. It just hurts that you see me like that.”

“I don’t but- but I do love you. You know that right?” I nodded and leaned forward. “I love you too Paige.” She smiled and connected our lips.

So now when we kiss, I have anger issues.

_____

“Baby, no attachment”

Those three words make me madder than I ever been in my life. I should leave but to be honest I don’t want too. I mean I always had a crush on Paige and when something finally happened I never been so happy. But at the same time.

Is it casual now?

I remember when we just started messing around and in two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach.

Is it casual now?

______

I know what you tell your friends

“So what’s going on with you and Y/n.” Azzi asked. They were always curious about your… relationship? So they always asked you or Paige what’s going on. Paige shrugged.

“It's casual.”

They didn’t say anything just nodded when they know damn well what Paige and Y/n have is not casual.

_____

Dumb love, I love being stupid.

Sometimes I like to dream of us in a year. You know maybe we'd have an apartment.

And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier.

I walked into our apartment and Paige is already coming up to me giving me hugs and kisses.

“Hey baby how was work?” You shook your head. “Stressful but you know it happens.”

_____

“Come on! They’ll love you I promise.” Paige was showing you off to her new team. “Y/n!”

“Y/n!” I see my friend waving her hand in my face.

Well shit.

______

Paige and I just finished doing our thing and I was putting my (her) shirt on. “Hey so do you wanna go on a date or something?” Paige asked me and I nodded. Usually we do casual dates so it wouldn’t hurt doing a serious one right?

“Do you wanna go to a restaurant or something.” I saw the panic in her face and she immediately shut that idea down.

“Baby, no attachment.”

I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t know going to a restaurant was being attached.” I got all my stuff and left before she could stay anything.

Who asks to go on date then talk about being attached? Fucking idiot.

Is it casual now?

______

Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach.

You just started your ‘relationship’ with Paige Bueckers. Two weeks in and her mom is asking you to go on vacation.

Is it casual now?

______

I know what you tell your friends.

“And she just stormed off like a kid bro. Just because I didn’t wanna go to a restaurant.” Paige was telling Azzi about your recent argument. Azzi just looked at her. “What?” Paige asked.

“Well what did you say for her to storm off P?” She shrugged. “I told her she shouldn’t get attached.” She said looking down and mumbling. Azzi looked at her again. “How is wanting to go to a restaurant being attached?”

“She said the same thing! Look, it's casual going to a restaurant is what couples do and we are not a couple.”

“Maybe she doesn’t wanna be casual Paige.”

And that’s what scared her.

______

It's hard being casual

When my favorite bra lives in your dresser

I was getting ready to go out with some friends and was looking for the bra that makes my boobs look big then I remembered that it’s probably at Paige’s which is not good because we are currently not talking.

Whatever I need my bra back.

______

“What are you doing here?” Fuck why does she have to look so hot. “Don’t cream your pants I need my bra.” She just moves out of the way.

I got my bra and was trying to leave but Paige grabbed my arm. “So where are you going dressed like that?” Is she serious?

“I’m going out with friends.” She nodded. “I miss you Y/n.”

“Ok” and you left.

And it's hard being casual

______

“Im so tired of this shit Paige!”

You’re finally confronting Paige about this thing you have going on due to your friends hyping you up.

“Tell her you’re over this shit Y/n!”

“It’s been too long for her not to do shit.”

“Tired of what Y/n?!”

“You! This has been going on for months. Almost a year and you still think this is a casual thing?!”

“If it bothered you so much why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because Paige I try to be the chill girl that holds her tongue and gives you space.”

Before she could say anything you cut her off.

“I try to be the chill girl but honestly, I'm not.” You started to tear up and she noticed but didn’t say or do anything.

“Well I didn’t want to lead you on-.”

“But you did Paige.”

“Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her Long Beach house and you don’t think that’s leading someone on.”

“And I know what you tell your friends. You probably told them it’s casual right?” She looked down avoiding all possible eye contact. “What we have is not casual Paige and you know that.”

“You knew what this was Y/n. And what we have is casual or so I thought!”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh please I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner and you told me you loved me. That’s not what casual is!”

She ran her hands over her face knowing you were right.

Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter

You’re at dinner with Paige’s parents and before you got here. We got into a huge argument about… honestly I don’t remember but I do know that it was her fault and I’m mad at her. You had been a little rude to her parents but they know you didn’t mean it.

After a while Paige pulled me to the bathroom obviously fed up.

“What the hell bro. I get you’re mad at me but don’t take it out on my parents.” You didn’t say anything and just went back to the table.

“I just want to say sorry for the way I acted today.” They assured you that it’s okay and they know you mean no harm.

Paige wondered why you were being so bitter.

But she didn’t do anything to fix it.

Bragging to your friends

“Yea we’re like doing this thing and like I’m so happy I did it!” Then Paige went on and on and on about you basically bragging. The team was obviously not going along with that, shutting it down immediately.

I hate that I let this drag on so long, now I hate myself

“Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell!!”

You pushed her out the door and slammed it in her face.

Note to self: never be in a ‘casual’ relationship.

An: ENJOYYYYY MY LOVERS 🤍🤍🤍 but definitely making a wbb masterlist maybe emily engstlers next who knows…

#Spotify #my lovers on top #wcbb x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #chappell roan

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kinomiakai · 1 year

Link

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Uchiha Sasuke Has Issues, hot damn what a tag that is, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Uzumaki Naruto Needs a Hug, Eventual Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Comfort/Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Third Person Limited, POV Uchiha Sasuke, Idiots in Love, Hokage Uzumaki Naruto, Friendship/Love, Post-War, Post-VOTE2, no kids or new gen marriages, Work In Progress

Summary: Sasuke has spent three years trying to figure out how to live on his own. Maybe it’s time to try something different.

WIP. Future SNS, updated once a month. Canonverse. Rating may change!

Someone order a burst of little chapters as an end of year bonus? I hope so :) Obligatory there’s more writing around here, if you want it, too.

#kinomitalks #twoisacrowd #ep3otp #textpost #fanfiction #sns fanfiction #sns fanfic #sasunarusasu #okay okay end of month and end of year summaries may come in the new year #I have been doing many many things #and this is one of them! hope you like!

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pucksandpower · 25 days

Text

Welcome to Miami

Lando Norris x Messi!Reader

Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months

Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy

Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with

You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize you’re not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.

Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous night’s events.

The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.

Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: “Lando 🍆”. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.

You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.

As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Lando’s warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.

You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that — one night. No need to dwell on the best sex you’ve had in … well, maybe ever.

When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.

“Have a good night, mija?” Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. “It was fine.”

He chuckles. “If you say so. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal — training with the University of Miami’s football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.

But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.

When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.

Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This can’t be happening. You were so careful with Lando, you’re almost certain … but maybe not careful enough.

The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.

How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you can’t even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?

A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but you’re almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.

Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know you’re just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just can’t recollect the exact circumstances.

God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first — you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if it’s still positive, you’ll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. That’s still your choice, at least.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered — you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.

No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe you’re both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.

You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, you’ll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then you’ll deal with everything else from there. There’s no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.

But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. You’re pregnant with a virtual stranger’s baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you can’t help but wonder — who the hell is Lando?

***

You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.

How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You’re supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now you’re pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.

The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. He’ll be so disappointed in you. But you can’t keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.

You hear the front door open and your dad’s familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, “Papa? Can you come here please?”

Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. “I … I’m pregnant,” you finally choke out.

His eyes go wide with shock. “Pregnant? How …” Realization dawns on his face. “Was this from that night you came home ...” He doesn’t need to finish the question.

You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and … and I don’t even know who the father is, not really.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Just some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!”

To your surprise, your dad’s expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Shh, it’s alright mija. I’m not happy about this situation, but I’m not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.” He pauses, seeming to think something over. “This Lando guy … was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?”

You nod again, not understanding the connection. “I think so, why?”

A look of recognition crosses your dad’s face. “There’s a young driver in Formula 1. I’m a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. It’s not the most common name.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.

It all fits.

“Oh my god … you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?” Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.

Leo nods firmly. “I think it’s highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.”

There’s a hard edge to your dad’s voice at that last part. You can’t really blame his protectiveness — finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, can’t be easy for any father.

“What am I going to do?” You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.

But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. “We’ll figure it out together, mija. Don’t worry. If this Lando character is the father, he’ll damn well take responsibility. I’ll make sure of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting your dad’s words soothe you. He’s right — you’re not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.

“Thank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m lucky to have you.” You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.

Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. “Always, mija. I’ve got your back, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. “And as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...” He lets the implied threat hang in the air.

You can’t help but give a watery laugh. “I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Your dad allows a small smile at that. “Smart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? I’m sure someone can get us his information if not.”

You think for a moment, then remember — your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.

“Here, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.” Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.

Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.

“Right, listen up, Lando Norris ...” he begins, leaving no room for argument.

You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.

No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando — well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you don’t dare say no.

***

Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock — 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?

He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. He’s tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy “Hello?”

“Lando Norris?” The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando can’t quite place it in his sleep-addled state.

“Yeah, this is him. Who’s this?” He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.

“This is Lionel Messi.”

Lando’s eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like he’s been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend what’s happening.

“I … uh … Mr. Messi, sir. This is … I mean … wow. What an honor!” He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.

Messi’s voice remains calm but firm. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?”

Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women he’d casually hooked up with around that time.

There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying … no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins he’d brought back to his hotel room on Saturday … no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.

Then it clicks into place — the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that he’d met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.

He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...

Oh shit.

“I … yes, sir. I think I know who you’re referring to,” Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Good. Then you’ll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.”

Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? There’s no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!

“I … I’m sorry … your what?” He sputters out dumbly.

Messi’s tone takes on a steely edge. “My daughter. The young woman you slept with, she’s my daughter. And now she’s pregnant with your child.”

The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. “Oh my god, I … I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have … oh fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“Sorry doesn’t really fix this, does it?” Messi’s voice is like sharpened steel. “You got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.”

“I … yes, you’re right. Completely right.” Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This can’t actually be happening, right? “What … what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, whatever you need!”

There’s a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“First, you’re going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then you’re going to take responsibility and be a part of this child’s life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, of course!” Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. “Whatever you want, sir. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”

“Good. I’ll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.” There’s a hint of grudging approval in Messi’s voice now, like he’s satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. “I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.

Leo Messi’s daughter.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?

His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.

Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with … with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?

Lando’s eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.

The last thing he’s dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.

When Lando finally does manage to sleep, it’s to the terrifying vision of Leo Messi’s furious face snarling “you got my daughter pregnant” over and over again behind his closed eyelids.

***

The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.

He got Leo Messi’s daughter pregnant. How is this his life?

A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.

Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. “I’m Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?”

The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.

The drive to the Messis’ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.

Get it together, man. This is it.

All too soon, they’re pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.

Then the front door is swinging open and there’s Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.

Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t like you.”

The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.

“I understand, sir. I’ve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. I’ll accept whatever consequences I have to.” His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.

The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.

You.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth … no fifth … mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.

He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he can’t deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.

Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. “Um … hi.”

“Hi,” he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.

An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.

“Well?” Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. “You got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?”

The blunt words make Lando’s face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your father’s stern gaze head-on.

“Whatever I need to do, sir. I’ll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child … anything you need from me.” He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “That is … if the mother wants me to be involved as well?”

He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said — he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.

His kid.

You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Yes … yes, I’d like you to be involved if you’re willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We … we can figure this out. Together?”

The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Lando’s chest. For all your father’s bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.

“Together,” he agrees firmly, returning your nod. “We’ll, ah, we’ll be good co-parents. For the baby.”

The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.

Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.

“Get it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I don’t care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.”

With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.

You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. “He’s … taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.”

Lando can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. “Yeah, I’ll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you say with a small smile.

An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then — two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. It’s almost enough for him to relax a bit.

Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. “So … co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?”

Lando doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course. It’s my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but … I’m in this all the way. For the little one’s sake.”

Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, Lando. That … that really means a lot to hear.”

Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you and me,” he murmurs as he holds you close. “We’ve got this, baby mama.”

You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.

“Lando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, they’ll never find your body.”

Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.

“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it won’t happen again!” He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.

Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.

You’re staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Why did I say that? God, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, that smile breaking free. “This is just … all a bit surreal, isn’t it?”

Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.

“Just a bit, yeah.” He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. “But your dad’s right — we’ve got to take this seriously for the little one.”

You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. “We do. Which means you can’t call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.”

“Deal,” Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.

Maybe co-parenting won’t be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messi’s protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.

***

Ten Months Later

The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughter’s wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.

“There they are! My two favorite girls,” Lando’s voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. “And how’s my little princess doing today?”

Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you can’t help but smile at the pure adoration on Lando’s face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. “She’s been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.”

“That’s my girl,” Lando grins. “Going to be a little racer before we know it.”

“Lando! There you are, mate.” The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Lando’s teammate bounds over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for … oh wow, is that her?”

Oscar’s eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. “She’s … she’s so small,” he says dumbly.

“What did you expect, she’s a baby,” Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.

You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscar’s waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. “Just watch the grabby hands. She’s got a pretty strong grip these days.”

Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin you’ve ever seen.

“Hey there, little Norris,” he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. “I’m your favorite Uncle Oscar.”

“Oi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?” Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscar’s arms. “Is that her? Dios mio, she’s gorgeous!”

Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscar’s hold, completely ignoring the other driver’s sputtering. “Well hello there, princesa. Don’t worry, your Tío Carlos has got you.”

Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniard’s perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.

“Are you seeing this?” Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. “How are we supposed to get her back now?”

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maia’s favorite uncle will be — only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.

“What do we have here?” Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?”

“Something like that, mate,” Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. “Up for putting your name in the hat too?”

“You know it!” Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. “Hey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.”

Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms — prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.

“Aw, I think she likes me best already,” Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maia’s button nose and making her giggle.

You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Daniel’s next words nearly make you choke.

“So just how old is this little angel?” He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maia’s sweet face. “Four months now?”

“Three months and one week,” Lando answers automatically — only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

The smug grin that slowly spreads across Daniel’s face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been … well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maia’s happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. “I think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didn’t he?”

The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red — no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Daniel’s direction. “We are not having this conversation here.”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. “It’s a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That must’ve been one hell of a victory lap!”

The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Daniel’s eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like he’s two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.

Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in — scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. “That’s enough of that, I think.”

Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. “I’ll lay off … for now.”

With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering you’re all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.

“Right, well … I need to go, you know, do driver things,” he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.

Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.

“You never fail to entertain,” he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.

Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. “Unless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?”

That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. “You wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.”

You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maia’s cheek — earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.

“You’ll learn soon enough that your papá can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.”

“She really doesn’t need to learn that at all, thanks,” Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, it’s abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.

The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.

“Lando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,” a press officer arrives to herd him away.

Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maia’s head before meeting your gaze apologetically. “Duty calls, I suppose. You’ll be okay here with my littlest fan club?”

You wave him off with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.”

The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. “How could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?”

With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away — offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.

Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.

“You know, he really has changed since becoming a papá,” the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. “Far as I can tell, it’s done wonders for him.”

You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Lando’s retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. “He’s been … amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.”

Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile you’ve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You can’t help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.

As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, you’ll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.

So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if Lando still can’t quite look your father in the eye.

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pomefioredove · 1 month

Note

Okay but imagine one of the guys actually win the prefect, and they just go rubbing it on the others face by making them wear their respective form uniform.

Except Kalim, he would probably just make them have a sleepover every night and paint each other nails.

ohhh see now I'm imagining all the alternate routes this could take... okay okay I'm so here for this. like half of the cast would totally make them wear the uniform just to rub it in, the other half would just be crazy about seeing them in the dorm uniform at all. I DO have some thoughts on this concept alone... and I'll make another part later yk yk

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms. a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: ace, deuce, jack, epel, riddle, ruggie, azul, jamil, kalim, vil additional info: yuu is gender neutral, ruggie is cute, azul is the cutest, vil enjoyers come get your food, maybe a little ooc for some parts

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

First Year's Ending

"Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and Epel Felmier. Congratulations! The prefect will be ready at Ramshackle for your collection this evening. I trust you'll sort out the details..."

The four freshman look between each other, a mix of awe and shock on each of their faces.

Everyone else is staring daggers at them.

Vil is the first to speak. "How?"

"We may or may not have sweetened the deal with a few exclusive bonuses," Ace snickers, crossing his arms. Vil rolls his eyes. Deuce sighs.

"We'll be Crowley's new slaves for months after this..."

Jack grumbles from the back of the four. "Well, it was worth it. Imagine if someone underhanded and dishonest had won, and-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever,"

The four pause, looking between each other in silence. Then, finally:

"So who will they be staying with?" Epel asks, catching Vil's attention again.

"Excellent question, Epel," the housewarden smiles, stepping back into the conversation. "We would be more than willing to accommodate the prefect at Pomefiore. Our dorm far outshines the others."

Leona growls. "I heard that. Besides, why should you be first in line? We've already housed them before, they were plenty comfortable then,"

"As I recall, you forced them into servitude as penance for staying," Riddle snaps. "Not exactly the friendliest host. I think they would be much more comfortable at Heartslabyul."

The four freshman can only watch in silence as the housewardens break out into bickering with one another about who's dorm is best.

"Soooo..." Ace starts. "Maybe we should rotate?"

Deuce sighs. "For once, you actually have a good idea,"

Riddle's Ending

"Riddle Rosehearts, congratulations! I'll alert the prefect at once," Crowley says, immediately turning and disappearing into the crowd before anything can get ugly.

It doesn't exactly come across as a surprise to anyone- Riddle closely calculated his spendings, taking into consideration Leona's overconfidence, Malleus' stranger proposal, and Kalim's over-enthusiasm.

Of course, with some additional prodding about how no other dorm is responsible enough to handle another person like Heartslabyul, Crowley finally gave in.

And now, you're sat in front of the dorm's rose gardens, suitcase in tow as you make no apparent effort to walk in.

"Thought I'd find you out here," Trey says, taking a seat in the grass next to you. "Feeling okay?"

"Nervous," you admit.

Trey chuckles, much to your annoyance. "I promise there's really nothing to be nervous about. Riddle is really quite happy you're here,"

You find that a bit surprising, though you suppose it's hard to tell when he's excited. He always has this impression of deep psychological stress on him that makes him difficult to read.

"Is he?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been running Ace and Deuce ragged getting ready. He really wants to impress you," Trey pauses with a small smile. "You'll get used to the order of things here in no time. And if you ever need any help, you've got me, Cater, Ace, Deuce... I'm sure even Riddle will take it easy on you."

You smile in return. "Thanks, I-"

"Prefect!" Riddle storms out of the front doors, looking rather well-dressed for a simple Tuesday afternoon. "You were expected four minutes ago! I've taken the liberty of finding your measurements, so your dorm uniform is already ready and inside!"

Yeah. Excited, right. You give Trey a little look (to which he only waves merrily) and start off behind the housewarden.

For a moment, as you follow him, you could swear you catch him humming and smiling. But before you can say anything about it he catches Ace messing with your dorm uniform and starts shouting.

Ruggie's Ending

"And the winner is... no... this can't be right..."

Crowley clutches the paper, bringing it close to his face. He clicks his tongue, murmuring to himself.

"Um... Ruggie Bucchi, everyone!"

The news sends a shockwave through the audience, and everyone turns to the sophomore at the back of the courtyard. The sudden shift in energy is enough to make him drop his sandwich.

"Damn it..." he grumbles, picking it off the ground and swiping the dirt off of it with his sleeve. "Still good, eh?"

"Are you deaf?" Leona glares. "You're just embarrassing yourself now, and me by association."

Ruggie raises an eyebrow. "What? Oh, the lottery-thingy? I'm pretty sure Crowley misread that. He's going senile, y'know,"

Crowley crosses his arms, begrudginly handing off the paper to Azul in the front. He adjusts his glasses.

"It says Ruggie Bucchi,"

"Then someone mistyped it! I'm telling 'ya, there's no way I managed to scrounge up enough before the deadline. I was digging between couch cushions by the end of it,"

Leona looks as if he's about to smack him upside the head. "Would you just get up there?"

"Geez, alright. But don't blame me when someone comes around with the right winner later," he says, trudging to the front of the crowd. "So what do I gotta do?"

"Erm... the prefect is waiting at Ramshackle. You'll collect them and return to Savanaclaw, where you'll be responsible for handling the details."

"Sure, whatever. Let's get to it, then,"

---

Even your surprise is palpable, though you suppose it could be a lot worse. Ruggie has been a pal before, helping you out at Sam's and convincing Leona to let you off the hook when you accidentally annoy him.

Though, he himself seems less than pleased as you step out of your new room in Savanaclaw, dressed in a slightly too-big uniform.

Leona smirks as if watching something amusing and claps, slowly. "Looking good. See, none of those other pompous outfits woulda looked half as nice on you. Nice work, Ruggie,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. Leona excuses himself to find somewhere warm to nap, leaving you two to stare at each other.

"So... what's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," you say carefully. "You don't exactly seem excited about winning."

"Oh," Ruggie shrugs. "That's cause I didn't. Guys like me don't win anything. I'm sure someone will come to give you away to the right winner tomorrow."

The thought doesn't sit well with you- you're already here, after all, and Grim is gorging himself in the lounge, and you really-kinda-don't-mind Ruggie winning.

"Well, I hope not,"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know I can hardly afford to take care of myself, right?"

"So then we're even. Just don't make me go through all that bidding stuff again," you sigh. "Let's leave it at that."

A brief, though comfortable silence falls over the two of you, and then he grins. "Alright, then. I can live with that,"

Octotrio's Ending

"Azul Ashengrotto!"

Azul's immediate reaction is to collapse. he hadn't really realized how much stress the anticipation was causing him until suddenly his knees were buckling like he was learning to walk on land all over again.

Floyd grabs his shoulder to keep him upright and Jade joins the scattered applause.

"Don't look so pale, Azul. I'm sure this will prove to be a worthwhile investment," he says, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

A part of Azul knows that Jade isn't referring to anything financial, but he doesn't say a word about it.

"Besides," Jade goes on. "It'll be nice having another member of my club."

Both Azul and Floyd groan in unison.

---

Floyd gives you a standing ovation when you walk into the Mostro Lounge, fully dressed in the provided dorm uniform.

Azul, on the other hand, looks away entirely.

"It feels too long," you say, staring at the bottoms of your pants. You're not exactly in a place to complain, so you keep your voice meek.

"We can make the necessary adjustments," Jade says, walking into the room with a tray of tea, his all-too-knowing smile as unnerving as ever. "You look very nice, though. Wouldn't you say, Azul?"

The merman's eyes immediately turn away from Jade. "Hm?"

"Tell the prefect they look nice, Azul,"

Floyd laughs from across the room, clearly enjoying the spectacle. You tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy, not exactly sure what this banter is about. But it's not your place to pry, either.

