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punkshort · 2 days

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i know who you are | 8. the return

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You help Joel recover from his injuries and you finally confront your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mutual pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, descriptions of wounds/injuries, some smutty situations but nothing very explicit, dare I say fluff?

WC: 8.2K

Series Masterlist

"Joel, wake up."

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

"C'mon. You gotta get up."

"Five more minutes," he mumbled.

"Joel," you tried again, your voice sounding so far away. Why did you sound so far away? "Joel, please wake up. I need you."

You needed him. Okay. For you, he would wake up.

His eyelids fluttered.

"Joel?"

Your voice didn't sound so far away now.

"Joel? Can you hear me?"

Fuck, his head hurt. His side hurt. Everything fucking hurt.

Then he remembered.

He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as his pupils adjusted to the bright light until he focused on you. You.

You were so pretty. So, so pretty, standing next to his bed with that little worried crease between your eyebrows, leaning over him. You didn't need to be so worried. Don't be worried.

Your eyes brightened when he saw you and he slowly began to recognize where he was.

He was back in Jackson. At the infirmary, in a bed.

You jumped up, calling over your shoulder for Nick and Tommy before turning back to him and grasping his hand.

"Are you in pain?"

He didn't answer. He just stared at you, dumbfounded, his brain struggling to catch up. He squeezed your hand and you gave him a shaky smile.

Tommy and Nick barged into the room and you dropped his hand. Nick began to take his vitals while Tommy tried to stay out of the way, but Joel's focus remained on you. He watched as you drifted around the room on autopilot, handing Nick instruments and supplies from a table, then disappearing out into the hall when he asked you to get some medicine he had no idea how to pronounce.

"What's your pain like, Joel?" Nick asked, reading the blood pressure cuff.

He opened his mouth to answer but immediately started coughing. Tommy twisted around to grab the water bottle next to the sink and Nick lifted it to his lips. "Slow," he reminded him, so Joel sipped slowly then sat back with a sigh.

He was so tired.

"Your pain?"

Joel took a deep breath and winced.

"Ain't great," he croaked, voice all gravelly. You came back into the room and handed Nick the medicine, giving Joel a reassuring smile. God, he missed you so much.

He heard Nick ask you to fill a syringe for him and Joel watched you work, your hands steady and your breath even as you concentrated on getting the dosage exactly right.

"Joel? Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" he asked in a daze, dragging his eyes to his brother.

"I said, what the hell happened out there?" Tommy was pressed up against the wall, making himself as small as possible while you and Nick worked.

"Ran into some raiders- fuck!" he exclaimed when the needle entered his skin.

"Sorry," Nick murmured before pulling it out.

"Where?" Tommy asked, and Joel shook his head.

"Not 'round here. Out in California."

Everyone in the room paused to look at him.

"You got this fucked up out in Cali and you made it back?" Tommy asked in disbelief, and Joel slowly nodded his head. "Fuckin'... how?"

Joel's eyes found yours again, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.

"Had a guardian angel," he said, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"The hell does that mean?" Tommy asked. Joel pointed to his pack on the floor.

"Side pocket."

Nick lifted the blanket covering Joel's bare torso so he could inspect his wounds, which had been freshly cleaned and patched up in his sleep. Then he heard the telltale sound of pills rattling in a plastic bottle.

"You found meds out there?" his brother asked, rolling the bottle around in his palm before handing it over to Nick.

"Mhm," was all he said, then watched as you looked over Nick's shoulder to read the label. Your eyes went wide with surprise then looked up at him.

Your lips parted like you wanted to say something, then your gaze darted to the other two men in the room and you decided against it.

"This probably saved you from getting sepsis," Nick said before placing the bottle on the small table next to his bed. "I'm gonna need to keep you here for a bit," and as Joel began to protest, Nick held up his hand. "Just for a bit, I said. Til you get your strength up and I feel confident you don't got any infection or serious internal damage. Then you can go home and recover."

You could see the turmoil in Joel's face. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be in the comfort of his own bed after a week of putting himself through hell.

"I'll stay here overnight, keep an eye on him and come get you if anything seems off," you said, and all three men paused to look at you in surprise. You shrugged and cleared your throat. "Unless you don't-"

"No," Joel said, cutting you off. His throat felt so tight all of the sudden. "Please stay."

Nick and Tommy exchanged glances before shifting around the room, gathering used instruments and picking up Joel's discarded, bloody clothes.

"I'll grab the cot for you," Nick said on his way out the door.

"Do you need anythin' from home?" Tommy asked and you quickly shook your head.

"I'll be fine."

Joel wanted to tell you everything, but he could feel himself fading. Another time, he thought as you rolled out the cot on the floor next to his bed. You turned off the light before he drifted off to sleep, finally being able to properly rest now that he was back with you.

It took five whole days until Nick finally agreed to let him go home. You stayed with him every night, only going back home to shower and get fresh clothes once a day. It seemed like he was always surrounded by Tommy or Ellie or Nick and there was never a good time to talk to you. He wanted to tell you why he did what he did, he wanted to give you some comfort. But any time the two of you were alone, it was always too brief or he was asleep.

Unbeknownst to Joel, you were struggling with the same issue. You wanted to get some time alone together so you could talk to him about everything you had a chance to reflect on while he was gone, but you knew it would likely be a long and emotional conversation and you really didn't want to do it at work.

There was so much that needed to be said, but the rare few minutes you had alone together you spent holding his hand or feeding him or gently wiping the sweat off his forehead and chest with a wet washcloth. You hoped your actions spoke louder than the words you weren't brave enough to say.

Nick helped you restock your first aid kit at home while Tommy got Joel settled back in his bed. You could hear them talking from the hallway, Tommy scolding his brother when he didn't listen to him and he ended up wincing in pain.

"So you're gonna want to make sure he takes this twice a day with food," Nick said, handing you a bottle of orange pills. "For inflammation. Til you run out, then he should be good. And this is only if the pain gets intolerable," he handed you a small baggie of four white pills and narrowed his eyes. "Use them sparingly, we don't have much."

"I know."

"He shouldn't need any more antibiotics but be sure to take his temperature throughout the day and push the fluids. If the numbers get over 102 for more than four hours, come get me right away."

"Okay," you nodded, hoping your sleep deprived brain was absorbing everything.

"Maria agreed to help out at the infirmary for the next couple days, so take as much time as you need. You know I can manage without you," Nick said, and you gave him a feigned look of hurt. "I can manage, I said. Doesn't mean I prefer it," he told you with a roll of his eyes and you had a stifle a laugh. Tommy stepped out of Joel's room and joined you at the top of the stairs.

"All good?"

"I think so," you said, looking back down at the pills Nick gave you.

"You need anythin', you just holler, sugar," Tommy said and you gave him a tired smile in return. The two men walked down the steps and saw themselves out while you filled a glass with water from the sink in the bathroom, bringing it to Joel.

"How are you feeling?" you asked him for what felt like the millionth time in a week.

"Not bad," he said truthfully. You handed him the water and although he wasn't thirsty, he still drank it because it seemed to make you happy and he really liked when you took care of him.

You shifted your weight and glanced around the room awkwardly.

"Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you a book or something?"

Joel smiled and dropped his gaze to the floor. You were so fucking cute and it was killing him.

"I'm good."

"Good," you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to find another reason to stay. When you couldn't think of one, you sighed and hitched your thumb over your shoudler.

"I'll be right next door and I'll leave the doors open. If you need anything or if you're in pain-"

"I know," he said, giving you a soft smile as you tried your best to not stare at his bare chest peeking out from the top of the sheets.

"Okay, then," you said, backing out of the room. "Good night."

You had no idea how long you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while your mind raced and your fingers tapped anxiously against your chest. You couldn't sleep. It must have been hours because the light flicking off in Joel's room felt like ages ago and you hadn't heard any shuffling since.

It's this bed, you thought to yourself. It was the first time in a long time you slept in your own bed and you just couldn't get comfortable.

Or maybe you were too worried about him, even though it seemed like most of his strength was back. The color returned to his cheeks and he was able to stay awake most of the day. Deep down, you knew there wasn't a need to be concerned about him at that point. In all likelihood he was out of the woods. But you still felt the urge to check on him. Just in case.

You slid out of bed and tiptoed quietly out of your room, walking the few feet to Joel's door and leaning against the frame. You tried to observe him from a distance but it was hard to see in the dark, so you crept closer.

He was sound asleep, his hands resting peacefully over his soft stomach, his lips parted ever so slightly as he lightly snored. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked at the other side of the bed. Deciding not to overthink it, you closed the door and silently made your way around the foot of the bed and slipped underneath the covers with a quiet sigh.

Just for a minute, you thought. You had just grown so accustomed to sleeping in his bed, that's all. But before you knew it, his steady breathing and soft pillows lulled you into a deep sleep.

The sun bled through the curtains, inching across the floorboards and slowly made its way up the sheets until it found your face, but you didn't wake. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the warmth underneath you, far too comfortable to bother waking up just yet.

Joel, however, had been awake before the sun even rose.

He had felt your arms wrapped around his waist at some point towards the early morning. He had managed to turn so your head rested against his bare chest while you continued to sleep so peacefully. It was far too tempting. He fucking ached for you for so long and to wake up and find you in his bed caused his heart to flutter wildly in his chest and all his blood to rush directly between his legs.

He had been doing okay. He was content with just holding you, feeling you, pretending things were back to normal, if only for a little while, but when you nuzzled into his chest and tightened your grip around his waist, he couldn't resist burying his nose in your hair and breathing in deep. He missed you so much it fucking hurt. It was torture, fighting the urge to pull you into him every day and crawl into bed with you at night. He knew it would backfire one day, all his pent up emotions. When Angie caught him during a particularly low point at the Tipsy Bison, drunk and sad and missing you so fucking much, it all blew up in his face. Kissing her was a mistake but he was just so goddamn lonely. He didn't realize how much he had come to depend on your touch to soothe him until he no longer had it.

He wouldn't make that mistake ever again.

He thought he ruined everything in one moment of weakness, but here you were, tucked safely into his side, sound asleep in his arms and he didn't even dare question what brought you into his bed because all that mattered was you were there now. And you made that decision yourself. You sought him out. You wanted to be with him.

Testing the waters, he carefully pressed a kiss on the top of your head, and when you didn't react, he did it again. Sliding his eyes closed, he dragged his lips a little lower, kissing your forehead while he savored the feeling of your breath fanning over his neck. Other than your fingertips fluttering slightly against his stomach, you still didn't move, so he kissed your forehead again. You were so warm and you smelled just like him that he quickly felt himself getting lost in his desire. His kisses became faster and more urgent, finally causing your breathing to change and your body to stir. He knew you were waking but he kept his eyes closed, too afraid of seeing apathy in the face that used to be filled with such love for him.

He was just setting himself up for more heartbreak but he couldn't seem to stop.

His lips traveled a little lower, pressing tenderly against your temple, bracing himself for when you would inevitably push him away. Maybe you weren't fully awake yet because you remained perfectly still, so he continued to take and take, his kisses becoming feverish as he brushed over your eyelids. God, he missed this so much. He missed these lazy mornings with you. They were rare, but on days neither of you had any other commitments you would lounge in bed for as long as your stomachs would allow, holding each other close, getting lost under the sheets.

His time was coming to an end now. Your arms loosened around his waist and soon you would realize where you were and who you were with and it would all be over. He breathed deeply, as if he could bottle you for later. Maybe his sheets would trap your scent. He really hoped they would. He could use another good night's sleep and having you at his side had always ensured that, but he could pretend as long as his pillow still smelled like you.

With his lips still roaming over your brow, you stretched your legs and let out a breathy little noise that made his cock twitch and his stomach tense. He kept his eyes screwed shut, hoping you would assume he was half asleep and therefore unaware of his lips dragging across your face. He didn't want to lie to you again but his heart could only handle so much rejection.

He felt your eyes flutter open, your eyelashes tickling his neck and he really should have stopped kissing you at that point, but it felt like he was spiraling out of control. Like his body had enough of constantly being denied what it craved.

You paused for a moment, giving your brain a chance to catch up. Figuring out where you were and why you were there. Any second now, you would pull away. He kept bracing for it, his heart thundering in his chest now that it knew time was running out, that this feeling of bliss was about to end and it was scrambling to hold on to every split second.

Thinking it would be the last chance, he kissed the corner of your eye and then your cheek. There was no way he would be able to pretend he was still asleep now, but he didn't care. He was growing frantic, his need for you overwhelming, even if this was all he could get, it would have to sustain him until he could figure out how to earn back your trust.

His eyes flew open when your lips pressed wetly against his neck. He froze, his mouth hovering over your ear, waiting to see what you would do next.

Then you did it again. Only this time, you sucked on a bit of his skin, leaving the beginnings of a red mark he would cherish for days.

Before you could blink, he rolled over, his body caging you in underneath him as he examined you with wide and hopeful eyes. You gazed up at him, your breath shallow and your lips parted as your eyes roamed over his face, taking in every freckle and every wrinkle up close. His beard was getting grayer in spots you hadn't noticed before, somehow adding to his appeal. His lips looked dry from the cold but his eyes looked bright and clear and the way the sun was beaming in through the window behind him, his messy curls sticking up every which way made it look like he was wearing a halo.

With a shaky hand, you reached up to thread your fingers through his hair. It was so much softer than you expected. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch. You watched his throat work as he swallowed nervously and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste the skin there again, so you did. Leaning up, your lips suckled at the spot between his jaw and neck, his pulse strong and fast under your tongue. A reminder that he was alive and healthy and finally back home. Your nails raked against his scalp and you sucked at his skin a little harder, a little more urgently, a little more desperately and then he was the first to break.

He whimpered.

He fucking whimpered and that was all it took for you to maneuver slightly under him and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him close.

Fuck. He was hard. You felt it in the loose confines of his sweatpants, bobbing against your center when you pulled him down further and it set something on fire inside of you.

You brought your other hand up to get lost in his hair, giving it a tug to pull his head back just a bit so you could angle your mouth over his and you latched onto him hungrily, the contact sending a jolt through your entire body. He slipped his tongue past your teeth and finally allowed himself to touch you, hand cupping your jaw at first, then dropping to grip your ass under the sheets before sliding up your shirt, rough fingers skating up your stomach, then brushing over your tightened nipples, drawing out a sweet little moan which he swallowed down eagerly.

He flattened his hand over your heart, leaving it there as he licked into your mouth, both your jaws pried open as far as they could go, as if you were trying to swallow the other whole. He could feel your heart pounding through your chest, like it was trying to break free and jump into his palm. Like it was saying here, take me, I'm yours. And if you were to untangle your hands from his hair and place one over his own racing heart, he had no doubt you would hear what it was screaming in his chest.

I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I'm so sorry, please forgive me.

And of course you forgave him. He was in just as much pain as you. Both of you had been mourning the same person without even realizing it.

And none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not in that moment, anyway. The two of you tangled together, the early morning glow from the sun washing over you, wrapping you up safe and sound in each other's arms.

You dropped your hands, abandoning his hair, nails dragging over his broad shoulders and leaving little red trails in their wake. His own hand slid down from your chest to grab your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him, forcing you to feel how hard he was for you. All for you.

His facial hair burned your chin but you didn't mind. In fact, it felt good. You chased the feeling, pushing your mouth even harder against him, wanting to make sure you would feel that burn for the rest of the day.

Then you heard a knock on the front door.

Joel didn't react.

Either too lost in the moment or unwilling to allow it to end. Your hands drifted lower, over his relatively smooth chest and over his ribs, your fingertips dancing over each one like piano keys, careful to avoid his wound.

Another knock, louder now, made you pause. Breaking free and turning your head slightly to the side to open your eyes, you tried to listen, but Joel's mouth just slid down your jaw, nipping playfully as he went before biting gently on your earlobe. You gasped softly, momentarily forgetting about the door, your back arching underneath him. His tongue flattened against the hollow of your exposed throat, his exhale tickled your skin and caused a wave of goosebumps to emerge and he smirked, tongue still lavishing your neck as his fingers dug harder into your hip, like he was afraid to let you go.

Now you heard the front door unlock and carelessly swing open, but Joel still didn't stop.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse. He only hummed in response, then his mouth latched onto your clothed breast, his tongue flicking against the thin material and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out because you heard Ellie's voice now, along with Tommy's, making their way up the stairs.

"Joel!" you said, firmer this time and pushing him back. His dark eyes snapped up to yours, his parted lips wet and swollen as he gasped for air. Thankfully, it sounded like they had tried the master bedroom first. You heard Tommy's heavy steps enter your bathroom before walking back out into the hall and it finally clicked with Joel that you were no longer alone.

"Fuck," he muttered right before the door swung open. He dropped his upper body to cover yours best he could, protecting your modesty even though you were still fully clothed.

"Shit! Sorry!" Tommy exclaimed, backing out of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut as embarrassment flooded your veins, tucking your face into Joel's neck to hide.

"What-" you heard Ellie say from the hall, then the door slammed shut, leaving just you and Joel. The two of you stayed frozen, his body still pinning yours into the mattress under the covers, legs still wrapped around his waist as you listened to Tommy and Ellie's hushed voices trail down the stairs.

"Fuck," he sighed again, dropping his head against your shoulder.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as the both of you slowly regained your senses. Your hands drifted lightly over his back as he nuzzled into your neck, and you were perfectly content to remain just like that, but unfortunately he pushed himself up on his elbows with a sigh.

