#I am not good at this. I should never leave the house or meet people or do anything new

[running-in-the-dark]

I've spent over four hours with a bunch of people, and I don't know most of them, and now it feels like my brain is trying to crawl out of my skull. Fun!

[luvgam3]

Summary: You and your ex-husband Nanami have a good relationship. Even after the divorce you remained good friends and even better co-parents. Babysitting for one another isn’t out of the usual, and talking about your newest relationships isn’t strange either— but when you show up at his doorstep after a particularly nasty date it leads you both to wonder if your relationship is really truly over for good.

Cw: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, small mentions of cheating, you and Nanami have a kid together, girl dad Nanami, hair pulling, consent king Nanami, oral (fem receiving), aftercare !!!

“Fine! Fucking leave!” You yell, your voice cracking as cold rain pierces your skin.

That asshole. That shitty excuse of a man your boyfriend of two weeks, left you on the side of the road. Alone. In the middle of a late summer storm.

But what did you really expect to happen? The red flags were all neatly lined up for you. Sure maybe the fact that he smelt like a different woman’s perfume every time you met should’ve set you off, but maybe you were just over thinking it! Maybe he was a little too handsy for a man you just started dating, and maybe he was a little rude to waitresses, and bartenders, and you— but your last straw was calling him out on his empty threats. ‘I’ll leave you-‘ for this ‘I’ll shut your ass up’ for that. God did he ever stop talking. You snapped; telling him that if you pissed him so much then why didn’t he just drop you off on the side of the road. The only time he’d ever followed through… and it had to be now.

Low rumbles of thunder sound in the distance, blending with the pop of his engine as he speeds away. Inside your head is a loud jumbled mess of ‘where the fuck am I?’ and ‘who does he think he fucking is?’ but all of that sound is ultimately drowned out by that heavy pitiful feeling tugging at your heart. Angry tears prickle at the backs of your eyes as you walk, your heels crunching pebbles and walking through puddles, carrying you to the only place you know by heart. To the only man who you know wouldn’t leave you stranded.

If the night were to play out correctly you wouldn’t be showing up till noon the next day, even when dates did go wrong you never made it his problem. You were divorced after all, your love life mishaps stopped being his problem a while ago. Okay that isn’t entirely true… Nanami comes over to your house once a week for family dinner. After your little girl is tucked away in her bed and the dinner dishes have been done do you two sit alone at the table, drinks in hand as you catch up. Talking about your kid wasn’t the only topic of discussion. Friends, gossip, dates, normal adult conversation. The topic of dating other people because less and less embarrassing as the years flew by. Like the amazingly wonderful co-parenting duo you are— you came up with the babysitting agreement. Nanami happily took your daughter for the night so you could relax and bask in the company of anyone you wanted. He cherished every minute he got with his little girl, it was never a disappointment when you texted him asking if he could take her for the night.

Lost in the depths of your own mind you aimlessly walked down the dark and dreary road. Void of people, void of light. The only sound the pattering of rain and the rumbles of thunder.

Static buzzed in your ears as you slid into the empty apartment lobby, your soggy heels clacking against the neat polished floors. Your tears fizzled into a pale anger that burned the back of your throat as you pressed his floor number on the elevator. The only good thing about this entire situation, you think, is that the rain washed away the feeling of his hands on your skin. The scent of him clinging to your clothes. All gone. Washed down the sewage drain with the unpleasant memory of him.

Softly, you knocked on his door. It’s well past eleven, he should be asleep, but you know him better than that.

Nanami slowly opens the door, his brows furrow as his eyes meet yours. Concern painting his face.

You don’t have the energy to answer his unsaid questions, so instead you silently squeeze past him, kicking your wet heels off at the door. The air-conditioned room sends shivers up your soaked spine, littering your skin in goosebumps as you carry yourself to his liquid cabinet. Your fingers find the key he keeps hidden on the top of the rich oak cabinet, quickly pushing it into the lock and twisting. You’re on a mission as you blindly grab a bottle, bumping the door closed with your hip before turning to his rack of expensive drinking glasses, plucking two and setting them onto the counter with a soft clink.

He watches you pop the cork as quietly as you can, pouring the expensive liquid into two glasses, pushing one towards him without a word as you bring the sparklingly clear glass to your gloss smeared lips.

Married for four years, divorced for two, he knows the crinkle of your nose and the subtle twitch in your eye means one thing— you’re fuming. Beyond mad. If there was a word for that level of anger he’d use it to describe you in this moment.

He knows better than to ask what’s wrong, so instead he drinks with you; listening to the wall clock tick, to your nails tap against marble countertop, to the soft melody flowing from his record player. Darkness envelops you both, the only light combing from his little yellow reading lamp. It’s hardly enough to aluminate your faces, but the flicker of amber reflects in your fiery eyes.

“I think I got dumped.” You mutter, swishing the dark liquid around in your glass. You don’t wait for him to respond as you groan, willing the anger to subside and for the chill in your skin to vanish.

The crackle of the record prickles your ears just as much as the cool night air prickles your skin, filling your veins with ice as you continue to drink.