Azul's face is beet-red. "You... look nice,"

"Thank you,"

"So are they gonna work or what? I'm tired," Floyd whines, lying on one of the couches and kicking off his shoes.

Azul grimaces. "Don't do that, that's disgusting. And I thought we should let them adjust a few days before giving them the option of working,"

"Option?" Jade's grin widens. "My, aren't you feeling generous?"

"I... assume this process has been rather jarring. I don't want any of my employees distracted or mopey. Is that right?"

You blink. "Uh... yes. This whole thing has been pretty terrible,"

Azul nods in acknowledgement as Grim tumbles in the room, wearing a brand new purple and silver-streaked bow. "Can't believe you guys had one of these 'jus lying around! I feel like a million thaumarks!"

You chuckle and scoop him into your arms. "You look very handsome. Just like Azul,"

Azul can feel his soul leaving his body and has to swiftly turn around to face the wall so you can't see him blushing. Floyd laughs.

"Oh- oh I meant the bow looks just like Azul's outfit!" you correct yourself. He pretends he didn't hear anything at all.

Jade breaks the awkward silence with a chuckle. "Ah, what fun this will be. Now, I think it's only appropriate that we give these two a proper welcome dinner. Prefect, do you care for mushrooms?"

Floyd and Azul groan in unison.

Jamil's Kalim's Ending

"Kalim al-Asim!"

Everyone could see that coming from a mile away. The disgruntled mumbles and groans of the crowd are drowned out by the cheers and claps of one sophomore, practically jumping up and down in the middle of the crowd.

"Yes! Yessss! This is going to be so much fun!"

Jamil suddenly looks exhausted.

Kalim runs to the front of the crowd, shakes Crowley's hand, steals the envelope from him, and sprints the rest of the way to Ramshackle.

Your moping is quite abruptly interrupted by a procession of loud knocks at the door, and after managing to summon your courage, you answer them.

"Wh-"

The very second the door is open, a familiar ball of energy is in your arms, squeezing you tightly.

"I wonnnn, prefect! I won!"

Your eyes widen. "You- you-"

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Out of everyone who threw their name in the hat, you couldn't get much luckier than Kalim. Financial problems? Gone. Loneliness? Blown away in the wind. Your chances of getting assassinated...? Well, let's hope Jamil is in a good mood.

Your uniforms are ready, measured to the exact inch, sitting on a set of mannequins that greet you as soon as you're inside.

Jamil is hovering behind one of them, picking at the sleeve of your school uniform for stray threads. He gives you a sideways glance, not exactly looking happy.

"My two best friends in the whole world in the same dorm!" Kalim claps. "You have to try on your dorm uniform, you'll love it! Oh, let me get you some new sheets- we have silk!"

He bounds off down the hall, leaving you alone in the lounge. The silence is thick and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I'm outta here," Grim says, walking off in the opposite direction.

"Grim!" You whisper-shout.

"It's a preventative measure! No cracker-dry mouth for me!" and with that, he's gone.

Jamil smirks slightly, turning his attention back to sorting the uniforms. "You should get changed while you still can. I have a feeling Kalim will be attached to your side for the rest of the evening,"

You're pleasantly surprised to see how well the dorm uniform fits you, and your return to the lounge is accompanied with a little smile. The fabric is light and breezy, perfect for the dorm's usual weather- you could certainly get used to the perpetual summer.

"Fits well, I presume?" Jamil asks. "You certainly seem to be in high spirits."

"It could be worse,"

"Much worse," he agrees.

A silence falls over the two of you. Eventually, he sighs to himself, watching you out of the corner of his eyes.

"If you ever need a break from Kalim," Jamil says tentatively. "I could certainly find a way to distract him. Just so you know."

You understand the nature of his offer immediately, and though you know it's wrong, you don't exactly say no.

"...Thank you, Jamil,"

Vil's Ending

"Vil Schoenheit! Thank the sevens..."

Though he walks to Ramshackle to collect his prize with a sense of ease, Vil admits that there was a brief moment where he felt anxious about not winning.

Standing in that crowd, surrounded by royalty and nobles, his chances were higher than most but certainly not assured. The very thought of you being stuck with someone other than him was enough to send a shiver up his spine.

After all, how many people on this campus would you feel comfortable with taking your measurements? None, none but him.

"Hold still," he says for the millionth time. "I'm almost done."

Vil insisted on taking your measurements himself, and you had no qualms about that. After all, things could be worse.

"There. I'll have these sent out right away. Pomefiore has many students of your size, so it's likely we'll have a spare uniform for you. That is, until I can have one custom-made,"

"You really don't have to..."

He raises an eyebrow. "Of course I do. You're a Pomefiore student now, I expect you to present yourself like one,"

A knock at the door pulls your attention away from him, though it's Vil who answers it.

He returns to you, dorm uniform in arm.

"That was fast," you say, accepting the bundle of clothes.

"Punctuality is important. Now, get changed, I want to see what I'll have to adjust for you,"

Waiting for your return is almost as nerve-wrecking as it was waiting for Crowley to call out his name. Vil can't be sure why exactly you're making him so nervous now, but it's all he can do to keep from showing it.

The dorm uniform- which you've dawned before- is just as comfortable as you remember. Warm, but not suffocating, soft but durable.

Vil stares at you for a short while before saying anything, simply drinking in your presence.

"Come here. I need to have a look,"

You inch forward, standing in front of him as he turns around you in circle, inspecting every inch. "Well, it fits much better than your last,"

He pauses, stopping in front of you. You look down at your feet, feeling as nervous under his analytical gaze as ever.

Vil chuckles, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "You look wonderful. I'll have to help with your confidence, though,"

Good Ending

"And our winner is... M-"

"Crowley!" a loud voice resonates from the very back of the crowd. The sound of hurried footsteps follow it as Trein and Crewel show up on scene.

"We're... we're kind of in the middle of something-"

"You are absolutely not. I cannot believe I had to find out about your little scheme from Trappola and Spade, of all pups," Crewel grimaces. "Are you well?"

"Well I- I-"

"Called it," Ruggie grins. "Totally senile."

Leona rolls his eyes. "Oi! Just read the damn paper!"

"Absolutely not. This is a highly immoral and borderline illegal offense," Trein crosses his arms. "You will all be refunded promptly. Now return to your studies!"

The crowd slowly dissipates, murmuring amongst themselves. Crowley remains in front of the well at the front of the courtyard, kicking the ground with his hands behind his back, like a child being scolded.

Both Trein and Crewel glare. "If you were having such issues with the prefect's expenses, you could have asked,"

"In what universe is giving them away to teenage boys a sound idea?" Trein grimaces. "I can overlook many of the things you do, but this is far too much."

"But-"

"That's enough," Crewel snaps his pointer against his palm. "If the prefect is causing you such troubles, we'll be glad to take them off your hands. In fact, I've already had the necessary legal papers drawn. I've always wanted a pup of my own, you know."

---

A gentle knock at the door rouses you from your melancholy and after some lengthy pestering from Grim, you finally go to answer it.

Outside is none other than Ace and Deuce, looking rather somber.

"No- don't tell me," you say. "I don't even want to hear it."

Deuce sighs. "It's not that. The whole thing got canceled,"

"No- wait, canceled?"

"Someone got caught with their hand in the cookie jar," Ace snickers, but quickly clears his throat after Deuce gives him a sharp glare. "Crowley's negotiated a different solution to the problem."

Deuce nods. "Hypothetically... how do you feel about being adopted?"

#I enjoyed writing this. thank you anon <3 #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #epel felmier x reader #jack howl x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

1K notes · View notes

sehnsuchts-trunken · 9 months

Text

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #x reader

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saerins · 1 year

Text

─── 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

+ sae x f!reader | wc 3.2k | content: angst, insecurities, death

notes: i’m sorry idk how this came about but i was in a mood :’) i promise i love him okay <3 feedback & reblogs appreciated !!

summary: he’s back home, and you recall the times you’d spoken to him. all the calls you made, then all the calls he made, and then all the times it went to voicemail.

you remember every conversation you’ve had with your boyfriend. the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. it’s hard to quantify into numbers since you’d been together for the last five years.

but there’s a few of them that are prominent, that are burned into your mind, engraved onto your brain. the sound of his laugh, for one, that’s always been precious to you, if only for the fact that he doesn’t laugh often.

sae always said you were the only one who could get that out of him, and you’ve kept it close to your heart since.

to the world, he may have seemed rude and off-putting at times, and despite the countless false reports of sae being an asshole to all his girlfriends in private (because the media can never decide who he’s actually with), he’s always been the same itoshi sae to you—the kind of guy who only ever bothers what you think about him because the other people not involved in your relationship don’t matter.

you remember everything he’s ever done for you.

“you know that one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?”

yeah, you definitely remember.

MARCH 2020; [ sae’s fifth day in spain ]

“you miss me, itoshi sae?”

you can feel him rolling his eyes from the other end. “i should just hang up right now.”

“you could, but then you’d miss me even more.”

sae suppresses a grin, even if there’s no one around to see it. you’re right, but he doesn’t say anything.

it was rare for sae to call you at all. but then again, it is the first time you two had been apart since you got together. maybe it isn’t so weird after all.

“how’d practice go today?”

“it’s fine, nothing i couldn’t handle.” of course he’s fine, he’s the youngest on the team and yet it was as though he’d played the longest.

“of course it was fine, mr genius,” you tease, and he smiles because he knows you’re smiling too.

you can’t really remember how the rest of the conversation went. but you only remember this moment because it was the first time you realised that amidst all the times you’d pester him to go on a date with you, amidst all the times you asked him for a kiss, sae could miss you too.

SEPTEMBER 2020; [ sae comes back to japan soon ]

“hey so i was thinking, i’ll meet you at the airport?”

sae hums, “wanna see me that bad, huh?”

“shut up,” you snap at him, hating his quick tongue that so easily gets you flustered. “so i miss my handsome, successful boyfriend, big deal.”

he missed you too.

“am i just arm candy for you, y/n?”

“what? no—”

“too late. i’m offended. bye.”

then he actually hangs up on you.

it takes you half a second to pull up your message thread with him.

itoshi sae, you wanna die or something?

it takes him the same amount of time to respond to you.

y/n l/n, okay, then maybe i’d get some relief from you.

before you can even be actually offended, your phone vibrates again.

miss you too, stupid. see you tomorrow.

you can’t seem to rub the smile off your face.

FEBRUARY 2021; [ first valentines’ apart ]

it takes him three rings to pick up.

“happy valentines’, lover,” you giggle over the phone.

it’s been a few months since your about-to-go-pro soccer player boyfriend had gone back to spain, doing pro soccer player things. you miss him, especially since it’s the first time you guys are spending the romantic occasion apart.

it sucks that you couldn’t even spend new years with him. it’s okay though, you managed to video call him while you spent time with his family.

“think you got the wrong number.”

“itoshi—”

“open the door, smarty pants.”

“w-wait, what? did you send me something?”

you hurry over to your front door, not knowing what to expect. but you definitely didn’t expect sae to be there, in the flesh, sighing when you finally open your door, a pretty bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“what are you doing here?” you’re still shocked from his mere presence.

sae smirks, and you realise just how much you miss him. “think i got the wrong apartment, i was supposed to deliver these to my other girl—”

but you kiss him to shut him up. he’s full of nonsense, and so, so witty, and he’s here.

sae’s always claimed that it was not soccer stealing him from you, it was more the other way around. and he had been joking at the time he said that, but right now he thinks maybe there’s some truth to it.

if there’s anyone capable of having and getting him to willingly relinquish his attention from soccer, it’s you.

JUNE 2021; [ night of sae’s first PR event ]

“someone looks handsome,” you comment as you watch your boyfriend getting ready over the phone.

he has an entire entourage of people over at his hotel—they must be the makeup crew and stylists. his entire team is getting vip treatment for being champions of the league thanks to last week’s game. now, even more brands are trying to sponsor them and you really shouldn’t be surprised over the amount of girls going crazy over your boyfriend.

“and someone should really sleep,” sae pauses for a moment when the man beside him (presumably his stylist, because he’s double checking sae’s suit) asks a quick that your girlfriend?, to which sae says “yes.”

the man winks at you through the video. “lucky girl,” he comments, eyes back on the fabric he’s touching, “the only time i caught him smiling was while he was texting ya.”

you snicker through the phone as you watch sae’s face go beet red before frowning at you.

“he did not.”

his stylist is laughing at his reaction too. “totally did. i thought he was possessed.”

sae grabs the phone and relegates himself to the bathroom, glaring at you through the screen. he’s not mad at you, he’s just embarrassed and you know that. you’ve known him long enough now to tell his cues.

“i hope you know i hate you.”

he’s always all bark and no bite and you’re still laughing at him.

“aw, i hate you too, mr itoshi.”

“stop with the smart mouth before i find another contender for a mrs itoshi.”

you and sae had been staring at each other through the screen up until that point, when sae realised what he just said and has to look away.

“you… think i could be?”

neither you nor sae have ever broached another about the future, and sae has always been generally avoidant about it, which is why it makes you even more surprised that he’s the one who slipped up about it.

after a moment of silence, he sighs, trying to suppress a smile. it tugs at the edges of his lips, not really there but you can feel it.

“you know that one day you’ll be mrs itoshi, right?”

you don’t know that, he doesn’t know that, not until the day has come. but yeah, you really, really want to be.

OCTOBER 2022; [ sae’s birthday ]

“happy birthday, mr. itoshi,” you greet when he picks up the phone.

things had been rocky lately, admittedly. only because you and sae lived worlds apart.

sae is famous now, in both japan and europe, and it’s no surprise because he’s one of the best midfielders anyone has ever seen. his life is now full of the glitz and glam that you’re not even close to familiar with.

and you; you’re just a simple girl living in tokyo, with a normal life and normal friends and normal everything. except for the fact that sometimes people stalk you online because based on theories, you’re his girlfriend.

he was advised against confirming your identity with the press. for a myriad of reasons, apparently. and you’re fine with it, because yeah, you’re aware there are games to be played when you have his status. and it was fine with you, except for times when it’s not.

like how at his previous PR event he had to appear like he was dating some other celebrity. which was fine, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck having to see your boyfriend appear intimate with someone else. even worse when you hear said someone else mention in multiple interviews that she’s always had a huge crush on him.

“thanks, though it kinda sucks today.”

but it’s fine; you’ve been with him long enough to know that sae isn’t the type to hurt you like that. so even if it’s rocky, it doesn’t stop you from loving him.

“why? i thought the guys were bringing you out drinking tonight.”

sae sighs. “that’s exactly why.”

you smile, thinking how sae is still the same sae you’ve always known. “you’ve been playing with them for more than a year now, i think one night out wouldn’t kill you, babe.”

“but they’re freaks.” and sae says that because they’re rowdy, noisy guys and he doesn’t even want to imagine them drunk.

“we both know they’re going to bother you to no end if you don’t go,” you point out, and sae relents. “and if you need an escape when you’re too tired, you could just use my name.”

you break into a grin because you know for a fact that sae uses you as an excuse to his publicist sometimes to not attend events.

“yeah, maybe i’ll tell ‘em the missus is angry,” he jokes, and you find yourself wishing you could hug him right now.

“have fun tonight, okay?” a little hesitance comes to you before you ultimately open your mouth, “i love you.”

sae chuckles, and he can’t even describe the relief that comes to him each time he hears you say those words.

“i love you too.”

DECEMBER 2022; [ the day you break ]

you don’t pick up his call.

when you saw the picture earlier, it’s like you’ve gone numb. and now everyone in the world will see the picture too. but you don’t really care. the images the paparazzi capture will die down after a while. the rumours will take longer.

right now you’re not even sure if your relationship is dead.

but you love him. you still do. and he’s still calling for what seems like the ninetieth time tonight.

this time you pick up.

“what?”

sae flinches on the other line because he’s not used to this coldness. “can i at least explain?”

you sniffle, gritting your teeth to stop your crying. “sure, why don’t you explain why i had to find out from the fucking news that you kissed someone else on your birthday?”

it’s that girl. the same celebrity you’ve seen ogling him and gushing over him and the one who has PR relations with him.

“i promise, she means nothing,” and you can hear the panic in sae’s voice. he sounds apologetic and manic and scared. “look, i-i was drunk, and she kissed me, and i pushed her off right after—”

“then why didn’t you tell me?” you yell back. because you’re sure that’s what happened. you believe him. but it wasn’t the fact that some other girl was so desperate for him that she’d do that, it was the fact that sae kept it from you.

sae can’t answer. he knows it, but he’s struggling to find the words. “i-i didn’t want you to misunderstand,” is all he can manage.

you pause for a while because you’re crying again, and sae can sense it even if you’re silent. he loves you and he’s killing himself for his stupid decisions.

“sae,” you call him, softly. “is that how much you know me?” because after all this time, you’d think he’d know better. you trusted him. a hundred percent. now? you’re not sure.

“please, y/n, i’m sorry, please just- forgive me?” and sae’s not sure how to do this. sae’s never had anyone he cared about this much other than you. you’re the only one and you forever will be. and he’s stupid and clueless outside of soccer but he’s always had you to hold his hand through this, yet now you feel further away from him than ever.

you’re quiet and he’s not sure what to expect. you’re just sniffling on the other side, not saying anything, and for the first time in his life, sae is afraid.

“babe, i—”

“don’t say it, sae,” you sigh, because you don’t want to think that he’s saying it just to appease you.

sae obeys, because he’s scared that just a little nudge would push you right off the edge. “i’m gonna fix this, okay? i’ll tell everyone that—”

“it’s fine,” you interject, your mind in shambles. you’re tired, and you really don’t know what to do about this when it’s so fresh in your heart. “i need to think things through anyway.”

“no- y/n, please, i—”

and for the first time ever, you’re the one who hangs up abruptly. then you turn off your phone because you know sae’s not going to stop but you really just don’t want to to feel bad about not picking up.

you still love him, but you’re just heartbroken right now.

sae stares at his phone after you hang up. he can hear his heart beating out of his chest and his breathing gets shallow. he tries to call you again but it’s not even ringing.

there’s only one thing he knows: he fucked up.

a stupid, stupid mistake which was grave enough to make you doubt everything and you’re right. this was on him for not opening his stupid mouth and just trusting that you’d understand.

for the first time ever, he heard what you sounded like when you’re hurt and he can’t forgive himself. not if he doesn’t do anything about it.

he gives up on trying to call you and pulls up his club’s coach’s contact instead. “sub someone else in for me tomorrow, i won’t be there.”

“what? what are you talking about? we can’t play without our star midfielder! it’s a big match against our home rivals—”

but everything he’s lecturing sae about falls on deaf ears because sae’s already packing his duffel bag and searching for his passport. he doesn’t even bother acknowledging anything before he hangs up, dialing his assistant’s number instead.

“i need to fly back to tokyo. immediately.”

his assistant’s distraught voice is apparent. “wha- um, you have a game tomorrow—”

“i don’t care. i need to fly now. get me a flight or you’re fired.”

“uh, but- um, the private jet’s not available—”

“then get me tickets on a commercial flight. i don’t fucking care about what kind of plane it is.”

yeah, because he only cares about fixing things with you. no one and nothing else, just you.

his assistant sighs because he knows he’s going to get in trouble for aiding sae. “fine, i’ll send you the details soon.”

JANUARY 2023; [ the present ]

it goes straight to voicemail. you still talk.

“you know, i hate you so much for not having a voicemail recording.”

you pause, the tears streaming down your face. you’re staring at your phone, at his instagram, at his last post. something he posted before his flight.

a picture of the both of you in private, in your room. he’s sitting behind you on the bed, his arms around your neck as he kisses your head and you take the picture.

it’s funny because he was forbidden from sharing any sort of those pictures yet he still did it anyway. you stare at the caption.

i love only you

“itoshi sae, how am i going to hear your voice now, huh?”

you’re already full-on crying now, as you have been for the last month.

“itoshi sae! talk to me, answer me!” you’re screaming but no one will ever hear you.

how can sae hear you? you’re unreasonable for expecting that.

“tell me how to reach you,” you wail into the receiver.

you’re painfully aware of what you’re getting now.

“i love you, mr. itoshi.”

there’s no one on the other line who’ll chuckle now. you can’t hear the same fondness in his voice when he says he loves you too. you can’t ever hear him joking with you again.

no more sighs, no more video calls, no more love. no more you know one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?

you hang up and look at the note in your hand; something sae’s assistant passed to you on the day of his funeral.

a few weeks ago, sae asked me to get this for him. i know he wanted you to have this. before he left for tokyo, he told me to get this done for you at all costs. it was only ready a day after he left. i thought you might still like to have this. i’m sorry you have to go through this.

the gold velvet box sits heavy in your hand. it’s all of sae’s commitment to you, feelings for you—it’s all of his resolution in one tiny package and it’s heavy.

you open it, same as the countless times before.

it’s still beautiful. it’s shiny and four carats and princess cut because you were always his princess. inside the band, he has mrs itoshi engraved.

you know one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?

you bring up his messages and play the last audio he sent to you.

“look, i know i fucked up and it was stupid of me to keep it from you. i’m sorry, okay? and i know you don’t want to speak to me right now but i can’t just sit around and do nothing. i love you, so i’m coming back home, and we’ll talk, and then… i promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”

you remember your last words to him and can’t help but to hate yourself. you should’ve told him one last time before you lost your chance.

if you’d just stayed on the line, he wouldn’t have come back. if he didn’t come back, he wouldn’t have gotten into that cab. if he didn’t get into that cab, he wouldn’t have been in that fatal accident in shibuya.

staring at the ring, calling his number, getting no response, visiting his plot and running into rin. and repeat. that’s all life is now.

sometimes you wear the ring to pretend he’s still here. to pretend he’s already proposed and you’re waiting for him to come back from spain.

you’re probably at voicemail #314 now.

mrs itoshi stares at you until you’re crying all over again.

you’ll never hear his voice again. never hear his laugh. never get to hug him, or pick fights with him. you’ll never get to feel his broad shoulders or his strong arms around your body. you won’t get to go home ever again.

you’ll never be mrs itoshi now.

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi sae angst #blue lock angst #bllk angst #૪ aeri’s fics !

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springseasonie · 1 year

Text

Hate me more | LMH (M)

Enemies to lovers, Camp counselors Mark x Fem reader

Summary: You really dislike Mark and you're pretty sure he dislikes you too. Ever since he came to the camp last year, he's been nothing short of a headache to you. And now you're forced to work with him this summer, and his mission is clearly to piss you off.