"I should go see what he wants," he murmured, giving you a heated look that told you talking to his brother was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Okay," you squeaked, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it and instead sat up with a grunt. You pulled the covers back over you, the cool morning air prickling your skin now that you didn't have his body heat to keep you warm, and watched as he fumbled around the room for a discarded shirt. When his back was turned, he tried to subtly tuck his throbbing cock into his waistband, but you noticed and bit back a grin. Secretly, you were grateful for the interruption. As much as you wanted him, you needed to take things slow.

He walked down the stairs, his pace slower than usual as he favored his side with the wound. When his eyes met Tommy's in the kitchen, he saw the flash of guilt across his face for interrupting what was shaping up to be a really good fucking morning.

"Sorry," he said again, glancing quickly at the back of Ellie's head as she rummaged through the pantry for something to eat, completely oblivious to what they almost walked in on. "The kid let me in."

"Yeah, I got that," Joel grumbled as he made his way to the coffee maker and flipped the switch.

"Hey Joel, can I take this?" Ellie held up a box of granola bars and he nodded. She ripped into one and practically shoved half of it into her mouth. "How's it feel to be back home?" she asked with a mouthful of sticky oats. Joel made a disgusted face at the visual and she smirked at his reaction.

"Good," was all he said, turning away before the heat crept up his neck. It felt really fucking good to be home. "So what's goin' on?" he asked Tommy, who was leaning up against the kitchen sink.

"Couple of guys found some tracks this mornin'," Tommy began, and the hairs on the back of Joel's neck stood up.

"Tracks?" you questioned as you appeared in the doorway in a fresh set of clothes. Joel tried not to let his gaze linger on you, noting with a sick sense of pride that your neck still looked a little pink from his mouth, but it was hard. He should have just stayed in bed with you.

"Doesn't look like a big group," he said as Joel's face fell. "It ain't your fault-"

"They followed me here, Tommy," Joel rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"We'll handle it," Tommy replied calmly while you and Ellie sat down silently at the table to listen. "Shit was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Goddamnit," Joel growled angrily under his breath. "I shoulda been more careful. Stupid fuckin'-"

"Joel, you were passed out on the back of a horse," Tommy reasoned, "it's a miracle you even made it back at all. The tracks were a few miles south, I'm gonna get a group together later this mornin' and see what we can find."

"I'll go with you," he said but before Tommy could respond, you piped up.

"No, you're not."

Joel twisted around, taking in the alarmed look on your face. He held your gaze for a moment, your eyes pleading with him. Please don't. I just got you back. He immediately caved.

"Okay," he agreed, and you visibly relaxed with a smile. You desperately wanted to go to him, pull him close and thank him for listening to you, but your audience held you back.

Ellie glanced between the two of you with a knowing grin, finally sensing the change in the room.

"I wasn't lookin' for volunteers, anyway," Tommy said, breaking the heavy silence and pushing off the counter. "Just comin' by to tell you what's goin' on. We're headin' out in an hour, I'll stop by later and let you know what we find."

The coffee maker beeped and Joel grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. "Be careful out there," he told his brother as Tommy slid on his boots and swung open the door. "Don't do anythin' stupid."

"That's rich, comin' from you," he replied with a chuckle and Ellie snorted. Joel shot him a glare before he left, pouring coffee into each of your mugs. He took a grateful sip before bringing yours to the table and sat down. The both of you sipped your coffees in silence, eyes glued to the table while trying to ignore the obvious tension building. Ellie began to connect the dots and stood up.

"I should get going," she announced.

"You don't have to-"

"Stay and warm up a bit-"

She cut you both off. "I got shit to do. Homework and all that," she said, lying through her teeth as she headed for her boots. "Don't worry, I'll lock it behind me," she teased, slipping out the front door while your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.

"Jesus," you muttered and Joel had to hold back a laugh. He stared down at his coffee, the mug now half filled with the dark, steaming liquid as he struggled to come up with something to say. There was so much he didn't even know where to start.

"Oh! Your meds!" you exclaimed, jumping up from your chair to retrieve the little orange pills Nick gave you the night before. "He said you need to take these with food. Let me make you something," you told him while you shuffled around pots and pans, looking for anything to keep yourself busy.

He sat back in his chair and watched you move around the kitchen with ease. Pulling oatmeal out of the pantry, measuring it out, boiling the pot with water.

You looked nervous. The thought made him smile. He made you nervous.

Right as you turned the burner off and grabbed a bowl you felt his hands circle your hips. You sighed and couldn't resist melting against him, closing your eyes for a moment and resting the back of your head against his shoulder while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"Thank you," he whispered while pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear.

"It's just oatmeal," you whispered back. He swallowed and shook his head before planting another kiss in the same spot.

"No, it's not."

You knew what he was trying to say and it made your heart swell. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for staying. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

"You're welcome," you replied, your voice wavering a bit as you turned around in his arms. You laced your fingers together behind his neck and gazed up at him, examining every wrinkle and scar, fighting the urge to kiss each and every one.

"I love you," he said softly while his thumbs tucked underneath the hem of your shirt, searching for any bit of your soft skin he could find. "I know you can't say it back yet and that's okay. I just really needed to tell you."

You blinked back your tears and nodded, pulling him down to your level and slotting your lips together once again. He sighed as his shoulders relaxed and for the first time everything just felt right so you tentatively flicked your tongue over his lower lip. You felt him smile before he allowed you to deepen the kiss, your tongue slowly and deeply massaging his as he pulled your body closer, pressing you firmly against him.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest when you raked your fingers through his hair, your knees practically buckling at the sound. He walked you backwards until you felt the counter pressing against your back, his kisses growing hungrier and his fingers gripping your hips tighter.

"Your food's getting cold," you mumbled, turning your face towards the oatmeal cooling on the stove.

"Don't care," he said, his lips grazing over your throat. He missed you so much and now that he finally had you, he couldn't get enough. When he dropped to his knees, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans and his mouth ghosting over the apex of your thighs, you gasped and grabbed his hair, stopping him.

"I-I'm not ready for all that yet," you admitted as the warmth of embarrassment flooded your cheeks and chest. "I'm sorry, I know you've been waiting for so long-"

"Shh, it's okay," he said sincerely, then stood back up with a grunt. He cupped your face and gave you a gentle kiss. "I can wait. I'll wait forever, I don't care," he still cradled your jaw as he nuzzled his nose alongside yours.

"This is all I ever want, anyway," he whispered, and you smiled.

It was the first day of your fresh start.

Nick had offered you time off to care for Joel but it quickly became apparent as the day went on that he was doing far better than any of you expected.

He only had a little trouble going up the stairs so the two of you spent the rest of the day in the living room. You had thought he was going to try and nap so you busied yourself with a book, his head resting in your lap as your fingers absentmindedly carded through his curls while you read on the couch, the fire crackling next to you. It wasn't until you lifted your hand to flip a page when you noticed his eyes on you and you grinned.

"I thought you were going to try and sleep?"

"Not very tired," he replied, gently reaching up for your wrist and putting your hand back in his hair. "Feels real nice," he explained. You put your book face down, the spine spread open to hold your place, and began playing with his hair again.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"Did you go to my parents' house?"

Shit. In all the chaos since arriving back in Jackson he never had a chance to tell you.

"Yes," he said, staring up at you from your lap, watching as the shadow from the flames danced across your face.

"Is that where it happened?" you asked, your eyes traveling to the side where he was stabbed. He nodded and you sniffled, dropping your gaze to the floor. "I thought so. Because of the pills," you said quietly, "my name was on the bottle."

"I know," he replied, watching as your eyes clouded with guilt. He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"You got hurt because of me," you said, lower lip trembling. "If I hadn't been so immature we could've talked about it but instead I pushed you away and you almost died trying to prove a point-"

"Hey," he cut you off and sat up next to you, "it's not your fault, don't you dare think that, alright?" He cupped your face but you still refused to meet his eye. "I fucked up. It was on me, okay? I fucked up with Angie and I fucked up out there."

"You could've died," you said, two tears trickling down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs.

"But I didn't."

You took in a shaky breath and finally looked at him. "Don't do something like that ever again," you told him, an undercurrent of anger in your voice, and he smirked.

"Yes, ma'am."

He dropped his hold on your face and leaned back, stretching his arm across the top of the couch. "Can't deny it got results, though," he teased after a moment and you shot him a glare but he could see you biting back a smile. You picked up your book, leaning into his shoulder just a bit as you continued to read and he stared into the fire, his mind still reeling to catch up with how fast things changed. It felt like a dream.

"What did you go there for, anyway?"

Joel rolled his eyes. "It sounds so stupid now."

You put your book back down and twisted to face him. "I'm sure it's not."

With a groan, Joel pushed himself up from the couch and began to rummage through his backpack, which remained idle next to the door since the day before. You tucked your legs underneath you and watched curiously.

When he pulled out a familiar looking binder, a faded beige color with a black trim, you could have sworn your heart stopped.

"I wanted to give you somethin' that you would recognize. Somethin' that felt like home," he began, holding it out to you. "Maybe bring you some comfort or... I don't know. Like I said, it sounds stupid now."

"No," you whispered as you carefully took the album from his hands. "Not stupid, Joel." You pursed your lips as you stared at the cover, your fingertips gently skirting over the fabric. Your family was right in your lap. So many wonderful memories... right fucking there.

The tears welled up without warning and began to pour down your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah," you said, laughing through the tears. "You... you gave me my family back, Joel. How-" your voice cracked and you averted your gaze, doing your best to compose yourself but you knew it was no use. "How could you think this was stupid? This is everything to me."

He gave you a shy smile and shrugged. "Then it was worth it."

He had been listening to you for the better part of an hour as you walked him through each photo in the album and his only regret was he wasn't able to stay long enough in California to find more pictures. He loved hearing you talk about your family, about your childhood, about everything you loved. The look on your face and the tone of your voice was all he ever wanted. You were so fucking happy, so content and at ease that he knew without a doubt if he had to go through it all over again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"Oh my god, so this was taken the day Matty tried to teach me to surf," you said with a giggle, dragging his eyes from your face to a picture of you and your brother on the beach in wetsuits. "He had learned in college because he went to school on the coast. I told you that, right?"

"Yep," he said with a warm smile.

"Anyway, it went as well as you could imagine. I have no coordination whatsoever. I fell, like, every single time, no matter how small the wave... Oh! This must have been his graduation," you said, pointing to the next photo of the four of you all dressed up in front of a regal looking building. "He was so smart, Joel. He was going to be a chemist. Who does that? Who majors in Chemistry? I absolutely hated chem," you said with a shake of your head. Your eyes hadn't stopped shining since you opened the album and the smile never left your face. Your gaze softened and you quieted down as you stared down lovingly at the pictures, your fingers tracing over them delicately. Occasionally you would tell him a story and other times you would grow quiet and thoughtful. He sat by your side and just listened, letting you work through your feelings and memories at your own pace.

"I miss them so much," you eventually said softly.

"I know," he replied, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Thank you, Joel," you said, voice thick with emotion when you turned to look at him. Your eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears, and he saw your throat bob when you swallowed tightly. "This means so much to me, I don't know how to put it into words."

"You're welcome, baby," he told you. He pinched your chin and leaned in to kiss you when a sharp knock sounded from the door.

He stood with a frustrated huff and you hid your smile, setting the photo album down on the sofa next to you.

"Hey, come in," Joel said once he opened the door. Tommy stepped through and shrugged off his coat, locking eyes and giving you a nod. "What'd you find?"

"There were only four. Two of 'em were half frozen and the other two didn't have much fight in 'em."

You made a face and looked away as Joel led Tommy into the kitchen.

"Who were they?" Joel asked, and you heard the telltale sound of liquid pouring from a bottle. You stood and made your way towards the kitchen.

"Don't know," Tommy admitted, tossing back the whiskey. Joel gave him a refill right as you were entering the room. "We questioned the two that were conscious but they didn't give us much. Said they were alone. Said they were part of a bigger group that got picked off."

"The men I killed?" Joel asked, brow furrowed as he took a sip of whiskey.

"They didn't say, but they did tell us a few of their guys were out scavenging and never made it back, so maybe."

Joel nodded and you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.

"You think they were tellin' the truth? That there ain't any more of 'em?"

Tommy shrugged. "Didn't have reason to think otherwise. We scoured the area. Couldn't find any other tracks-"

"But the snow coulda covered it up," Joel offered anxiously. He scratched his chin, staring blankly at the floor while the gears turned in his head. "They probably followed the horse tracks and when the snow got to be too much, they lost their way. They were comin' for me, Tommy."

For some reason it never occurred to you that those men were looking for revenge. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Or they were just lookin' for someplace warm. You don't know, Joel. Besides, it don't matter now. It's dealt with."

Joel didn't look convinced but he kept his mouth shut, for your sake. He could tell he was worrying you and he had already put you through enough as it was.

"Listen, I oughta get back to Maria. I'm sure she's got her hands full," Tommy said after a brief silence. He handed Joel his empty glass and shot you a look. "Don't worry, sugar. We got this under control."

You gave him a tight smile and moved out of his way so he could gather his things.

"Thank you," you told him quietly while Joel rinsed out their glasses.

His eyes flicked up to yours as he laced up his boots. "Don't mention it. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen, I promise."

You wished his words brought you some comfort but you couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of your head.

"C'mon. Why don't you show me more pictures," Joel urged once Tommy was on his way. It was clear he was trying to get your mind off things.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna go to bed," you told him. He was in the middle of picking up your photo album when he paused and glanced up. His eyes scanned your face, clocking the anxiety you were trying to hide. He could tell you still felt responsible, even though he had insisted what happened wasn't your fault, and now the raiders following him back into the mountains just made matters worse.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," you replied, your voice sounding more confident as you tried to shrug off the bad feeling Tommy left. Your eyes flickered to his awkwardly. "Do you... need help getting up the stairs?"

He frowned and shook his head, too lost in his own head to pick up on what you were too nervous to really ask. "I'll be alright. Go get some rest, I'm gonna stay up for a bit."

After you went to bed, he tried to distract himself from the possibility he put the entire town, but more importantly, you, at risk. He poured another glass of whiskey and picked up a book, but he found himself rereading the same paragraph over and over for half an hour.

What a stupid fucking thing to do. He pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking himself for being so careless. Maybe he could convince you tomorrow to let him go out with Tommy. He trusted his brother, but he knew he would feel better if he explored the area himself. He knew he had to be careful. He made so much progress with you, he couldn't risk fucking that up, either, and based on the way you looked at him earlier, it was clear the prospect of him leaving Jackson again so soon scared you.

Warmth bloomed in his chest and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. The idea of you scared didn't please him, but scared for him? Well, that was different.

The way he woke up that morning still felt like a dream. Your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzled into his shoulder, your scent invading his senses. It felt strange for a split second until his memories came flooding back from a time when he woke up like that every single day and he foolishly wondered if you had finally remembered. Once you opened your eyes he knew instantly you hadn't, but somehow he was even more excited that someone as perfect as you found your way into his bed twice.

Bed.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before tossing back the rest of his whiskey. He was procrastinating now, tending to the fire one last time before dragging himself back to his empty bed. How was he going to sleep when he knew you were right in the next room? God, what he wouldn't give to curl up in bed with you.

He froze, the poker hovering in the air halfway towards the fire as he thought back to your words when you went to bed, now hours ago.

Do you need help getting up the stairs?

You sounded a little strange but at the time he just chalked it up to Tommy's news about the raiders. When you asked if he needed help, were you trying to get him to come up and sleep with you?

"Oh, you fuckin' idiot," he growled to himself under his breath before slotting the poker back in the stand. Was it too late?

He crept quietly up the steps, hoping to see your light on under your door but unfortunately, your room was dark. Shit.

Changing into his sweatpants, he mentally chastised himself for being so goddamn thick and missing his opportunity to go to bed with you. After he washed up, he paced around his room, anxiously chewing his nail and wondering what he should do. Should he just go to sleep? Should he slip into your bed the way you did the night before? Would you be upset if he did?

Just when he thought he was about to wear a hole into the thin carpet he heard a light tapping on his bedroom door. He froze and held his breath, wondering if he imagined it until he heard it again.

He rushed to the door and whipped it open where he found you standing in the hallway wearing a thin T-shirt and sweatpants of your own. You didn't look like you had just woken up, your eyes didn't look like they were clouded with sleep. You were waiting for him.

Your gaze darted quickly over his bare chest, like you were trying not to look but couldn't help yourself. His cock twitched, excited by the notion that you could be fighting your own arousal, same as him.

"Can I stay with you?" you asked, your voice impossibly small and fuck, his heart squeezed in his chest at how sweet you were in that moment.

"Yeah," he breathed, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He widened the door and stepped aside, watching as you slipped past him and curled up underneath his sheets.

Neither of you said a word. He just flicked off the light and slid into bed beside you, turning onto his side and pulling you against him. His face nuzzled the back of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist and he heard you sigh. He held you close and with tears in his eyes whispered how sorry he was, how he would never hurt you again, how he was weak and stupid and he loved you so much.

You didn't say much in return. Just the occasional nod or sniffle or squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement.