Nanami watches you, your hair drips onto your shoulders, your mascara streaky and your lips smudged. Disheveled and shivering in his kitchen. Filled with that unmistakable blinding anger you hold with such grace. If he was still your husband his hands would be wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him in a slow lazy sway to the soft music playing. But he isn’t your husband anymore. The word ‘ex’ stopped leaving a bad taste on his tongue a while ago— you’ve both worked around your usual ways to comfort one another and made them more friendly more… pg.

He pushes his glasses up into his hair, putting his glass down softly and disappearing into the dark hall. But you don’t notice. Not when your stomach pulls, not when your head is swimming with so many useless thoughts— thinking of the waisted days, waisted nights. Ugh even waisted money. All on some asshole—

“The bath is running, I left a towel out for you.” Nanami says as he reenters unnoticed, his voice soft and airy as he stops infront of you with a towelette. He tilts your chin to the side, your eyes scanning over his face as he cleans yours; he runs the cool wipe over your cheek, under your eyes and across your lips. He knows you’re more than capable, but still he handles you as delicately as humanly possible, swiping away stray hairs clung to your forehead and cheeks as if you would shatter under his fingers like the glasses you drank from.

He finishes, turning away to clean up the kitchen as you make your way towards the sound of running water.

The smell hits you before you push open the door; lavender scented suds decorate the surface of the water. Steam swirls into the air as you peel off your wet clothes— and for the first time tonight you were excited. Scolding water seeps into your skin as you step in, a tired groan escapes your lips as you sink farther in.

It’s funny how things change, how time passes and people grow apart, you think as you submerge your shoulders. Nanami used to run you baths almost every night, his small way of telling you how much he cherished you. Bubbles of every scent, bath oils and salts, candles and wine. The memory like a blanket as your skin tingles under the scolding water.

A soft knock at the door has your droopy eyes opening, “It’s unlocked.” You say, your voice horse and exhausted. Nanami softly cracks the door open, he walks in and places a small bundle of clothes onto the toilet lid, “You can wear these.” His clothes, a lounge shirt, too old sweatpants and a pair of boxers. You watched as he picked up your pile of sopping clothes, ringing the remaining water into the sink.

You’ve worn his clothes before. On laundry day, the morning after… an eventful night, even when you just missed him. That weird feeling in your stomach probably means nothing.

You watch him in the low light of the bathroom, his muscles rippling under his t-shirt as he works the water from the fabric in a comfortable silence.

“How was your night?” You ask, your fingers swirling through foamy bubbles. Nanami hums as he turns to face you; he rests against the sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Fine.” He says, his tone even as he scans your face.

It’s normal— seeing your ex wife soak in your bathtub, naked in your home for the first time in years. The thought makes Nanami shift slightly, his eyes focusing on the tile behind you. A safer option.

You mold the bubbles into little lumps, feeling his gentle gaze on you as if it’s normal again. Maybe tomorrow this memory will haunt you, make you burn up from the inside out. How oddly vulnerable the entire ordeal is. But for now you just smile softly, “what, you’re not going to ask me about my night?” You hum only half kidding.

Clearing his throat he turns back to the sink, “I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk about it.” Droplets of rainwater trickle down the drain as he squeezes the fabric again.

You don’t want to talk about it, so why did you even bother bringing it up?

You lean back, your eyes still glued to the fizzling bubbles in your palm and clinging to your skin. Where would you even start? Maybe how your date was ogling the waitress as soon as you got there, or maybe how he tried to gaslight you in the car, or how you have him the wicked suggestion to dump you onto the streets.

“Would you?” He asks, cutting through the silence, “Like to talk about it, I mean.”

Maybe you could talk about how your date never asked what you wanted. Or how he never called you gorgeous, just because. Maybe you could bring up how he only ever seemed to want you a little more when other women wouldn’t look his way.

There’s a line, right? Between ex’s and friends? There’s things you shouldn’t talk about past a certain point. Yet you still got excited to tell him about small insignificant things. Like the amazing bagel you had for breakfast, or how you and your daughter watched the most gut wrenching animated movie the night before and cried way more than she did; the small things you never seemed to tell your other partners. But you were friends… right? That’s what this was. A friendship.

You hum, “let me wash my hair first.” Nanami takes his cue, collecting your still wet clothing and leaving the bathroom.

You dip your head under the rapidly cooling water after heating the door click closed. The soft hum and the slight pop as the water envelops you like a liquid blanket, drawing you in as you hold your breath.

✮ ✮ ✮

His clothes seem to always sag on you, no matter your size they always felt so big. The cold hardwood floor sends a shiver up your spine as you step through the quiet hall. Nanami sits in his arm chair, your unfinished glass waiting for you on the coffee table, the record has been changed, joined with the soft hum of the drier now running, the warm yellow light still flickers away.

A time capsule of peace, this was your life. Coming home and reading your respective books on opposite sides of the room, or maybe together on the sofa huddled close together— but why’re you thinking about that now? Ugh it nags at you as you sit down, your body suddenly heavy as the plush couch pulls you in.

“What time is it?” You ask as you give in to exhaustion, your eyes fluttering shut and your head lulling back. You hear Nanami close his book, “2:45am.”