Warnings: sexual content, heavy dubcon/cnc themes, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), kissing (shocker), Mark is annoying, so is the reader tbh, may be errors even though proof read

Word count: 7,7k

Song recs: kiss by NCT dojaejung (this is my way of promoting the unit go stream)

A/N: I was gonna write something for the release of golden hour but this took a bit longer than expected 😭 10 days later an I finally finished it lmao please give feedback if you want it's always appreciated

"Okay kiddos make sure you have all your things before we go back to the cabins okay?"

"Yes Ms. Y/N!"

You gave them a thumbs up as you leaned on a tree, waiting for all the kids to pack up. This was your life every summer for the past 4 years. Being a camp counselor was a lot of work the first time, but by the end of the summer, you had to come back. You loved your kids and they loved you. The staff was always so welcoming and nice. That was true until Mark started the third summer.

He was such an asshole. All the other female counselors gushed over him and his looks. He was constantly flirting with everyone, using his looks and charisma to get himself out of shit. It annoyed you, and Mark instantly took notice. He would side eye you all the time and talk about you as if you weren't friends with everyone else. He didn't really care though, he enjoyed being confronted by you every time he got "caught." Mark found your anger funny, never really taking you seriously.

And now you're paired to work with him this summer.

"Ms. Y/N, where is Mr. Mark? I need help getting something out a tree," one of the kids asked.

"That's a good question honey." You glanced around the area, looking over both shoulders to try and get a sign of him. And of course, he's nowhere to be found. "I don't see him around. We're just gonna have to wait for him okay?"

The little girl nods and runs back to her friends. Ten minutes go by and you start to get annoyed. This happened way more often than you would like to think. Mark disappears to do something or someone for way too long and you're left to take care of the kids by yourself. Sometimes, you almost think it's unbelievable how unreliable he is, sneaking away leaving you alone with 20 children in a forest. But then again, it's on brand for him.

5 more minutes went by and you start to get frustrated. You have no idea what he could be doing that's going to cause all of you to be late for dinner time. "Okay everyone please listen to me okay?" All the kids stop talking and turn to you. "I'm gonna go look for Mr. Mark, but I need all of you to sit in 5 rows of 4. Now." All the kids practically run to sit next to their friends and plop down on the floor.

"Good. None of you move or get up. If anything happens, scream at the top of your lungs okay? I'll be right back." All of the kids agreed as you turned to walk into the forest, going the way you last saw him.

"So fucking irresponsible," you muttered to yourself. "How the hell am I supposed to watch 20 kids by myself?"

You could still hear the kids, so you know you weren't too far away from the area or the trail. This wasn't new for you, always looking for him. It's only been a month since the both of you had to start working together, and he was already making shit hard for you. Mark liked to go hide somewhere. it was either to get away from you, the kids, or to get blown off by some staff member. You couldn't stand it.

"I mean seriously, can't he control himself for one fucking summer," you grumble. "Fucks everything that walks. What an ass."

"Well I wouldn't say that."

Your body jumped violently suddenly hearing his voice next to you. You whipped your head in his direction seeing him sitting, leaning in a tree. Mark had his ear buds in and from where you were standing, you could still hear the music playing.

"Where the hell were you," you asked angrily.

Mark stood up and dusted his pants off as he walked to you. You crossed your eyes, eyeing him up and down. He was so smug about everything. He always looked like something was amusing to him, like there was always a joke to tell.

"Here," he said.

"Clearly. And how the hell do you even have a working phone out here. There is literally no service."

Mark shrugged, wrapping the ear buds around his phone and putting it in his back pocket. "I downloaded stuff before I came."

"Whatever, let's go," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Where are the kids," he asked you, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked.

"In the same place I left them. I had to come get you like you were a lost child. Stop leaving me with all these kids."

Mark smiled in amusement as he walked behind you. You didn't really notice, but you tend to stomp when you are angry. And fortunately for Mark, it wasn't annoying. He actually found it cute, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Can we take a break? My legs hurt," he whined teasingly.

"Mark, stop playing games. We have 20 kids in the forest waiting for us to come back and the sun will start setting soon," you replied, sighing heavily.

"Oh please we'll be okay."

And at this moment, you've just about had it with him. You turned around, lips pursed at his nonchalant response. Mark stopped in his tracks, looking up at you as you stood on the top of the small hill. "You have one more time to piss me off or I will report you. I'm not joking."

Mark's amused expression washed away as you turned around and kept walking. For the rest of the walk back, he said nothing. Soon enough, the both of you got back to the kids who were still sitting and chatting.

You sighed, groaning quietly. "I'm gonna do another headcount. You get that thing out of the tree."

"Why couldn't you just do it," he complained.

"Because- you know what, just get it out the tree."

You counted all of the kids, double and triple checking everyone and the area around you. Soon enough, Mark got the toy that was stuck in the tree out, and everyone was ready to leave. "Okay everyone you know the drill. Get your buddy and get in line. Mark, you'll watch the back."

"Didn't sound like a question," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wasn't asking."

"I swear to you I will kill him if I'm ever alone with him again."

"He's really not that bad," Somi said, taking another bite of her pancake.

"Please, bad is an understatement," you say as you sit down. "He fucking left me with 20 kids, and then when we got back and I told him how dangerous that was, he says 'but you handled it, right?'"

Somi laughs, clearly amused at your story. You give her a confused look, not understanding why she wasn't siding with you. "Y/N, anything he says makes you angry."

"That's not the point!" Somi stops laughing when she sees how upset you are. "He left me and 20 kids in the forest near sunset to sit on his ass and listen to music. Then got an attitude with me because I was telling him what do when he wanted to act like a fucking child. I'm tired of it, Somi. I've been dealing with this for a month."

"Shit, I didn't think it was that serious," she said, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

"We literally could've had a bear encounter or something. I don't want to keep taking responsibility for his shit," you say, sighing heavily. "Anyways, I'm done complaining. Let's just eat."

You went to bed last night still completely angry at what happened in the forest. Mark didn't say anything to you walking back, but your conversation once you got back to the main camp was nothing short of unpleasant. It consisted of all your usual unpleasantries with him. Mark didn't really seem to care much though. You hated that you always let him get a rise out of you once you said you weren't going to do it anymore. And at this point, you had to get to the bottom of it.

You looked around the dining hall trying to find Mark. You knew he was there, he always came late after roughhousing with the kids in his cabin. Searching around some more, you spot him in line getting food. "I see him."

"Please don't harass the man," Somi begged you.

"Too late." You got up and walked to him. You really needed all this bad energy between the both of you to disappear. You weren't too sure about him, but it made every day difficult and you couldn't deal with it all summer. "Hey buddy," you said, tapping his shoulder.

"Didn't know we were friends."

The fake smile immediately turned into a frown. "Our conversation from last night isn't finished."

Mark groaned quietly as you followed his pace in the line. "Why do you keep bothering me if you don't like me?"

"I'm not bothering you, I'm trying to figure out what your deal is," you whisper yell. You followed Mark to his usual seat with the other male counselors, taking a seat right next to him. You were too focused on him to notice the confused stares you got from everyone else.

"Um, hey Y/N," Haechan greeted you awkwardly. "Is this…your new spot?"

"I came to talk to your friend if you don't mind."

"She's crazy," Mark blurted out, making the table laugh.

You smacked him on the arm, making him turn to you with the brightest smile you've seen all summer. And for some reason this was the first time you looked at him without feeling pure irritation. He was actually pretty…cute?

You couldn't look directly in the eyes, fearing that the anger you felt all morning would go away. Instead of speaking, you got up and went back to the table with Somi.

"So..what happened," she questioned.

"Nothing."

"You don't seem too upset by it," Somi observed.

"What..what are you talking about," you said, trying to deflect.

"You can't fool me, you're terrible at lying," she laughed. Somi took another bit of her pancake, but stopped laughing, giving you a look as if she found out something. "Do you like him?"

"Keep your voice down! And don't eat with your mouth full, you look like a damn kid."

"Y/N, do you like him?"

"Of course not! I can't stand the man," you deny.

Somi squints her eyes and side eyes you, but says nothing. You know she doesn't believe you, but it doesn't really matter because either way, you don't like him. "Okay..just know that today is your day to clean the kitchen."

"I know," you said with a sigh.

"And his also," she reminded you.

"Goodness kill me now."

You and Mark cleaned the dishes in the kitchen silently, not daring to say a word. There was an unspoken rule between the 2 of you at the moment, first person to speak surrenders to the other for the entire summer. You'll never surrender to him, no matter what it takes (that's what you want to believe anyway.) Mark had been stealing glances for about 30 minutes now, watching you clean meticulously and quietly. He always thought you were pretty, except for when you were being annoying that is. He always thought of himself as the bigger person, despite his childish nature, so he thought he should end this silent game sooner than expected.

"Did you get sleep," he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"I can't be concerned about my friend," he said. Mark chuckled softly when you sucked your teeth.

"Why do you insist on pissing me off," you say, turning to him. "Like I really don't understand why you don't like me. Since you came here last year, I've been nothing short of annoyed with you."

"It's never been my intention, but I just happen to strike those emotions in some women."

"What the fuck does that mean?" You put down the dirty dishes, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a brow raised.

"It means," he replied, turning to you, "that the more women are attracted to me, the less they like me."

You scoffed, getting back to cleaning the dishes. "You wish. You're out of your fucking mind."

"If I'm crazy, then what exactly was that earlier," he asked. You didn't know, but Mark definitely noticed how you backed off of him during breakfast. The way your expression changed, how quick you got up. It almost seemed like you were running from something, and he knew exactly what it was. "I know you like me."

"I don't like you. I just didn't want to talk to you in front of all your friends. They were laughing at me, so I left," you explained. Mark took two steps to you, his body ending up close to yours. You backed up a bit, not understanding why he was close to you, but he followed you again. "What are you doing?"

"Testing something out," he said simply.

"Look I don't know what you're testing but I'm busy. " Just as you moved away from him, he placed his arms beside you, trapping you under him. The both of you have never been this close before. Sure there were times where he had to catch you or hold you for activities in the forest, but there was nothing like this. This was close. This was personal.

"What are you doing," you asked, shock written all over your face.

"Standing here." Mark's lips curled into a smirk as his eyelids dropped once glancing at your lips. "You're pretty."

"Thank you but I really need to-"

"You know," he started,"you never told me what you wanted to talk about before you left the table."

You sighed, making a dramatic pained expression. "Mark, please. Can you back up?"

"No."

You looked up at him, surprised that his face was closer than before. One more move and your lips would've probably touched his. 'Why am I even thinking about that right now,' you thought to yourself.

"I know you wanna kiss me," he said almost in a whisper. Mark chuckled softly seeing the frazzled look on your face. You were so easy to read, always saying you didn't like him knowing damn well you wanted him. He just wanted to make you say it. He wanted to break your prideful attitude down and make you beg for him.

"You are saying insane things right now." You couldn't even look him in the eye, too afraid you would melt under his body. He was too close. You couldn't control your heart beat or your whirling mind. 'Maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad,' you thought to yourself, but pushed the thought to the back of your head.

"But you didn't say I was wrong," he said, leaning into your neck.

"Mark, seriously." The slight whine in your voice made you want to run and hide from everyone. You felt like you were going to collapse into his hands the closer he got. His voice was so soft, but his presence was still so dominating. It was almost too much for you to bear.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now," he whispered in your ear, a smile on his face. "Would you push me away, take it and get mad, or maybe give me another one?"

You could barely look at him, let alone speak. You had no idea how to respond to him. You didn't even know if you were supposed to. But what you did know is that if he made one more move or said anything else, you would most likely lose your mind. "Mark, it's too early in the morning for this," you said practically begging him to stop.

Mark released his hand from the counter, placing it on your waist. His grip was firm as he pressed you against the counter more, body so close his leg was between yours. "You're not even trying to run at this point. You little liar."

"Mark..what if someone comes in here?"

"Let them. Why do you care? Are you scared," he teased. Mark kissed the spot behind your ear softly, making you gasp. Your body tensed up in his hand, causing him to rub small circles in your waist in an attempt to comfort you. He kept missing down your neck, moving back up to kiss your jawline.

You stood there, still as a tree. Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in the feeling of his lips on your skin. At this rate there was no point in fighting it. He had already won like he did with everyone else. You felt Mark's hand leave your waist, grabbing your chin as he ran his finger down your bottom lip.

"If you want me to stop I will."

You shook your head unconsciously, brows slightly frowning at his words. You were desperate and he definitely knew from the way you were frozen and speechless.

"Good girl." Mark kissed you softly, but deeply. His hand slowly made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You dare to touch him, feeling like it was way too intimate. But before you could even pull away, he kissed you again, this time with even more sincerity. You didn't know why you had such a heavy feeling in your chest, but it did scare you a little bit.

"We have to finish all of this stuff in 15 minutes. You think we can make it," he asked on your lips.

"If you stop fast enough, maybe.."

Mark chuckled softly at your response, pulling away from you. He was clearly extremely turned on, but you were not the kind to help him with his problem, and he knew that. But that didn't stop his mind from drifting, thinking about how hot it would be if you dropped to your knees at this very moment.

"Wasn't that fun Y/N?"

"What are you talking about," you said, covering your face in embarrassment.

"Unwinding instead of having a stick up your ass," he jabbed.

You dropped your hands, scoffing at him. You shoved your way out of his arms, walking to the sink he was at previously. "Gosh, you're so annoying," you mumbled as you scrubbed the dirty plates.

"Yeah but you like it though."

"You wish."

"Proved my point."

You and Mark haven't spoken since the kitchen fiasco. You said a couple of words to each other when it came to the kids, but nothing more than that. You couldn't even look at him, the shame filling your body once he came into your vision. But one thing was for sure- you definitely didn't hate him as much. You were still very confused. You didn't understand where all those feelings came from for Mark in the kitchen. Maybe your subconscious? It didn't really matter, you just wanted to make sense of everything.

"Okay everyone, tonight is movie night so we need to leave a little early okay," you announced.

Mark leaned on a tree silently watching you as you interacted with the kids. You didn't know that he had conflicting feelings as well. All the teasing and messing around turning into sexual tension was not what he hoped for. He just wanted to mess with you. He wasn't actually going to kiss you for real, but when he saw the desperate scrunch of your eyebrows, how could he resist himself? If it weren't for the kids, he would definitely have his way with you right on the ground, but nothing in his life ever works right.

Mark admired the way you were with them, always so nice and careful. You were careful with anything really, never wanting to come off as irresponsible or rude. But he never cared about any of that. He didn't care if people thought he was a prick or an ass, which is why you were so intriguing to him. He never got a chance to actually introduce himself to you before you can dislike him as easily as you did.

After 20 minutes of walking back to the main site, the sun had finally set and all the kids and counselors went back to their respective cabins before going to the lake for movie night.

"So you're telling me," Somi started,"after all these months of not liking him, he came onto you in the kitchen and you didn't refuse?"

"I know, I know it's humiliating," you grumbled putting on your shirt.

"Enemies to lovers. My favorite trope."

You let out a loud embarrassed groan listen to her words. "We only kissed twice. We didn't say anything to each other for the rest of the day," you added.

"Not even for your group," she questioned.

"Well of course we did, but very little. He was..so distant," you said. You slipped into your jean shorts and put your shoes back on quickly. "I'm gonna go make sure all the girls are ready." You got up and walked outside to see everyone playing around. Just as you were about to round up your cabin, you see Mark who's talking to some of his kids. You wanted to stop staring at him, but you couldn't. You gulped as he glanced at you, giving you a small wave. "I hate him," you muttered to yourself almost as if you were trying to convince yourself it was true.

You shake your head, attempting to push what happened out of the forefront of your mind, but it's hard to do that when he's walking up to you. You turn away from his direction, hastily gathering the girls from your cabin. Just as you were about to make your way to the lake, you were tapped on the shoulder. Turning around agonizingly slowly, you face him with a fake smile.

"Hi," you said awkwardly.

"Hey, so listen-"

"I can't talk right now, we're about to head to the lake," you interrupted.

"I know but-"

"Can't talk."

Mark sighed, looking down at his shoes. He knew you were difficult, but not like this. "Can we talk after the movie?"

"Talk..about what? There's nothing to talk about," you say dismissively.

Mark rolled his eyes, walking away from you. You looked behind yourself, watching him walk back with his hands in his pockets. All that you could hope for was him forgetting whatever conversation he wanted to have with you.

Your cabin was the first to get to the lake while Mark's was the last like always. The movie started at 7, so thankfully for you, you could be left alone for 2 hours. You leaned against a tree as you watched the movie projected on the sheet quietly.

Unlike you, Mark was watching you silently, eyes never leaving your body as you stared at the screen. He knew you wanted nothing to do with him even after he kissed you, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He's never been in a situation like this before. Having to chase after you was starting to dampen his pride, but he liked it.

He watched as you whispered to Somi about something, not able to read your lips. Maybe he shouldn't have thought to follow you as you walked away from everyone, but getting to be alone with you came rare, so he had to take his chances.

"Hey, I'm gonna go back to the cabin. I forgot something," he whispered to Haechan.

"Okay, be quick though. I don't wanna be responsible for you," he replied.

Mark gave him a dry laugh and walked away, following you from behind. Mark picked up that you were going to your cabin after a few turns on the trail. The sun was starting to set, so he began to rationalize he weird actions to himself. "It's not weird that I'm following her," he muttered to himself quietly. "I'm just keeping her safe." It was surprising how you didn't notice anyone was following you. You were usually always attentive, but it seems that you were only that way with other people.

Soon enough, the both of you made it to your cabin. You went inside with a big sigh, letting the door slam behind you. Mark would be a kind person and knock on the doors but he wasn't all that kind, so scaring you is the option he went with. Mark quickly went up to the door, opening it quietly. Your back was turned as you rummaged through a bag for something, causing you to not hear his footsteps or the door creaking open.

"Boo!"

"Fuck," yelled, body jumping violently as you turned around. "Mark?"

"Surprise."

You scoffed rolling your eyes at his jazz hands motion. "You're not funny. Now get out, this is a girls cabin."

"I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted to talk." He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as you went back to looking for whatever you were looking for.

"I really don't care, just leave," you said sternly.

Mark had enough of beating around the bush with you, the constant teasing, and asking dumb questions. He had to know why there was bad blood between you, especially after you let him kiss you that morning. "Why don't you like me?"

"You're kidding." You let out a dry laugh as you turned to face him. "I don't like you? I'm pretty sure it's the other way around."

"I'm just curious because since last year, you never gave me a chance, so I really want to know," he said, lifting his brows with a small smile.

"I want you to tell me why you don't like me first, then maybe I'll consider explaining myself to you."

Mark took small steps towards you, not being able to control the smirk on his face when you furrow your brows in confusion. "You're uptight and rude to me. And you never give me your attention unless it's to be rude with me, and I hate that that's the only way I get to talk to you. You only want to speak to me if it's to tell me how bad of a job I'm doing or how frustrating it is to be around me or work with me."

"That's not true, I-"

"I'm not done." You closed your mouth, intimidated by how commanding his voice was. "Then you go around and say to everyone how much you hate me. I know you complain to Somi and all the other counselors, and that's fine. But next time I would like to hear it from you directly."

"That I hate you?" You gave him a weird look, making him chuckle softly.

"Yes. Tell me that you hate me." He was walking closer to you slowly, arms now at his sides as he looked down at you with hungry eyes. Your arms were still crossed as you stood there, not allowing yourself to show how intimidating he was to you. Your face was calm, but your heart was beating faster with every step he took.

"I'm not telling you I hate you. Can I talk now," you asked.

"Go for it."

"You're fucking annoying and not helpful. You came into this camp last year and made all these friends and everyone liked you instantly. Everyone says you're funny and such a great guy but I have yet to see it. All you've done since you've been here was piss me off."

"You wanna know why," he said. He leaned down to your ear, a smile tugging at his lips. "Because you're pretty when you're angry."

"That's not funny," you said, looking away from him.

"I wasn't joking." Mark moved away from you, eyes going straight to your lips.

"Seriously mark, I don't care that you like to get me riled up, but yesterday was uncalled for. Do you have any idea…will you stop staring at me like that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mark could barely concentrate on what you were saying. Your expression, the way you spoke, how close the 2 of you were. All he wanted was to just kiss you and shut you up for the night. Mark could barely keep his hands off you, every bit of self restraint coursing through his veins.

You sighed trying to back up from him, but all you did was bump the edge of your bed making you fall back. You plopped on the thin mattress placing your hand behind you to stay balanced on the bed. Mark's gaze turned dangerous, staring at you as if you were prey.

"God you're so hot," he mumbled.

"Mark," you said, his name coming out a bit breathlessly.

Before you could finish your sentence, he pinned your body to the bed. You were dead silent as you watched his eyes move rapidly along your face and body. "Mark..we can't. We have to be back soon."

"Stop fighting it. Just say you want me," he mumbled quietly. He leaned into your neck, breath tickling your skin as you closed your eyes.

You shook your head, brows furrowing as you tried to push the feeling to the back of your head. But the only thing you can think about is how his hands are leaving your wrists as he moves them down your body. Your breath hitched when his fingertips brushed against the slightly exposed skin of your stomach. You didn't stop him as he lifted your shirt, hands attaching to waist firmly.

The both of you stayed silent, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of breathing and your old bed creaking at every movement he made. You watched him as he moved his hands lower, fingers resting on the button of your jean shorts. Mark looked at you for any signs of you wanting to stop, but all he saw was the desperation on your face.

You gulped watching him unbutton and unzip your shorts, lifting your hips as he tugged them off you. Mark took his shirt off, laying it next to your shorts. He hooked his fingers on your underwear, pulling them off you quickly. You let out a small yelp when he tugs you towards him, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he moves between your legs.

'Just get on with it,' was all you could think. You were way too eager to get him between your legs, and at this point, nothing was going to stop it. "Hurry up," you said, breaking the long silence.

Mark didn't say anything or look at you, all he did was smile as his face disappeared between your legs. A small gasp of please leaves your lips as he kitten licks your core. You close your eyes, letting your head fall back onto the mattress taking in every movement. He ran his hand up and down your leg, nails lightly scratching your skin making you shiver. Needing more friction, you begin to grind yourself on his tongue slowly, but he stops you with a hold on your hips.

"We're gonna do this nice and slow okay," he said.

"We can't, we have to get back soon."

"They'll be okay. There's more than enough people out there." Before you could say anything his mouth was back on your core, tongue pressing against your sensitive bud hard. Without thinking your hands made their way to his hair, fingers running through the blonde locks. Mark kept licking at you agonizingly slow, chuckling when you whined for more. He would speed up at moments, flicking his tongue against your clit faster just to tease you, then stop.

"Please," you begged breathlessly, "it feels like I'm being punished."

"I know," he mumbled.

You smacked him on the side of his head softly, making the male look up at you with a brow raised. "I fucking hate you."