All of the stress and anguish from the past several months were the furthest things from both your minds as you fell asleep that night, each of you finally assured that everything was going to be okay.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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sh1-n0bu · 2 days

Text

✿ 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨 ✿

characters: jing yuan x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, bad attempt at humor, reader is immortal, established relationship, jing yuan being jealous, found family slightly in there, yanqing coming in at the wrong time pt19487288482877

notes: i have fed yall enough horny food. now its time for fluff food aka small dosage of serotonin. open wideeeee🚂🚂🚂

the constant noise of your irritated lover was something that you disregarded with little to no attention. you could feel it after all. that familiar feeling of your husband’s eyes boring into the back of your skull like the insanely heavy glaive he carries. it wasn’t exactly a common feeling to receive but on the moments that it happens, you could never forget the feeling.

you can just imagine it already. the pout pulling on the white haired man’s lips, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the impatient thumps of his feet rapidly hitting the floor as small sparks of lightning would float around him. of course, you can’t forget the iconic, “what about me?” puppy eyes he pulls.

“beloved” the deep baritone voice of jing yuan calls out, sounding way too serious for anyone’s comfort. if his soldiers that stand guard inside his office would still be around, they would be shivering in their armory from the sheer amount of unsettling feeling it brought. it wasn’t like that they have never seen their general angry or serious. it was just that, it rarely happens and so much fewer now since he was nearing his retirement.

turning around from what you were most greatly occupied with, you give him a few seconds of acknowledgment. finally, you were looking at him now. your eyes on him, the brightest stars he loved to gaze into even as the ever burning ones around him twinkles. you were always his favorite.

“jing yuan” you simply hum with a nod before turning back to what you were obsessing over. the loud dramatic gasp that comes from where your husband is barely fazes you, as you knew he was simply trying to get your attention. you knew your husband like the back of your hand and you knew for a fact that he wasn’t hurt as he shows himself to be.

“how dare you!” the man’s voice raises a bit, the sound of his steps sounding heavier than usual as he finally comes behind you to sweep you up into his arms. you immediately let out a soft grunt, feeling his strong arms tighten around you possessively as he refuses to let you go. instead, he pulls your smaller form flush against himself, face buried into the crook of your neck with a "hmph!". such a big baby you were married to.

"jing yuan, let go of me" you say, not bothering to wiggle yourself out of his grasp since you knew it would be an impossible task. your husband can be dangerously clingy and possessive at times and this was definitely one of those times.

"nuh.." your husband immediately rebuttals, shaking his face and proceeding to nuzzle his face further into the crook of your neck. deeply inhaling your scent, you could see his broad shoulders visibly relax and slump to indicate that he was calming down from his earlier mini temper tantrum. the two of you stay like that for a while. you, held captive in his arms as your husband takes his time to cuddle you close to himself. as close as fleshly possible. not even single moment for something else to wedge between the two of you, not even the cool air of his office. if there were to be the smallest bit of distance between the two of you, he would be extremely deprived of his already dangerously low level of [name] affections.

you had been away to the xianzhou zhuming for a business trip. as one of the most accomplished merchant and the head of the trade association, sometimes your work required you to move back and forth between places, worlds and even galaxies. and this time was no different as your business partner of long time in the xianzhou zhuming had come to a stalemate in their business there due to the ipc's recent dabbling in the xianzhou alliance's trading business. it had dragged on way longer than what you would've liked which also translated to an extended period of time of not seeing your husband, your son and daughter all together. a time away that your clingy husband took very badly, even worse than your son and daughter.

but not for you, as the first thing you did upon coming back from the trip and stepping in through the large doors of his office was to head straight towards your daughter - mimi. the large lion was sulking quietly in his office ever since you went away for your business trip, constantly pawing at jing yuan's clothes and whining for your presence. and upon seeing your face, she immediately pounced in your direction, wasting no time as she pushed you down into the hologram showcasing the large starchess board as she licked all over your face. an act of affection that you returned with a hearty laugh and kisses to her adorable fluffy face. an act of affection that your husband was very very very jealous of.

he was supposed to be the one to tackle you down and pepper your face in kisses and in return have his face peppered in kisses in return! not mimi!

and yes, jing yuan was jealous over his own fluffy daughter stealing his spouse away from him. blatantly, unabashedly, without shame was jealous over. which led to now, in you being trapped in his inescapable hold. really, the galls of this man.

"mmrrp? mrreeow?" mimi meows, butting her head against jing yuan's legs to get his attention while also making it sound as if she wanted the attention back on her again. it was tough having not one but two needy lions scampering for your attention.

"mimi, you have already had enough of their attention. now it's my turn with my own spouse!" jing yuan chides the lion softly, making her let out an irritated huff. mimi wanted her parent's attention but jing yuan also wanted his spouse's attention. it was a tug of war between the two lions with you as their unfortunate victim.

after many back and forths between the two lions, jing yuan had decided he had enough and decided to swoop you off of your feet. quite literally. the smug bastard had kicked your legs under you, making you fall back into a dip with a startled gasp. giving you an "i told you so" look, your husband cups your cheek in the palm of his hand before leaning in to place a fluffy of kisses on your face. cheeks, the bridge of your nose, forehead, chin, eyelids, lips - nowhere was free from the mercy of his kisses and jing yuan was going to make the whole world be reminded that you two were happily married.

"general! i heard that [name]'s bac-EWWWW!!!" the sudden barging in of you two's son is what finally separates you from his barrage of kisses. turning to look at his son, jing yuan makes a shooing motion with his hand - momentarily letting go of you cheek in the process - with mimi.

"me and [name] are busy right now, yanqing. take mimi out for a walk for an hour or two" the white haired man says without an ounce of shame, your breathless self still in his hold. reluctantly, yanqing does as told, calling mimi to his side to leave you two lovebirds be for some time. but not without one final word of advice.

"wait until back home at least, you two!!" and with that, your son and daughter were gone, leaving you both behind to have at least a small dose of affection that the both of you were deprived off of. with an amused chuckle at his son's words, he shakes his head before turning to you with his resting cat face. pair of golden eyes crinkling as mirth and devotion dance in them while his lips pull upwards into the genuine smiles he permanently has on his face whenever you were in his line of sight. all jing yuan could do was thank the reignbow arbiter and every aeons out there for granting him to be able to live in the same time as you.

"how i am blessed to be with you, my most beloved"

#nobu.writes #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail fanfic #hsr fanfic #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #jing yuan fluff #gender neutral reader

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arlertwhore · 1 day

Text

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you try to breakup with paige, but she apologizes the right way.

warning (s): smut, strap, nasty makeout sesh, desperate p (on my knees for her yo), body licking, nipple sucking, ab riding, strap riding, overstim, hairpulling. think it’s all.

word count: like 4k or sum?

author note: GUYSSS SEND ME REQQ im runnin outta ideas but they’re helping fr — omgosh i was kinda lazy w this one but 🤷‍♀️ we’re done soo enjoy!! Unedited again, based off req again, and written very late (again)

For a while now, Paige had sensed things were starting to change between you guys, but she never realized the full extent of it until you were laid out before her, prepared for her to claim what she'd rightfully believed belonged to her and just her.

In that moment and the moments that followed, she'd become immensely startled at how susceptible she'd become to the clear break from casuality your actions unintentionally endorsed. You most likely hadn't seen it that way -- you'd always harbored a tiny figurative crush on Paige from the beginning which you had confided in her friends about.

Paige was also well aware, notioned by your behavior during sex. You consistently praised her for being 'so fucking hot' and would go on fuck-drunk-tangets about how attractive you found her, or you'd occasionally steal a kiss from her whenever her lips were momentarily unoccupied during your hookups. She found your excitement endearing and trusted your ability to turn it off outside of the bedroom, which you always did. But for the first time ever, truly ever since you guys had fucked, which was countless times now, you had let your emotions overcome you, and you had kissed Paige in a way that was incredibly intimate, meant for real lovers.

Due to her occasional tiredness that sometimes prohibited the girl from leaving, she had spent the night, and the morning after, when you had both woke up interwined, naked with your bodies against each-other, you gave her a telling gaze before foolishly pressing your perfect lips against hers in a way that didn't require a genius in strictly physical relationships to realize that wasn't the moment for a kiss.

One thing about Paige, though, was that she couldn't ever resist you. She hated knowing so and wanted to fix it. In the same way you had a silly crush on her, she always held a small amount of an irrestible infatuation with you. If she didn't want to do something, Paige always managed to stop herself, but with you, she could never regain control or resist certain instances at particular times.

As most casual partners did, you two never kissed without it leading somewhere, and you were both aware of the limited time you guys had.

Yet, you spent a significant portion of that dwindling time passionately making out in bed like lovers, not pausing for a single moment to even catch your breath. It was undeniably intimate, passionate, and emotional, yet to Paige, it felt like another mistake, this time on your end. She knew you were very smart but chose to give you the benefit of the doubt. Due to her budding feelings, she chose to believe it could've just been her misreading the signs of the kiss and it could've been normal, just you being overly excited on accident, which happened to the best of us.

It could've even been you savoring your last moments with her before life resumed again.

You had been busy working and going to group study dates with your friends while Paige and her team traveled a city over to train at a renowned studio before their big game on the weekend, meaning she'd be gone until the next Tuesday, a week from your morning together.

It had been Thursday, a good ways through the week until Paige returned and until you had your off day booked, but you guys had not texted or called despite both thinking of each-other lots. All your friends, who previously didn't care about Paige, believing her to be nothing but a douchey-player-skeeze, finally cared enough to listen to your loss of virginity story. Every detail, from the precise strokes she gave you to her entranced demeanor at the state she'd left you in and the morning after story made them recognize the intensity and intimacy in the situation.

Some of them believed that Paige was breaking from her usual behavior, what they called her many 'laws', because she was starting to seriously like you, but the others thought it had been the opposite way around. They said she had gotten what she wanted from you and was done, seeing no point in caring about her rules at the end of the road. From the beginning of your involvement with her, they warned you that it was a trap designed to make you develop feelings before she eventually lived up to her player reputation and broke the heart of an innocent, never-before-loved girl. This topic sparked a heated debate among your friends, who relished the opportunity for debate. As they argued about whether Paige had fallen in or out of love, a grave realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

Before Paige settled down with you only, a choice she made on the basis of you being the only girl she was seeing who wasn't stress, drama, or complications, she was always transparent about her weekends after big games. If she had chosen to stay where the game was hosted for the weekend instead of coming back home to relax after a busy week, it meant she was getting with other girls. ou weren't by any means dumb. Paige was going to leave you; not for any of the debated reasons, but because she had likely realized the intimacy long before you had and was now prepared to escape. The kiss you initiated was spontaneous, and Paige likely knew this, choosing to begin a subtle breakaway. She'd start by making it clear she would be with other girls, not calling or texting, thus ghosting you, hoping your smart self would catch the hint.

And boy, you had. You broke down. On the kitchen floor, all your moments with Paige, starting from the beginning, replayed in your head in a loop. You remembered when you first met at the party, the way she looked at you, and how it felt when she kissed you. Then, there was the first time you two had sex. You recalled how nervous you were, and how she reassured you, alike the presumed, figurative and literal last time you had. You reflected on the first time you ever cried in front of her, upset at your grades and the first time she opened up to you about her struggles with wanting a normal life while also being committed to her career. It was a rare glimpse into her world, and it brought you closer together.

As these memories flooded your mind, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of longing and sadness for what was now lost.

Life had become unbearably stressful, and you found solace in Paige's company, perhaps subconsciously evading your stress by seeking her out. She was more than just a girl you were fucking ; she was a friend, someone you could turn to when you had no one else. But now, the prospect of experiencing her comfort again seemed uncertain, and you couldn't shake the feeling that it was all your fault for initiating this foolish ordeal in the first place. You were upset, feeling betrayed by Paige's sudden detachment. How could she just let you go like that? You felt dumb for ever believing she wasn't capable of it, despite her warnings. The exhaustion from juggling school, work, and studies had reached its tipping point, and you were overwhelmed by it all. Your thoughts swirled endlessly in a sea of self-doubt and despair. "My friends were right," you lamented. "How could I agree to getting used by her?" you cried out. Thoughts of your own perceived foolishness echoed in your mind. "I'm so dumb," you whispered to yourself, feeling like you had single-handedly ruined everything.

And in a fit of utter madness, you decided to text her, asking: ur stayin over the wknd? lmao i just realized that wtf? When an hour passed, her typical response span, you lashed out and texted: who are u fucking paige? All boldly. You never questioned it -- that was a rule. But who cared about breaking her rules at this point? You following them for this long had got you nothing but dumped and ignored like a piece of trash.

To your expentancy, Paige never replied and you texted her a long paragraph detailing your frustration with her. As you reached the end of your message, a sense of clarity washed over you. In a futile last attempt to take control of the situation, regardless of who said it first, with a heavy heart, you made the difficult decision to end things, recognizing that prolonging the pain was no longer an option.

Then, you got up, got dressed, and went to the gym. There, you released all your pent-up energy and had a chance to focus on yourself. Needless to say, you slept soundly after letting your emotions out, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders at chosing to prioritize your own well-being.

Paige's morning (and night) was a stark contrast to yours. While you wept, she was getting with a UCONN cheerleader after hours and drunk out of her fucking mind. She woke up at the side of a random girl while expriencing the worst hangover she had ever had, unable to recall the events of the previous night.

She stumbled from an Uber to her dorm house, feeling disoriented and sick. Upon returning home, Azzi noticed her state and confiscated her phone to retrace her night, only to discover a barrage of texts from you. Paige spent the next two days sleeping off her hangover, feeling utterly drained. On Sunday, when the rest of the team returned home, they staged an intervention for Paige.

They expressed concern about her drinking habits and advised her to focus on her career rather than letting a girl consume her thoughts. They warned her against reconciling with you, citing your recent breakup and her drinking as red flags. Paige felt confused and defensive as her team confronted her about the relationship. She argued that there was nothing wrong with it and denied being as invested as they claimed. However, when they pointed out evidence of her attachment to you, including her lock-screen, her taking your virginity, and the videos of you she frequently watched without caring for being caught, she felt defeated. It was at that moment, when her world seemed to be pushing you two apart, that Paige discovered you had initiated the push yourself. She felt the same heartache and confusion you had felt the day before. Despite trying to maintain a facade of indifference, she couldn't deny the impact the situation was having on her. Despite her efforts to focus on training, playing, and studying, thoughts of you consumed her late at night, leaving her feeling torn and emotionally drained.

She knew it was probably wrong to do so, but once again, she gave you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you were going through stuff or maybe it was just a momentary lapse in judgmental. There was no way you truly meant to end things and this rebellion was very uncharacteristic of you. Paige felt the need to see you face-to-face, to observe your behavior and gauge if you were truly done with her, and if she was truly done with you as her friends suggested she should be. Plus, she had always emphasized the importance of speaking in person, so you should have known to expect her at your door on Tuesday night.

Coincidentally, you had just ordered dinner, so when you heard the knock, you pulled open the door without hesitation and froze dead in your tracks at the sight of her.

"Hey," she half-smiled, awkwardly. This was bad. What the hell was she doing here? Deep down, you knew you were still tangled up inthe aftermath of your decision, but that didn't stop the instinctual yearning that surged within you at the sight of her. You hadn't even expected her to show up, stirring a potent mix of confusion and desire that pulsed through your veins and heart like a wildfire. As you stood there between your door-frame, silent, your body betraying you with insistent tingles and heated pulses to your clit, she continued. "I know I should've called or texted you back before showing up, but I've been in some shit," Paige confessed, her voice tinged with regret. "I just wanna talk." "You're right, Paige. You should've texted me back or called me. Your entire week away, why didn't you?" you pressed, voice sharp with frustration. A silence hung heavy in the air briefly before the girl scratched the nape of her neck, her demeanor embarrased. "I

was hungover," she admitted sheepishly. You nodded, your tongue poking at your cheek as you mulled over her response. "Alright, well, it's not my fault then, Paige. Goodnight," you stated firmly, intending to close the door. However, with her strength, she held it open as she insisted, "Don't be a bitch, y/n. You aren't this kinda girl." Against your will, the door was opened fully. "No, Paige, you don't get to ignore me and then show up to fix things when you realize I'm not just some toy at your convience and that I can make choices in our situation too. Up until now, I've respected everything you've ever told me, so just this once, respect what I said to you," you asserted firmly.

Paige could have engaged in a heated debate with you, confident in her ability to outmaneuver your frustrations, but that wasn't her intention being there. She wasn't ready to lose you yet. "You're that mad at me? You wanna end everything?" she asked softly, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability as she searched your eyes for an answer. You remained silent, averting your gaze from hers, which alone had spoken volumes. She sighed out, remorseful. "I'm sorry." This was a far cry from the Paige you'd begun with. At the start of it all, when she held all the power and you were simply the girl, she would have never uttered a straightforward apology. If she flaked on you and showed up later, she didn't apologize outright. Instead, she tended to offer explanations for her actions. Presently, she had not even attempted her typical evasive manuvers. "I'm an asshole." she conceded self-deprecatively. And oddly enough, with her hands clasped behind her back, chewing out her bottom lip, and a look of remorse on her face, she just looked so sexy to you.