You sigh, digging the heels of your palms into your tired eyes, “Shit.” Despite the pang of unmet hunger in the pit of your stomach, despite the exhaustion gnawing at you, despite everything that’s happened tonight— you giggle. The sound startling another one out of you as you curl in on yourself, “god what a fucking night.”

Nanami gazes at you, drowning in his t-shirt, absolutely hysterical— with what he wonders.

“That asshole—“ you start, your wet hair clinging to your face as you roll your head to face him, “never once asked me what I wanted.”

He nods, and you continue, “not when we went out for dinner, not when we grabbed drinks, not when we fucked—“ your hands fly up on a silent groan, “who does that?” The question far above a whisper.

Nanami was many things— always busy, always working, but he never neglected you or your needs. That’s one thing you could never replace in your newer partners, his attentiveness.

“People are greedy.” He says, pushing his glasses up as he gently places his forgotten book onto the coffee table. “They—“ should he say this? Should he even be thinking it? But you’re friends… friends… comfort each other. “They don’t know how to please you in the ways you want crave— need. They never take the time.” His voice a husky whisper.

You groan, tired and not thinking as you go to continue complaining, “Like you know what I want.” The words come out with an edge you never meant to put there.

“I’m not saying that—“

“You might as well be, I never asked for your input, it was rhetorical.” You snap, the words clawing their way out before you can stop them. Was it pent up anger that made you stand up? Or maybe that simmering unmet lust burning deep in your gut that made you walk in front of him, challenging him, begging him wordlessly. Or maybe it was that deep history, etched into your bones, your body craving his forgotten touch.

He stares up at you, his legs spread wide, his arms gripping the armrests. His breathing slows, his eyes set on yours in a heated stare.

“Do you know what I want?” You ask, voice low, your words crackle with need. “Did you ever know what I wanted?“

Nanami knew you like the back of his hand. You liked when he’d go down on you, legs spread wide by his strong hands. You liked to pull his hair when he’d bite at your neck, so he grew it out. You liked when he’d ruin you with just his tongue while he held your small hand in his much larger one. He knew every freckle on your body, every stretch mark, every hair. He knew what your moods meant, when you were silently begging to be split apart on his cock.

He knew what you wanted more than you did.

The record keeps spinning as he rises, his body towering over you, his voice rumbles deep in his throat, “You know the answer… but tell me—“

You swallow thickly, your body stiffens as he brushes your drying hair from your shoulder, his face lowers, his hot breath fans over the damp shell of your ear sending goosebumps flying across your skin. “As long as we’ve been apart… have you ever wished… it were me between your legs?”

Your eyes flutter, just like your heart as you press your palms into his firm chest. Did you? You stand there, your fingers pressing harder into his clothed skin as you wrack your brain. Maybe you have been comparing your partners to him, maybe that’s by you can’t keep one— fuck maybe that’s why you got yourself kicked out of a car tonight. But his breath is so hot against your skin, you can feel his hands hover above your hips. You both know what you want, you both know what you need.

“If I said no,” your voice breathy, “would you believe me?”

He laughs, the sound brings a slime to your lips as his forehead falls to your shoulder. In this moment it seems so simple, feels so familiar. And maybe that’s all you need tonight.

“Is it… okay if I touch you?” He asks, that sentence hasn’t been heard in years, you’d almost forgotten how wet it makes you. Almost.

You nod, your palms slowly sliding up his chest and around his neck.

That light moment slowly fading before your eyes as he presses his lips to the exposed skin below your ear. “Words.”

“Yes dammit you know I hate when you—“

You choke on your words as he pulls back, his hand threading with your damp locks and craning your head back. Your eyes frantically search his, the reading lamp the only light reflecting off of them.

Nanami’s usual gentleness is gone as he stares you down. “You need to be quiet for me, can you do that?” One hand cradles your cheek, the other tugs at your hand, begging to be held.

Before you can answer he’s pulling you with him, leading you to his bedroom. The darkness of the apartment swallows you both as you enter the room, the music fading, the sounds of your eager breath becomes the only sound ringing in both of your ears.

He doesn’t waste time sliding his warm hands underneath your shirt, pulling you closer to him as his lips crash into yours.

Everything about him invades your senses, the taste of his lips, his touch, the smell of him— all of it makes you clench your thighs together as his fingers press into your soft skin.

“I forgot—“ Nanami’s lips trail a path down your throat, his fingers sliding under the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing, “how incredible you look in my clothes.” His boxers, his shirt, his sweatpants— all of it reeks of him— the overwhelming scent of his cologne makes you dizzy as the pads of his fingers teasingly brush against your clit. The tips of your ears burn as you choke down a moan, your own fingers tangling into his combed blonde hair.

He makes a quiet ‘tsk’ before biting your neck, a soft nip before he’s licking the pain away, “quiet—“ lithe fingers sink slowly into you, “or I stop.”

Lust clouds every rational thought swirling around inside of your brain as you nod frantically, desperate for him to continue.

“Good girl.” Your hips grind down onto his fingers, clit brushing against his palm with an infuriating lightness. Not enough. Never enough. A soft whine of frustration sounds in the back of your throat. His free hand sneaks up your throat, his fingers dancing across your jaw, this thumb pulling at your plump bottom lip. A groan—husky and raw sounds deep in his chest as the diget slips past your lips into your warm wet mouth. Hot and slick as he presses the pad of his thumb down onto your tongue.