Mark chuckled, removing one of his hands from your hip. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he slid two fingers into you, pumping them slowly. Mark watched as you basically fell apart in his hands, moans never stopped spilling from your lips. He began licking your clit, but faster, almost sending you over the edge.

"Shit, don't stop," you whined softly. You couldn't control your hips as you grinded against his fingers and tongue. Your jaw dropped when he fingered you faster. Gripping his hair, your hips moved on their own as you grinded faster. You were so close, your core pulsing on his fingers. "Fuck I'm gonna cum," you whined.

Your whines became louder, the pornographic sounds of your moaning, bed creaking, and sounds coming from Mark filling the empty cabin. This is one the many times you thanked God no one was around. Your eyes rolled back and body shuddered as your orgasm hit you like a truck making you mumble curses that not even Mark could make out. You let go of his hair, plopping back down on your mattress breathing heavily.

"I'm assuming that was the first time you came in a month?" Mark slid his fingers out of you slowly, wiping the digits on your sheets. He moved your leg off his shoulder, lifting himself from between your legs.

"Do you think I'm getting myself off after hiking and being around kids in this damn camp everyday," you asked, rolling your eyes at his statement.

"No. I think you're too uptight to do that," he said with a soft chuckle.

"It's crazy that you're still calling me uptight like I won't get up and leave."

Mark didn't respond to you, laughing softly to himself knowing you wouldn't move either way. He moved off the bed untying his sweats. You watched him as he let his clothes fall to the ground, eyeing his body. Not that you couldn't get it before, but now you see why he was a big deal to the other female counselors.

"Aren't we gonna use protection," you asked, gulping when he was back in front of you.

"I don't have any," he mumbled.

"You're so fucking ridiculous," you grumbled. "You're lucky I'm on birth control."

Mark could barely hear you with how eager he was to see you lose yourself for him. No amount of mean words or insults could turn him off in the moment, every word you spoke sounded like exactly what he needed to hear. "You're so fucking hot when you're mad." His lids dropped as he grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him.

"Don't tease, we don't have all night," you whined.

Mark couldn't take his eyes off you as he lined himself with you, slowly entering you with ease. You looked pretty under the light of the setting sun peering through the window. The light hit your eyes perfectly as they rolled back, soft moans leaving your lips at the same time. Mark thrusted into you slowly holding your waist firmly. He wanted to savor the moment, finally able to get you under him, because even though he had you now, he might not ever get you again. It was taking everything in him to not ram into you after every move not wanting it to end too quickly.

With the way he was looking at you you thought he was gonna eat you alive. And in all honesty you would let him. It was conflicting to you that all this pent up aggression towards him exploded into sex, but you were clearly not that conflicted. You would never tell him, but you had always been attracted to him and the kiss was just the tip of the iceberg.

He slid his hands up the back of your legs, pinning them to your chest as he thrusted into you faster. Your moans echoed in the empty cabin, not even thinking about if anyone could be near. "Feels so good," you moaned.

"Who's making you feel good?"

"Fuck..you are," you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you take in pleasure.

"Good girl," he cooed. Mark watched as you slipped your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit at the same place as his thrust. His fingers were constantly kneading your legs, leaving prints in your skin. "You're close aren't you baby?"

You nodded fast, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Kiss me.. please."

Mark didn't have to think twice. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss quite literally sticking his tongue down your throat. You sucked on the wet muscle, moaning loudly on his tongue every time he thrusted into you.

"Mark..fuck," you moaned softly. Mark took a hand off your leg, wrapping an arm on the small of your back pulling you closer to him. You kissed him again, moans and whimpers poured into his mouth.

Mark moaned softly against your lips as you squeezed around him, cumming on his length. You pulled away, your lewd sounds becoming louder as he didn't stop fucking you. Mark leaned down, kissing your neck messily as you clung onto his shoulder. Mark has never had this kind of passionate feeling with a person before. It was starting to feel like more than just a sexual attraction to him, maybe he did actually have feelings for you.

"Cum in me," you said cupping his face.

Mark looked at you, brows furrowing in uncertainty. "A-are you sure? I-"

"Please baby just cum for me," you mumbled, completely taken over by the pleasure spreading in your body. "Can you do that for me?"

"Anything for you," Mark breathed out. Your words went straight to his length, his pace speeding up as he felt himself closer to cumming.

Your jaw went slack, eyes rolling back as you felt another orgasm creeping up on you. "Y-you're gonna make me cum," you whimpered.

With just a few more thrust, both you and Mark came at the same time, loud moans and groans filling the space. Mark's body went limp, laying on top of you with his face buried on the side of your neck. No one said anything for a minute, just laid there in each other's embrace trying to catch your breaths.

"I guess you don't hate me after all," Mark joked, breaking the silence.

"Only a little less."

Mark snickered as pulled himself out of you slowly. "Let's get you something to clean up with." He got up and pulled his boxers and pants on. You were sure it was because you just had sex with him, but the way you looked at him was different now. Before you were completely annoyed by his presence, but now even the little faces he made were endearing. Of course, Mark would never stop being an infuriating person to talk to but maybe you like talking to him. Maybe you liked being around him this whole time.

"If you want to go for round 2 just say it." Mark walked back to you with tissues, handing them to you with a smile. He chuckled softly when you gave him a frown for his comment. "Back to hating me I guess."

"I don't hate you Mark," you admit. The words felt unnatural to you, but they were the truth. You don't hate him, and you don't think you ever did.

"I'd like it if you did though," he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. "If what we just did considered hate fucking, please hate me more."

You rolled your eyes, tossing the dirty tissues in the trash bin across the room. "Who said it was gonna happen again?" Mark watched you closely as you shimmied back into your underwear and shorts. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Yeah." He stood up, pulling you to him, making you gasp softly. Mark kissed you deeply, smiling against your lips when you kissed him back. "We should get back. I think we've been gone too long," he mumbled.

You nodded, kissing him one more time before he pulled away from you agonizingly slow. "Please don't be weird when we get back. I don't want to have to hate you again," you joked.

"Didn't I just tell you I want you to hate me more?"

"What do you mean you fucked him last night," Somi whisper yelled.

"Yeah..I did..right on the bed you're sitting on."

"Ew ew ew." She shot up from your bed with a frown on her face, making you laugh loudly. "Seriously what is wrong with you, why didn't you say that before I sat down?"

"Thought your reaction would be funny, and it was," you'd aid giggling.

Somi looked at you with disgust on her face, dusting off her body. "Anyways…are you guys like..a thing now?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," you answered.

"Well do you wanna be a thing?"

"Well..I think I do," you admitted. "But I don't know him that well, you know. All I did was have sex with him. What if he doesn't want anything," you said.

"You want me to be honest?"

"Please do."

"I think you should go talk to him. Like right now," she suggested.

"Now? I don't even know if he's in his cabin," you stated.

"Just go. If he's not there, go back another time. You should talk to him while your feelings are still fresh," she suggested.

Somi was right. Even though you thought it was still a bit early to talk to him, you couldn't stop thinking about him all day and all night. Throughout the day, the both of you kept stealing glances, staring at each other but not saying a word. It's been hard trying to keep your bubbling feelings for him at bay, especially when you're working so close for the summer. But Somi was right, it wouldn't hurt to try.

You nodded, sighing softly. "You're right. I should go." You turned walking to the door, but when you opened it, Mark was standing there, hand up like he was about to knock.

"Oh," you said, surprised. "Hi."

"Hey," he said, looking everywhere but at you. "Can I, um, talk to you?"

"Uh, yeah. You wanna talk here or.."

"Just walk with me. Please?" You've never seen him so nervous or unsure before. It was kind of cute. You agreed, leaving the cabin and walking along the trail with Mark.

The first couple of minutes were silent. Neither one of you said anything. The only thing that could be heard were the sounds of your feet on the dirt trial and the laughter of children from afar. But it wasn't an awkward kind of silence. It felt comfortable, he felt comfortable and warm.

"I really like you Y/N," he started. "And I know it might be weird for you, but I just felt like you had to hear it."

His words went straight to your heart, making it beat faster with every syllable. You blinked fast, not really knowing how to respond. You were afraid of coming into him too strongly, saying something that would scare him away, but you had to say something.

"I..like you too," you confessed. Your face was beginning to heat up, palms becoming clammy from the nervousness. You haven't been like this since middle school, all shy and nervous.

"So..where should we go from here?" Mark raised a brow and looked at you. You glanced at him quick enough to not want to run away from the situation all together. He grabbed your hand, making you pause mid step. Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it at this point, and you were sure he could too.

"I, uh, I don't know," you stuttered.

Mark chuckled, clasping his fingers with yours. "I've never seen you so nervous."

"I'm not nervous." You don't know who exactly you were trying to prove that too, but it definitely wasn't him because as soon as you spoke he laughed.

"I think we should start over this summer," he said. "I think we should meet each other for the first time again."

You looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he started, turning to you. He stopped walking and tugged your hand to look at him. "I mean we should start again from a clean slate. I want to get to know you better on a good note, but only if you're willing."

You gulped looking down at your feet. You must've looked like a kid with the way mark was smiling down at you. "I..I would like that. I'd like that a lot actually." You looked at him, expression going from shy to worriedm. "I'm sorry for y'know being rude and everything."

Mark didn't say anything, allowing your words to linger for a moment before he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was softer this time, more innocent. Mark pulled away with a small smile on his face. "You don't have to apologize to me for anything. I know I've been an ass, and I'm willing to make up for it."

It was hard to keep a smile off your face and stop yourself from blushing like a kid. "If we do this, will you stop talking to me once we're out of here," you asked.

"Y/N when I said I liked you I was serious. I don't want this to be a summer fling. I actually want to get to know you before I date you," he explained.

Your eyes went wide, completely flustered from his statement. "You want to date me?" Your heart fluttered repeating his words almost immediately, getting butterflies in your stomach. "But I've been so terrible to you and-"

"So? We like each other and we should explore that this summer."

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You let go of his hand and placed it on the back of his neck, kissing him. This was the first time you kissed him. And it felt good. It felt good knowing that you didn't have to keep trying to convince yourself you didn't like him, or that you were never attracted to him. You pulled away, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. You didn't know if this conversation would make a difference for the rest of the day or the rest of the summers, but if Mark was true to a hate he said, you could wait.

But if not, then maybe you just might hate him for real.

#nct dream #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct oneshot #mark #nct mark #mark scenarios #mark x reader #mark fanfic #mark smut #nct scenarios #mark oneshot

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catladyoftheyr · 2 months

Text

Too Sweet

Harvey x Reader

Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Summary: you’re the new farmer in town and you ended up with an extra coffee. You offer it to Harvey and have a pleasant chat on his break. Fluff fluff fluff. One suggestive line about a kiss but nothing steamy. Reader is ungendered.

Authors note: I have this TikTok of him with that Hozier song on loop in my head. I love Harvey sm like that is my MANNNNN (also the farmer in that TikTok is really short so they kind of look really young)

Word count: 973

You liked to stop by the saloon in the early afternoon before the evening crowd made their way in. It was quiet and allowed you time to have conversations with Gus before other patrons needed his attention. “Hey, Gus” you called out as you walked in. He glanced up from polishing glasses behind the counter and smiled.

“Hey there! What can I get for you today?” he responded. You’d become a regular at the saloon since you’d moved in earlier this year at the beginning of spring but your order changed too often to be pinned down.

“Coffee today, please” you were feeling tired after spending your morning tending to the farm and needed a caffeine boost. Gus slid two paper cups in front of you.

“Last of the pot. Didn’t want it to sit there and go to waste. Second cup is on the house.” You appreciated his hospitality and generosity. You’d seen him give free hot meals to Linus if he was hungry as well. You slid the cash across the counter and took a sip of your coffee. You thanked Gus again before slipping out into the sunny afternoon.

You wondered silently who to gift your second coffee to, not wanting to keep it for yourself. Just then the door to the clinic across the street opened and you saw the local doctor step outside. “Hey!” You called across the street, trying to catch his attention. He glanced up at you with a confused look on his face. “Harvey, right? Gus gave me an extra cup of coffee today and I don’t need two. I saw you come out of the clinic and I was wondering if you could use a pick me up.” You caught up to him and offered him the warm paper cup.

“Oh thank you! That’s very kind of you.” Harvey grabbed the cup from you. “You're the new farmer aren’t you? I heard you inherited the land from your grandfather.”

“Yeah I just moved a couple months ago. I’m finally settling into a routine and starting to feel like the valley’a a good choice to call home. Oh, the coffee’s black by the way. I hope that’s alright.”

“I actually prefer it that way. I’m glad you’re settling in okay. Farming is hard work, be careful not to overdo it; I’d hate to see you end up in the clinic from overworking yourself. I was actually just about to go on an afternoon walk, would you care to join me?” Harvey looked away sheepishly as he delivered his invitation.

“I’d like that. I actually prefer my coffee black as well. But yeah, farming is tough. It’s a huge change from the desk job I had with Joja back in the city. The farm is still in pretty rough shape but I’m taking it day by day. What made you want to move to the valley? I imagine you can’t get a medical degree unless you go outside the valley.” You watched as the steam from the coffee fogged up Harvey’s glasses. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to clean them before responding.

“I studied in Zuzu city. I’d visited a couple other towns in the valley before, but Pelican Town won me over with its charm. The community is very tight knit here; everyone looks out for each other. May I ask what made you decide to take over the farm?” You hummed quietly, contemplating your response as the two of you walked together. There were so many things that led up to your decision to start over. It was almost impossible to pinpoint it to one particular answer.

“That’s a tough question. I felt the pressure rising for a long time before the bubble popped I guess. Eventually something just snapped and I couldn’t take it anymore. Truthfully I wasn’t very happy in the city. I’d gone through a really hard breakup, and my career wasn’t panning out how I thought it would. Taking over the farm seemed like an impulsive decision, but something in my gut said it was the right choice.” Harvey nodded and sipped his coffee. The two of you sat down on a bench that overlooked the graveyard. An elderly woman with a kind face, Evelyn you remembered her name was, was watering the flowers.

“Sometimes starting over is for the best,” he replied softly. “I hope you grow to love this town and become more integrated in the community.” Harvey held his cup in one hand, letting the other fall close to your own free hand on the bench. The tips of your fingers brushed for just a moment and you felt energy run through you. You’d never looked too closely at anyone in town before, but you noticed now that Harvey was rather handsome. He was clearly older than you, in his late thirties or maybe early forties. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and light stubble on the rest of his face. You felt your cheeks flush involuntarily as the thought of how his mustache might feel against your skin crept in.

“I hope so too. It feels like I’ve been too busy to make many friends in town. I still feel like an outsider,” you admitted. “It’s usually hard for me to talk to people, let alone open up like this. Most of my conversations since I’ve moved here have been with my chickens.”

Harvey let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t know chickens were such good conversationalists.” Just then he glanced at his watch and frowned. “I’m so sorry to cut our conversation short but I have to get back to the clinic soon. I hope I see you again”

“I hope so too. Maybe you can meet the chickens.” You smiled and and gave him a small wave goodbye as he got up.

#harvey stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew fanfiction #sdv fanfic #harvey x farmer #harvey x reader #sdv harvey #Harvey fluff #my writing

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thedeathlysallows · 6 months

Text

Santa Baby

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Summary: Think of all the fun I've missed/ Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed/ I really do believe in you/ Let's see if you believe in me.

Warnings: Smut. Degradation, dirty talk, loss of virginity (reader's), dom!Loki, oral sex (f!receiving), breeding kink, unprotected sex, ever so slight Jotun!Loki. Loki hasn't had his redemption arc yet

Okay, so, I really have no excuses for this one. It's borderline crackfic but I did my best lol

"Nicholas!"

"Odin!"

You stand shoulder to shoulder with your brother as you watch your father embrace the Allfather. For as long as you can remember, this has been your family's Christmas tradition. After your father finishes delivering gifts all across the nine realms on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day is spent on Asgard with the royal family. You aren't sure why it's a tradition- the elves say it's because Odin was the one to gift your father his powers, to create Santa Claus as the worlds know him- but you've learned over the years it's best not to argue about it.

(There was one year you wanted to spend Christmas at home in the North Pole like a normal family... and your mom fainted from the shock. The elves wouldn't talk to you for a month (which wasn't all that disappointing if you were to be honest). So you considered that lesson learned and never brought it up ever again.)

You watch as your mother greets Frigga next, the two of them looking like the epitome of the Mother archetype. Frigga with her regal air and your mother with her kind smile. You can't imagine ever having to step into their roles and you feel relieved you'll never have to. Your brother is set to be the next Santa and his wife will be Mrs. Claus. Odin's throne will go to Thor and his wife we'll be Queen of Asgard.

All you have to be is yourself.

Free to make your own rules.

To forge your own path.

To-

"Hello, little one." Loki smiles at you fondly and steps towards you. His hands are bound in front of him and the chains draped over his body rattle with each movement.

You tilt your head, observing him closely. "Loki. I knew you were on my dad's Naughty list for the whole New York thing, so I guess it makes sense you ended up on Odin's list too."

His smile morphs into a nasty sneer as he bares his teeth at you. A guard yanks on the chain around his neck, pulling him an appropriate distance from you.

"Must we do this today," Frigga whispers to her husband. "It's the last day of Yule. Let Loki have an hour of freedom."

"And what will that hour cost us," Odin counters.

Your father raises his hand. "If I may? The kids have been working on their magic and sugar plum over here has a real talent for it. I'm sure she could keep Loki in line for an hour."

Loki's eyes burn a hole into the side of your skull as he says, "Yes. The Santa baby can watch me."

"For an hour," you add, turning to your dad. You point a finger at the jolly old man. "And only an hour."

Odin strokes his beard thoughtfully, considering every possible outcome of letting Loki free for a bit. Eventually, he bangs his staff against the shimmering golden floor and Loki's chains fall away. Loki, for his part, makes an effort not to appear too eager. He rubs his wrists and rolls his neck before squaring his shoulders and turning to you.

"I'm at your mercy for the next hour, sugar plum."

And the way he says it so seductively has you reaching the realization that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

You fidget uncomfortably, balling the ends of your long sleeves in your hands. Loki watches your twitchy movements silently. That's how he's always watched you. Ever since that first meeting when you were nothing more than a child coming to terms with her father being the Santa Claus. He's always watched you silently, thoughtfully, like he's waiting for you to decide who you'll be... and maybe, just maybe, if there will be a place for him beside you when you do decide who to be.

"I'm already regretting this," you say out loud to no one really.

No one is paying attention anymore anyway.

No one except Loki who places a hand at the small of your back and gestures in front of you with the other. "Come, we both know you're foaming at the mouth to get to the garden."

You can't help the eyeroll his words induce. "How eloquent."

"Thank you."

"I wasn't complimenting you."

Loki purses his lips, fighting back a grin. "No, you would never do that, would you?"

"Just shut up and follow me."

He pretends to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key, earning an aggravated groan from you.

If you were to be honest, you don't find Loki's presence all that objectionable. Sure, his ego is out of hand, he tried to take over your home planet, he can be a real pain in the ass, sassy, confrontational, a know it all... wait, what was your point again? Oh, right! Loki has many, many, many faults, but he's always been kind to you. Deep down you know his affection for you doesn't truly account for the monstrosities he's committed, but it does make him ten percent less Naughty in your eyes.

"When will you tell Jolly Old Saint Nicholas that I've been the one helping you with your magic, sugar plum."

Okay. Five percent less Naughty.

"Never," you say without looking at him. Instead you fix your eyes on the garden up ahead.

He clicks his tongue. "How absolutely Naughty of you. I approve."

Two percent.

"I don't need your approval. And stop calling me sugar plum!"

Loki stops walking abruptly, forcing you to turn around and meet him face to face. Or face to chest rather. He's taller than you by several inches and his broad figure almost blocks out the steadily rising sun. Hues of pink, orange, and purple burst from behind him in pastel streaks of color. The wind is soft and gentle as it wraps around the two of you, pressing your bodies ever closer. If you could paint you think you would paint him just as he is now, all soft edges and gentle eyes.

He shakes his head. "You don't need it, but you want it. You crave it, don't you, my darling?"

You think you prefer him calling you sugar plum. That feels far less intimate than hearing the words my darling come out of his mouth.

"I don't want anything from you," you say full of false bravado.

"Oh?" Loki pulls you in to his body and tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. "Not even my cock? I think if I were to bend you over this balcony and fuck that tight little cunt of yours, you'd thank me by the end of it. Wouldn't you, sugar plum?"

You swallow the lump in your throat and will away the rising heat in the pit of your stomach. "I said stop calling me that, Loki."

"Then what would you prefer, hmm?" His lips are centimeters from yours, teasing you by brushing against you ever so lightly as he speaks. "You positively lit up when I called you my darling. How does my queen sound? Better yet, how about my whore?"

"Stop."

"Did you make it to the Nice list this year? No sneaking around and kissing boys behind my back?"

You grit your teeth, embarrassment washing over you with the realization that you actually enjoy having him talk to you like this. "Stop. I know what you're trying to do."

"And what would that be?"

"You want me to give up on you like everyone else. There's a past between us whether we like it or not and you want me to just... forget it. Let it go. Everyone else already believes you're a monster and you can't stand that there's one person in the world who still believes you can be good."

Silence stretches out between the two of you like a snake sunbathing on a rock. It's an almost tangible sensation. All you can hear is the air rushing through your lungs as Loki's chest rises and falls at an alarming rate.

"Is this the part where we hug and I thank you for always believing in me? Because... no, I don't think I'll do that," Loki finally says after a few painful seconds.

You huff in frustration, spinning on your heel to go back inside and forget the whole deal. You'll lock yourself in a guest room with some delicious Asgardian mead and that'll be that. This whole sexual tension thing with a man you shouldn't want in the first place will disappear along with the alcohol.

Before you can take a step forward and put you're new Christmas Day plan into motion, Loki grabs you by the arm and pulls you back. His chest presses into your back, a warm and solid wall of muscle.

"Where do you think you're running off to, sugar plum?" He bends down and whispers the words in your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps all over your body.

"Your hour's up."

"I've still got forty five minutes."

"Yeah, well... I'm finished with this."

Loki slips an arm around your waist, grinding his hardened length into your ass. "You're through when I say you're through, and right now I want you down on your knees worshipping."

"But... we're outside..."

The protest dies on your lips as green sparks emanate from Loki's fingertips, circling the two of you before sinking back into his palm.

"There," he says simply. "Problem solved. Now if anyone were to walk by they would simply see us admiring the flowers. Now, on your knees."

You let him push you down on your knees, his long fingers curling in your hair. Through the tight leather of his trousers you can make out the imprint of his cock. You won't be able to take all of him in your mouth. There's just no way. You're willing to try though, you think to yourself as you look up into the familiar green-blue of his eyes.