Your face had lit up after she'd insulted herself, like it had pleased you, and when Paige saw your change in demeanor, she instantly recognized a positive response from you to anything she'd said, so she spoke again, her tone now more fervent and eager for your acknowledgment. "I am, right?" she implored, her voice tinged with desperation, as if searching for validation from you. When you tried to look up, avoiding her eyes, it was her touch next. You craved it. You'd missed it. You wanted it. Yeah, you wanted to be strong too—but with her hand interlocking with yours, you really wanted it. She did too. You could feel her eyes tracing down your body, and in that moment, you knew Paige missed you too, even if she was acting a fool in absence. She could have any girl in the world, but here she was, becoming undone, unraveled, so desperate just for you. You nodded your head carefully, confirming your agreement with that sentiment. She was an asshole. "Yeah," she murmmured, her desire for your approval palpable. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at her as her head buried itself delicately in the crook of your neck—it would make it all too real. At first, she's still, engulfing your scent with deep inhales like a curious dog. As she inhales, the air sends shivers down your spine, making your skin tingle with anticipation. Every nerve in your body feels alive, sensitive to her every touch. That's what causes you to let out a soft moan when with a desperate hunger, Paige's tongue glides over your skin, tracing every curve of your crook with an urgency that betrays her need for you and leaves you breathless. She keeps going, entirely undeterred by your half-hearted whisper of, "Paige, stop." as your hand rests on her waist, holding her close. It's as if something has come over her. She acts like she's starved and can't get enough of you. Like she's trying to imprint every inch of you into her memory before you slip away. "Don't leave me," Paige's voice trembles with longing as her hand snakes down to grip your ass tightly. "Please."

You're losing yourself too, succumbing to the intoxicating heat of the moment. Other building occupants could stumble upon the scene unfolding, but in that moment, you don't care about nothing other than her. As the intensity of the moment washes over you, your head, previously tilted backward, comes down instinctively.

You shut your eyes tightly, feeling the warmth of Paige's lips against yours as you press into the kiss. Her tongue darts against yours and with an insatiable hunger, she begins to prod at your tongue, licking that too. You can taste the faint trace of yourself on her tongue, heightening the intensity of the moment as you both vie for control in the kiss. You begin to grind against each other, your bodies moving in a frantic rhythm that mirrors the urgency of your kisses, and your lips struggle to keep pace with the fevered tempo as you move against each-other, Paige groaning loudly, unable to contain the surge of arousal exiting her pussy. With each further movement, spit begins to fall on your chest, a tangible sign of the passion consuming you both.

In the blink of an eye, Paige has slipped into your apartment. She places you against the front door and her lips trail across your chest as she swiftly undresses you. You find yourself yielding to her advances. She exudes a strength that renders resistance futile.

As your clothes fall away, Paige doesn't linger to admire the sight before her. She mentally accounts how she couldn't ever take the sight of your body, in real life and not over a phone, for granted, but she's too worked up to say anything to you at this point.

As she lays you down on the bed, she wastes no time in shedding her shirt, revealing the contours of her body clad in a sleek sports bra. The definition of her abs catches your eye, a testament to her week of rigorous training. A small moan escapes your lips at the sight, fueling the desire that courses through your veins. Instead of passively accepting her advances, you decide to take control. Rising up on your knees, you grasp the strings of her sweatpants and pull her towards you, eyes locked with her blueys. "I wanna ride 'em, P," you declare, seizing her by the waist and guiding her onto the bed. She's momentarily lost for words, her eyes widening in bewilderment. "W-what?" with a soft chuckle, you help her prop herself up against the bedpost before straddling her waist. Leaning forward, you dangle your breasts enticingly in front of her face.

"You're so strong," you murmur, releasing a loud moan as you rock your hips forward. She flexed in response, mirroring your movements, whether intentional or not, and you felt a rush of heat flood your body. Her solid, sturdy body was perfect for the grind of your clit. "I just wish you were as smart as you are powerful."

Paige held onto your hips as you ground forward, the slickness between your bodies creating a smooth, frictionless glide. With a husky tone, she murmured, "All wet for me, huh, ma?"

"Who wouldn't be?" you whimpered in response, your hips bucking eagerly against her. As you increased your pace, Paige delivered a sharp slap to your ass, exactly how she knew you liked it, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips. "You still like me," she stated the obvious truth as you shuddered uncontrollably beneath her touch. Her mouth latched onto your nipple as you continued grinding, the feel of her lips and tongue making your hips stutter. "Mmph, fuck, P, wait... I'll cum if you..." you paused, halting your movements to catch your breath as she continued to suckle at your chest. With a loud 'pop', she unlatched, her own chest heaving with desire. "Can I fuck you with it again?" she asked, her voice thick with need and longing, her eyes searching yours for consent to do what began all this in the first place. "In the drawer," you replied mundanely, trying to hide your excitement though your desire for her was raging. You reasoned that the more unamused you behaved, the more she would try to make it up to you, all calculated to draw her closer while maintaining a semblance of control.

As she dug through your drawer and began to fit it on upon the bed, you stood up, positioning your vanity mirror to face the bed.

You needed to see yourself for what you were about to do. Climbing onto the bed, you slithered up Paige's body slyly, pointing your finger toward the mirror, your reflections capturing the desire and anticipation in both of your eyes. "Kay," you huffed, elevating your hips and watching as you slowly sunk down on her. She held your hips to help you, but you pushed them off, frowning fauxly.

"What, Paige? Don't think I got it in me to fuck you?" you teased, elevating slowly before coming back down again. With her hands behind her head, arms involuntarily flexing, she shook her head. "Never. Not how I fuck you." You ticked your head. "Let's see then. Shut up and let me focus." As you picked up the pace, you closed

your eyes, lost in the sensations coursing through your body. It was a familiar feeling, one you had forgotten but now remembered all too well. Paige's heavy breaths, entertained, echoed in the room, a testament to the intesity of the moment. You struggled to find a steady rhythm, letting instinct guide your movements. "Baby, slow it d--" Her voice, calling you "baby," sent a jolt of pleasure through you. "Mmh," you squeaked listlessly, "Fuck, Paige, keep talking to me," you moaned, bouncing on the thick member, your head thrown back in abandon. "What's the magic word?" she teased, her words sending shivers down your spine. "Pl-please," you stammered, your body on fire. "Good girl, baby. You know I love when you use your manners," she cooed, her words driving you over the edge. Unable to resist any longer, you surrendered to Paige's devotion, allowing her to guide you toward the peak of ecstasy, despite the initial intention of taking control.

She remembered how much you enjoyed it on your stomach. With precision, she slammed her hips against yours, pounding you relentlessly for around ten seconds before deciding to switch your position, sensing that you were close. With you now on your stomach, she placed a hand on your hip and pressed you down against the bed as she continued to pound into you with fervor. Gripping your hair, she pulled you up so you could see yourself in the mirror, intoxicated by the sight. You looked utterly wrecked. Drool escaped your parted lips, your hair matted with sweat, and tears streaked down your flushed cheeks. She had fucked you so relentlessly that it bordered on painful, yet the pleasure was incomparable. The sight of her biting her bottom lip as she worked you over, plunging deep inside you without breaking a sweat, was mesmerizing. "I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, leaning forward and pressing her body against yours as she continued to piston her hips, driving deep into you. "I'm so, so sorry. I hope you forgive me. I won't stop until you do."

Paige's powerful strokes sent loads of pleasure coursing through your bones, each thrust causing you to shake. You gripped the sheets tightly for stability, your nails digging into the fabric as she plunged into you with a hunger that matched your own. With your legs wrapped around her, you met her gaze, drowning in the intensity of her eyes as she devoured you with hers.

The sight of her arm muscles flexing as she held you steady, abs too, and her body working against yours fueled the fire burning within you, and it was only a matter of time until you exploded entirely. The reflection in the mirror only added to the raw eroticism of the moment, capturing the sheer intensity of your connection, the passion that consumed you both. She had you completely at her mercy, using you for her own pleasure, and yet, you couldn't help but revel in the sheer ecstasy of it all. "I wanna cum, Paige," you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "Please, just keep fucking me like that." The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, a song of want mingling with the rhythm of your moans. You surrendered to the pleasure, letting it wash over you in wave after wave of bliss, each one pushing you closer to the edge of oblivion. "Do you forgive me yet?" she breathed, her voice dripping with cockiness. You shook your head, the ache of desire mingling with the sting of resentment. "Why not, baby?" she teased, her lips curling into a wicked grin. The truth spilled from your lips, a confession. "Because you're so fuckin' mean to me," you gasped, the words punctuated by a moan as she drove into you with renewed fervor. She shook her head, a smirk playing at her lips as she reveled in the power she held over you. "If I was mean to you, would I be fucking you to tears?" she taunted, each word pushing you closer to the brink of surrender. Please, Paige, faster, m'gonna cum so hard," you gasped, your nails digging into her wrists as you begged for more. "Yeah, baby?" she purred, disregarding the marks on her skin as she complied with your request, increasing the tempo with each thrust. "Fuck, P, yeah," you moaned, "shit mommy, I'm gonna cum." But she slowed herself slightly, denying you release. "No, you're not," she asserted, her thumb wiping away your tears as she held your gaze. "Not until you ask mommy to."

"Ughhh, P, so mean," you whined, complying, "please, mommy, please let me cum on your cock."

She smiled, proud. "C'mon baby, give it to me, mama," she urged, her movements becoming more frantic with each word. "Give it to me," she repeated, "give it to me," and when you finally did, your entire body convulsed, pleasure washing over you as you released, your essence squirting out and staining the sheets. You moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the room, uncaring if your neighbors could hear, lost in the throes of ecstasy. But she didn't stop, continuing to fuck you even after you'd climaxed. And when you finally begged her to stop, overwhelmed and spent, she paid you no mind, only focused on one thing and one thing only. "You forgive me, baby?" she asked, her thrusts sloppy. "Yes, yes, yes, Paige. I forgive you," you murmured, unable to raise your voice any longer."Huh?" she teased, forcing you to speak louder. "Yes, Paige. I FORGIVE YOU!" you declared, the words ringing out as she abruptly withdrew from you. You knew what she wanted next as she removed the strap, her intentions clear. "Let's put your mouth to use," she commanded, and the night was far from over.

an: y/n delulu era? Idk how I rly feel ab this one lmk guys I love reading your comments and my inbox it’s like the best 🤞

also y’all this is part 4

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mysticworks · 19 hours

Text

One day too late ~ LN4 x Reader

Lando x Pregnant! Reader; Coworker! Reader; Very Angsty; mentions of intimacy but nothing explicit; Borderline Forbidden love; Reader & Lando are friends with feelings

S Y N O P S I S:

Carried away at the party, you and Lando share a beautiful night. Lando, worried about the implications on his career, urges you to pretend it never happened, ignoring your feelings for each other...until 6 weeks later you find out you're carrying his child. Word count: 1.5k

[ Drop a comment to be tagged in part 2 ]

A beam of sun in your eyes pulled you out of your slumber.

Sore. Head pounding. A deep ache in your lower stomach.

It took you a few seconds to realise that this wasn't your room. The unfamiliar sheets, the duvet much thicker and heavier. There seemed to be so much room across the mattress, stretching out in its emptiness.

Then every memory from last night came tumbling through.

After a launch party of the new 2024 season, you’d found yourself a little too lost in the celebrations, Lando right beside you in fits of giggles and dances.

You'd always had feelings for Lando, ever since you joined the PR team during his rookie days - the working time together bonding into a quickly growing friendship. Yet something had always stopped you from taking it further.

And so when Lando placed his hands on your waist last night, his face inches away from yours before your lips finally collided - every rational thought was thrown out the window.

The heat of the party. The excitement and psychedelic blood rush. Climbing into Lando’s car. Your legs, entangled. His whisper of sudden hot, breathless confession. Your heart pounding in reciprocated emotions. Your hands in his curl, his...

You shot up in bed, last night now a vivid image.

Lando was sitting across the room, on his computer, headphones flung around his neck. His eyes flick away from the computer screen at your sudden movement, coming to rest on you, and he draws in a long breath.

You felt the air leave your lungs. How did he manage to look so gorgeous even in the mornings?

“How are you feeling?” You blinked at his break of silence, words not quite making it out of your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m…” Raking your fingers through your curtain of bangs in an attempt to collect your thoughts, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the pounding headache too.” Lando shrugged, sighing, before powering down the screen and in a swift motion making his way across the room, over to you.

Awkwardness suddenly overcame you and you did everything to avert your gaze from his.

This proved pointless as he sat himself in front of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You could feel the warmth radiate off his body, his finger coming to rest under your chin as he forced your eyes to meet.

“Are you okay?” There was a sadness in Lando’s eyes, one that didn’t quite match the gentleness of his voice. You mumbled a reply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks - his face was so close - forcing your heart to respond with a quickened beat.

“Listen, I’m sorry for last night.” Your brows found themselves furrowing at his words.

“Sorry?”

“We shouldn’t have…” He raked his curls, shutting his eyes tight for a brief moment, as if pained to say the words.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, “We shouldn’t have done what we did y/n.”

You felt something stab at your chest. “I don’t understand, Lando, I like you, you like me, we’ve known each other for years…what’s…what’s the - ”

He didn't give you a chance to finish. “I can’t risk having…I just can’t risk a relationship right now. We can’t - ”

He pauses, gaze softening as you feel your eyes well up, but you’re determined to keep a stoic expression on your face.

It didn't help that Lando was looking at you with such an intense look in his eye, his hand cupping your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you saying we can't date?”

You felt your voice betray you, a single tear spilling down your cheek. Lando used his thumb to wipe it away, taking in a shaky breath.

He looked away. “Please. I’m sorry.” His eyes were almost telling you to stay, now also welled with redness, but his words said differently.

You felt the world collapse. Your breath hitched. A tremor shot through your limbs as you scrambled out from Lando’s bed. He got up too from his seat, standing limply in the centre of his room.

It was then you realised you were in his clothes, his loose tee reaching your knees, a pair of his joggers clumsily worn over your legs. You paid no heed, now eager to just leave. To run away and hide.

Never had rejection been so cold. It was almost like he’d used you. A part of you wanted to scream at him, throw things and ask him “why,” yet you felt as if life had been sucked out of you.

One of the best days of your life had been merely hours ago, before turning into a nightmare.

“Y/n…” You’d only just reached the door, but his call made you stop in your tracks. There was a shameless hope he’d changed his mind.

“Here. It’s cold out.”

He held out one of his hoodies, passing it to you in a gesture to take it.

You did. Curt and refusing to meet his gaze, before turning around stiffly.

And without another word, you left his apartment, refusing to look back.

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

You weren’t sure when you got home, drenched from the rain that came gushing down along the way.

You weren’t sure of much…only that your relationship with Lando was over.

Over before it had even begun.

Climbing out of bed the next day was the worst feeling. With no energy in your limbs, you called in sick to work, refusing to face anyone at the McLaren office, but more importantly, avoiding Lando.

You stayed in bed, too exhausted from crying to move.

It wasn’t until a week later that you finally showed up at work. The pain seemed to have subdued; now replaced with forever changing moods. At times you were down in the dumps, exhausted and tired - your head slightly foggy - other times, irritable and angry. Yet you ploughed on at work, ignoring the sleepless nights and restless evenings.

Avoiding Lando at work was near impossible, and yet you managed. Only speaking to him when absolutely unavoidable through email, or putting on your best corporate voice.

Eye contact was avoided altogether, even when he craned his head to catch your gaze, you turned away.

That was a satisfaction you refused to give him.

At 2 weeks it seemed the restless nights had been replaced with exhausted ones, a full night's sleep still leaving you fatigued and nauseous in the mornings. You blamed the sickness on heartbreak.

Lando watched you more often now, sitting in the lobby of your office during lunch breaks. You turned down the blinds and shut him out.

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

The realisation came, 6 weeks post heartbreak. A quick glance at your calendar told you you’d missed your cycle. The nausea, tiredness, mood swings all made sense now - each jigsaw piece coming together to fit the puzzle.

Although the fear of raising a baby alone rose in your throat, you were determined to do it. You knew Lando had a right to know. Yet somewhere, deep down in your heart, you refused to give him that.

Perhaps you were running away.

Perhaps this was your revenge.

Your resignation made sure he’d never know.

L A N D O 'S P O V:

They say you don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. I've learnt this truth the hard way.

I’ve watched her everyday since that night; desperately trying to catch her eye at work; take her aside and apologise. Tell her we can make this happen... start over, uncaring of the world and it's concerns.

I've watched her everyday, slowly starting to shrivel. The bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her smile. I’ve watched her at lunch, nibbling at almost nothing at her plate before silently excusing herself away.

It devastates me to know that this pain is from me. I have caused it and she didn't deserve it. How I wish I could tell her that I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.

I miss her smile. Her company; once a comfort. I miss having her by my side; encouraging; so full of energy.

And so this is my chance. My chance to finally set things right.

Clutching the bouquet - glitter roses I spent the last night making - I head over to the PR query desk, determined to start again, if she can give me the chance.

There’s a new member of staff at the desk; someone I’ve never seen before and he tilts his head up at me, hearing my approach, flashing me a smile.

He thinks I’m here for a project meeting and begins to rise from his seat, holding up a clipboard as if ready to pass it over.

“I’m looking for y/n, l/n.” A moment passes.

Legs jittering. Heart tight and constricted; there’s a sense of urgency swelling in me as if telling me to hurry, rushing me to make things right. My fingers tap at the desk, impatient.

He gives a sigh, furrowing his brows and lowering the clipboard back into place.