Dark eyes meet yours in the inky black of his room, “get on the bed.”

He pulls out of you, turning away from you before you can beg him to continue. Nanami rushes to the door, his feet light as he gently clicks it closed. You’re too busy peeling off his boxers to notice him lick a long stripe up his slick fingers, but you hear the sound he makes. He groans as his tongue licks every last drop of you from his fingers.

You sink onto the bed just as he flicks on a small lamp, your body cast in that familiar pale yellow glow. Nanami however is a silhouette before you, warm light framing his every move. Clenching around nothing you watch him peel his shirt off, the sound of his pants following suit. You crawl backward in search of the headboard, his hands grasp your ankles and in one quick yank you’re back at the edge. You instinctively clamp your thighs together as he sinks to his knees, hands prying your legs apart. “Don’t run from me, show me what I’ve been missing.” He whispers, his gentle voice sending shivers down your spine and to your waiting cunt. And he notices. You’re spread wide with his hands trailing torturously gentle shapes into your skin.

He feels so pathetic. He’s harder than he’s ever been as he gazes at your weeping pussy splayed out for him, leaking down your ass and onto his freshly washed sheets. How long will he just stare at you, mouth watering as you bite down hard on your bottom lip while your legs tremble under his feather light touch.

“Kento-“ you mumble, “this is embarrassing stop teasing m—“ you gasp at the sudden sensation. His lips find your swollen clit without fail, the familiarity slowly rising back to the surface. He mumbles against you, his words muffled and sending shivers straight through you as his fingers prod at your dripping hole.

It’s torture you think. The way he flattens his tongue against your throbbing clit, fingers sliding in with ease as you clasp your hand around your mouth. Lips trembling as you choke down moan after moan.

Nanami’s always been a tender lover, putting your needs above his own— it’s nice to know that hasn’t changed as you dig your heels into his mattress, thighs trembling and back arching ever so slightly as he bullies his fingers into you again and again. The desperate depraved moans you choke down slip out as small squeaks that have Nanami leaking through his boxers.

He can’t take it— how warm you are against his fingers, juices leaking down his arm, his tongue working in ways he’d forgot possible. He moans against you one final time before pulling off, licking his lips clean as you prop yourself up onto your elbows.

“Ken—“

“Turnover” his voice deep and laced with utter desperation as you watch him tuck his thumbs under the electric of his boxers.

It was like a game, waiting to see who will crack first as he peels away that last layer of fabric. He’s throbbing and so painfully hard under your watchful gaze. Your eyes taking in every vein, admiring that upward bend that had to seeing stars countless times— not even a foot away from you now.

“Can I-“ suck you off.

Large hands pull you forward, “Later.” That inhuman strength has you spinning, landing on your stomach with a startled yelp.

You push yourself up, arms trembling as he reaches over you and snatches a pillow. “W-wait, I wanted to—“ you go to stutter in protest only for his palm to press down firmly on your back, right between your shoulder blades. One second your hips are pressed into the soft bedsheets— the next they’re held high in the air only supported by his brutal grasp.

Your senses are on fire. Your cheek is pressed into a pillow that smells so much like his shampoo, your thighs covered in your cooling slick, all you can hear is your own hammering heart and jagged breaths as his hands slide over you. One trailing up the small of your back, sneaking over your shoulder blades and stopping at your nape. The other holds you up by the hips as he slots his cock between your slick folds with a sickeningly low groan.

Nanami presses his chest against your back, you can feel his heart, feel his body heat, you can practically taste the sweat that already adorns his face as his lips hover over the shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.” He whispers, his voice so husky you can feel the rumble slide down your throat and live in your ribcage. You nod frantically, “Fine, okay you have my word— fuck—hurry up already! Please-please-please—“ you whine, a memory that will have your cheeks the richest shade of red come tomorrow.

“Good girl,” he hums, his tip slowly enters you with an infuriating slowness that has you gripping the sheets under you. “You learned how to use your words, m’proud of you angel.” He moans as he wills himself to go slowly, he wants to savor the way you clench around him again, savor the way you gush at his gentle praise.

One twitch of your hips and you’d be completely split open, and somehow that’s what you need. You press yourself into his sheets, rocking your hips back into him with that impatience that pissed him off and made him even harder.

More.

More.

More.

You groan, your lip bitten and raw as you beg. “Ken—“

His chest still rests against your back as he litters your neck in open mouth kisses, “I know, Angel.” His teeth graze the flesh of your neck to feel you tremble under him. “Be patient for me.”

It’s so hard to obey when he’s moving so deliberately slow— drawing it out so you feel every vein, every twitch, every slight stutter of his hips when you whine into the pillow under you. You don’t know how hard it is for him not to grab a fist full of your hair and press your face into the sheets— how hard it is for him not to snap his hips into yours at such a brutal pace it gives you a lip the next day. He needs to hear you scream his name until your lungs burn and your hands cramp from clinging onto him with the last of your strength.

Next time he thinks. Next time you’ll be all alone, folded in half under him with your pretty little face staring up at him as he fucks you again and again.