He helps you undo his pants, picking up the slack when your nervous fingers tremble while untying the laces. He's eerily patient and allows you to take your time. Build your courage as it were. You want this. You know you do. You're just... nervous.

The realization strikes Loki suddenly. "You're a virgin?"

The accusation- however true- doesn't sit right in your chest. "Do you want me to do this or not?"

Loki's eyes shine bright with absolute glee. "You are!"

"Loki-"

The world swirls and warps around you, the oxygen leaving your lungs in a sudden woosh. You suddenly find yourself in your usual guest chambers. Still on your knees. Still out of breath.

"Much better!" Loki sighs happily before making himself comfortable on the large bed. "Actually, one more thing."

A fire roars to life in the hearth and the bright gold decorations littering the room turn a deep shade of emerald.

"Lest you forget who you're with," he explains simply.

"I couldn't if I tried." You look at Loki out of the corner of your eye as he lounges on the bed. His pants are undone, exposing the deep V of his pelvic muscles and a light dusting of hair. He looks at you so intently you feel like you might explode. "What?"

Loki motions for you to come closer. "I want you to come on my face, sugar plum."

You swear your body just gives out as soon as you hear the words. "W-what?"

He growls and sits straight up. "You are going to walk that pretty little arse over here, and then your are going to straddle my face, so I can lick your cunt until you come."

It takes everything in you to do exactly as he says. You aren't completely inexperienced and you aren't a complete idiot either. You know what the fire in your belly and the slickness between your thighs means. You want Loki, wanted him for years. Never in your wildest dreams did you think he actually wanted you too.

It's a Christmas miracle in your opinion.

When you make it to the edge of the bed Loki tuts at you, toying with the hem of your dress. "I meant to comment earlier, but this is the most horrid thing I've ever seen."

Your brow furrows. "Hey! Sprinkle made this for me!"

"Sprinkle." The way Loki says the elf's name almost sounds like a curse.

"You've met him before. Back a few- oof!"

Loki rips the dress to tatters in the blink of an eye. You want to hit him, curse him, something, but he moves too quickly. Instead you make a mental note to apologize to Sprinkle when you get home, and let Loki manipulate your body so that your kneeling over his face. His breath on your core sends a shiver through your body.

"Loki," you whine, gripping at his hair.

"Good girl," he moans out as you tug on the long, dark strands. "Let's see if you taste as sweet as you look."

His tongue laves at your folds, teasing you. It's strange but nice and exhilarating all at once. Your hips buck involuntarily when he finally slips his tongue inside you and he sighs happily against your skin.

"Fuck, yes," Loki groans.

You whimper pathetically.

"I need inside you. Now," he says against your soaked cunt. "I need you, darling."

All you can do is nod. Your bones feel like jelly, but you want more. You want him. You want him inside you. You want him to come inside you. You want it so badly you can almost imagine a future filled with children who have your hair and his eyes.

When he looks up at you there's a split second where you think he sees that future too.

Loki ends the moment quickly though, telling you to get on your back. He positions his cock at your entrance and you have a momentary lapse in confidence. You don't want him to stop, but he's bigger than you could've guessed, and-

"Relax." Loki presses his mouth to yours, nipping at your bottom lip. "You were made to take this cock."

You nod and angle your hips up so his tip slips inside you. Your unused muscles twitch against the intrusion, making Loki hiss out something in Old Norse. One of his hands wraps around your throat while the other pins your hips against the bed. Using this leverage he pushes his entire length inside you, swallowing your screams with his lips. Loki pumps in and out of you slowly, watching your face for signs of discomfort.

"M-more," you sigh. "Harder... more... please..."

His breath hitches. "Are you sure, my darling?"

"Yes!"

"Very well." Loki's hips snap, shoving himself even deeper inside you.

Your hands fly to grip his biceps. His skin is colder. Colder than you've ever felt it. And there's a slight blue tinge.

"Loki, fuck... oh my god..."

His hand not wrapped around your throat slaps across your cheek. "My king. Say it. Say I'm your king."

You manage a tiny nod. "You're... you're my king..."

Loki's grip tightens and his pace quickens. You can feel his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you around him, forcing his way deep inside you.

"L-Loki..." You let out a short whine. "Come inside me. Please. I need it. Please, please..."

He chuckles darkly. "How pathetic. You're begging like a common whore. Is that what you are, darling? Are you my whore?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, my king."

Loki, seemingly satisfied by your answer, lifts your leg over his shoulder and shoves his way deeper inside you. There's a painful burn as you adjust to the new angle and pace, but the look of ecstasy on Loki's face is enough to send you over the edge again. You come on his cock once more, but this time he comes with you, filling you until it leaks out.

You aren't sure when you closed your eyes, but when you open them Loki is looking at you with a strange expression.

"My hour is up," is all he says.

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki laufesyon x reader #loki layfeyson imagine

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justabigassnerd · 6 months

Text

New Home

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 4,486

Warnings - death of a parent, strained father-daughter relationship, angst, running away, a pinch of fluff

Summary - after losing your mother, custody is granted to your father Pete Mitchell. however, it's been years since you last saw him

A/N - whoa whoa whoa I be swinging in with a new fic y'all! I actually loved writing this anon request and it does have the potential to be a series (the key word here is potential because I am not committing to anything just yet, I need to see how this turns out first). anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

You hardly knew your father. You knew his name was Pete Mitchell, that he was a naval aviator, and that your mum insisted you inherited a large chunk of your personality from Maverick but that was the extent of your knowledge. You’ve seen pictures of him, and your mum told you about times he visited when you were a baby, but you held no concrete memories of your own of the man. Because of your lack of connection to him, you didn’t really consider Maverick your father. He stopped visiting when you were a baby, so you didn’t really care to acknowledge his relation to you. Your mum, while understanding your feelings and not wanting to force anything upon you, did try to encourage you to get into contact with Maverick if you could to try and form some sort of bond with him.

Then your mother got sick. You spent a lot of time outside of school caring for her and working your part-time job to keep you and your mum afloat when she had to stop working because her health was declining so rapidly. It was tough for you to try and keep things going and your mum tried to push for you to get into contact with your father, so you’d have someone to go to if she didn’t win the battle against her illness, but you always rebutted, insisting that she’d be fine.

You watched as your mother had to be admitted to the hospital for round-the-clock care. You always visited her after school or work and spent as much time with her as you could, constantly asking the nurses and doctors for updates and hoping by some miracle she’d recover.

But she never did.

Your mum passed away after three months of battling with an illness you could never understand, leaving you alone in the world. You soon ended up in contact with social services as your mother had contacted them prior to her death without you knowing and told them that she wished for you to move in with your dad as opposed to going into foster care. You were still hesitant about the whole thing. You barely knew him; you’d be uprooting your entire life to move to Miramar.

While you had to go home, pack bags and prep things for your mother’s funeral, Maverick received a knock on his door early one Saturday morning.

“Hello, are you Captain Pete Mitchell?” The woman on the other side of the door says, a kind smile on her face as she speaks. Maverick was taken aback by this woman being on the other side of the door, he would’ve put money on it being Bradley on the other side of the door over some random woman.

“I am. Can I help you?” Maverick asks, confused as to how she knows who he is and what she’s doing at his house.

“You have a daughter, y/n l/n, correct?” The woman then asks, eyes flicking down to the file in her hand while Maverick’s expression shifts from one of confusion to one of worry.

“Is she okay?” Is the first thing that comes out of Maverick’s mouth as he thinks of all the things that could possibly have happened to you.

“Her mother, Catherine, passed away a couple of days ago and before she passed, she made it known to us that she wanted y/n to be in your care since she has no other relatives.” The woman explains and Maverick feels his heart sink to his stomach at the woman’s words. His relationship with your mother may have been short, but he never stopped caring for her. Hearing she had passed hit him hard.

“She wanted me to take y/n in?” Maverick asks quietly, searching for confirmation as the woman nods slightly.

“She did. We’re going to help you and y/n with the process and check in occasionally after she’s moved in to make sure everything is okay with the two of you.” The woman says as she hands a card over with her name and number on it. Maverick inspects the card, learning that her name is Holly Fieldman before looking back up at her.

“When is she coming? I know she lives a couple of states away.” Maverick asks as he pushes the card into his jean pocket, watching as Holly silently asks to be let in and he obliges, stepping aside and letting her enter his house, leading her to the living room and sitting down opposite her.

“y/n wants to hold her mother’s funeral before she comes to Miramar.” Holly starts, flicking through the file and double-checking all the information she received from her colleague.

“That makes sense.” Maverick says slowly, wishing he could be there to help you with the funeral, but he was aware he could potentially overstep if he tried to get involved.

“My colleague said the funeral should be taking place within the next couple of days so I will contact you when we have a date set for y/n to come here.” Holly says as she glances up at Maverick who nods slightly in acknowledgement to her words.

“That’s okay, that gives me time to sort things out here.” Maverick agrees as Holly gets to her feet, Maverick quickly mirroring her actions and leading her to the front door and bidding her goodbye. Once he closes the door, Maverick turns around and rests his back against the door, staring into his house before muttering.

“Good thing I have the spare room clear.”

A few days later, after the funeral, you were all packed up and waiting at the airport for your flight to San Diego. Your leg bounced nervously as you stared at the sign above the gate door displaying the location you were flying to. Everyone around you seemed perfectly relaxed and ready for the flight ahead while you were thinking of everything that could go wrong. By the time you boarded the plane and found your seat, you could’ve laughed at yourself for how nervous you were. You were the daughter of a top naval aviator and here you were panicking about flying in a commercial plane which you were sure was much safer than doing whatever it was your father did for work. You were sure you looked crazy with the way you were gripping the armrests when the plane took off into the air, eyes scrunching shut as your stomach lurched at the foreign feeling.

Thankfully, the flight went smoothly, and no one made any comments about your very obvious nervousness. When you were allowed to disembark the plane, you followed the sea of people to luggage claim as you gripped the straps of your rucksack to try and direct your nerves somewhere. Once you grabbed your suitcase off the conveyor belt, you followed the large signs that led to the arrivals terminal where you soon located a smartly dressed woman holding a sign with your name on, so you approached her sheepishly.

“Hello, y/n. I’m Holly, we spoke on the phone the other day.” The woman says, introducing herself straight away and holding out a hand for you to shake which you do, nodding at her words and quietly thanking her when she offers to take your suitcase for you.

“Are you taking me straight to his house?” You ask as you stop outside Holly’s car, waiting as she loads your suitcase into the boot of her car before she turns back to face you.

“We’re going to have you meet your dad in a café first, a nice neutral setting for the both of you and I’ll be there to help ease you guys into everything.” Holly says, her bright smile never wavering when she speaks as she rounds the car and gets in the driver’s seat, with you getting in the passenger seat.

You tried to distract yourself by taking in the views of what was going to be your new home, but you couldn’t stop the pounding of your heart. You hated that you were so nervous. He had never been there for you growing up. He wasn’t a dad to you. So why were you so nervous?

When Holly parked outside a small café that was nestled along Miramar’s beachfront, your nerves were now in full drive and when she moved to open her door, you remained seated.

“Is it too late to ask if I can get a flight back?” You ask, glancing over at Holly who settles back in the car seat to address you.

“It is, sweetie. Look, I understand that you’re nervous. But everything is going to be just fine. I promise you.” Holly says softly, her smile softening as she addresses you and for a moment, you believe her words. You get out of the car, close the door behind you and follow Holly into the café.

As soon as you enter the small building, your eyes are immediately surveying the people that are in the café, searching for whichever one is Pete Mitchell. Then you saw a man stand up, eyes studying you as he looked at you and Holly and you soon noticed Holly moving to approach him. He matched the man in the sparse photos you had of your father so that along with Holly greeting him with the same bright smile she had used on you made you figure that he had to be Pete Mitchell and as you slunk along to meet him, you took a deep breath and made sure to not show your emotions. You already had a feeling he more than likely didn’t want to take you in, he just had to because your mum insisted on it. You just wanted to be prepared for the worst.

“y/n… wow you’ve really grown up.” Is the first thing Maverick can bring himself to say as you stand opposite him.

“Yeah… that’s what happens over time.” You say dismissively, shrugging your shoulders half-heartedly and your gaze flicks away to the table Maverick is sitting at so you could avoid looking at him.

“Why don’t we take a seat?” Holly suggests, not letting the mood deter her as she grabs the back of one of the chairs and pulls it towards her to make room for her to sit down at the table with you and Maverick following her actions. You sit opposite Maverick awkwardly, neither of you knowing how to start a conversation with the other.

“So, y/n, how was the flight?” Holly starts, attempting to initiate a conversation.

“It was okay.” You say half-heartedly, barely glancing at either person sitting at the table with you.

“Was it a busy flight?” Maverick then asks, trying to get a bit more information out of you.

“This was my first time on a plane I don’t know what constitutes ‘busy’, but most of the seats were filled I guess.” Your words came out a little harsher than you intended but you weren’t all that fussed about the way your words came out.

“Well you made it here safely and that’s all that matters.” Maverick then says, a small smile on his face to try and make you feel more comfortable around him. Instead, all he got back was a small shrug and you avoiding his gaze. He knew it must be a hard adjustment for you, especially when you haven’t had contact with Maverick in years but all he wanted was for you to feel comfortable and supported and he was going to do his absolute best to do that for you.

The rest of the interaction that was overseen by Holly went about as well as you expected it to. The atmosphere was awkward and there was a slight tension from you. By the time Maverick was allowed to take you home, Holly pulled both of you aside separately and told you that you could call her whenever and that she’d do a home visit in the next few days to see how things were progressing and left the two of you alone outside the café after handing you your luggage.

“Let’s get you settled in at home.” Maverick says after a minute or two of awkward silence between the two of you, gesturing with his head for you to follow him which you do so slowly, not in any rush to get to this new house. You load up your luggage, ignoring Maverick’s attempts to help you before getting in the backseat of the car, sitting behind the driver’s seat so Maverick couldn’t see you as easily.

“You can sit up front with me for the journey home, you know?” Maverick offers, turning around to glance at you sitting in the back of the car.

“I prefer sitting in the back.” You answer simply, already moving to put your headphones on you can just ignore everything on the journey to where you’d be living from now on. You hated that Maverick was calling it ‘home’. It may be home to him. But it could never be a home to you. Maverick watched sadly as you put your headphones in and adjusted the way you were sat so you were fully angled towards the window before he turned to face the front and began the drive to his house.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of the house, you weren’t shocked by what greeted you. It was an average-sized house in a small neighbourhood. Before Maverick even had time to turn around and talk to you, you were instantly climbing out of the car and heading to the boot of the car to pull your suitcase out, leaving Maverick alone in the car as he let out a small sigh before getting out of the car himself and crossing to the front door of his house to unlock the door and enter the house with you following behind.

As you enter the house, you follow Maverick when he leads you upstairs, opening a door and taking a step back for you to enter which you do. You glance around the room, it is practically bare, with white walls, and nothing more than a bed, wardrobe, and bedside tables.

“I’m sorry it’s so plain. I never really used this room. But you can decorate it however you want. I have a few days booked off work, so maybe we could get some things and decorate your room.” Maverick says, not daring to move an inch beyond the doorway as he watches you place your rucksack on the bed and take in the room. As Maverick had expected, you offered him no more than a mere shrug and noncommittal hum at his suggestion. Maverick was really trying to form some sort of bond with you. To try to make up for the years lost. But you clearly wanted nothing to do with him, and as much as it broke his heart, he couldn’t do any more than extend the olive branch and hope you one day take it. He didn’t want to overstep beyond that, so he nodded at your hum and headed downstairs.

You spent the rest of the day unpacking your belongings, hanging clothes up and storing things away before you finally placed the picture of you and your mum on your bedside table, so you always had her with you. As you tucked your suitcase under your bed, you heard Maverick calling you for dinner and as much as you didn’t want to go downstairs, the smell of food that was travelling up the stairs and into your room was making your stomach growl like nobodies business so you got up and went down the stairs, following the sounds of plates clanking to lead you to the kitchen but as you walked through the living room, your eyes drifted along the photos on the wall and you stopped opposite one particular photo. It was a photo of Maverick with a moustached man, both of them smiling for the camera with an arm wrapped around the other’s shoulders. You regarded the photo quietly, wondering who this man was. Did Maverick have another kid? As if he sensed you looking at the photos, Maverick emerged from the kitchen and approached you carefully.

“Having a look at the pictures?” He muses softly, a slight laugh tagged onto the end of his sentence to let you know he wasn’t upset or angry at you.

“Is he your son?” You ask, your gaze not moving from the picture of the two men.

“No. Not biologically at least. Bradley’s my best friend’s kid. But I helped raise him so he’s kind of like a son to me.” Maverick explains and you can’t help but feel a pang in your heart at his words. This Bradley guy got to have Maverick in his life as a father figure and you didn’t get your dad at all. It wasn’t fair.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Maverick urges softly, noticing the sadness in your eyes and hoping he didn’t just ruin everything between the two of you. You begrudgingly follow Maverick to the small table and eat your food in silence, barely giving Maverick more than a short sentence answer to any of his questions. The second you finished your meal you asked to be excused and retreated back to your room, leaving Maverick alone downstairs. He didn’t bother you for the rest of the night, only sticking his head in your room before he went to bed. Despite everything, he couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face when he saw you curled under your duvet, fast asleep.

“Goodnight, y/n/n.”

Over the days Maverick had off, you tended to avoid as much interaction with him as possible. You’d have meals with him and hold the briefest of conversations but that was your limit. And you never called him dad. You didn’t want to get attached to someone who didn’t want you when you were a baby and was now stuck with you. When Holly came for one of her home visits, you tried to ask if you could be placed elsewhere but she was insistent that you see it through with Maverick. She urged you to give him a chance, and that she could tell he was genuinely trying to form a connection. She could understand that you were upset with the loss of your mother and having to move in with someone who was hardly present in your life, but your mum had picked him for a reason, and you needed to trust her judgement.

After Holly left, you spent the rest of the day in your room mulling over her words. You knew your mum had never steered you wrong before. But sending you to live with someone you hardly knew just felt wrong to you. When night fell, your thoughts were getting too much you decided you needed to head out to get some fresh air and to think some more. You didn’t have a destination in mind, you still hardly knew the area, you just knew you needed to be out of the house. You were able to sneak downstairs and out of the house with zero difficulty, Maverick was napping on the sofa so keeping quiet and getting out of the door was no difficult task for you. Once you made it to the end of the road, you pulled out your phone and searched for directions to the beach.

About five minutes after you left, Maverick’s eyes blinked open and he stretched his arms above his head as he stood from the sofa, wincing as his back let out a slight crack. He knew he needed to stop falling asleep on the sofa, but he couldn’t help it. Deciding it was time to finally retire to bed, he headed upstairs, heading straight to your door. Since you arrived, he always stuck his head in your room to whisper goodnight to you, despite the fact you were always asleep when he did it. This time, however, when Maverick opened the door, he couldn’t see any figure in the bed. The little slither of light that snuck through the crack didn’t illuminate any evidence that you were in bed and Maverick couldn’t help but instantly be in panic mode. He couldn’t find any evidence that you were still in the house, so he was soon grabbing his keys and leaving the house to search for you.

You sat on a little bench overlooking the beach, not too far from where the café you first met Maverick was, listening to the gentle sounds of the waves against the shore, your eyes drifting up to the starry sky and bright moon that hung within it.

“Mum, you wanted me to come here for a reason, right? You think Pete would take care of me and that I’d finally have a father figure, don’t you?” You mutter quietly up to the sky, wondering if your mum would give you some sort of sign that she was listening. Instead, you heard the revving of a motorbike engine and Maverick’s worried voice calling out to you.

“y/n, oh thank god I found you.” Maverick says, relief beyond evident in his tone as he sits down next to you on the bench, leaving a gap between the two of you.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask quietly, briefly glancing over at Maverick before your gaze flicked back to the stars.

“I didn’t. I just drove around looking for you. But I did know you haven’t explored the area much, so my best guess was near the café. I wouldn’t have stopped looking for you all night if I hadn’t found you here.” Maverick explains, watching you under the dim street lamp as your eyebrows furrow slightly and you turn to look at him properly.

“Really?” You ask, your voice timid as you look at Maverick.

“Really. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. I promised your mother I’d look after you.” Maverick explains, watching as your eyes widen at his words.

“You promised… did you talk with my mum before she died?” You then ask, tears threatening to build in your eyes. In response to your question, Maverick pulls his wallet out of his pocket and produces a small picture, handing it over to you and you instantly study the picture. It was of you; it couldn’t have been taken more than six months ago. It was of you out in the park, sitting on a bench and completely oblivious to your mum taking a picture of you.

“She liked to send me regular updates on how you were doing, as well as pictures. She told me you get pretty good grades in your classes, which makes me proud. The last time I spoke to her must’ve been just before or around the time she got sick because I never heard from her after that. But she made me promise to look after you if something happened years ago. I didn't think anything would ever happen. But I never stopped caring for you.” Maverick explains as you quietly hand back the photo, the tears in your eyes beginning to show under the street lights.

“If you cared so much, why did you stop visiting?” Unlike Maverick would’ve expected, your voice held no harshness to its tone, just defeat. You were just a kid who’s been deprived of a father figure your whole life.

“My job is dangerous. And I know what it feels like to lose your parents when you’re young. I just couldn’t put you through that, so I thought it was best I stayed away to protect you. It hurt so much to say goodbye knowing I probably wasn’t going to see you again.” Maverick says truthfully, fighting back tears of his own as he looks at the picture, knowing he was the reason you grew up without a father figure in your life. He couldn’t help but beat himself up over it every day. He had stepped in for Bradley when Goose died but the second, he had a kid of his own, he backed off and abandoned you.

“Did your mum ever try to move on?” Maverick then asks quietly, a sad tone you’re not used to hearing from him in his voice, as you watch him.

“No she didn’t. Truthfully, I don’t think she stopped loving you. She always spoke so highly of you.” You admit, shrugging lightly as you remember all the times your mum had told you about Maverick and never spoke a bad word about him. At your words, a tear or two escaped Maverick’s eyes and he let out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t deserve that. She deserved to be happy.” Maverick says, more tears escaping him as you wipe at your own eyes.

“She was happy. The time she had with you was clearly all she wanted and needed.” You say, not wanting Maverick to feel guilty or upset for something out of his control, a complete turnaround from the way you had been acting prior.

“I’m going to make it up to you. I promise. If you need me at all, I will be there. You’re not alone anymore.” Maverick promises, and you nod at his words, finally believing his words before you move closer to him and carefully wrap your arms around him for a hug. At first, he was tense, but soon he reciprocated the hug, holding you tight as you tried your best not to cry on his jacket.

“Can we go home now?” You ask as a small breeze blows by, making you shiver slightly, even in Maverick’s warm embrace.

“Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go home.” He says softly, helping you to your feet and leading you to his motorbike where he instructs you on how to hold on safely before taking you back home, making sure he goes a bit slower than he usually does when on his bike. When you make it home, you’re stifling yawns as you trudge upstairs to get ready for bed and by the time you finally crawl into bed, your eyes are already closing but you force them open when you hear Maverick quietly asking if he could enter your room. For the first time since you arrived, Maverick crosses to your bedside and smiles down at you.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He says quietly, leaning down and pressing a small kiss on the top of your head, smiling as a smile covers your own face while you snuggle further into your bed. Just as Maverick reaches the door, he hears you speak up.

“Goodnight, dad.”

Maverick swore that the large smile that appeared on his face didn’t shrink until the next day. Until you called him ‘dad’ again the next morning.

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 5 months

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The Heartbreak of Christmas Eve - Modern! Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Your best friend shows up at your doorstep on Christmas Eve.

Pairing: Modern! Aegon Targaryen x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: profanity, angst, p in v, cockwarming

Word Count: 1.75k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) ALL MY AEGON GIRLIES, THIS IS FOR YOU. he may be a train wreck, but we love him regardless. enjoy ;)

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

The sound of knocking at your front door was not one you’ve been expecting this evening. You had plans to celebrate Christmas Eve and Christmas on your own, since your family was travelling this holiday season. Who could it be?

Your questions were answered when you saw a dishevelled looking Aegon at the door, a sheepish expression on his weary face, a night bag in his hands. “I…I didn’t know where else to go…”

Looking at him from head to toe, taking in his pitiful state, you sighed, opening the door a bit wider to let your best friend in. “Come on in.”

You ventured to the kitchen to make Aegon a mug of tea after locking the door, just in case he was drunk again. Walking over to the couch where Aegon had made himself comfortable on, you handed him the mug. “Here.”

Aegon took it with a grateful, watery smile. “Thanks. You’re the best.” You tried not to let the words get to you. To him, it had always never meant nothing, a natural reflex in his charismatic nature, but to you, it always meant everything. It was a stupid thing, having a crush on your gorgeous, smoking hot best friend, who was the dictionary definition of the word ‘playboy’.

Just then, you heard a sniffle, and you realised with concern that his eyes were red. “Hey, everything okay?” You asked softly.

Aegon sniffled again, looking like a lost child as he hunched over his mug of tea. “Jenna broke up with me.”

Jenna had been Aegon’s latest in a series of girlfriends, and the longest lasting one at that. They had been dating for eight months now, and Aegon had really cared for her, much to your heartache. But you accepted it, as you always have, burying your feelings under the sand yet again.

“I’m really sorry, pal,” you moved into give Aegon a hug, which he melted into. Soon, you could hear sobs eliciting from his throat, as he lamented, “Why does everyone I love always end up leaving me? Am I that loathsome?”

No; you’re not, you wanted to tell him. You wanted him to know that for the longest time, you’ve loved him, much more than as a friend, and that you would never leave him, no matter what. But you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, knowing that he would never feel the same. And even if he did, he could never give you the stable, long term relationship that you wanted.

So you only patted his back softly, and comforted him as best as you could. “You’re not loathsome, Aegon. You’re my best friend.” And I love you. “I would always be by your side, no matter what.”

“You really mean it?” Your heart broke at Aegon’s small voice, and you pulled him into a tighter embrace. “Of course. Best friends forever, remember?”

There was a silence, and you thought Aegon hadn’t heard you, but he only let out a noisy sniffle and said lowly, “Yeah…best friends forever.”

The two of you held each other for a while, hearing the snow fall outside your window as you comforted the love of your life over his heartbreak, while your heart was breaking on the inside.

Because your apartment was small, it only had one bedroom, so Aegon had to crash with you in your bed. It was your usual arrangement, but tonight, Aegon just couldn’t sleep.

Shifting uncomfortably on the left side of the bed, Aegon turned to face you, wanting to talk to you, to do anything, but you had your back turned to him. Unbeknownst to your best friend, you were fighting your own demons, trying to console yourself for being upset over this. It was his fifth girlfriend already, and you had had to comfort him over so many things ever since you were kids, so why did this bother you so much?

Because you’re hopelessly in love with him, that’s what.

You let out a quiet huff of frustration, but the sudden weight of a warm hand across your waist made you tense up. Aegon had always been feely in his sleep, but this was not helping any of your thoughts right now.

“Aegon…?” You asked in a quiet voice, careful not to wake him if he was asleep. But then, you felt a hardness press between your asscheeks, and you stiffened. He was most definitely not asleep.

“Aegon-“ “Shh,” Aegon’s low rumble that always made your knees weak sliced through the air. You could feel his breath on your neck, as he nestled his head on your shoulder. “I just need to feel…something. Please.”

You swallowed, feeling humiliation creep up your cheeks, staining it red. “Are you serious?” Your voice was not quite your own, scratchy and fragile. You were tearing up. “Aegon, for years, I’ve stood by, being your best friend, caring for you, wanting you, loving you, never wanting for anything more because I fucking loved you, but this is how you treat me? As some rebound fuck to get over your ex?” Your voice was laced with hurt venom. “I can’t believe you.”

Aegon felt every single muscle in his body freeze as your words registered in his mind. You loved him. For so many years now.

Tears were streaming down your face by now, and you wanted to push Aegon away, but you were just so tired. So upset. You flinched when he wrapped his arm around your waist tighter. “Hey,” he said softly into your ear, making goosebumps rise up on your flesh. “Look at me.”

When you refused to turn around, Aegon sighed. He deserved as much, he supposed. “Hey, listen,” Aegon began tentatively. “I know I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole right now, and I probably will earn your eternal enmity after this, but…I love you.”

Shocked, you turned your head back slightly to face him, breath hitching as you felt his hot breath on your bare skin. “…you’re joking.”

Aegon smiled sadly, shaking his head. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. I know I’m the biggest fucking idiot ever for this, but I always buried my feelings and kept it a secret, because…” he hesitated. “Because I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “If only I knew you had always felt this way, I would’ve said something. Why do I always ruin everything?”

A heavy silence enveloped the room, and Aegon felt his heart break as he heard you sniffle. You were crying because of him. Gods, he was just the biggest douche out there, wasn’t he?

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, stroking your hair gently, not knowing what else to do to comfort you. “I’m so sorry, love.”

Finally, you turned around, your cheeks stained with tears that were visible even in the dark. Aegon swallowed, feeling awful. He had probably just ruined your Christmas and your year. “Y/N-“

He was cut off by the press of your lips on his. Your lips were warm against him, soft and inviting and tasting of gingerbread, and Aegon, despite his initial shock, found himself returning the kiss, letting out a few grunts as his hands found your waist again. The both of you continued making out for a while, while Aegon continued wiping the tears from your eyes. He wanted you so badly. Gods, he always wanted you.

His hands slowly wandered down to your breasts, groping them, squeezing them gently, all while he continued kissing you. You moaned into his mouth as he did, making the bulge in his pants grow undeniably harder. Your hand went down to stoke his cock over his sweatpants, and he hissed into your mouth, making you smile slightly against his lips.

Gradually, your pants fell off, and Aegon’s did too, and you gasped as you felt him stretching out your pussy. You had wanted this for so long, and now you were finally experiencing it. It was still quite unbelievable.

Aegon groaned as he bottomed out in you, his grip on your waist tightening. You made to move your hips, but Aegon stilled your movements, whispering huskily into your ear. “Let’s just stay like this. I want to wake up like this, with you around me.”

A small shiver went through you at those words, and you nodded mutely, letting out a soft yawn. Aegon chuckled, brushing your hair away from your forehead and kissing you on the lips. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Aegon. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

Aegon General Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @hc-geralt-23 @saay-karani @justrybca

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for aegon related works or just my works in general in the comments below or through this form! :)

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘

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yelenasdiary · 8 months

Text

When The Time Comes

Pairing: Military! Yelena Belova x Fem! Nurse! Reader

Summary: After a traumatic experience, Yelena worries about your well-being.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Mentions of War, Kidnapping, Details of Torture, PTSD, Depression, Details of Murder, Gore, Mentions of Blood, Scaring, Medical Talk | 3.3K

Translations:lyubov' (love), detka (baby),

AC:Some of you may have already seen a dot point of this fic so here’s the full fic!

October Special Masterlist

4:03am your wife was woken by a long-awaited phone call, quickly turning over and picking up the phone, "Belova" she answers without a hint of lack of sleep in her voice. The voice on the other end of the line wastes no time in informing the highly skilled sniper that after two long, stressful, and worrying months, her wife has been found.

"Is she okay? Can I talk to her? I'll get the first flight over!" Yelena's mind is racing. She knows the stress and worry isn't over, but her commanding officer assures her that you were treated with the best of care and should be landing in the states within a few short hours. Little information was shared with the blonde who didn't take notice of the time when she called Natasha.

"Lena, it's 4am, is everything okay?" Natasha's low, raspy, and tired voice travels through the phone. Yelena once again not caring to take notice of the time, "They found her!" She replies while she gets out of bed and slides on her slippers. She can tell by the shift in Natasha's voice that the red head has shot up from her laying position, "are you sure?!"

"Positive, they said she'll be landing in New York in a few hours. Can you watch Natalia for me? Please?" Yelena asks as she walks down the hall to your daughter's bedroom, peaking her head through the crack of the door to check on the three-year-old who was asleep peacefully snuggling her favorite plushie.

"Of course, I'll be over soon" Natasha replies before hanging up the line.

Hours passed as Yelena waited patiently alone in the hospital's waiting room, 9:28am and they were still checking you out and not a single word on your wellbeing was mentioned to your wife. Small cups of coffee filled the bin as Yelena's mind ran over scenario after scenario, her right knee bouncing uncontrollably as other patients' family members came and went. Some leaving in tears of grief while others left with sighs of relief.

Lost in her thoughts, Yelena didn't even notice Natasha taking a seat beside her and placing her hand on her sister's knee. It wasn't until Natasha's thumb stroked Yelena's knee that the blonde's eyes turned to meet her sister.

"Wands has Natalia" Natasha spoke softly reading the look on her sister's face. Yelena nodded as she leant back in her chair, "any news?" Nat asked.

"Nothing" Yelena replied while she tried to fight back her tears, wanting to stay as strong as she possibly could for you.

"Mrs Belova?" a doctor asked as they entered the waiting room, Yelena's eyes shot up to meet the eyes of a tired woman as she took off her surgical cap.

"That's me" Yelena replied, standing from her chair before she could even blink. Natasha was standing beside her, both looking at the doctor for answers. Her eyes scanned the waiting room, "come with me please, somewhere more private" she replied. Her words made Yelena's stomach drop, her mind now filling with her biggest fear as she and Natasha followed the woman in scrubs with a white coat down the hall, taking a left and into a room with soldiers standing guard outside.

"Please just cut the crap, is she okay?" Yelena's eyes looked deeply into the doctor's in hopes of finding answers. The woman took a deep breath, her own eyes looking at Natasha before back at Yelena, "she's my sister, please!" Yelena added.

"Mrs Belova, your wife okay. We would like to keep her in for a week before sending home, she's malnourished and some of her injuries we are going to keep an eye on in case of an infection. She's extremely weak at the moment but physically, she will make a full recovery. I have requested that our psychiatrist comes down to speak to you, they will be able to inform you of your wife's mental health" the doctor who forgot to introduce herself explained, her name tag reading "Dr Katherine Campbell".

"I'd rather see my wife first, please" Yelena pleaded just wanting to see you for herself.

"I'm sorry but I think it's best you wait" Dr Campbell's eyes shifted to Natasha in hopes she'd help make the stressed blonde understand. Natasha looked at Yelena, placing a hand on her forearm, "let's just wait for the psychiatrist, you'll want to know everything there is" Nat agrees with the doctor just as another woman knocks and enters the room.

"Here she is" Doctor Campbell smiled softly at the other woman.

"Hi, Mrs Belova, is it?" the woman smiled, reaching her hand out to shake Yelena's, "I'm Dr Jenna Hemmings, please take a seat" she added before also shaking Natasha's hand. The four women took a seat at the large, rounded table, Yelena's knee bouncing once again as she watched the psychiatrist open up a file of documents that had your name on them.

"I'm very sorry for what you've been through over the last three months, I don't have a lot to discuss in terms of where your wife is at mentally, but, I have seen her and I from what I have seem I can give you a rough idea on what to expect" Dr Hemmings began as she looked between the two sisters.

"It's my understanding that your wife has suffered from serious and extreme torture during her captivity. I have seen many cases unfortunately and I just want to let you know that it's not going to be easy. Y/n may become distant and feel disconnected from what she knows. Who she was before the kidnapping may take some time to return, I'm going to give you a list of other psychiatrists for you to make an appointment with then Y/n feels ready to talk about the events. It's important that you do not push her to talk, if she wants too, listen.

Do you share any children together?" She goes on. Yelena nodded, "A three year old, Natalia"

"As hard as this will be on your daughter, it'll be best if she has somewhere else to stay with the first week that Y/n is home"

"You want me to keep my daughter from seeing her mother?" Yelena frowned in confusion.

"This is just until you and Y/n's psychiatrist have a better understanding of her PTSD" Dr Hemmings replied. Natasha assured Yelena that the little girl could stay with her, Wanda and the boys for as long as needed. "Can I just see my wife now? Please? whatever else you need to discuss, I'm sure we can do later" Yelena begs once more.

Dr Hemmings nodded lightly, "I'll let Dr Campbell explain your wife's injuries"

-A Week Later-

Since being home, Yelena has cared for you day in, day out. She tended to the wounds that covered your back, changing the bandages and cleaning them. She did the same for the grazes and cuts on your face, arms, legs and thighs. She showered you, clothed you and fed you, all while you could barely bring yourself to say a single word.

The bedroom was kept dark, anytime Yelena opened the blinds to let some sunlight in, you got up and closed them before getting back in to bed to sleep the day away. A psychiatrist had stopped by twice since you came home, but even she couldn't get you to speak. She suggested to Yelena that it would be in your best interest to start antidepressants which you took without a fight.

"Good morning lyubov'" Yelena spoke softly as she got on her knees in your view, your eyes glued to the dark gray wall behind her. Looking into your eyes, Yelena only saw the ghost of the woman she loved. She gently stroked your face with her left thumb, "Natalia is coming home this morning, do you feel up to seeing her?" she asked. Your eyes shifted and connected with the worried eyes of your wife's, the first time you really looked at her since the hospital. You shook her head before turning to your other side, giving Yelena the view of your clothed back.

"Okay lyubov', we'll try again tomorrow. I'll go get you some breakfast" Yelena said in defeat. She hoped that the idea of seeing your daughter would bring something new out of you, that you'd get out of bed and come downstairs for the first time.

Yelena returned 20 minutes later with toast, orange juice, your medication and some vitamins placing them on your bedside table. She kissed your cheek and whispered how much she loved you before letting you fall back asleep in the darkness.

"I miss mommy" Natalia pouted as she picked up another slice of apple from her plastic plate. "I know dorogoy, mommy isn't feeling well at the moment but she's getting better, she's getting plenty of sleep so she can play with you again" Yelena assures the little girl before placing a kiss on her forehead, "how about mac n cheese for dinner?" She asks. Natalia perks up instantly, nodding with excitement, "Mac n cheese!!!!" She claps with a mouth full of apple.

Night time came, Natalia was bathed, fed and tucked in bed fast asleep after Yelena read her a bedtime story. She can't stop her mind from remembering when you and her would read a fairytale together for the growing child, switching voices, giggles full of life filling the room before the angel drifts off to sleep. Not only did Yelena miss you, but so did Natalia. A drawing of the three of you in crayons sat on the toddlers drawing table, mommy in bed just like her mama said.

When Yelena came to bed, it was the only time you felt safe again. You instantly felt her arms wrap around you, pulling you close as she knew you'd been waiting all day for her to come back to bed. "How are you feeling detka?" She asks in a soft tone, you wanted to answer her, to give her a form of words but nothing left your lips. Tears filled your eyes as you brought her hand to your lips, kissing the top of her hand to let her know you were here, you heard her, you loved her.

-1 Month Later-

As time went on, Yelena was doing her best to give you everything you needed but her growing thoughts were becoming darker by the day. She wasn't going to push you to talk about what happened, but she couldn't help but picture just how you got the wounds on your back. She was positive they would turn into scars and she worried for when the time would come and you'd notice them never fading away. She wanted to know if you were tortured into not speaking of the events that happened, she hasn't heard your voice since you woke up in the hospital. "Just tired" were the last words she heard you speak.

The meditation didn't seem like it was working in Yelena's eyes, you still didn't have the energy to get out of bed, to talk, to eat or even shower. Natalia hounded her mama daily for when she could see her mommy and on the one chance you nodded at Yelena's request for the young girl to see you, it broke her. Natalia of course, didn't entirely understand what was wrong with you and she didn't take your actions to heart, but deep down, Yelena did. Natalia had tried to show you a drawing she did at day care, you took one look at the colorful drawing before you looked back at Yelena who was standing behind your daughter, you shook your head at her than turned to lay with your back facing them.

It wasn't until one night when Yelena had gotten into bed with you rather early, she mentioned Natalia was staying at Natasha and Wanda's for the night. She held you in silence for hours until you turned and looked at her. Tears pooled at your eyes before slowly making their way down your cheeks, your wife wiping them away gently with the touch of her thumb as she placed a loving kiss on your forehead before looking into your broken eyes once more.

"What do you need detka? How can I help you get through this?" Yelena asked and for the first time since everything, you weren't looking through her. You could see how tired she was, the stress and worry of everything creeping in on her. Slowly you sat up and took a deep breath, Yelena sat up with you keeping a close eye on your body language.

"Can I make us a hot coco?" you asked. Yelena couldn't help but smile softly as she nodded. Happy she finally heard your voice since you were at the hospital, no longer having to repeat the last words you spoke to her, "just tired" running through her head.

You returned to the bedroom with two mugs of hot coco and a large yellow envelope, placing it on the end of the bed before handing Yelena her drink. "If I tell you everything, c-can you write it down for the report, please?" you asked, sipping your drink and placing it on your bedside table. Yelena nodded without a second thought, "of course detka, are you sure you're up for this?" she asked, just to be sure.

"Are you sure you want to hear it?" you asked her in reply, worried that the details you had to share for the report would upset her. "If I am the only person you feel safe enough to tell, I am here to listen detka. I've got your back like you've got mine" she reminded you as she placed her mug on her bedside table and grabbed the envelope and pen. You took another deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, remembering the moment you were taken captive.

"I just finished my shift, Lisa, Jasmine and I were walking back to our rooms when 3 masked men ambushed us, one grabbed Lisa and dragged her towards the bush, he had large knife to her neck. Another put a bag over Jasmine's head, they told us to keep quiet or they'd kill us. I screamed for help, but one guy hit me over the head with his gun and I blacked out. When I woke up, I had a shackle on my left ankle, my hands tied behind my back and a bag over my head.

I could hear the girls screaming and crying for help, the place smelt unbearable…like death. I tried to keep the girls calm, I told them we'd be safe soon, to keep quiet or they'd hurt us but we were all so scared.

They kept us like that for hours, days maybe. I wasn't sure, it was too dark with the bag over my head. When they came back, one guy removed the bag, he was wearing a mask and had his gun pointed directly at me. There was a small cup of water and a bread roll on the floor, he told me to eat, or he'd shoot me. I was so hungry, that when he cut me free, I don't think I even swallowed much of the roll, the water was dirty but I didn't care. I asked him about the girls, but he just kneed me in the face to shut me up.

It was like that for days until the ringleader came, he had an interpreter with him, he didn't speak one word of English. He said that if our country cared enough about us, they'd stop the war and go home and leave us behind to become slaves." You spoke slowly so Yelena could write but halfway through, she decided that typing it up would be a lot faster.

"Things got worse, every time we did something wrong, we got less food and water, a beating and placed in this room that felt like it was on fire. It was so hot in there, sometimes they threw me in there just because I didn't eat fast enough. Lisa tried to escape but they caught her, they dragged me into this room with her and ha-" you paused as tears streamed down your face.

"Detka, we can take a break, it's okay" Yelena's hands reached for yours but you shook your head, "I don't want never want to speak about this ever again, I have to do this now" you replied, wiping your tears before taking a mouthful of your hot coco.

"He handed me a gun and told me to shoot her but I couldn't. I tried to plead with him, saying she won't do it again but that just gave me a beating. He beat me with a rusty pipe wrapped with barbed wire, that's that the marks on my back are from. I've never felt so much pain…I was crying so much that eventually he grabbed me by my hair and made me watch" you paused once more, your body shaking with fear as you recalled the details of what happened to your friend. Your wife was quick to put the laptop aside and instantly wrapped you in her arms, pulling you close into her as you broke down.

Through your sobs, you continued to explain the events you endured. "T…T-they beheaded her like it was nothing! There was blood very where, I was c-crying! Screaming! They tossed her h-he…to me and told me if I didn't shut u-up that w-would be me" You gripped onto your wife for life, she held you tightly as she cried with you. Kissing the top of your head for comfort.

----

3:38am, you were passed out asleep, tired from the crying and recalling. Yelena watched over you, her arms wrapped around you. She knew it was going to be a long road of recovery ahead, but she had every faith in you.

By morning, you woke up to an empty bed, but you felt differently. You sat up, stretched and slipped into your robe before making your way downstairs to see Yelena making waffles with your daughter. You smiled softly to yourself before making yourself known to your girls.

"Mommy!!!" Natalia came running into your arms. You hugged her tightly, kissing her cheek, "you feel better?" she asked. You nodded, "a little bit my love" you replied before putting her down on her feet. Yelena turned around and smiled lovingly at you, "Natalia, can you please get your sippy cup?" she asked the little girl to distract her for a moment so she could talk to you.

"I sent your report this morning" Yelena informed you with a kiss on your cheek. "Thank you, darling" you wrapped your arms around her, "what's on your mind?" you asked her, seeing she'd been thinking.

"He's still out there" she replied, her jaw clenching at the thought of the man who tortured you for months walking free in his own country. You knew instantly from her tone what she was thinking, and you knew there would be no way to stop her, in fact, you didn't even want to stop her.

"I know and if the time comes, I don't want you to think twice" You cupped her face, "let him suffer…he's already taken enough from me, take everything from him" you added looking into her eyes. "Here mama!" Natalia's voice broke the silent agreement between you two.

It would be a year until Yelena returned to war, she wanted to stay with you until you knew well enough to look after yourself once more. Now with a four year old and your wife off finding the man who covered you in scars, physically and mentally, you made the decision to never return to the warzone but would continue your work at the veterans clinic.