“I'm afraid she's not here. She gave in her resignation yesterday.”

The words hit me like a boulder to the chest.

My legs feel heavy, a tornado whirling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers unclench from the bouquet and with a soft thud, the flowers thud to the ground; petals ripping apart from impact.

They've crumbled. Glitter littering the floor.

It was over.

I was one day too late.

Taglist: @hc-dutch @racinggirl @aileeincomplexity @kravitzwhore @eringaitskill @adoreyou-ido @landoslutmeout @queenofmanydreams

#ln4 #ln4 ang #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 angst #formula one angst #formula 1 angst #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris x oc #lando norris x you #f1 angst

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harstyle · 2 days

Text

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now.

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered.

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself. Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?”

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum.

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?”

“Of course.”

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.”

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine.

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

“Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?! I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone: “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight. “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts. Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat. He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder.

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl @vikiii07

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles materlist #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x nanny #harry styles ceo #harry styles fanfic rec

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semischarmed · 3 days

Text

River

River was a walking enigma.

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him.

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly.

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness.

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark.

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night.

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = =

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out.

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment.

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements.

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water.

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs.

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile.

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk.

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite.

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval.

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet.

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped.

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness.

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school.

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists.

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!”

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own.

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River.

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind.

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me.

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

#male possession #male merge #male corruption #male skinsuit

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killxz · 3 days

Note

Was on tiktok and I found the funniest thing! The audio is called -4things a man does when he starts to lose feelings- but with jason x reader?

i didn't know if you wanted it to be angtsy or fluffy so I kind of just went with the flow

Detached

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

trigger warning(s): hurt no comfort

a/n: this was left in my inbox for a little too long... but I'm back and ready to start writing again!!

You and Jason have been drifting apart lately.

You don't know if you were just imagining it, but there definitely was a bridge between you two. An uncrossable gap. An empty feeling.

"Baby, I'm home." You closed the door of your shared apartment. Unlike the times that seemed so long ago, no eager boyfriend was waiting for you at the front door. No sweet, soft, kisses on your temple, his chocolate voice insisting on taking your bags for you.

Now, he was just sitting on the couch, reading his book. He didn't even look up when you walked past him, just giving a muttered 'hello'. Your heart sank as you observed Jason's distant demeanor. It wasn't just today; it had been building up for weeks. The warmth that once enveloped your relationship seemed to have dissipated into the cool, icy air of indifference. What was going on?

After a shower, you made your way to the living room, taking a seat at the furthest side of the couch from Jason, nervously fidgeting with your hands. The tension in the air was so thick you could hardly breathe in it. "Um, Jay?" You mumbled nervously.

"Yeah?" Came an indifferent reply.

"Are we...still on for tomorrow? We are supposed to go for a picnic at the park tomorrow." There was a spark of hope in your voice. Maybe this was what you and Jason needed to fix things. Perhaps you were just imagining things. Maybe-

"I can't, I got that case to work on with Bruce."

You froze. "But Jason, you said-"

"I know, and I'm sorry, baby," There's no feeling now when he says the word. That word used to come with affection and tender love, now, his voice was just robotic. "You know I can't hold this case up any longer."

Your heart sank further as Jason's response echoed in your mind. It was yet another missed opportunity to spend quality time together, another sign of the growing distance between you. You struggled to find the right words, the ones that could somehow bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing day.

"I understand," you replied, trying to keep the disappointment from seeping into your voice. "Work is important. More important than me, I guess." You muttered the last part under your breath.

But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and disappointment. It wasn't just about missing the picnic; it was about the underlying issue that had been festering between you two. The lack of communication, and the growing sense of disconnect — they were all symptoms of a much deeper problem.

Jason glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to his book, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever. You wanted to reach out, to break through the walls that had been set up between you, but you didn't know where to begin.

After a moment of silence, you gathered your courage and spoke again. "Jason, can we talk?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He looked up, his expression guarded. "About what?"

"About us," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest. "I-I feel like we've been drifting apart lately, and I don't want to lose what we have."

For a moment, Jason's facade wavered, a flicker of vulnerability shining through his stoic exterior. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said curtly, his tone final.

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words crushing any hope you had left. You realized then that the bridge between you two wasn't just uncrossable — it had crumbled beneath the weight of unspoken words and unresolved issues.

"Oh, okay." That was all that you said.

As the silence stretched between you, you couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end, if the distance that had grown between you was now too vast to overcome. "I-I'm heading to bed," You announced, not waiting for a reply as you practically ran to your shared bedroom and closed the door, feeling Jason's eyes on you as you retreated.

What had gone wrong? Where had the love and affection that once filled your days disappeared to? The questions swirled in your mind, taunting you with their lack of answers.

As the hours passed, sleep eluded you, your thoughts consumed by the uncertainty of the future. Could you salvage what was left of your relationship, or was it too late to mend the broken pieces?

The sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door snapped you out of your reverie, and you tensed, unsure of what to expect. Was Jason coming to talk, to offer reassurance and comfort? Or was he retreating further into his own world, leaving you to navigate the storm alone?

The door creaked open, and you held your breath, waiting for his presence to fill the room. But instead of Jason, there was only silence, punctuated by the hollow echo of your own heartbeat.

"Jay?"

"It's me," came his reply. He pushed through the door, sliding underneath the covers in his place on the bed.

Silence ensued.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" You quietly asked.

"Not right now, please," Jason sighed, turning away from you. As he stayed awake beside you, you can't help but think that you have really lost him.

#killxz #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #batman #jason todd #batboys #jason todd angst #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #red hood

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btsqualityy · 23 hours

Text

BTS Dating Series #17: Pet Peeves

Members x Reader

Genre/Rate: 18+, fluff

Summary: Little things that just....annoy you or him about each other.

Warnings: None to note.

Kim Seokjin

You threw your body into a chair in the corner of your bedroom, folding your arms across your chest as Jin stared at you incredulously. The two of you had been in a somewhat heated disagreement and once you started to feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, you chose to just...stop talking in an effort to calm yourself.

"Are you really gonna not say anything else?" Jin wondered, huffing harshly when you only responded with further silence. "You know, that's another thing that you do that I hate."

"What?" You couldn't help but to ask.

"Any time we have an argument or even a hard conversation, you clam up and stop talking," he explained. "That makes it almost impossible to fix anything and it also makes me feel like some type of villain."

"Oh," you murmured, looking down at your feet. "I didn't realize that it made you feel that way. I just..."

"What?" Jin encouraged as he stepped over to you and bent down so that he was looking up at you.

"In past relationships, whenever I would get chastised or yelled at, I found that not saying anything helped to not escalate things," you admitted, finally looking up at your boyfriend. "I don't want things to escalate with you, Jin."

"Oh baby," he murmured, grabbing your hands and bringing them both up to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to them before he pulled them away to speak. "You never have to worry about that with me. Whenever we're disagreeing about something, it's never me against you. It's us against the problem, ok? It doesn't mean that I hate you or that I don't want to be with you because that would never be the case, ok?"

"Ok," you nodded. "I'm sorry for shutting down on you. I'll do my best to work on that."

"Ok," Jin agreed. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied before leaning down and kissing him softly.

Min Yoongi

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Yoongi chuckled in disbelief and you barely spared him a glance from your spot on his living room couch. You and Yoongi had planned to spend the whole weekend together since it was one of his rare ones off. However, he got called into the studio at the last minute and had to go handle it before you two headed out on your planned date for the day.

Now, that wasn't a problem for you whatsoever because Yoongi said he'd text you when he was heading back home. One hour went by, then two hours and by the time the third hour rolled around, you were throughly pissed off. Once he did finally make it back to his apartment where he'd left you, you had become resolute in giving him the silent treatment.

"Do you know how childish you're acting right now?" Yoongi wondered. "I know that I told you it wouldn't take me long and I'm sorry that it did but you can't be this upset over that!"

"You cannot tell me what I can and cannot be upset over," you finally spoke up.

"Oh look, she speaks." You glared at him, throwing him the middle finger before you folded your arms across your chest. All Yoongi could do was groan loudly as he ran his hands over his face, becoming more irritated as time went on.

"Listen, I do not do well with the silent treatment and I hate it when you do this so if you want me to fix it, you're going to have to cooperate and talk to me or else I won't be able to," he shrugged. "Up to you." You sighed heavily then, knowing that you were being petty and that your boyfriend was right.

"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I just got upset when you took longer than you said you would. Made it feel like you forgot about me."

"I could never forget about you," he cooed, bending down so that he was squatting in front of you as he took your hands in his to hold. "I'm sorry that I didn't keep you in the loop. I'll make sure to be more mindful of that, ok?" You nodded with a smile, surging forward and throwing your arms around him in a hug.

Kim Namjoon

"If you would just listen to me, I'd be able to explain it to you!" You exclaimed angrily as you stared at Namjoon, who was standing on the other side of the island in your kitchen. The two of you had been cooking dinner together when you made what was intended to be a light hearted joke about his cooking skills. However, Namjoon didn't take it that way at all which led to a full blown argument.

"You can be so flippant when you say certain things to me, you know?" Namjoon pointed out.

"Me, flippant?" You scoffed, throwing your hands up in immediate surrender. "And on that note, I need some space." You turned around and began to walk out of the kitchen but you realized that you could hear footsteps behind you.

"And that's another thing," Namjoon snapped. "Anytime we get into an argument or fight, you insist on walking away."

"Because I need space!" You shouted as you turned around to look at him. "I literally just said that or were you not listening?"

"We're not gonna fix anything if you keep doing that."

"But we're also not going to fix anything if I can't take the space I need to calm down so that I'm not escalating the situation," you explained. "I know you wanna talk it out but just....give me a little while."

"Fine," Namjoon relented and he turned around and walked away before you even had the chance to say another word.

Jung Hoseok

"It was so good to see you!" Hobi smiled to Juhyun, who grinned widely as Hobi gave her a gentle hug.

"It was good to see you as well, Hobi," she replied before turning around and walking out of the store. Hobi walked back over to you then, where you had been pretending to browse the store's selection of shoes but you had really been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"See anything you might like?" Hobi asked you and you shrugged noncommittally, biting your lip before you decided to just take the risk and ask what was on your mind.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered.

"Anything."

"Are you still friends with all of your exes?" You questioned and Hobi rose an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know if friends is the word I'd really use to describe it," he began. "Even if we broke up, none of them were necessarily on bad terms or anything like that so it's not hard for me to speak to them whenever I might see them."

"Hmm," you murmured and Hobi couldn't help but to smile at you.

"Jealous?"

"Don't know if jealous is really the word I'd use," you replied, echoing his previous statement. "But it does make me feel weird that you're.....so friendly. I don't like it."

"So, should I keep it to a hi and bye?" He asked. "And no hugs?"

"That actually would be nice," you nodded.

"Done," Hobi grinned. "Now, come on. I wanted to check out another store while we're here." You smiled to yourself as Hobi grabbed your hand and led you out of the store.

Park Jimin

You were laid out in Jimin's bed, waiting for him to get home from rehearsal. You had had an extremely long day at work so needless to say, you were more than excited to see your boyfriend so that you could get all the cuddles that you could handle.

As you were browsing the internet on your laptop, you heard the front door open and close and not long after that, Jimin was pushing open the door to the bedroom.

"Hi Jimin-ssi," you greeted him happily, watching as he threw his bag down and instantly walked over to the closet.

"Hi baby," he muttered as he worked on changing out of his dance clothes and into more comfortable ones. As he did this, you closed the laptop and set it on the bedside table before you laid down on your side. Once Jimin was done changing, he walked over to the bed and laid down on his back, shutting his eyes and not saying a word.

"How was your day?" You spoke up and Jimin just shrugged, eyes still closed.

"Same old, same old."

"Did you guys finish learning the choreography to that new song you showed me?" You wondered and Jimin nodded. "Aw, I'm sure it's amazing. I can't wait to see it." Jimin still hadn't said a word and you sighed heavily. "Jimin, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he deadpanned. "I'm fine."

"Baby, you're obviously not fine," you replied gently. "I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

"Well, I don't want to talk," he grunted. "Just leave me alone."

"You know, I was really looking forward to you getting here because I had a long day too and all I wanted was to cuddle with you but if you're going to be a jerk just because you're in a shitty mood, then I'll just go home," you snapped and just as you moved to rip the blanket off of your body, Jimin gently grabbed your arm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It was just a hard day and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"And that's fair that you didn't feel like talking but don't clam up on me," you murmured as you turned around to face him. "I'm here to help, always."

"I know," he smiled gently. "Come here." He opened his arms and you moved closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you as he held your body tightly to his. "I love you."

"I love you too," you whispered, smiling to yourself when you felt him kiss your forehead.

Kim Taehyung

"Oh my gosh, you know what we should do tonight?" Taehyung asked you and you looked up at him from your spot next to him on his couch. The two of you had planned on just having a date night in but apparently, Taehyung had other ideas.

"What?"

"We should get dressed and go to that new jazz club that just opened last month," he suggested and you instantly grimaced. "What is it?"

"I don't know about that," you replied. "I was kind of looking forward to staying in."

"But we've been doing that for so many weekends now," he pointed out. "It might be fun to get out, have a little change of scenery."

"Hmm, I don't think so," you shook your head and your eyes widened when you heard Taehyung sigh heavily.

"Why don't you ever want to go out?" He demanded to know. "I could probably count on one hand how often we've been out together, just to do something fun."

"I'm a homebody," you shrugged. "I've always preferred to be home to than go out to some club or something like that."

"And I fully respect that but couldn't we do it sometimes?" He suggested. "Just occasionally?"

"You know what, yeah," you agreed. "I promise, I'll try to make sure that we do more of the things you enjoy too, ok?"

"Thank you," Taehyung grinned widely before leaning over and kissing you firmly.

Jeon Jungkook

"What the hell?" You muttered as you picked pieces of clothes up off of the living room floor. "Has a man been staying with me or a fucking animal?" In an effort to spend more time together, Jungkook had been spending more time at your apartment and he had definitely made himself comfortable in your space. Maybe even a little...too comfortable.

"Baby, I have lamb skewers!" Jungkook exclaimed as he stepped through the front door of your apartment, one bag in each hand as he shut the door with his foot. He stopped right in his tracks though when he saw you standing in the middle of the living room with an unamused look on your face. "What's wrong?"

"No, the problem is what's wrong with you?" You demanded to know. "Have you never seen a hamper? Do you not know what it looks like so that you can put your clothes in it?"

"No, those are my clean clothes," he told you.

"Why are they on the floor then?"

"Because I didn't want them to get mixed up with my dirty ones," he shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why not just put the dirty in the- you know what, no," you cut yourself off. "I'm not even gonna attempt to understand male logic. Just give me my skewers, please."

"Here you go," Jungkook smiled, waiting until you had dropped the clothes in your hands before he handed one of the bags off to you. "I love you."

"Yeah yeah, love you too, messy animal," you grumbled, making Jungkook laugh out loud.

..........................................................

Tag List: @addictedtohobi @brittneymccray @cursedcursives @arata18nanami @leftieaquarius @devilsbooksworld @starmyy @werewolfbanshee-love @li-moonchild-il @kpop-servant @cheysjimin

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envysparkler · 1 day

Text

Clark swore he only turned away for a moment but when he looked back, there was a silhouette in the formerly empty corner. He jumped, inhaling sharply, before he registered the bat cowl.

“Do you have to sneak up on people?” Clark asked, half irritation, half relief as he willed his heart to slow down. He was Kryptonian, but the Bat of Gotham was another beast entirely. Clark was giving serious thought to Hal’s claim that the Bat was a spook.

Surely a man like this couldn’t be human.

Batman’s expression shifted imperceptibly under the cowl and Clark could practically hear the terse ‘well maybe if you were aware of your surroundings’. Batman didn’t voice it aloud, he never voiced it aloud, but the weight of his disdain was apparent.

Clark blew out a sharp breath, “So, what are you here for?” He tried to remember if there was any activity near Gotham lately—nothing would step on Batman’s toes quite as much as breaking his one rule—

“Kon-El.”

Clark tensed all the way up. He couldn’t help it, it had been over two years since he’d found Kon, but he was still overprotective of the kid. With a megalomaniac for a father and the end of a species for his legacy, Kon had a weighty burden to shoulder, and Clark would absolutely protect him from it as much as possible.

“What about Kon?” Clark asked levelly.

“He propositioned Tim.” The words nearly came out in a hiss and Clark blinked. Kon had told him of his plan to ask Tim out, Clark’s discreet inquiries seemed to conclude that the boy fancied Kon back, Clark couldn’t see what the problem was. Tim was seventeen, six months senior to Kon, and he had dated previously.

Which meant that either this was a gay thing or a meta thing.

“So?” Clark leaned back, narrowing his eyes as he kept his voice deliberately casual. “What about it? I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Batman hissed, vehement. Clark narrowed his eyes further. “It will not happen. I forbid it. You will tell Kon-El to stay away from my son.”

“They work on the same team,” Clark pointed out, starting to get angry.

“Tim will be leaving the Titans.”

“Because Kon asked him out?” Clark asked, incredulous. The sheer overreaction was ridiculous.

“Yes.”

“Does Tim want to leave?” Clark asked. He didn’t know the details of how Kon was planning to ask Tim out, but it was possible that he’d accidentally offended him. “Maybe I should talk to him—”

“No!”