“So good for me.” He moans into your ear as his hips finally meet the swell of your ass. “So good.” He bites your neck, stifling a moan as you clench around him.

Nanami kisses the pain away as he pulls out halfway and then slowly entering again. And again. And again.

The feeling of him so deep in your gut has you panting, trembling and clawing at his pillow. Your hands ache from clinging to anything you can reach, but you’re afraid if you didn’t occupy yourself you’d scream, so completely under his control it drives you insane. You’re so focused on breathing and willing yourself not to be too loud that you don’t feel one of his hands leaving your body only to wrap around your wrist, his thumb circling your skin in time with his movements.

Slow and lazy strokes turn into quick sloppy thrusts, the soft squelch of your mixed arousal becoming louder in your ears. All you can hear is Nanami’s low groans next to your ear and the subtle squeak of the bed frame and it has your head spinning.

“Ken—“ you moan, teeth imbedded in your bottom lip.

He reminds that eager little yelp in your tone even when it’s being suppressed. You’re close already. So so close.

He sneaks his other hand under you, trailing it down your stomach as the other tightens around your wrist. 

Even if he can read you, he needs to know. To hear it drip from your lips and into the heated sizzling air. “What do you need? Tell me—fuck— tell me what you need.”

Your stomach flutters, ears burning and legs trembling as you whine. So high pitched and pathetic it has him reeling on top of you, his cock throbbing at the sound of pure desperation.

“M’so close— Kento please I need—fuck fuck fuck—“ you shudder as you feel the heat of his palm hovering over your clit. “Need to cum—“

His fingers hone in on your pulsing bud before the words even finish leaving your lips.

Who is he to deny you that high?

Maybe you’ve been so unknowingly pent up, or maybe you just craved his touch that much— but as soon as the rough pads of his fingers sought you out you felt your back bow, your lips tremble and you’re turning your hand palm up to intertwine your fingers with his as the coil in your gut tightens.

Nanami’s face scrunches as he feels your pussy tighten around him. You squeeze his hand, you tremble under him and moan and drool onto his pillow. His bed might’ve smelt like him this morning but tonight it drips with you. The body he’s craved ever since his eyes met yours for the very first time— his pace quickens.

“Cum for me,” he hooks his chin over your shoulder. “Please— I need you to— fuck— I need it.” He whimpers, words trembling as his fingers quicken, his hand could fall off for all he cared. He needed this. He needed you.

He’s whined before, but now in this moment it sounded so sinful. His face was so close to yours, you could feel his now damp hair touch your cheek, you could feel his breath and if you opened your eyes— see the bead of sweat trickle down the curve of his nose.

His gruff voice sounded so sweet as he begged you, pleaded with you to cum around his cock.

You nodded, frantic.

The only warning your body allows is a shiver that shoots up the base of your spine as you cum. White flashes behind your eyelids as you bite into the pillow, your teeth threaten to pop a seam as you ride our your violent high through choked sobs.

Nanami cums after you, your tight walls spasming around him as he pumps you full with a groan that hangs heavy in the sticky air.

It takes everything he has left not to collapse on top of you as he eases his way out. Leaning back he watches as his cum oozes out of you, and with gentle fingers he pushes it back in, watching the way you writhe as overstimulation knocks on your door.

With a fuzzy head you allow him to carefully lay you on your back. His hand cups your cheek as he presses a parting kiss to your forehead. You hardly register his absence till you feel him part your legs, a warm towel glides up your legs and you hum at the cozy feeling of it. The familiar comfort he brings you is something you’ve missed. Nanami takes his time cleaning you up before he urges you under the covers. You sleepily comply.

Sleepily. Who knew his dick would be your melatonin again, you think to yourself as you tuck yourself farther into his bed with a content sigh. Before sleep can fully grasp you, you feel Nanami’s strong arms pull you to his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck once more. It isn’t long before you fall asleep in his arms, in the pitch black of his room, in a bed that smells like black coffee and lavender, just like you used to. It’s so familiar, so inviting and whole.

Maybe your next boyfriend will be better than the last guy. In fact… maybe he’ll be just like your ex-husband.

[jaylaxies]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

PAIRING: haechan × fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, brother’s best friend trope, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, penetration, breeding, usage of nicknames, themes of jealousy, mentions of mark (brother) and other dreamies, mentions of yunjin from le sserafim, Imk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my loves <3 i finally wrote a fic for the loml hyuckie <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

The music blasting from the speakers, reverberating around the room full of university students, the wretched smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes lingered in the air as your sharp eyes adorned with perfectly winged liner focused around the room, greeting everyone who was shocked to find you at the party. 

It felt good to be back. 

Leaving for a boarding school wasn’t on your bucket list, yet it was an opportunity you couldn’t miss, the school being a prestigious one with a degree that would only be helpful in the future, which left you no choice but to disappear for three years, only to suddenly reappear today, straight making an appearance at the party. 

“Told you, your celebrity status is still intact,” Yunjin winked at you, her being the only friend who was stubborn enough to not break contact with you, and you loved her for the same. 

Raising your brow at her, you took another swing of beer which you had loosely gripped in your hand, “it’s not mine, it all belongs to my brother,” you said, “I don’t want this attention, especially when it’s only valid because I’m Mark’s sister who had a glow up over my time of not being in the town.”