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #fanfiction #marvel #florence pugh #darktober #black widow #military! yelena

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just-wrting · 1 year

Text

Can't Take the Hint

Title: Can't Take the Hint

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You're having a hard time rejecting guys, thankfully the one you're into helps you out.

Warnings: Creepy guy and smut

Word Count: 2,826

Master List

A/N: This was meant to have more scenes in it, but I've opted to save those ideas for another time. This is also only my third time writing smut so I hope it's not that bad.

“I don’t know Dave. Asking them out seems like a bad idea.”

You hear Hotch’s voice even through the closed door. You want to linger and listen, but there’s a new case. Instead, you knock gently on Rossi’s office door. Within a few seconds, it swings open and Hotch is standing in front of you.

“Garcia said she’s got a case and to come get you guys,” you say. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“No, we were just finishing up. In fact, I’ll walk with you if that’s okay?” Hotch moves toward you, and you back up.

“Sure. Though I hope you don’t mind if I borrow Rossi later. I have some guy trouble that I want his advice on.”

For a split second, he frowns. It’s so quick you think you’re imagining it. You study his face intently, wondering if it was just a trick of the light. There’s no reason that he would be upset about you having guy troubles. He’s just your boss, nothing more.

“Rossi’s advice may not be great, he does have multiple divorces. I could help you.”

“That’s actually why I’d like to talk to him about it. He’s gotten used to rejection.”

You give him a soft smile. He chuckles but doesn’t say anything. You know his offer still stands if you ever need to talk to him. He’s a great boss, and you’re grateful to him for being there for you when you need it.

You do your best to pay attention as Hotch and Garcia present your next case. A couple of bodies turned up in a forest on the west coast, and the local police had no idea how they got there. They all showed various stages of decay, indicating that they had been there for a different amount of time each.

“Well, the ME states the body that had been there the longest was there for about a year. Given that there are six bodies in that area that puts us at a murder every two months,” Emily says while placing her tablet down.

“So either he’s doing something to them that takes about two months, or he’s being extra careful.” Rossi rubs his chin.

Reid leans back in his chair. “Based on the ME’s report of the most recent body, he’s most likely torturing his victims for about a month.”

“Great. Cause that’s what we need to be doing, scouring the missing persons reports for a person that could be joining the body pile,” you groan.

Granted, Garcia is lightning-fast and great at sifting through things like that, but you still think it’ll take forever. This is shaping up to be one of those cases that just takes time. Time that you don’t have to be wasting on dead ends and possibilities.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Be prepared for long days.”

—

It’s been over an hour and everyone is just lost in thought. Occasionally someone will throw out an idea, but without doing more interviews and crime scene analysis, there isn’t much to discuss. You take the opportunity to slide into a seat across from Rossi.

“Mind if I ask you some stuff? Take your mind off the case for a second?” you ask. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

Rossi gives you a smile. “Sure thing, kid. What else is someone with as much wisdom as I, supposed to do?”

You relax muscles you didn’t realize were tense. “Besides helping others out, I’m not too sure. So there’s this guy, I see him all the time since he goes to the same breakfast place as I do, and he asked me out.”

Rossi nods. “And you aren’t sure if that’s a good choice?”

“Actually, I know it’s a bad choice. Since the day before I’d seen him with another girl. They’re obviously a thing so I told him no. The problem is that now he won’t leave me alone. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Rossi reaches out to grab your hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze and makes sure to look into your eyes.

“Kid, you didn’t do anything wrong. A man like that is just plain creepy and probably won’t take the hint until you tell him there’s another man you're with. If you need us to, I’m sure Hotch or Morgan will gladly help you play pretend to get him to leave you alone. We’re here to help each other.”

You slowly nod. You really didn’t think you’d actually encounter one of those guys that give off the same energy that serial stalkers have, but you did. Not to mention, it was while you weren't working.

“You’re right. I’ll give it some thought during the case, but for now, that’s what needs our attention. Let’s just hope things go better than they usually do.”

—

Things are not going better than they usually do. Hotch paired you with him and Morgan to go to the crime scene which wouldn’t have been an issue if it wasn’t for the constant drizzle that had started well before you had landed. Nothing says ‘a great day for a walk in the woods’ like rain.

You watch as an officer slips slowly down the hill to reach where the last body was found. The whole area was slick with mud. It’d probably be fun if you were a young boy in your own backyard but as an agent hoping to get an idea of what this dump site looked like in its horrible prime, not so fun.

The rain picks up and you duck under a tree. Hotch joins you while Morgan chuckles.

“I’ll go get the umbrellas from the SUV since you two must be made of sugar. Don’t start without me.”

Shortly after Morgan walks off, another officer approaches you. He sticks his hand out for you to shake.

“You must be Agent Hotchner and Agent (L/N),” he says while giving you a large smile. “Do you need an umbrella? I have one in the car.”

“Oh no thanks. Agent Morgan is returning with the ones he went to get. I can see him now.”

The officer’s smile wavers, but stays firm on his face. “Well, (L/N), I’m Officer Mike Morris. If you need anything, anything at all, let me know right away and I’ll help you.”

With that, the officer leaves. Hotch looks at you with an odd look on his face. You can’t quite place the emotion that’s behind his eyes.

“Here’s the umbrella. You two can share it because I’m not letting (L/N) pull me down into the mud.”

Morgan gets a head start down the hill. You watch him complete the task with ease, and you can’t help but be a bit envious. Sure you can take down grown men, but Morgan makes most physical feats look easy.

“(Y/N)?” Hotch’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You do know that if you need anything, both on the case and off the case, you can talk to me, right?”

His hand rests on your shoulder. You give him a smile and start to head down the slope.

“Of course. You’re my go-to person if I need something, Hotch. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

—

It’s the next day, and you’re sitting at the table staring down a pile of paper. It’s early in the morning, and you think you’d kill for a cup of coffee right about now. Unfortunately, you got up early and were one of the first in the office. That means that there was no coffee for you to have and you have to wait for some to brew.

A sudden knock on the doorway startles you. You whirl around to find Officer Mike Morris standing in the doorway.

“I see you’re into mornings, just like I am. Figured you would want a cup of coffee.”

He sets down a cup of lukewarm coffee. You watch as the liquid settles and realize that the color is off. It won’t taste the way you like it, but you do your best to take a sip. You’re right. It’s not how you’d like it.

“(Y/N)? You left early today so I brought you coffee and breakfast. I hope that’s okay.”

Hotch walks into the room holding a tray of coffee and a to-go bag. He briefly looks at Officer Morris before looking at you.

“Thanks! What did you get me?”

A soft smile spreads across Hotch’s face. He sets the coffee tray down and pulls one of the cups out. You carefully read the label on the cup. It’s made just the way you like. As you take a sip, you feel the caffeine send tingles to your brain and you start to wake up.

“And breakfast?”

Hotch pulls a muffin out of the bag and hands it to you. You're quite grateful for the snack. Nothing says FBI breakfast like coffee and a pastry.

“Thank Hotch. I got up pretty early so I didn’t have a chance of getting food.”

You bury your face back into the papers, ignoring the men. You can feel the tension in the room though. They seem to be locked in some sort of silent fight, over what you can’t tell. A fight over ruining your train of thought is possible, but you can’t imagine that making you useless was a great idea.

“Well, (L/N), I’ll see you later. Don't be a stranger,” Officer Morris says before leaving.

—

“Oh, I call shotgun!” You say as you open the passenger door.

Hotch slides into the driver's seat. “As long as you don’t touch the radio we’ll be fine.”

Before the two of you can leave the parking lot, there’s a knock on your window. Hotch is quick to lock the doors. You frown when you see it’s Officer Morris. He seems to be everywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t fit the preliminary profile, you’d assume he was the unsub.

Rolling down the window, you ask, “ Was there something you needed, Officer Morris?”

“I heard you were headed to see the Willows and I figured I should come with. They’re grumpy and old so they don’t take well to strangers. I actually happen to know them quite well and am off duty now.”

You glance at Hotch, unsure of how you should shut Officer Morris down. Hotch’s mouth is drawn in a thin line and his eyes are cold. You can practically feel the irritation coming off him and you turn your gaze to the clock. Staring at the time seems like a better choice.

“I think (Y/N) and I will be fine. We’re both highly capable agents who’ve dealt with difficult people.”

Morris smiles tightly. “I’m sure (L/N) is an exceptional agent, but I can assure you that these aren’t your ordinary grumpy old people. We got a call once that Mr. Willow tried to shoot the mailman when he got too close.”

You hear the leather squeak as Hotch’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. He’s getting far more than irritated. In fact, you’d venture to say he was getting pissed. It wasn’t hard to tell why. Morris is wasting your time.

“Aaron is a more capable agent than I am!” you blurt out. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll be off. Serial killers don’t wait around for us to find our clues.”

You let Hotch roll up your window and drive off. As soon as you start rolling, you see him relax.

“Man, he just won’t let up. Is there something I’m missing?” you ask.

“If he gives you any more trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

—

It finally hits you once Morris grabs your wrist. His grip is tight. You shake your hand a couple of times, but he still holds fast.

“I’ve been hoping that I could get a chance to talk to you alone, (Y/N). I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner.”

The whole time you had been here, Morris was hitting on you. You pride yourself on being able to read people, but you admit that your ability to spot romance is a bit lacking. Unfortunately, you have zero interest in going out with Morris. Not only is he being quite rude at the moment, but you had no intention of going long distance. Not to mention your lingering feelings for someone else.

“Well, given that we still haven’t caught the killer, I’ll have to decline. There’s no time to waste.”

His grip tightens even more before he releases you. His eyes are dark and he’s sporting a tight frown.

“Does Agent Hotchner not let you date?”

You stare at him in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Is Agent Hotchner interfering with your personal life? Does he dictate whether or not his team members can date?”

You shake your head. “No, he doesn't. This is a personal choice. I’d rather not go to dinner with you when I have a serial killer to catch.”

Morris says nothing, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. His animosity toward Hotch confuses you. You don’t bother trying to understand it, however. There isn’t anything about this guy that is making sense.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to my team. If you need anything, feel free to contact one of them.”

With that, you turn and walk back to the main room. You want nothing more than to have someone tell him off, but you opt not to mention anything. The team has other things to worry about.

—

Once again, Morris has done his best to ask you out. This time making the mistake of asking in front of Hotch. The tension in the room grows thick, and you feel uncomfortable. You can see Hotch seething.

“I don’t think-“

You’re cut off by Hotch. “You are to leave (Y/N) alone for the rest of this case, Officer Morris.”

His voice is icy. There’s a vein popping in his forehead and his hand is tight on the file. There’s no one else in the room to stop the fight that’s about to break out.

“(Y/N) doesn’t need to date whoever you approve of Hotchner. You’d be stepping out of your boundaries by making that choice.”

Hotch strides over to where you’re standing. He tosses the file onto the desk next to you and grabs your face. Within milliseconds, he’s pulled you into a kiss.

His lips are chapped and you let his tongue enter your mouth you can faintly taste blood. He’s passionate about it. One hand reaches around to the back of your head to keep you in place. There’s more force than necessary, and you feel yourself growing light-headed.

You don’t know how long he’s kissing you for, seconds or minutes, and it doesn’t matter. He’s set a fire inside of you and you find yourself whining when he pulls away. He’s careful to keep you close though.

“If you don’t mind, Officer Morris, (Y/N) and I will be leaving.”

—

Aaron pins one of your legs up against your body with the other wrapping around his waist. Your ankle is behind his head and you feel sweat fall from his brow.

“Why didn’t you tell him off sooner?”

You can’t answer his question with anything but a moan. You arch your back as he continues to pound you. Your body craves him and you feel delirious. The only thing you can think about is the way he’s making you feel.

“I could’ve done more to you in that office, but he doesn’t deserve to see you like that.”

Each thrust of his hips punctuates his statement. You can’t even tell what he’s saying though. The only thing on your mind is him. The way he’s filling you up. The way he feels inside of you. The way that each thrust hits that sweet spot makes you moan.

“A-Aaron!” you cry out.

His lips press harshly against yours. With one final thrust, you come undone. Your fingers grip his bicep tightly as you cum and you feel your legs tremble. You’ve been doing this for hours, and you’ve lost count of how many times that was.

When he pulls away, his face is soft. There’s no more anger or jealousy hidden in his eyes and a smile is slowly spreading across his face.

“You aren’t hurt are you?”

You giggle and shake your head. “Just a little out of practice for this. I’ll be a bit sore later but otherwise fine.”

His next kiss is soft and tender. You relish the fact that you’re spending the night with him.

“Good because when we get back to D.C. I’ll have to show you a different side of this. Perhaps after dinner?”

You let your eyes flutter closed. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch smut

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deakyjoe · 5 months

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me: Tea For Two Deleted Scene

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (she/her, “Sarge”, British, backstory)

Category: coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Your lieutenant joins you for a cup of tea.

Warnings: tension, banter, flirting, mention of dead hamster, mask is off, domestic Ghost (he sits and has tea), Ghost doing normal things (he sits and has tea), British terminology/slang

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF SOMEBODY’S WATCHING ME!! 🥳🥳 I cannot believe I started it so long ago, it’s crazy. This is for everyone who has read, enjoyed and supported me along the way. This takes places directly after the first chapter.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

The door of your flat creaked open, accompanied by the awful sound of your keys falling out of the lock and crashing to the floor uncermoniously. You winced at the sound but said nothing, sticking your foot out to prevent the door from slamming closed again right onto your face. You didn’t need a broken nose right now. The hinges were loose but you couldn't be bothered to tell your landlord, or fix it yourself, since you weren't even living there most of the time.

You stepped into your flat quickly, ushering your lieutenant in behind you. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Ghost went to close the door behind him but stopped when it just swung shut by its own accord.

"Very humble." You re-iterated. It wasn't the Ritz, that was for sure.

He made no comment on the state of the door, despite clearly having some thoughts if the slight frown on his face was any indication.

"You live alone?" He asked, taking a nice long look around at your flat. You wondered if he was judging the trinkets scattered all over the place and the lack of real decor.

You nodded, shrugging your coat off of your shoulders and hanging it over the back of a chair. "Yeah. Used to have a hamster but he died a few months back."

You missed Señor Duncan.

He blinked at you slowly and said nothing so you rushed off into the kitchen with your bags clasped tightly in your hands to make the tea and avoid further awkward conversation. You tried desperately to come up with a new topic to talk about when you got back to him.

But he had other ideas. As you turned to get the milk out of the fridge, Ghost was stood in your doorway watching you.

"You can sit down, lieutenant." You assured him, not needing him hovering as you made the two cups of tea. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He took a moment to answer. "Here to make sure you make my tea right."

You scoffed. "I know how you take it, sir."

The double meaning of that statement hung in the air between you for a few seconds.

"I've seen you make tea about a million times on base so..." The clarification probably didn't help you. In fact, it made the previous sentence even more glaring.

"Okay." He nodded. "I trust you."

The way he said it wasn't convincing.

The kettle clicked behind you but you ignored it.

"Got any biscuits?"

You shook your head. "Nothing you’ll like, no."

"Hmm."

"Sorry." Your jaw clenched tight.

"Don't be sorry."

You broke off the staring contest that was happening between you, knowing he'd probably win in the end anyway, and turned around to actually make the two of you a drink.

The thought that this may have been a bad idea plagued you as you watched the teabags drown in the boiling water. You were just trying to be friendly. Maybe friendly with your lieutenant wasn't good. Although, he agreed to come. So some of this was on him.

Ghost was silent behind you but you assumed he was still there. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, the hairs on your neck and arms standing up on end. When you were done, you turned to find him stood a lot closer to you than he had been just a minute or so prior.

His hand was stretched out ready to take the mug from you. "Thank you, sergeant."

"You're welcome, lieutenant." You croaked back at him, unprepared for how close he was. You could smell him, the distance was that small. You begrudgingly admitted to yourself internally that he smelt nice. Of course he did. You avoided looking at how his hands enveloped the cup you'd handed to him. "Umm, living room?"

“Not going to put your things away?” He lazily gestured at the bags sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Oh… it can wait a while.”

He nodded and followed you as you swerved around him, mouthing oh my god to yourself as you walked away. In the lounge, you settled on the sofa and were not surprised in the slightest when he chose to sit in the other chair, his large frame consuming the cushions almost completely. He looked comical.

There was a brief moment of tense silence between you and just as you opened your mouth to say something, say anything, he cut in.

"Want a chocolate digestive?"

Your teeth clicked shut. "Uh, sure!"

Sipping on your tea to hide your face behind the mug at the way-too-upbeat tone of your response, you burnt your tongue on the scalding liquid. Luckily, your lieutenant was too distracted by pulling the pack of biscuits out of the carrier bag at his feet that he didn't take any notice of you.

When he held out the packet to you, you tentatively took one and started nibbling on the edge. You were really unsure of what to do with yourself. Think. Just think of something to say.

"So, what does Lieutenant Simon Riley do for fun when he's on leave?"

Idiot.

"Not this." He grumbled.

"Not what?" Of course he didn't do this, this was the first time this had happened.

"Socialising."

Oh.

"Then why did you agree to come here?" You asked, frowning. Seemed a bit silly to you honestly.

Ghost said nothing, just stared back at you.

So you filled the silence by rambling. "You didn't have to. Just because I asked you to. Don't feel forced or anything. I mean, like, you never listen to me in the field. So why is it different out here? Don't think you have to be polite. I'm a grown woman, I can take no for an answer."

"Christ, you talk a lot."

You frowned. "Sorry."

"Between you and Johnny I don't know how I don't get more headaches."

"Charming." You snapped back despite the pull of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

He continued on. "Without the two of you I'd get some silence once in a while."

"How boring."

"How peaceful."

"Overrated.” You waved your hand in a dismissive motion. “I think a couple of hyper sergeants are a lot more fun."

"If you'd like." He took a mouthful of his tea and you wondered if he was hiding anything behind the cup. A smile, a smirk, just something. Probably not.

You decided to pry. "You never answered my question."

He sighed. "What question?"

"What do you do when you're on leave?"

"What do you imagine I do when I'm on leave, hm?" He evaded the question by shooting back one of his own. Tricky bastard.

You shrugged. "Mope at home all day probably."

"Mope." He repeated back to you.

"You seem like a moper."

He didn't reply.

"I think it's a fair assessment."

"Based on what?"

You barked out a short laugh. "Based on everything!"

"For all you know I could be the life of the party when on leave." He drained the rest of the tea from his mug in a few steady gulps, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Your mouth hung open for a second as you watched.

"You just admitted you don't like to socialise. Or like how loud me and Soap can be. I seriously doubt you're the life of any party." You deadpanned, noticing how your cup was still mostly full.

"Should I take offence to that, sergeant?" He asked, resting his own cup between his knees.

Your eyes flickered down towards it. "Didn't say it was a bad thing necessarily."

"But it can be?"

"If you're boring in general, I guess."

"I see."

Your back straightened in defence. "I'm not calling you boring, sir! In fact, I think you're rather interesting. I was just saying it can be bad if you are always boring. Which you are not."

"This might be my cue to leave, you don't seem so sure." His head tilted to the side. "Very enthusiastic to prove you don't think I'm boring. Too enthusiastic."

"That's just my general demeanour."

He nodded. "I'm aware."

"Now I feel like I should be insulted."

"And why's that?"

"You seem disgusted."

He repeated your words back to you. "That's just my general demeanour."

So you did the same. "I'm aware."

"Hm, clever." He grunted, glancing down at the empty mug. "I should probably go."

"If you want." You watched him shift in his seat.

His eyes shot back up to meet yours. "Kicking me out, sergeant?"

"No. Just not going to insist that you stay if you want to leave."

He nodded and looked around the room. "You should get another hamster."

What an odd thing to say.

"Why?" You questioned, putting your cup down on the coffee table and gesturing for him to do the same.

"You're a social creature. Could probably use the company."

"A social creature. Gee, thanks." You rolled your eyes at him. "I have friends, y'know?"

"Seen 'em since you've been home?"

"Haven't had the opportunity yet." You mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

"Mhm." He hummed, not needing to say anything to get his point across.

You didn't even bother responding, what good would it do? You just watched him rise from the seat and pick up his plastic bag of stuff, following him when he started towards the front door.

Neither of you exchanched pleasantries as you opened the door and held it open with your foot, you didn't need to pretend that this was anything less than awkward and slightly odd altogether. There was no oh this was nice we should it again sometime. The exchange was very short.

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

"No, I don't live too far."

"Okay."

Silence.

Tense silence.

"Goodbye, lieutenant."

"Goodbye, sergeant."

And then he was gone.

A/N: thanks for reading!!

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sluttyten · 2 years

Text

Teddy Bear

Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist

Day Twenty-Three: Size Kink w/ Jeno

Words: 5,652

Summary: Jeno’s a muscular guy, you’re a short non-muscular girl. He thinks that’s adorable. You’re obsessed with how hot, big, and strong he is.

You met Jeno at the gym.

You were trying something new, and that meant moving to Seoul to start a new life. You had a decent grasp on the language, had a strong interest in the culture, and when life gave you a reason to go explore more of the world than just your own little part of it, you’d taken the chance.

Seoul was big and beautiful. There were new experiences to be had.

But the thing was that all of those things required money, so you went searching for a job and found one working as a cleaner at this gym.

You were mostly there late at night in the off hours, though the gym was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, all year. You sanitized equipment, wiped down mirrors, laundered towels, all of the boring things. But it paid, the hours were flexible, you met interesting and attractive people, and you had the opportunity to improve your grasp of the language.

Jeno was a client, though not one that you encountered much in the beginning.

When you first began, he was coming in the early hours of the day. It was only several months into your time working there that you first met him.

He was just back from being overseas (not that you knew it at the time), and re-adjusting to the time difference had Jeno full of energy at a late hour. Shortly after one o’clock in the morning, to be exact.

In that blurry time between Sunday night and Monday morning, there was no one using the gym. Even the one creepy regular old man that sometimes hung out at odd hours wasn’t there. It was just you, the night desk manager, and a bunch of rags as you wiped down and sanitized all the weights in the weightroom. For the moment, you were perfectly alone, humming along to the music playing quietly from your phone.

You didn’t hear Jeno come in at first. Only once you looked up in the mirror to your right after catching a glimmer of movement, did you actually notice him. He was at the other end of the room, minding his own business, so you decided to do the same, though you couldn’t help watching him from the corner of your eye.

He was handsome.

He worked out quietly, focused on just burning off his energy.

You finished wiping down the weights, but by this point, Jeno had begun grunting a bit as he worked out. Maybe you started over with wiping down the weights, spending more of your time watching him through your eyelashes than actually paying any attention to the weights in your hands.