Clark stared. Batman didn’t shout. Batman never shouted. Batman certainly didn’t ball his hands into fists like he was contemplating punching Clark. Whatever this was about, it was causing the man to lose his infamous composure.

“You will not talk to Tim. Your son,” Batman twisted the word and Clark came perilously close to seeing red—“will not talk to Tim. This will never happen again. Is that understood?”

Clark took five deep breaths to be able to speak without shouting. “No,” he said as calmly as he could. “I don’t understand. I don’t know why you’re so upset about this. If there’s a problem, and if the kids can’t solve it on their own, then it becomes my business—”

“There is no problem,” Batman ground out through gritted teeth.

“That’s not what it sounds like to me,” Clark said sharply. “I don’t know if this is homophobia or xenophobia, but our kids are doing a better job of getting along than we are, and that’s something to be encouraged.”

Batman was silent for so long that Clark actually got out of his chair to make sure the guy was still there. “Getting along,” the vigilante said finally, words slow and faintly bitter.

“What?”

“This is about getting along,” Batman said. Clark didn’t know whether it was a question.

“I guess?” he answered. Kon wouldn’t have asked Tim out unless they’d gotten to know each other, breaking the long-held isolation of the Bats.

Batman’s jaw tightened. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Clark was very confused.

“Okay,” Batman repeated. “We can…get along.” Clark stared blankly at him. “Now tell your son to stop.”

Clark immediately protested, but was sidetracked as Batman pulled off his cowl. Batman never unmasked even though they all knew who he was, and Clark’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Bruce Wayne’s glittering gray eyes glaring at him.

“Wait,” Clark said, shaking his head, “I’m not telling Kon to stop. Why are you—”

“Then what do you want,” Bruce snapped.

“For what?” Clark was keenly aware that he’d lost the thread of this conversation somewhere and he didn’t know where.

“To call your son off!” Bruce said, face narrowed into a glower, but Clark caught the edge of a crack in his tone. “Do you want me to get on my knees? Suck you off? Fuck you? You—”

“What,” Clark’s voice was the one that cracked this time, embarrassingly high as he swiftly backed away. “What the fuck. What are you talking about?!”

“You said,” Bruce said, and Clark abruptly realized that the terseness to his tone was because he pausing to swallow more often. “You wanted us to get along.”

“Not like that.”

“Kon-El propositioned my son.”

“Kon asked Tim on a date,” Clark said, voice still too high with dawning horror, “because he likes Tim. Because that’s what kids do when they like one of their friends!”

“Typically,” Bruce said quietly, and Clark could see the fractures in his eyes, “they don’t also have the power to immobilize said friend.”

Clark stared at him, frozen in shock and horror. He’d been wrong, then, it wasn’t the idea of his son dating a meta that Bruce didn’t like, except it kind of was, it was the idea of his son dating someone with the ability to overpower him.

“Why would you think,” Clark whispered, “that Kon would ever do that?” Kon was a good kid, a hero, he loved helping people, if Bruce dared to breathe one word about Lex, Clark would eviscerate him—

But no. Bruce didn’t say Lex’s name. He didn’t say anything at all, just stared at Clark with a blank expression. He looked…tense. Anxious. There were dark circles under his eyes and the lines on his face skewed to exhaustion. He hadn’t relaxed his fists.

Clark walked back over to him, slow and even, posture unthreatening. When Clark was two steps away, Bruce shifted ever-so-slightly, a flinch, a brace for a punch there could be no bracing against.

Clark stopped. He turned and sat back down in his chair.

“Batman,” he said slowly, heart heavy and aching, “I’m not going to hurt you or your son. Neither is Kon. This wasn’t a—a threat, or whatever you thought it was.” Because Bruce had clearly thought it was a threat, if he came here to bargain Clark into taking him instead. “Tim does not have to agree to Kon’s date. If he says no, Kon will leave him alone. If he wishes to leave the Titans, he can.”

I am not the monster you so clearly think I am, he wanted to scream.

“If that’s all you came here for,” he said, turning back to the reports, “You can leave.” Clark didn’t know if he could stop himself from venting his feelings if Batman stayed.

#my snippets #bruclark #timkon #bruce is terrified of clark #and unfortunately very good at hiding it #protective bruce

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whyse7vn · 2 days

Text

MIN YOONGI

FAVOURITE:

Yoongi prides himself in being your favourite.

Relishes in knowing he’s your favourite. Yoongi has always carried this certain smugness to him because of it. Yoongi imagines you hold him on a pedestal in your mind. Above Namjoon above Jungkook above them all because Yoongi is your favourite always has been always will be.

Your first.

Your favourite.

Yoongi was 25 when he first realised he was your favourite. You had kissed him the night before you were set to move in with Jungkook on the rooftop of your shared dorm building the sun set and the air cool.

“Yoongi i’m sorry i—”

“Don’t apologise” He tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear your cheeks dust a pretty shade of pink.

Cute.

Yoongi moves his hand away from your face and turns to lean over the balcony eyes now taking in the view of Gangnam after hours.

“How come you’re here? didnt Namjoon want to speak to you or something?”

“Oh uh yeah!”

You’re flustered by the sudden question.

Cute.

“-he did but uh Namjoon can wait… right?”

You play with your hands as you speak your tone of voice anything but confident.

“Right” Yoongi confirms.

Namjoon can wait.

Namjoon will wait.

Sure Yoongi feels a little guilty on keeping Joon waiting but his ego is way too high right now pride practically overflowing.

“You picked me over Namjoon”

He’s giddy body warm with emotion.

“What?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. He can’t. Not that he heard you anyways, too many thoughts consume him in this moment. He wishes he could stop time. Wishes he could take a photo of this moment wishes he could replay this scene over and over again wishes he could write down the exact words the exact touches you had just exchanged on a piece of paper and hang it in a museum for all to see. Call him psychotic call him insane he’s way beyond caring at this point because this moment right here means everything to him. So long of silently fighting to be at the forefront of your mind and finally an opening.

An opening you had gone out of your way to create for him.

You had picked him.

Yoongi.

Right now over Namjoon.

But Yoongi knows this is just the start. If he plays his cards right, which he will, and successfully roots himself as your first and your favourite.

In his peripheral watches the way you slightly bounce on the balls of your feet.

He knows you’re nervous and he knows he has to take advantage of that. He knows he has to get you hooked to solidify his place as your favourite. He knows he has to-

“Listen Yoongi, if i made you uncomfortable or…”

He turns to face you again.

“Let me kiss you for real this time”

—

6 Months after your shared kiss and one or two (definitely more) ‘casual hookups’ Yoongi is aware you’ve slept with Jungkook that you actively sleep with Jungkook.

Yoongi actually found out you were fucking messing with Jungkook from you yourself. The guilt of sleeping with another man behind Yoongi’s back eating you up so bad that you just had to blurt it out over your shared chinese at 3 AM. Yoongi had assured you that it was fine. I mean it was Jungkook…. Jeon Jungkook like loser Jeon Jungkook who had been telling you he loved you since he was 16 yet the relationship between you unchanging.

Oh, right…

he guesses it has changed now you know, you mess around and stuff. But it’s not like Jungkook is your boyfriend or- …okay so maybe it’s not completely ‘fine’ in Yoongi’s mind that you’re messing around with Jungkook he might be a little jealous but admittedly Yoongi sleeps with other people here and there too he can’t be a hypocrite now!

And it was inevitable, well that’s what he tells himself. You’re both the same age, live in the same house and Jungkook is clearly into you and you—

it doesn’t matter because it was inevitable.

Inevitable yet unchanging of Yoongi’s position as your favourite. That he wants to be is sure of. Because from 9 to 5 to 10 3 or 12 Yoongi is the one you call, work hours he’s the one you bother and after work hours he’s the one occupying your time. Not Jungkook not anyone else just Yoongi, your favourite.

—

When you became close with the members of seventeen Yoongi still stood confident in his position as your favourite. When you went on that date with Mingyu, when those pictures of you and Sungcheol got leaked when you wouldn’t stop talking about that Woozi guy, Yoongi was certain he was still your favourite. Sure he did get into a couple of fights broken a few bones but it was all within reason and definitely not because his position as your favourite felt as if it was being threatened.

Yoongi has always been your favourite

from the moment you gave him the opportunity to be

from the moment you kissed him

from the moments you’ve chosen him over someone else

from Minho to the Seventeen guys to Jungkook you’ve always come back to Yoongi.

Always.

So those 4 1/2 months,not that he was counting, you were with Jaehyun Yoongi for the first time was admittedly worried.

Worried.

So fucking worried.

You suddenly like sand in his hands 4 1/2 months of torture.

Slipping through his fingers.

4 1/2 months of waiting.

Right in front of his eyes.

4 1/2 months of wondering.

Unsure on what to do.

4 1/2 months of doubt.

4 1/2 months of regret.

4 1/2 months of cheap alcohol.

4 1/2 months of unsent messages.

4 1/2 months you sand slipping through his fingers. Yoongi unsure on what to do.

The day you a Jaehyun broke up Yoongi was already one foot out the door but Namjoon told him not go and then Hobi sent a text saying you were with him and then 30 minutes later another saying you were on your way to see… Tae?

You still sand slipping through his fingers but it shouldn’t be like that no not now because Yoongi is your favourite. Your first your favourite and you’re not in a relationship so things should be back to normal but you, still sand slipping through his fingers no- Days pass he thinks about you going to Tae he thinks about you Taehyung and Namjoon, he remembers Hoseok punching Jaehyun sand NO he thinks about valentine’s day you, Seokjin Taehyung slipping through his fingers. Jungkook and you but he is your first so why are you still—

Sand.

Slipping through his fingers.

Why?

It’s not a question of why anymore, is it?

Yes Min Yoongi your first.

But your favourite?

False.

Yoongi was never your favourite

but you,

definitely his.

—

some overall context this is from yoongi’s pov so if like points contradict and shit if just representation of how his mind is atm and all that like yeah idk if it translated well lmk :3

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @blairebangtan @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks

#bts fluff #bts imagines #bts texts #bts x y/n #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts xreader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #!gc yoongi #gc offline #min yoongi

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foone · 3 days

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weird thought: I think if I was a teenager now (or anytime in the last decade or so) I think I would have written (and read!) a lot more fanfic than I did in reality, where I was a teenager in the 90s.

See, I've never been hugely into fanfic. Never had anything against it exactly, but it just wasn't something I was into. But I think that has to do with an interesting combination of how my brain works and what time I was first really getting into being a fan.

I've got a "librarian" brain (I'm literally typing this from within a library, WHERE I WORK). It wants to know things like "what are all the works in this series/by this creator?" and "are they all accessible?" and "what info is available about how it was made?"

I'm the kind of person who will watch a show then go look it up on wikipedia to see how many seasons it has, who made it, if they're still making it, check tvtropes for any more info, etc. Or I hear a song I like by a band I've never heard of, so I go listen to their entire discography while researching them. I just focus on things I'm into that way, you know? I don't half-ass my interest. (this is probably related to my autism, of course)

So what does this have to do with fanfic? like, do I go read some fanfics as part of this process? No, and I think the reason for it is when I specifically first got into fandom, as a teen.

See, this sort of fandom-librarian was harder to do in 1997, you know? You couldn't just pull up the wikipedia for that new show and see how many episodes it had. You also couldn't just listen to the whole discography of that band! Forget Spotify or Google Music, even Napster didn't exist yet.

So my interest in fandom focused a lot more on very basic questions: How many episodes/albums/books/whatever are there? Where can I see/hear them all? Like, I remember getting excited because I found some fan magazine that had a list of all the Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. Just a list! Not even descriptions or anything. I finally could take that list and see how many I'd seen, so I'd know when I saw them all in late-night reruns.

So I'm focusing on these very basic parts of being a fandom-librarian and I stumble across some fanfic. I'm like "oh, is this a transcript of an episode I haven't seen yet?" and I realize it's not, it's a story written by a fan, and I get a knee-jerk reaction of "that's not helpful to my quest to know and find all the episodes". It's like I am on a quest for the holy grail and I found a fake cup. It's not helpful to me, and at worst it's a distraction from my goal.

And the thing is, I think the fact I had that reaction is entirely due to the time and situation in which I first encountered fanfic. It was in that environment of "I can't even find a list of the episodes, let alone a way to watch them all!" and that anxiety that colored my response to finding fanfic.

I think if I instead was first introduced to fanfic NOW, where those fandom-librarian drives aren't so difficult to fulfill, I'd be way more positive about fanfic. If I could get a list of episodes with a quick google search, and watch them easily on netflix/prime/whatever, I'd be less "THIS DOESN'T HELP! I AM STRUGGLING WITH THE BASICS HERE!" and more "yay, more content for the fandom I'm obsessed with!"

Like I said, I'm not anti-fanfic, I never have been, I just never got into it. From the beginning I had this reaction that was "this is not useful" and I never developed any real interest in it. Which is a shame, honestly. Fanfic is great. It just never became one of my interests, and while I've written it and read it from time to time, I imagine I'd be way more into it if I didn't have the weird reaction to it due to the worries of the time in which I first encountered it.

I don't know how many other people have brains that work anything like mine, but if they exist, I'm glad they're now growing up in a world where they won't have these problems. They can get into fanfic without this weird baggage caused by a lack of information.

#fanfic meta

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formula1blog · 2 days

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Carlos Sainz 55- spending time

Carlos Sainz x Fem!Reader

Summary: you and your boyfriend finally have a day to yourselves. You want to make the most out of it.

Wc: 2,8k

Warning: lots of nicknames, translated Spanish, Some smutt at the end MDI!

DON'T USE MY WORK PLEASE

It was one of those days when you and your boyfriend both had the day off. It didn't happen often. Carlos was always traveling or training for the next race. He was on the other side of the globe most of the time. Being a personal stylist yourself and having your own mode magazine didn't leave you with a lot of spare time. You traveled a lot in the fashion season, attending shows and even walking some yourself. The thing was that when you had to travel, Carlos was home and vice versa. Of course you both visited each other at your work, supporting each other career. But both of you having free time was rare, so this was a special day.

This is how you found yourself in bed cuddled up against the chest of your Spanish boyfriend. You sun had woken you up because you had forgotten to close the curtains after last night's encounters. Both of you hadn't moved to close them, to wrapped up in each other's embrace. Your finger was painting circles on his bare chest as his hand went to massage your head. "This is nice." Carlos whispered, echoing your own thoughts as you both basked in the peacefulness of the morning. The world outside seemed to fade away, forgotten in the midst of your shared connection and the desire to simply be together. You knew you wanted to spend some time outside of your home today and for that you had to get up.

"We can go out for breakfast. I fancy some tortilla Espanola." You look up at your boyfriend, the corners of your mouth moving up in a smile. Carlos returned your smile, his eyes twinkling with warmth and affection as he leaned in to place a sweet kiss on your head. "Just give me a couple of minutes, mi vida. Then we can head out," he promised, his voice filled with tenderness and love. You hum in response. Carlos's fingers continued to weave through your hair, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine as you fought the urge to drift back to sleep. You didn't want to 'waste' this day together by laying in bed all day. You wanted to make the most of every moment spent in each other's company.

Eventually you both got out of bed. Your Dior slip on dress had moved a bit in your sleep, your side boob hanging out. "We can also just take it off completely." Carlos tucked on the dress a mischievous smile on his lips. Before he could take it off you slap his hand away. "You have to waite till tonight cariño. I want to go for breakfast first." he groans in response way too eager for your love right now. You laugh at him as you walk towards the bathroom. It had been your routine that Carlos would make you both a cup of coffee as you went to get dressed. After that you could pack as he took a shower. So that was exactly what you were both doing right now.

Carlos was sitting in the kitchen making two cups of coffee as he heard you singing in the other room. He smiled to himself. He really won in life with you. You walk out of the bathroom in only your blouse looking around for your necklace that you couldn't find. Carlos followed you with his eyes, sometimes looking down at your but. When he noticed that you were looking for something he stood up and went to stand behind you. Putting his hands in your waist he asks "What are you looking for?" You turn around facing him and look up to see in his eyes. His gorgeous big brown puppy eyes. "One of my Vivienne Westwood necklaces. The one that you got me. I don't know where I put it. "

"I got you lots of those." You were obsessed with her jewelry line and he just had to give you everything you looked at for more than one second. You had quite the selection of her stuff. "I know you did. I am forever grateful for that even if I tell you that you don't need to get me those." He shrugs his shoulders knowing he would buy you another right now. "The Valentina Pendant. Have you seen it?"

"Is that how you are going out." Carlos asks with a smile on his face as he looks at you still not wearing a skirt. A confused look appeared on your face thinking he didn't like what you were wearing before you saw that your legs were still bare of any clothes.

He did indeed see it a couple minutes ago. He lets go of your waist much to your own disliking and walks to the coffee table. The necklace was laying on top of the current book you were reading. He picked it up and walked back to you. He moved your hair to the side and put it around your neck. "Thank you." You turn around and stand on your tip toes to give him a kiss. He pulls you right back when you want to leave. His hands had moved down to your ass, squishing it a bit. You smile into the kiss and you almost give in to him. "Not now, Carlos. We have things to do. Go get ready!"