Your brother was well known in the university—the same university which you’d be attending soon along with the people who also attended the same middle school as you, however, his reputation preceded him as he, along with his friends, had turned into the group all girls desired to be with, yet they never let anyone stick around for long. 

Settling down wasn’t their forte. 

People snogging around every corner of the house wasn’t a sight you were willing to witness, granted you had a long flight and were tired. Not having any ride back home was another factor which made you approach your brother—who wasn’t locked up in a room with some girl for once. 

“I wanna go home,” you huffed, standing next to Mark, who was quick to excuse himself from the conversation he was having. 

“I can’t drive you back, I’m buzzed dude,” he says, “my baby sis is all grown up,” he looks your way, patting your head before you step back, disgusted at his overly affectionate big brother act. 

He acted as if everything was normal when in reality, he was the one who always deprived you of every single thing, not allowing you to go out, not allowing you to meet boys, and most importantly, not letting his friends interact with you.

“Ew, drink this and sober up.” You passed on the water bottle in your hand to him, “how am I supposed to go back? Should I take a cab?” 

“No, that’s not safe. You wait here, I’ll get my friend to drop you off,” he asked you to wait by the front door. 

The shock on your face was evident, yet it was better to get a ride with one of his friends rather than fending for yourself this late at night. With a nonchalant nod, you walked away, waiting by the door. 

It wasn’t hard for Mark to find his group, they were sprawled across the sofa as if they owned it, surrounded by girls sitting around them; or on their lap. 

“Who’s not drunk here?” He asked, straight up eliminating Jeno from the list, who was taking big gulps from his can, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “minus Jeno.”

Haechan was quick to ignore the girl who was leaning down to kiss him, eyes tired yet lined with the perfect amount of eyeliner—a look he went for whenever a party was concerned. 

“I am sober. Driver duties, why?” He asked. 

Even though there was nothing but truth in his words, it would be hard to accept it, provided that his eyes were the perfect shade of brown which harboured the ideal amount of brightness during the day, and just the exact amount of intoxication at night. 

“I had one beer,” Jaemin said, sitting with a bored expression on his face, probably not in the mood to entertain the girls at the given moment, unlike Jeno and Renjun, who basked in the attention of them. 

“Y/n wants to go back home,” Mark explained, grabbing another can of beer, “and I obviously can’t go to drop her off.”

“Y/n? Is she back?” Hyuck asked, playing with his silver rings before unbuttoning the top of his black button up, exposing his chain clad neck and clavicle, which was valid given how hot the room was. 

“Yeah, she came back in the afternoon today. Jaem can you drop her back home?” Jaemin chuckles at the offended look Haechan threw his way. 

“Of course man,” Jaemin agreed. 

“He’s drunk too, in case you overlooked that, I’m the sober one right now,” Hyuck said, pointing out the obvious. 

“Yeah, dude there’s no way I’m letting you go alone with my sister,” Mark laughed, “lord knows you can’t keep it in your pants,” he added. 

Hyuck was quick to raise his eyebrow, scoffing, pushing his tongue inside his cheek, “and he can?” He asked, pointing at Jaemin. 

“He knows where to draw a line, unlike you, and she’s my baby sister, I’m not risking anything,” Mark explained enthusiastically, as if it was a joke, because it caused an uproar of laughter, which only infuriated Hyuck more. 

“I know when to stop,” he said, annoyed. 

“You didn’t know that when you fucked principal’s daughter,” Jeno provided. 

“And when you did so in his office, with cameras installed,” Renjun not so helpfully added. 

Hyuck agrees that they were right to a certain extent, but their lack of trust was always something that bothered him. If there was someone who actually didn’t know where to stop, that would be them, because he did not appreciate the insults thrown his way. 

It also didn’t help how he genuinely wanted to see you, but now his mood was ruined, courtesy of Mark. 

Mark then proceeded to list out a few more things as to prove that Hyuck wasn’t fit for being anywhere close to his sister, “I don’t trust you with her,” he shrugged, asking Jaemin to drop you off and ending the conversation. 

Meanwhile, it had been a solid seven minutes and twenty six seconds since you started waiting for Mark’s friend to come and pick you up, and you made sure to put the time into good use by observing your surroundings yet again. 

In the farther right corner, you spotted your old crush, Park Sunghoon, who was in your ethics class. He never paid attention to you, granted your brother made sure to warn the whole school population that you were off limits. 

You couldn’t deny, it was good to see him happy and you swore you noticed him giggling too, talking to your old classmate, who you remember, was called Moon—one of the beauties of your school, before he pulled her into a sweet kiss. 

Your observation was cut short when one of Mark’s friends, whom you had not seen in the past three years appeared in front of you with a small smile. Na Jaemin, he was charming from the bottom to the top. 

“Welcome back, Y/n,” he smiled, voice slutry, which came naturally to him. 

You offered him a smile in return, shamelessly checking him out, he had gotten buff. You were not expecting him to come here, but then again, your subconscious wanted to see that one boy whose eyes reminded you of honey. 