It was exactly your lack of attention that caused you to drop one of the weights, slipping through your fingers to crash loudly to the floor. With your foot right beneath it.

“Shit!” You cry out, dropping to the floor to cradle your throbbing foot.

You forget about the handsome man in that moment, your only thoughts for your foot and the worry that you may have broken it.

But then he’s right there. So close to you as he moves the weight away from you, asking something in very rapid Korean that your pain-flooded brain can’t comprehend in the moment. Whether he realizes that you’re not understanding him or if he’s just concerned for you, he brushes your hands away.

Maybe you shouldn’t just sit back as a perfect stranger unties your shoelaces, as he pulls the shoe off your foot and peels the sock down. You probably shouldn’t let him touch your bare ankle with his surprisingly cool fingers, and him touching your foot to roll your ankle doesn’t necessarily seem like the most proper thing either.

When you hiss a little in pain, he looks up at you again. For a moment, you’re startled into silence.

He’s really handsome.

“Hi,” is the weak word that comes to mind, the first one from your lips.

He smiles. “Hi. Are you okay?”

You nod even though that’s not entirely true. You slip into Korean, now that your shock over the weight slamming into your foot has somewhat passed. “I’m fine. My foot hurts, but I’m alright. Thank you.”

His hand is still on your ankle, his gentle touch soothing the throbbing. “You might want to see a doctor, make sure your foot or ankle isn’t broken.” He looks away from you, back down to where his fingers rest, and he says, “You’re pretty small, what are you doing with heavy weights?”

He does sit your foot gently back down on the floor and he removes his hand from you, but he doesn’t move away. He just sits there, awaiting your answer.

You really shouldn’t be sitting here chatting with him. You have work to do, and you’re not sure that you wouldn’t get in trouble if the manager walked in and saw you talking with a patron. But, he’s charming with an easy smile and warm eyes, so you answer him and then you keep talking. Jeno is easy to talk to.

Eventually you both have to get up. An early Monday morning patron comes in, heading right for one of the weight machines, and both you and Jeno take that as a sign to end the conversation. He checks with you that your foot and your ankle don’t hurt too badly; he waits while you stand up, ready to assist if need be.

You’re short, so even once you’re standing, the top of your head comes just to his shoulder, and your face is level with his chest. You have to take a step back and still tilt your head back a little to look up at Jeno’s face.

He’s smiling as he says, “Be careful. I’m not always gonna be here every night to help you if you drop a weight.”

And although he says it, it doesn’t seem to be too true.

Only a few nights later, you’re in a different area of the gym around the same hour as the last time you saw him, and there Jeno is again. He scans the room as he enters, and when he sees you, he waves. He just runs on a treadmill this time, and you conveniently find something to wipe down near it. Jeno strikes up a conversation, and as he takes a break midway through his treadmill jog, he sits down on a nearby bike machine so he’s at eye level with you.

It happens again a few nights after that. Jeno appears, he works out for a little bit, and then he allows himself to be distracted and to be distracting. Neither of you get too much done, instead spending a while chatting with each other. And then another few nights after that, and again and again.

Frequently, Jeno teases you about being short as he watches you struggle to clean a piece of equipment far above your head or when he catches sight of the two of you together in the mirror.

“You’re so small!” He teases, slipping the cleaning rag from your hand, and he easily reaches up to clean the spot you’ve been struggling to reach. Or, “You’re adorably tiny,” he grins, laying a hand lightly on the top of your head while looking into your eyes in the mirror.

“I’m not small! You’re just big, Jeno.” You whine, snatching the rag back one night when he does this.

Jeno laughs, taking a step back to watch you resume your struggle. He folds his arms over his chest, observing you hopping up onto your tiptoes, arm outstretched to reach a splotchy spot high up on the mirror.

“Shouldn’t you be working out or something?” You pout, a little embarrassed and self-conscious about having him watch you hop uselessly. “Isn’t that why you have a membership here?”

“But you look so cute. I can’t just walk away.” He keeps watching, so you sink down onto your heels, turning to face him--more specifically, turning to face his arms crossed over his chest. They’re all you can really focus on when you look at him. The bulging muscles of his biceps are utterly distracting. He is big. Tall and muscular and you refuse to let your gaze dip lower down his body to the front of his shorts.

A few nights ago you caught a glimpse when you turned away while he was teasing you about being so small. There’d been a bulge in the front of his shorts, and it had taken great strength and mental fortitude to not gawk at the shape of his dick in his shorts.

Tonight it’s taking even more of you to not look.

You have to force your gaze up to his face, fighting the strong urge to look lower, struggling to not let your gaze stick on his arms either.

“Jeno, I really think you should go. My manager was irritated the other night that I only got half the job done on time.” It’s a half lie. Your manager had noticed you’d only gotten part of the cleaning list done, but he was somewhat lazy and didn’t really care what got done. But you need to put some distance between you and Jeno tonight before you do something risky.

The way he cocks his head to the side right now and smiles at you helps nothing.

“Do you want me to go talk to him?” Jeno asks, and he pulls his arms from his chest only to hold them up on either side, somewhat obnoxiously flexing. “I’m not distracting you from cleaning. If anything, I’m helping.”

Now, that’s not true at all. He’s a big distraction and only a little help.

“Jeno.” You reach out, pushing his arm down, but it doesn’t budge. He doesn’t look like you push his arm down even bothers him in the slightest. For a brief moment, the thought of arm-wrestling him and how badly you would lose flashes across your mind. You wouldn’t even stand a chance against him; your hand would be flat on the board as soon as the challenge began.

“Oh, alright,” Jeno crinkles his nose. He lowers his arms down to his sides, but your hand still rests lightly on his forearm. You don’t move your fingers away, and neither does he move away from your fingers. “I’ll go, but on one condition.”

“Hm?” You absentmindedly trace your fingers along one of the prominent veins in his forearm.

When Jeno’s hand comes up to cover yours on his arm, you suddenly realize what you’re doing with a jolt. You start to pull your hand away, but he presses down, holding your hand against his arm.

“Let me take you on a date. Somewhere outside of this gym where we can talk without the smell of sweat lingering in the background.” Jeno smiles. His hand feels a little clammy against yours. Is he nervous right now? “Can I take you out to dinner?”

You nod at first, speechless, but soon you find your voice. “Yes, Jeno. Dinner sounds nice.”

The dinner comes at last about a week later.

Jeno’s only ever seen you before at the gym, so you’re nervous, worrying about what he’ll think when he sees you tonight. What if he expects you to be and look and dress totally different when you’re not wearing the uniform you wear to clean the gym? Of course, you’re going to look a bit more cleaned up, more refined for the date. You put on some makeup, some cute clothes, but what if Jeno’s expectations are still higher?

But of course he thinks you look beautiful. He compliments you several times throughout the date, can’t take his eyes off of you, and tells you again that you’re really pretty.

Afterwards when he’s walking with you down the street outside the restaurant, Jeno tentatively holds your hand. He starts out with his pinky finger rushing along the side of yours (electric), and then his fingers slip over your palm (like fire eating through you), and then he slides his fingers through yours, fingers overlapping the back of your hand (like devastation, it’s so simple).

You squeeze his hand right back, loving the way your hand feels so small in Jeno’s.

It’s just him holding your hand, but your heart pounds with it, and his palm is clammy again. You like to think that maybe Jeno is just as nervous as you are, just as exhilarated by your hand in his.

The date ends with a kiss, and you think it’s so silly that you’re head over heels for him, that you’ve got deeply sexual feelings for him, but just a chaste peck to your lips leaves your head spinning as Jeno walks away.

The next night he’s at the gym again, and he gives you your distance to work. He’s all flirtatious glances in the mirror, and teasing comments any time you come close to him. You’d come in early which means you get to leave early, and the moment that your shift ends, you’re clocking out and gravitating toward where Jeno’s finishing up his workout.

“Hi,” he says, eyes turning into half-moons as he smiles at you in the mirror. “I promise I’m almost done. I don’t mean to be a distraction.” He’s teasing, but actually it’s a rather serious issue how much he distracts you.

“It’s fine. I’m not working now, I just clocked out.” You sit down, folding your legs in front of you, resting your elbows on your knees as you watch him. “Now you can be as distracting as you like.”

Jeno laughs. “So you’re just going to watch me?”

You nod. You like looking at him, can he blame you?

Again, there’s no one around tonight. Even the night manager is slacking off, asleep at the front desk. It’s just you and Jeno, you watching him as he does some pull-ups shirtless.

You can’t help ogling him a bit, but you can tell he likes it, that he’s showing off a bit. His abs flex, his arms strain, and all the while you can only look on in lustful awe. The band of his shorts keeps slipping each time he pulls himself up, exposing more and more of the band of his underwear.

Eventually, Jeno drops flat to his feet, wiping at his damp forehead as he walks nearer to you. His muscles bulge as he approaches, and his shadow falls over you, covering you entirely, and you just feel so tiny in the moment.

“Hey, shorty,” Jeno teases, holding his hand down to you. “Do you want to train a little?”

You don’t necessarily. You would much rather watch him than anything else, but his easy smile and his offered hand make the temptation too difficult to resist. Jeno’s hand is solid and strong around yours as you slide your hand into his. He pulls you to your feet like it’s nothing, drawing you in at the same time so you bump into his chest.

His chest is bare beneath you, damp with sweat, warm and vibrating with the sound of his voice as Jeno says, “Training or should we get out of here?”

That makes your heart pound anew. “And go where?”

“My place, your place. Anywhere.” Jeno places a hand on your lower back and you swear his hand covers the expanse. You can feel his dick against your belly, not that he’s hard, you can just feel it there because of how short you are and how you’re pressed against him and he feels big and you suddenly feel so overwhelmed with need for him, to be made to feel even smaller in his arms, in his bed, with him inside you.

You nod, your mouth suddenly dry. “I think anywhere would do, if I’m being honest. I just…. I want you, Jeno.”

The most you’ve shared up to this point is one chaste kiss, lingering touches and longing glances. But you can see that wall cracking now, the modesty falling away to leave the path clear for you to bring Jeno into your bed.

He smiles. “I want you too. But are you sure?”

Jeno lifts a hand to gently brush a section of hair back from your forehead. He’s so careful with you, and his eyes dart around your face, following the path of his fingers or watching the flutter of your eyelashes when you blink. The way he touches you is like you’re a butterfly, so fragile between his fingers.

“I won’t break, Jeno. I’m small, yes, and I’m short, but I’m not made of glass. I’m more like a teddy bear, squeezable even though I’m small.” You cover his hand on your face with your hand, leaning your cheek into his touch. “I like that you’re bigger and stronger than me, that when I look at you I kind of wonder if you might crush me if you were to hug me too tightly. I want you.”

“I’m not going to crush you, shorty,” he teases. “But let’s go before it gets to be too early or too late. Before we have people coming to look for us.”

“And where are we going?” You ask as Jeno turns and starts walking, his hand clasping yours once more to lead you along behind him. “Mine? Yours? The nearest closet?”

You’re only joking, but Jeno pulls you along right behind him into the men’s locker room. when he catches sight of the look on your face, Jeno laughs and presses at your shoulders until you sit down on a bench.

“Not here.” Jeno grins, looking around at the locker room. “We can go back to mine. But I’m going to shower off quickly before we leave, is that alright?” He runs his fingers through his hair.

He doesn’t strip in front of you, but once he walks over to the shower stalls on the other side of the lockers, you can still catch a glimpse of him in the gap between the curtain and the wall. The narrow sight of a sliver of skin growing as he bends down and peels his shorts and underwear all the way down behind the curtain. You try not to look, but your gaze simply won’t pull away. You catch glimpses and flashes and at one point you swear Jeno catches you looking before he turns his back.

Your imagination wanders while Jeno showers. You imagine getting up, crossing the tile floor to the shower, pulling back the curtain to step inside and join him. You imagine what it’ll be like when you get to his place. You imagine tasting the water droplets from his skin, his fingers sliding wet over your body.

You’re so lost in your fantasies that you don’t at first register Jeno turning off the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist before he steps out.

Of course he catches you staring now.

“Cute,” he says, coming over towards where you sit to reach into his locker behind you. He shoves his dirty clothes in, pulls out some clean ones. You turn your back to provide at least some sense of decency as Jeno pulls a pair of joggers on beneath the towel, and then he dons a fresh tshirt and a jacket.

When Jeno stands in front of you, holding his hand out for you to hold once more, you look up at him with his face all the way up there.

“Ready?” He asks.

“Just one last thing,” you reply. Jeno watches you climb up to stand on the bench you were sitting on. This puts you taller than Jeno, to his amusement. But when you lean down, placing your hands on both of his cheeks, he realizes what’s happening, and he tilts his head to meet your kiss.

It’s not the most romantic location for a real first kiss. Not that the chaste kiss after your date the other night didn’t count, but this one is your first genuine, deep kiss with Jeno.

He lets you control the kiss, taking it at your pen speed, kissing him in whatever way you will. But after a moment or two, Jeno wraps his arms around the backs of your legs. He pulls a little, fingers pressing in between your thighs, and you slide them apart, resting your weight back against Jeno’s hands. He supports you by the thighs.

You sink down as Jeno’s hands move, guiding your legs to wrap around his hips so that soon he’s standing there in the midst of the locker room, holding you up in his strong arms while you kiss him. Your ankles cross behind his back, arms folded along his shoulders.

“I think we should leave,” Jeno murmurs, “before I just end up sitting you down right here, having sex with you right on this bench.”

It doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

But you also really don’t want your first time with Jeno to be in the somewhat gross locker room of the gym.

“Take me home.” You draw kisses down Jeno’s jawline.

He lowers your feet back to the ground, and then you’re going, his hand fixed firmly around yours again, leading the way.

Jeno’s place isn’t so far away. You walk there with Jeno’s arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side, protecting you from the chill in the night. Dawn is approaching, and with it is the rest of your day. Normally you would be finishing up the last hour of your shift right now, you’d be thinking of heading home to shower and get in bed for a few hours.

You don’t know what the rest of your day looks like right now.

Presumably you’re going to have sex with Jeno, but then what? Will you sleep over? Will you skip sleep and just go get breakfast together? Or will he kick you out as soon as it’s over? You don’t really think it’s that last option. Jeno’s too nice for that.

His place is just a small one bedroom. There’s not much to see because he’s a single young man living alone. A little messy, a little barren in terms of furniture.

Jeno’s kissing you before he’s even got the door all the way open, backing you into his apartment so he can kick the door shut behind him. “So tiny,” he says against your lips, his hands holding onto your hips. Your knees hit the edge of something, and you stumble down to sit on whatever it is. “And clumsy. Do you need me to carry you, my baby?”

Right as you begin to protest to the idea of being carried, Jeno’s already lifting you. It’s like you weigh nothing, which you know isn’t true, but Jeno tosses you over his shoulder, carrying you like a fireman would.

“Put me down!” You laugh, slapping a hand against his back, but Jeno starts walking, holding you there over his shoulder as he moves towards the bedroom.

“I don’t think so.” Jeno pushes in through the door to his bedroom, and a moment later your back is on the bed, the ceiling above you with Jeno laughing as he falls over top of you.

You feel so, so small as he covers you with his body, as Jeno dips down to kiss you once more.

“I liked that,” you say in between kisses. Jeno makes an inquisitive sound, to which you reply, “You carrying me like that, like it was nothing.” You run a hand down his chest, the other down one of his arms, as you tell him, “I like when you show me how strong you are, and when you make me feel small and powerless.”

As if to enhance your feeling, Jeno presses his weight down on you, his arms pressing into the bed on either side of your head.

Yes, you think, this is what you like. The reminder that Jeno is bigger and stronger than you, it gives you comfort while also turning you on. It speaks to that primal part of you that longs for a protector, and you just know that Jeno would be a good protector, that if you pursue this relationship with him he’ll be protective of you.

And you like that. A lot.

Jeno seems to like it too, as far as you can tell.

When he pulls away from you, rolling across the bed while mumbling something about putting a movie on, you can see the outline of his stiff erection against the front of his pants, made more obvious once he turns on the movie to project onto the wall at the foot of the bed.

It doesn’t matter what movie he turns on, as soon as Jeno rolls back towards you, you reel him back into the kiss, just now with the added background noise.

Making out with him lasts for a little while longer, wandering hands of both parties dipping and exploring beneath clothes, the exchange of soft sounds of pleasure.

Jeno is the first to lose a piece of clothing when you lift his shirt over his head. He teases you about how you’re staring at him as he watches you running your hands over his pecs and his abs. But moments later when he demands the even trade of you losing your shirt, he stares at your chest just as much.

Clothes seem to melt away after that. Pants, your bra, socks, Jeno’s underwear.

You can’t contain a small moan when you see his cock at long last. You’ve imagined it at times since you first started talking with him at the gym, and expectation versus reality has never been so satisfying for you. Your imagined version of Jeno’s cock doesn’t perfectly align with reality, but it’s close enough that you can’t believe your luck.

Jeno’s above average, big in all the ways that matter. Big cock, big hands, big heart. At the moment, it’s his hands that take precedence as he helps you out of your panties as they tangle around your ankles. His fingers run up the inside of your leg, and he starts with just gently running his fingers along your slit.

You do begin to watch the movie to some extent as Jeno idly touches you. His fingers stroke between your pussy lips, just touching and teasing, playing with you until you’re soaking wet, and Jeno’s fingertips are slipping through your wetness, one fingertip prodding right there at your entrance.

Even his fingers feel big as he presses one inside you. Jeno just slowly strokes the long finger in and out of you, while you struggle to keep your attention on the movie. You’re interested by the plot of it, but what Jeno’s doing to you is far more interesting, and before long, as he gets three fingers stretching you open, you can’t pretend to watch the movie any longer.

You cum on his fingers, riding them as he continues to fuck you on them, your wetness dripping between his fingers.

He’a only just pulled his wet fingers away from you when he wraps them around his cock, and you watch Jeno start jerking off with your wetness as lube. He slicks his length with it, and you roll onto your side to watch, but even that grows tiring after a moment, the hunger inside you rearing up and ready to bite. So you make the move.

You sit up, throwing a leg over Jeno’s lap, you put your hands on his broad shoulders, pulling yourself forward until you’re hovering over where he’s still got his hand moving in his erection.

“Fuck me, Jeno. Need to feel your big cock.” You moan, dropping your hips down so you can feel him, just needing him inside you.

Jeno obliges, watching your face as he guides his cock right to your entrance, watching your face as you swirl your hips against the pressure of his tip before you press down, sinking slowly around his length stretching you open.

You can feel the stretch, can feel the tightness of his muscles as he holds back from thrusting up into your tight heat. You want to feel him unleash that power on you.

And to some degree he does.

The way Jeno holds you, wrapping his arms around you, pressing your chest to his, it makes you feel like he’s so much bigger than you, like you’re small and safe in his arms. His swollen cock inside you feels huge too as he begins to actually rock his hips off the bed to drive up into you.

You’re begging for it before you even realize. Both of you take on a brutal pace. You drop down on his cock as fast and hard as you can manage. Jeno it’s just simply pounding into you from underneath until your strength gives out. Your legs slide out from under your, and you collapse against Jeno’s chest, which must have been the signal he was waiting for as he immediately grabs your hips with both hands, fucking up into you with all of his jarring strength.

You’re not exactly sure when your orgasm begins. It seems to be a perpetual thing, something you slid into so seamlessly that it could have been happening for ages or have just begun, so constant in the level that you’re crying, muscles jumping under your skin. Your hips twitch in Jeno’s hold, jerking and rolling and twisting like you’re trying to escape the constant onslaught of pleasure.

Jeno’s cock feels like it’s punching in deep inside you, swollen and stretching your pussy to your limit.

“Big one,” you moan. Your fingers claw and clutch at Jeno’s shoulders, your mouth sliding along his jaw and over his throat. “Big.”

“Tight,” is his only reply. “You’re so fucking little, my baby. You like how big I feel inside you? God, can you even take it if I cum inside you?”

“I can take it!” You moan, the sound gurgling out of you, and you hide your face against Jeno’s shoulder. “I can take it.”

Jeno doesn’t let up on your hips, using his hold to bounce you on his dick like you’re nothing more than a toy for him to use. “I’m not sure you can take it, sweet girl. Your little pussy would just overflow with it.”

You start to whine in equal parts protest and arousal. You wouldn’t overflow with his cum, you’re not that little. But at the same time, you wish you would, so that you could watch Jeno’s creamy cum leak from your pussy.

Jeno’s laugh at your desperation turns into a moan as you clench around his cock. “Aw, shit,” he curses, and then he’s lifting you by your hips, pulling you off his cock to just plop you in his lap.

You think the sound of Jeno moaning is beautiful. It’s similar to the grunting sounds you’d heard from him the night you met at the gym, but these are so much better.

His hand works over his cock, cum spurting from the tip to coat your belly and his, the pearly cum glossing over his abs, glazing your pussy as it drips down.

Jeno sighs and drops his head back against the headboard of his bed, his hand falling away from his dick to rest on your thigh instead, trailing his damp and sticky fingers over your bare skin.

You don’t care about his sticky cum drying on your belly and pussy and thigh. You just lean in, taking Jeno’s face in your hands, and you pull his mouth to yours. You and Jeno kiss heatedly at first, working out the last bits of overwhelming lust you’ve been absorbed in for the last however long, until at last the kiss slows into something softer and gentler. Jeno holds you tenderly in his arms, slowly sinking you both down together so you’re lying pressed together in his bed.

Jeno squeezes his arms around you, drawing a small squeak out as he crushes you a bit to his chest. His lips leave yours to instead catch his breath and stare up at the shadows playing on the ceiling.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” He asks. “I won’t blame you if you want to leave either.”

“No,” you moan, turning your head against his chest. “I don’t think I could leave, even if I wanted to. I might as well stay here. Get in some quality time with you outside of the gym, maybe fit in another round or so before we really have to sleep or start the day. You really don’t mind me staying over tonight?”

Jeno laughs, teasing you with, “Why would I? It’s not like you take up much room.”

You sit up, shoving your hands against his chest, sliding yourself over top of him again. “Is that how you want to play it?”

Jeno grins, his hands covering yours on his chest. “It is, my sweet baby.” In an instant he somehow rolls things over so that you’re on your back beneath him, and you make a weak attempt to wrestle with him. You’re nothing compared to Jeno, and when he rolls you onto your side and sinks down behind you to spoon you, you give up the last of your strength to just sink into the warmth and safety, the strength of his arms wrapped around you.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs. “Sleep tight.”

You hum a little, settling down to get a little more comfortable. “Night, big boy.” You reach back behind you and him, managing to slap your hand lightly against his ass, which draws a laugh from Jeno.

Jeno snuggles you tight against his chest, sighing softly, curling around you like you’re his favorite teddy bear to help him sleep through the night.

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