"Alright" He sighs. "There is coffee for you on the counter." He kisses your head and walks towards the other room. You thank him and grab your drink. Sitting down on one of the chairs you check your mail for any important news. You saw a new invitation for a fashion show and some questions about collaborating. You put them unread not wanting to answer them right away. You put your empty cup into the sink, also cleaning up after Carlos who hadn't yet cleaned up his stuff.

You ran back to the bedroom and walked out, this time wearing the skirt you wanted to wear. You checked if you had everything in your bag before walking out of the apartment.

You walk hand in hand through the busy streets of Madrid. Even though you had moved in by Carlos two years ago, the city never disappointed you.

You can't help but smile as he pulls out a chair for you to sit and you exchange warm glances. His efforts to showcase the beauty and charm of Spain never go unnoticed, but you playfully resist admitting that it is indeed the best country.

Carlos leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes. "Come on, admit it. You know Spain is the best," he teases, nudging you gently.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Maybe it's pretty great, but I'll never say it's better than my home country."

The waiter approaches, interrupting your conversation, and you both place your orders. The suspense of your upcoming show hangs in the air as you share with Carlos that you received an email about a performance.

"So, when's the show? I can't wait to see you up there, shining on stage," he says with a grin, his eyes full of admiration.

"I still need to check the details. Don't want it to clash with any plans," you reply, a warm feeling of gratitude for his support. He nods his head agreeing with your statement.

As you sit at the cozy, sunlit table outside your favorite cafe in Madrid, you can't help but reflect on the memories you have made in this vibrant city. Three years back you were here on a holiday with a couple of friends. That was the moment that you met the man in front of you. The love of your life. You had gotten lost in the crowded streets and asked a stranger for directions. He walks you towards your destination and gave you his phone number. You hadn't sent him a message right away, scared that he may be a creep. Your friends had convinced you after they heard you say his name. They knew he wasn't a creep. He is your future husband.

You both look up by the sound of the waiter approaching your food. You take the food and thank him before turning back to your conversation.

"I cleared by schedule for next week so I can come to Imola with you." You say and take a bite from your tortilla Espanola. His face lights up as you mention it. "Really? I already have a paddock pass for you. You are going to bring me luck." You smile at him. It had been some time since you were in the paddock. You really hated yourself for not being there so often as other wags. They all have their own jobs and they still managed to visit their boyfriends.

After your brunch you walk through some shops. Carlos had bought a new suit for an upcoming event he had to attend. You had bought a matching dress for the event and a new top for next race weekend.

Right now you were walking in a Victoria Secret and were looking at some new lingerie sets. The last two were broken after some fun activities you had done with Carlos. "What about this one." He shows the set to Carlos. It was a blue one, with lace trim and a little heart on the nipple coverage.

"It is beautiful, just like all these others you have chosen." He sat admiring you in every piece. He was already carrying some of the sets you had picked out and you disliked the idea of him having to waite much longer so you got dressed in your own clothes. When you got out of the changing room Carlos had already paid for everything and was carrying your bags. When you asked for them he just gave you his hand and walked out of the shop.

"You didn't have to pay for that. I got my own money."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be to let you pay. Everything you want i will get it for you, mi amor." He kisses your cheek. You blush at his words. "What if I wanted to get a special limited edition car that cost way too much."

"Then I get it for you. Do you have anything in mind right now. I know that you want a Porsche. I can get it for you. Or a Ferrari, I personally really like those." He jokes in the last sentence.

It was getting late and you were walking back. "Want to get some ice cream?"Carlos asks as he points towards a Gelato shop.

"Won't your trainer disapprove?" You ask, knowing that ice cream isn't part of his training and dieting schedule. You are pretty sure it is somewhere at the bodem, just under all other delicious food. "What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him. Lets go." He takes your arm and together you walk to the shop. The line isn't too long and you can already order after five minutes.

"I love ice cream." You lick your cone. You had gotten a cone with pistache and white chocolate. You always take the same, can't go wrong with pistache. It is the best. Carlos had a cone with a vanilla scoop. A bit basic, but always delicious too.

Carlos was still carrying your bags so he couldn't take your hand for the rest of the walk home. You had tried multiple times to ask to hand over your bags, but he just shrug and walked further.

You had stopped and took a picture of the sunset. While you were doing that Carlos took pictures of his sunset, You. For him you are the most beautiful thing in this universe. When you were done it didn't take long to reach your apartment.

He opens up the door for you to walk through and you find yourself back in your home. You go to sit on a chair and take off your heels. "Finally free." Carlos shakes his head. He knows that those heels go and hurt your feet after more than one hour and still you refuse his suggestion to wear more comfortable shoes.

Carlos walks towards the bathroom and you take this as your cue to run to your bedroom. You grab your Victoria secret bag and take out one of the sets that you had just bought. Carlos hadn't seen this one yet. It was a red piece with little coverage. You put it on and admire yourself in the mirror. You hoped he liked it.

You heard the door open again and you went to place yourself on the bed. "Carlos, can you come here real quick?" You say as his footsteps get closer. You see him stop right in his tracks as his eyes stop you. "Mierda, eres tan Hermosa." he breathes out as he walks closer to you. He goes to sit on the bed and you lock eyes. His hand grabs your chin as he moves your head closer to his. Your lips touch into a deeply kiss as a soft moan escapes his lips. You move yourself onto his lap.

You start to move your hips into his and Carlos groans at the sudden movement against his dick. The bulge in his pants was growing with each movement that you made. A moan leaves your mouth at the growing feeling under you. His lips attach to your neck as his hands move you closer to him. He leaves a trail of kisses down to your breast before staying in one place which was definitely going to leave a mark tomorrow. Your finger tucks on his shirt mentioning it that it has to go off. "It isn't fair that you are still wearing all of your clothes." He removes one of his hands from your ass and takes off his shirt.

You go from his lap to help him with his belt. You stroke your hand over his throbbing area, this time a louder moan leaves his mouth and it sounds like heaven to you. Tonight the neighbors won't be getting any sleep. You go further down the bed as Carlos takes of his pants leaving him in only his underwear. He towers over you both hands on either side of your head. He leans back down to place a kiss on your lips. You gasp as his hands move up your leg towards your wetness. He slips in his tongue when your mouth opens. "So needy for me already." He says as his fingers stroke over you pussy. The thin fabric of the lingerie doesn't do too much as you feel yourself asking for more. "Please, Carlos. I need you to touch me. "

He smirks. He pulls down your panties. He puts in one finger helping your adjust to it a bit before adding another. He keeps kissing you as he starts pumping his finger into your pussy. Moans leave your mouth as he takes up the speed. "So beautiful. So loud and all for me."He leaves a kiss between your breast. Your riding his fingers had been something you looked forward to since this morning. He feels you getting closer around his fingers and he takes them out just before you reach your climax. You groan in frustration as you feel empty. "Why?" You cry out. He places another kiss to make it up. "I want you to come all over my cock, princessa."

He takes off his underwear and his already hard cock springs out. You moan at the sight of it. "Please, just fuck me. " He puts his dick by your entrance moving it a bit up and down. Your hand fly in to his hair pulling in frustration. You need him now.

He enters you and fills you up. Pain went over you but it was fast replaced with pleasure as he began to move in and out of you. Your hands grab the duvet under you and the feeling of pleasure goes over you. "Papi, faster" You scream out. Carlos didn't mind if everyone heard you. Right now was all about love. He picks up his pace and your eyes roll into the back of your mind. You feel a familiar knot forming in your belly and you know you are close "Don't stop, please I am so close." He feels himself getting closer to his own orgasm as you tighten around him. He goes a bit faster and you back arches. Heavy panting is heard as you both come riding out your orgasms.

Carlos catches his breath before sliding out of you an empty feeling leaving you behind. He walks to the bathroom and gets a wet towel. He helps clean you up and places a kiss on your mouth. " I love you, mi vida." He lays next to you and you put your head on his chest. " I love you too."

#carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x you #Carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz imagine #f1 imagine #formule1 #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 x reader

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graybby · 2 days

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Awkward encounter

Lando Norris X Russell!reader

The F1 drivers twitch streamer sister series !

Part 1 / Part 2 here 1196 words

sorry for the wait guys <3

As much as Y/N would post on social media and perform to her twitch audience, she would be lying if she said that walking around the bustling crowds of F1 fans at the Aussie grand prix wasn’t terrifying her to her core. She was never one for big crowds - one of the reasons her older brother had only recently managed to convince her to attend his races this year with a lot of guilt tripping. Y/N didn’t help herself though, trying to conceal her identity constantly around her brother's fans when in his company had been grating on her over the years - especially with his rise in fame since joining Mercedes. She began finding it impossible to relax when in public with George, making her a partial recluse - much to her brother's disappointment. George understood why she wanted to hide her relation to him, but the wedge it started making between the two as she grew a larger fanbase irked him - he could tell it was bothering her too as her anxieties grew with it. Y/N loved her job streaming but sometimes doubted herself on whether it was the right choice for her - she found being in the public domain a constant surveillance, her every step taken outside her home found being criticised online. Imagining how much more intense the gaze on her would be if they knew the truth of her identity sent a chill down her spine.

Despite this, the guilt of never being there in person to support her brother made her feel awful, eventually agreeing to Georges persistent begging to join him for a couple of the races on the 2024 calendar (as long as he helped conceal her identity). This left her to hide away inside the Mercedes hospitality out of view of any nearby cameras wrapped in a hoodie and sunglasses, anyone who asked about her was met with the reply that she was just a family friend who had never seen a race and wanted to finally enjoy one. The only people that actually knew her true identity being Toto and Lewis, George knew he could trust the two of them with this information.

Out of sheer stupidity Y/N believed the hoodie and sunglasses combo that she wore in Saudi Arabia would continue to work in the blistering Australian heat. To her dismay she found herself sticking to the inside of her jumper, having to peel the fabric away from her skin as she made her way out of the bathroom that she had attempted to find some solace in by spending five minutes splashing cold water into her face. Unfortunately the bathroom was located a long way out from the Mercedes area, the more steps she took out the bathroom she could feel herself growing faint still being overwhelmed by the heat. Finding a close by wall to lean against as she tried to regain her composure as her body grew tired all to quick, Y/N found herself tearing haphazardly at the her hoodie to gain some relief - glasses clattering to the floor as the fabric passed over her head falling beside them to her feet. Her legs screaming out as she slid down the wall crouching into a ball in her fatigued state.

I’m so fucking stupid why did I think this could work today - annoying fucking sun.

Mentally cursing the weather and her own brain Y/N failed to notice the man approaching her - face full of concern for the young girl in front of him face pale and sickly.

“Y/N?”

She looks up - You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing on the floor - you look like shit, what happened?”

“oh thanks prince charming, can you help me up I need to get back to George - I can’t be seen out here” she asks, eyes pleading.

“I didn’t mean- yeah-no-sure, of course here”

“Thanks Lando” Y/N breathes out shakily as she takes his outstretched hand.

This is utterly embarrassing

“I'm sorry this is how we’re meeting” Y/N remarks as he bends down to grab the items she had dropped onto the floor.

“I’m just glad I was the one to find you, what happened?”

“I think I overheated, I was wearing my hoodie- I know ‘silly’ but I just wanted to be as incognito as possible. It's frustrating”.

Lando gives her a sympathetic look as she answers him - not daring to look anywhere but the floor. “Hey I understand, but that could have been dangerous like you nearly passed out over there love '' Lando says as they make it closer to the Mercedes hospitality. Noticing the lack of response, he finds her still staring at her feet. He sighs and gently moves to face her, tilting her head up, hand cupping her chin softly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was lecturing you or anything, but it was scary to find you like that - I’m just worried” Y/N gulps staring back into his eyes as she nods at his words. “No I’m sorry, I was stupid - you don’t need to worry but thank you really Lando” Y/N mustered up the courage to speak, feeling so small under his gaze, his hand still cupping her jaw.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Norris?” George growls pulling Y/N behind him in a split second, not liking the image in front of him of the fellow driver’s hands on his younger sister.

“Hey I was just helping her mate '' Lando tries to defend himself.

“Didn’t fucking look like it” George snaps back at him. Y/N stumbles back at the sharpness of his voice, pulling her arm out of his grip. “George calm down please, he's only helping me for god's sake, I nearly passed out- he found me!” she retaliated back at him pleading for him to listen and understand.

“I don’t care Y/N, it didn’t look like that when I saw the two of you - he's done his ‘job’ he can leave now” George refuted arms crossed in front of himself, still glaring down at Lando who appeared as shocked as Y/N at this outburst.

Defensively putting his hands up, Lando sighed and turned to walk away - giving Y/N one last apologetic look which she shared mirrored before turning his back and leaving.

“What the hell was that Y/N? George demands as Y/N’s gaze drops back to the floor.

“I could ask you the same thing” He only huffs in response before she starts again. “He really was helping me - I collapsed by the bathroom’s, he found me and walked me back - you should thank him for saving your sister, not shout at him!” her voice raising, fed up with his childish behaviour.

“He had his hands on you, I don't want to see him near you again”

Y/N turns on her heel and charges past him into the hospitality, refusing to keep up such conversation with George, taking deep breaths to compose herself as she pulls out her phone with shaky hands.

Way to ruin a moment bro

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

thanks for reading <3

taglist: @bicchaan @lauralarsen @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @ssararuffoni @cherry-piee @eviethetheatrefreak @2pagenumb

#lando norris #lando norris x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #george russel x reader #lando x reader #lando norris x reader

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 9 hours

Text

say you can't sleep, m | myg

... baby, I know that's that me – espresso by sabrina carpenter

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Snapshots of a love story centered around coffee and soft skin, heh, isn't that just so suga sweet? Mmmm, I guess so.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; fluff they're cute as fuck; smut (fem reader, fingering + f-receiving oral at work, gasp, doggy, m-receiving oral in a bedroom, whew, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – Yoongi's POV except final scene in your POV

“You don’t like coffee.”

She handed him the iced Americano with an enigmatic expression.

“But I like you.”

Then she walked away.

“Oh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He looked up from his lonesome table, fully intending to tell the person to fuck off. It was too late and too dark and too restless for him to even think about socializing. He lifted his head and found himself speechless for several seconds. An enigmatic expression paired with a tight black dress. He took another sip of his whiskey to avoid making the pause awkward.

He caught a whiff of a heavy, rich, coffee-scented perfume.

Then he shrugged.

“Can’t sleep.”

She smiled.

“You know her?”

She sat a few tables away, wrapped in a tight black dress. A soft white knitted cardigan draped over her shoulders. Demure with a hint of sex. He recognized those black high heels with gunmetal buckles. They had been tossed carelessly by his door last night. He watched her hands dance in the air with her conversation. The man sitting in front of her seemed mildly interested. Black t-shirt, silver bracelets, faded blue jeans. She rolled her eyes and her lunch companion looked similarly annoyed, shaking his head of straight, long black hair. The waiter went by their table, carrying the handheld kiosk.

She tapped her credit card, already prepared.

The young man whipped his hands out in a what-the-fuck motion.

She shrugged.

Her black velvet purse was tucked in her lap, right above her plush thighs that had been wrapped around his neck last night.

“Better than you do,” he replied, and didn’t elaborate.

“I didn’t know you knew him.”

She gave him a confused look.

“Why wouldn’t I know my younger brother?”

Oh.

She handed him the iced Americano with a sly smile.

“But I’ll let him know that you were jealous.”

Fuck.

“You don’t have to.”

She took his hand and wrapped it around the cold drink, leaving him with a handful of condensation and consideration.

“I want to.”

She was about to let go but his other hand shot up, enclosing the back of hers. He watched her almost hide the way her breath caught. Her eyes shifted. Those parted lips were picture perfect softness that inspired wet dreams. Her skin was even more perfect up close and in the light. A tick of her eyebrow. He didn’t back down.

“Meet me in front of the café at seven tonight.”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Okay.”

Date after date, she wore the same perfume and the same enigmatic smile. Night after night, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Day after day, he looked forward to her occasional treat in the form of ice coffee. He admired her audacity to let everyone talk. Both of them deflected the topic when anyone asked. No sense in entertaining unsolicited opinions.

In bed, he closed his eyes and breathed in, remembering the way her soft skin smelled against him.

He was addicted to her perfume.

Then again, he already had a coffee problem so maybe it was all in his head.

From across the room, she smiled at him.

He acknowledged her with a nod, sticking his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t shake.

The eye contact lingered for a moment linger before she turned and walked out the door.

After about ten minutes, he made up some excuse and left too.

He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked up.

Her knuckle was against her teeth, biting down lightly, calmly giving him an expression of apprehension and boldness. He cocked his head. She shrugged with one shoulder. He bunched her skirt around her waist.

And stared into her eyes as he licked upwards.

Hot, heavy, and with possessiveness.

She melted against the wall. Lashes fluttering, shivering under him, no sound. Probably because of where they were. The mischief in her eyes glimmered. Her perfect lips formed words both silent and damning.

Keep going.

To be perfectly clear he did not give a fuck about rules, but also he liked his job and didn’t want to get himself fired. Yet. He skimmed his lips over her soft skin and figured that at least it would be a cool story, letting his fingers sink into her shapely hips, toying with the hem of her panties with his thumbs. Her free hand wandered down to hold up her skirt. Helpful. He closed his eyes. Tongue, lips, teeth travelling up in a zig-zag from thigh to thigh. Her coffee-scented perfume faded as the scent of sweet sex prevailed, his index finger skimming over the heat, following the forbidden line.