You wondered how he looked now. Does he even remember you? A sigh left your glossy lips as you admitted that you still might have a teeny tiny crush on Lee Haechan after all this while, and deep inside, you wished to see him again. 

With a smile, you followed him to the car as he engaged you in a conversation. It was probably the first time he had been given the permission to interact with you, and even he couldn’t deny, he loved to see the development, the confidence that you had come back with. 

While you were getting back home, Haechan was fuming with anger, kicking the pavement as he had left the party, his mind formulating ideas for a plausible revenge against everyone. He was rebellious, he’d give himself that, yet in the depth of his heart, he meant well, not wanting to hurt anyone intentionally, only for the sake of having unharmed fun. 

It wasn’t as if his friends were any different, so why should he be the one who’s labelled to be the worst of them all? This time, he wanted to hurt someone on purpose, the someone being Mark Lee. 

Solution? Get as close to you as humanly possible—which would also mean that he’d have to work to get a place in your heart. But he didn’t mind it, especially when he had liked you all this while. 

Mark wanted him to stay away? Tough luck because Hyuck wanted you. 

Thinking about you reminded him of when you first met through Mark, he had priorly informed everyone to stay away from you, despite the fact you were in fifth grade, almost isolating you from the world. However, it wasn’t enough for Hyuck to stop greeting you with his gummy smiles, which caused you to smile back at him too. 

That’s the most exchange you guys have had over these years. Hyuck was gonna change that, and so, he found himself walking towards your house, knowing well that Mark won’t be around to stop him, and your parents would be deep asleep given that it was past midnight. 

Climbing up your room wasn’t hard, especially when he was aware of the ladder kept in your backyard, but being silent after entering your room through a window was tough. 

The lights were dim, just how you liked it when you slept. With a few steps, Hyuck reached your bed, eyes fixated on your sleeping figure. 

A small, genuine smile graced his face when he noticed the small pout on your moisturized lips. Adorable—that’s how he perceived you, yet there was no denying how much you had grown up to be prettier than ever, and he couldn’t help but caress your cheek with his thumb, even the slightest touch making you stir in your sleep, causing him to chuckle. 

He had to have you. 

You weren’t sure if it was a dream or had Hyuck actually visited you at night, though, the latter idea seemed nothing less than a delusion. Maybe it was your brain playing tricks with you, but it wasn’t your biggest concern at the given moment as you wanted nothing more than to freshen up and eat. 

What you did not expect was to see your mom catering the four boys sprawled across your living room, the guy in your dream wasn’t anywhere to be seen still. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mom sweetly pulled you in her embrace, gaining the attention of your brother and his friends, who were sitting together playing some video games. 

“Good morning, mum,” you smiled, having missed her while you were away for school. 

“Yo, I almost forgot you were back for a second,” Mark commented as your mom asked everyone to sit down. 

You looked at him with a sour expression, “yeah, right. Cause there was no one to tell you that you’re wearing two different designs of socks,” you pointed out, getting a snigger out of Jeno, who passed you a sweet smile when you looked his way, averting his gaze within a second, a habit of all his friends who weren’t allowed to stare at you. 

“Or that you’re wearing your T-shirt inside out,” you scrunch your nose as others see a very clueless Mark trying to get everything in order, your mom also amused by the sudden liveliness in the home, “no, but how are you this unaware about yourself?” You mused. 

Mark didn’t get to reply or whine when the front door opened to reveal the guy of your dreams, quite literally. 

Lee Haechan came into the room as if he owned the place, your eyes fixated on his messy hair as he said hello to your mother, who was more than happy to see him here. 

Hyuck was her favourite out of all Mark’s friends. 

Other guys were quick to apologize to Hyuck, you wondered why, and Mark had apparently apologized on text last night for crossing the line. 

He looked carefree and unbothered, so you didn’t ponder upon it much till he sat down next to you for breakfast, finally looking in your eyes. 

You blinked once, focusing on his eyes which looked like they had honey swirling around them, his skin was tanned to the prettiest shade as he passed you a small smile, “hey, Y/n,” he acknowledged your presence, lips almost upturned into what seemed to be a smirk. 

For a second, you couldn’t quite focus as you were too enthralled observing the beauty marks scattered across his face, his plump pink lips—

Yeah, that thought shook you awake, “hey, Haechan,” you greeted back, thinking that calling him Hyuck might just be too friendly. 

“So, are we on for our trip tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, cutting your interaction short. 

“Wait, what trip?” You asked, knowing that your parents were gonna be out for a business trip too, and you weren’t one to enjoy being home alone in such a big house. 

“Didn’t Mark tell you?” Your mom asked and shook your head, throwing an accusatory look his way, “They all are having a stay in at Hyuck’s beach house.”

“And me? Am I supposed to be staying alone for what—how many days?” You asked. 

“A week,” Mark informed, unaffected. 

“I’m not staying home alone for a whole week, mum, this isn’t fair.” The distress was clear on your face. 

“Call your friends over then,” your mom suggested. 

“For a week? We’d rather go out for vacation too,” you pouted, not noticing the stare of two boys. 

“Join the trip with Mark then,” she recommended, placing the fluffy pancake on your plate. 

“What? Why? No,” Mark protested and the room bursted into a web of chaos with everyone discussing it. 