Absolute silence.

But beneath his lips, her body was singing. Vibrating with pleasure. Pressing her shoulder blades against the wall, rolling her hips towards him. He opened his eyes to see hers under lidded lashes. Slid his finger under, down, the back of his nail drenched, and he pulled it aside, watching her sensual mouth form his name.

He closed his lips around the top and sank two fingers into her pussy.

Fuck, she tasted so good.

The shudder took over him before he could stop it. Delightful shivers as he watched her watch him when he cupped his tongue around her clit. Circling it gently. Coaxing. Slow and steady, admiring the way her slick walls closed in around his fingers. Thrusting deeper. He spread his knees more, wincing as he felt his hardening erection strain against even his loose jeans. She kept her hips still, melting into his momentum, looking hot as hell fully dressed with his mouth as her new accessory. He spied the curl of her pink tongue against the side of her lips. His fingers involuntarily twitched, digging his blunt nails into her thigh. Tongue against nerves. The steady climb to the heavenly high. Quiet breathing becoming labored, his cock aching at the image and taste of sweet evidence.

Her arousal dripping down his throat.

She came to his tongue, pressing the crown of her head against the wall and silently gasping to the ceiling.

No one found out.

At least, Human Resources didn’t let him know they did.

He spent a little more time checking out his outfit before leaving his apartment. Bomber jacket, loose shirt, slightly less torn jeans, and his nicest bag, a black leather messenger. Debated on a beanie. Decided against it and took a moment to tie his hair back into a low ponytail. The front pieces were too short to be tied back. He adjusted them in the mirror and out the door he went. Subway and then a short walk. He visited the usual spot, a café by the office, and she was already in line. The cashier seemed to have taken a liking to her, trying to keep her for a few lines of conversation. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, courteously stepping out of line after she paid and waiting to the side for her order.

He contemplated walking up to her.

This was the first time he had been this early. He was not and never would be a morning person. A lot of the time he had to settle for the shitty coffee from the machine in the break room. He preferred an expert’s hand though, so he did his best to drag himself out of bed to get in line. Big chains had apps to order-and-go, but this was a mom-and-pop store that didn’t have the money for such technology. Honestly, now he was glad about that. A rare occurrence of the universe being on his side.

His gaze must have remained for too long because she looked up from her phone and her head turned, spotting him immediately.

He let his eyes linger when hers did.

A glimmer in her eye. Must be the morning sun. She raised her hand and beckoned him to her.

He stepped out of line and walked up to her.

“I can buy my own coffee, you know.”

The café smelled like stale morning coffee and yet somehow she smelled even better.

“Just let me do this one thing for you, hm?” she smiled.

He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he stood next to her and stuck his hands in his pockets. He noticed several people looking her way but they all quickly reoriented their wandering eyes. It had to have something to do with the way her long black skirt clung to her hips or her courage of wearing a maroon faux fur cropped jacket out in public. Or maybe it was the way her tight black turtleneck clung to her chest.

“You can go on ahead. I’ll drop off the drink for you.”

He half-considered it. Maybe even take a moment to make it obvious for everyone.

Still, he didn’t want to leave.

“I’m still waking up,” he offered as his reply.

They weren’t looking at each other but he was highly aware of her presence next to him. He didn’t sense any discomfort. The café was getting packed. She scooted closer to him as a couple more people moved into the waiting section.

The barista called out her name.

She glided up to the counter. He watched her go, pit-a-pat beating in his chest. Admired every line, the way her hips swayed, the way stray rays of the sunrise made her hair glow. Watched her turn around in slow-motion mental cinema, raising her head, their eyes connecting, the corner of her lips rising when she saw him waiting for her.

She held out the iced Americano.

“Careful, someone might think we’re an item.”

He reached out and let his fingers graze her wrist.

“I think someone already does.”

He was talking about himself but he didn’t miss the pleasure in her eyes when the exchange happened.

She was a menace every time.

“I’m going to make sure you’ll need caffeine tomorrow,” she mused out loud.

He raised an eyebrow.

“And how are you going to do that?”

He somewhat regretted asking that.

The room was pitch black.

“You still up?”

The presence beside him shifted, facing him, but he wouldn’t be able to see even if he opened his eyes. He didn’t need to though. He knew the way the blanket draped over her arm, exposing the corner of her shoulder, her hair cascading over her neck covered in his invisible kisses and light bites. Her arm over her breasts as she adjusted her hand just under the pillow. The blanket dipped a bit further down the bed, then rose up sharply at her hips.

“Sorry if I seem restless,” she whispered. “I have insomnia sometimes.”

He had offered before, but she hadn’t accepted until tonight. He wasn’t sure what had made her change her mind.

“Me too,” he confessed. “I take a long time to fall asleep.”

Her voice was feathery and soft. Not pitched to act younger or be more appealing. True to who she was and where she was in her life. Her coffee-scented perfume reflected that as well. Dark and smokey and acidic. Full-bodied in every sense of the word. He heard amusement in her soothing voice as she spoke.

“That’s a very polite way of admitting that you’re nervous of the pretty girl in your bed being a closeted psychopath and smothering you in your sleep before taking all of your valuables and skipping town.”

He smiled.

“Don’t worry, I know all pretty girls are psychopaths.”

She laughed. “Won’t fall for my tricks then, hm?”

“I might if you actually tried some of yours on me.”

There was a pause in her breathing. A single flutter of butterfly wings, so slight he almost thought he imagined it.

“You think so?”

He kept telling himself he wouldn’t, but deep down he knew he would.

“Yeah,” he murmured, noncommittal.

There was a pungent silence.

Then he felt her warmth closer. Closer. Warm exhale tickling his shoulder. Her hand settled on his arm. A whirlwind of thoughts. He had always thought, oh, it would be annoying. It would be heedlessly complicated. It would die out quick. And, ultimately, it would be fleeting and unfulfilling.

Like a shooting star during a meteor shower.

“You’re something else, Min Yoongi.”

Meaningless was it was, he found himself making a wish as the weight of sleep swept him away.

Of course, he was scared.

Of course, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it or show it. People were fickle, complicated creatures that spent lifetimes trying to explain themselves to no avail. He was one of them. He had long ago accepted that he was part of the problem. Likewise, he accepted that he would never understand. He wasn’t about to encroach on the millennia of human philosophy and twist his brain trying to make sense of it all.

“I should leave.”

Best he could do was write some songs about it.

“Sit,” he commanded in his most inviting tone.

Better not to think about it too much.

He looked away from the stove for a moment to see the unsure shift of her eyes and the hesitation of her parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She lifted her gaze.

He held it, but only for a second.

Any longer would have been too telling.

He turned back to the pan and replied with, “You cannot possibly think I’m that rude to kick you out before breakfast. Sit.”

Thinking about it too much would ruin it, anyway. It would make it less true. Convoluted. Muddled by past experiences and endless doubts. He refused to let that happen. He lifted the frying pan, tipping the fried egg onto the freshly made white rice. Set the pan down. Turned around with the bowl in hand, setting it on the counter in front of the barstool next to a small plate of his mother’s kimchi. He saw her hesitate once more. Maybe it was his imagination, or was that a flush of pink at the tops of her cheeks? He pulled out a drawer and added a pair of chopsticks by the bowl. Didn’t take his eyes off her movements.

She reached out and pulled out the barstool, sliding onto the brown leather.

Bowed her head to hide her smile.

“Thanks for the food.”

Yoongi silently let out the breath he had been holding.

Just before she walked out his door, she leaned in and kissed him.

She drew back.

“See you.”

He stepped forward and pulled her into a longer kiss.

“See you,” he breathed, missing her already.

He couldn’t look at he when she smiled.

Even as the corner of his mouth lifted and his teeth sank into the side of his lower lip.

Dark, smokey, acidic.

Her perfume was so familiar now. It settled into his palette, embellishing the dreamlike image. His hands rested on her waist, fingertips drumming against soft skin. Her fingers danced up his sternum and her lips hovered by his. Breath to breath. Her other palm on his chest. Hips to hips. The moment lingered. Almost to the point of discomfort, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

He wondered if he tasted like coffee.

The kiss melted into him. Warmth rushed all over his body. He should be used to it and yet he fell back under her spell. Under her kisses over his face and neck, under her insistent touch. He dug his nails into her back. She matched him, but harder, rougher, her tongue slipping into his moaning mouth as she scratched him up. Perhaps it was a perverted satisfaction but he rather enjoyed knowing that his pale skin would be marred in pink lines of passion. He didn’t want to be precious about it.

She straddled him and pressed her panties into his erection.

He griped her waist and kissed her harder.

He enjoyed it when she slipped her arm in his as they walked side by side. He enjoyed watching passerby glance at them with envy, especially when her head leaned against his shoulder. He enjoyed it when she tugged him to her and caught his lips possessively. He didn’t know when he stopped hiding the smile he had when around her. He didn’t know when he stopped wanting to be alone in his free time and instead wanted to fill it with her coffee-scented perfume. He used to work late all the time because there was nothing better to do, but lately there was a better reason to ditch his responsibilities.

It was careless but such was life.

Heh.

He loved to watch her face, and yet there was something about watching her back arch and her fingers curl into the sheets. Something about his hands gripping her hips and driving himself deeper. Something about the image of her ass and thighs bouncing with each forceful smack of body-to-body contact. Just something about it. Tight, wet, hot, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, dragging his nails down her spine, feeling her match his pace. He enjoyed fucking as much as the next guy. This was simply different.

Something about her, maybe.

She threw her head back, her visceral sounds music to his ears, pleasure incarnate, and he could feel each wave threaten to drag him under, into the permanent honeymoon haze. He let it take him, gasping, surrendering, wanting it again already. She moaned with him, clutching his pillows into a jumbled mess.

Fuck, so good.

One shared look.

To be honest, he was proud of the number of used condoms that piled up.

“A candle?”

She lifted the heavy glass lid and inhaled. Her eyes widened, sparkling with recognition and delight.

He stated the obvious. “It’s coffee-scented.”

“I love the scent of coffee,” she murmured. He already knew that. “You remember.”

He half-smiled. “Isn’t that your excuse for always getting me one? You like the scent but you don’t drink it?” He couldn’t help but tease.

She gave him a mischievous smirk. “Trying to throw me off your scent? It won’t work.”

He sure as fuck hoped it didn’t. “I’m trying to convince you to stop buying those expensive iced Americanos for me. I’m trying to cut down for my health.”

She frowned. But he shook his head, trying to dissipate any misunderstanding.

“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t come up with the idea. My doctor did.”

Her gaze narrowed, unconvinced.

He shoved his hands back into his pockets so they would stop shaking. There was no bag or awkward gift wrapping for him to hold on to. It wasn’t his style, but he somewhat regretted it now. He tiled his head, relaxing his face despite the thunder within his ribcage.

“What?”

She replaced the lid of the candle. Her thumb ran across the embossed characters on the paper label. Capitalism had burned a hole in his wallet. He didn’t mind though. She held it close to her chest.

“This is an expensive brand. I’ve seen it at higher end stores.”

He was delighted that she knew. The cheaper brands had smelled far too fake and far too sweet. He wanted that rich bitterness. Dark and smokey and acidic. A scent that reminded him of them. She watched him carefully. He shrugged.

“You get what you pay for.” Chuckled, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Fair, once I considered the culmination of the price of all those coffees. And, anyway, I only wanted you to know that you don’t have to pay a price for my attention. You’ve had it all this time.”

Her eyes widened a bit.

He shifted his weight, about to walk past.

At the last second, he turned his head, pausing to whisper in her ear.

“But don’t think about buying anyone else a coffee, alright?”

Before he could make his escape, her eyes were already locked onto his, her lips centimeters from his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Min Yoongi.”

“What?”

She grinned. Their hands interlocked. Holding tight, even though his back was flat against her bed. Her body hovered over his. She lowered, slowly. He sucked in a breath as he felt her hard nipples brush against his chest.

“You like that?” she teased.

He stared into her eyes, melting into her mischief. “Yeah.”

She pressed her soft breasts flush against him, rubbing back and forth. He closed his eyes, shuddering, her name in his throat. His other hand migrated to her waist and he squeezed her, wanting her to know his desire. Her coffee-scented perfume stuck to his skin, bitter and sweet and addictive, a guilty pleasure he didn’t feel guilty about.

His doctor had advised him to cut back on coffee and alcohol, his other guilty pleasures, so naturally he found himself tangled up in another.

Heh.

His fingers slid up, up, tangling in her hair, pulling her face to his. There was a split second where their eye lines connected under their lashes, and he froze up. She stared back. Centimeters of trembling air between their lips. His entire body could barely contain the want and yet. It wasn’t the first time they had been this close. Far from it.

But this was the first time Yoongi realized he would move heaven and earth for those eyes.

He squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back and closed the distance between them, her eyelids falling. His too, and he realized there was sex and then there was this. This, the goosebumps that erupted over his skin when her fingertips glided down his arm. This, the chain of kisses leaving him in a daze. This, the delicate shock of her lips travelling down his chest. This, the pit-a-pat and pang of something so dirty being so pure. Her mouth enveloped him and coated his cock with a thin layer of velvety saliva. Back and forth, so soft, just right, building a lovely desperation that he savored. Tighter, and he gasped, marveling at the suffocating gentleness that made him painfully hard. Pace so steady it was nearly maddening, his fingers twisting in the sheets, and he sucked in another breath, the air saturated with her scent, hitting the apex and at the same time falling so fully that he couldn’t hide it anymore.

She kept him hard, knowing the precise amount of softness and insistence. He didn’t need to say anything. She thought about him the same way he thought about her. Her hands fanned over his hips, extending the pleasure of orgasm. His exhale a shudder. Their eyes connected again.

He beckoned her back up, breathlessly.

She obeyed. Skin to skin. His fingertips touched her chin, conducting her movement.

He could taste himself in their kiss.

“You like that?” he whispered to her lips.

She smiled against his. “Yeah.”

One torn-open condom wrapper later, and there was nothing better than her legs wrapping around his waist once he was completely inside. Shivering breath, his fingertips grazing over her collarbones, and he was well aware of his own black hair tangled over his eyes. She looked up at with admiration and satisfaction, tightening around him.

“You should come over to mine tomorrow night. Spend the weekend with me,” he found himself saying.

Her expression amused. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your landlord.”

He pushed his hair back, cleaning his vision.

“Let that be my problem.”

Her eyes sparkled.

“I’ll think about it.”

Seemed like she already had though.

Slow and tense, leaning down. Deeper. Her legs sliding up, tighter. Each breath drawn in hotter, keeping their electric eye contact, and he lifted one of his hands to wrap around her wrist. She watched him, intrigued. He thrust downwards and she squeezed him all around, meeting his pace, their eyes closing, succumbing to the honeymoon haze in harmony, their wanton sounds melding together like sugar into coffee. Harder. Rougher. Her name falling from his lips and his from hers. His grip on her wrist slipped.

Their fingers interlocked.

He kept the high coming, over and over.

The room was pitch black.

“Can’t sleep?”

He stretched his arm over his head. His body was still running hot.

“Don’t want to.”

She hummed. “Why’s that?”

He should sleep but that would tear him out of this dream. “Pretty girl giving me insomnia.”

“Damn. Wish I could help,” she chuckled, curling up against his side.

He hadn’t known it when she walked into his life, light glimmering off her hair and adorned with a sweet smile. Day by day, catching himself watching her walk past. He admired the confident way she held herself, the assuredness in her stride, the sharpness of her wit. Then one day, the morning after a particularly restless night, she had walked right up to him, an iced Americano in hand. She had known his preference. Could have been observation or asking around. Or both. Didn’t matter, as it was clear she took the time and noticed his lingering gaze.

“Why me?”

Her soft cheek against his shoulder.

“You know why.”

He did but he still wanted to make sure. “You weren’t scared?”

She took a moment to recall. “Worst thing you can say is no. You didn’t.”

He turned his head. She scooted up, and now they were looking at each other in the darkness. He couldn’t see shit, but he had already memorized her face in moments, in snapshots of closeness, into dreams he couldn’t help but believe in. She brought her face closer and their lips found each other with him meeting her halfway.

He pulled her closer.

Yoongi had always believed, oh, love would be annoying. Love would be heedlessly complicated. Love would die out quick and, ultimately, be fleeting and unfulfilling, like a shooting star during a meteor shower. And maybe it was all that.

But he could also be wrong.

Kiss after kiss, falling stars in the darkness, and he couldn’t help but believe in wishes.

Maybe he was just too far gone. Too under her spell to be logical anymore. Her leg slid over his hip, their bodies seamlessly against each other and her hand cradled his face, breathing in his air. Her perfume still lingered, dark and smokey and reminding him of how this love started, or perhaps it had rubbed off onto his skin in their passion. He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it.

“Don’t think about anyone else, alright?” she whispered.

His hand settled around her waist.

His lips touched her nose. Lightly, endearingly. Didn’t she know? She must. Maybe she wanted to hear it from his lips. He didn’t know the romantic thing to say. He was terrible at that. Always was, always would be. Then again, she had already given him the answer.

He smiled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“Iced Americano. The largest size, please.”

The barista smiled sheepishly. “Busy day?”

You tilted your head, a stray strand of hair curling around your curved lips.

“My darling needs it.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

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