Only Hyuck was silent, his eyes still on your face, admiring your side view shamelessly, but also careful not to give out his intentions in front of Mark. 

“It’s a boys trip, mom. Y’know? Boy stuff,” he winced, trying to explain without explaining that all they planned on doing was drink, smoke and invite girls over, “guys, tell them?”

“Yeah—he’s right,” they all agreed, not maintaining eye contact, looking at each other awkwardly. 

“Okay, since the beach house is Hyuck’s, why don’t we let him decide?” Your mom sighs, looking at Hyuck. 

Now that the sole attention is on him, he tries to act clueless with a helpless look on his face, especially when you are looking at him with big eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

Then he looked back at his friends, who clearly wanted the girl to go, minus Mark at least. Lastly, he looked at your mom, who only smiled, and that was enough of an excuse for Hyuck to say with the sweetest smile—

“Of course, Y/n and her friend are always invited.”

“He said yes,” you were on the phone, explaining the whole situation to Yunjin, knowing well that she’d be more than ready to accompany you for your rendezvous. 

“He what?” She exclaimed, knowing that the boys would never take your side, especially in front of Mark. 

“I know, mom sorta helped cause Haechan never says no to mom, it’s like he’s her favourite child or something,” a humorous laugh left your lips. 

“Well, he will be once he becomes your boyfriend,” Yunjin gushed, “we’ll make sure he notices you this time, we’ve got a whole week to make it work.” 

You had rushed up the stairs and into your room as soon as the decision had been made, followed by the loud complaints of Mark—which you did not bother to hear, calling Yunjin to fill her in with the situation instead. 

She was packing as you were speaking. 

In all honesty, it never crossed your mind that you would actually want to seduce Haechan, provided that he was Mark’s friend, which would lead to fights you definitely didn’t wish to be a part of, but you were an adult, so Mark held no authority over you. 

There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun after all. 

“I’m not giving you a ride,” Mark deadpanned when you got back downstairs, your mother looking at him with disappointment. 

“I’ll take a cab then,” you rolled your eyes. 

“No need, you’re taking two cars and it’s enough to fit you all,” your mom finally said, “who’s driving?” 

“Me and Mark,” Hyuck replied, voice innocent as you turned to look his way, “Mark is taking the bigger one.”

“Is that so? All boys can go with Mark then. Won’t you give a lift to Y/n and Yunjin, Hyuck?” Your mom asked, knowing he won’t say no. 

She was good at persuasion, unknowingly giving Haechan the full opportunity to be with you, which is exactly what he was aiming for in the first place. 

Haechan only nodded earnestly, eyes almost shining as he looked back at you, “of course, you can ride with me,” he said, ignoring the glare thrown his way by Mark as your name rolled off his tongue, “Y/n.”

As if his voice and gaze wasn’t enough for you to stop breathing in a room full of people, the subtle smirk on his lips successfully had your knees buckling with anticipation. 

Never in a million years you had thought that you’d be riding shotgun in Hyuck’s car, with him driving and humming along to songs under his breath. You had worn the shortest skirt you managed to find in your closet and the little trick had worked as you saw him staring at your legs when you first came downstairs, announcing that you and Yunjin were ready to leave for the trip. 

Not only did it grab the attention of the boy you had been targeting, but also it garnered attention of Jaemin, who at least tried to act respectful by gulping and looking away. 

Hyuck on the other hand believed that he should blatantly stare at the things which are to be admired, including your legs. 

It didn’t take long for you guys to load your bags into his car, as the other one left ten minutes before you guys. Yunjin wasn’t a fan of long drives—two hours in your case, so she put on her AirPods and closed her eyes the second she got into the back seat, also to give you privacy with Haechan. 

He drove with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. The rings and chain adorning his body caught your attention for a second too long. His hands were definitely bigger than yours, veins popping out whenever he gripped the steering wheel. 

The aura around him was too strong, as if he was a magnet ready to pull everyone towards him, you were no exception. 

“Like the rings, darling?” He asked, eyes on the road with the corner of his lip upturned. 

The question successfully broke your train of thoughts. It was probably the first conversation you had with him, excluding the usual greetings. 

And he kick-started it by calling you darling. 

“They’re pretty,” you replied, not letting the nickname phase you, despite heat creeping up your neck. 

His smile widened at your answer and he swiftly got a ring off his finger, passing it to you—again, without even looking your way. 

“They’ll look prettier on you,” he says ever so smoothly, and you bite your lips, trying to stop the smile from widening as your fingers brush against his, taking the ring and inspecting the design, “don’t wear that in front of the boys though, they’ll flip.”

An amused chuckle left your lips, something which Haechan did not expect, “why? Still scared of Mark and his empty threats?” You asked. 

He pissed you off too much with his don’t come near my sister or I’ll make your life a living hell threat to others, and you were bitter about it. 

“Now, why would I be scared of Mark?” He scoffed. 

“Because you’re one of his friends who aren’t even allowed to look my way,” you said as a matter of fact, breath hitching the second you felt his fingers on your thigh, the warmth of his palm juxtaposing the cold metal of his rings. 

The car was stopped at the red light, “I’ve always looked you in the eye, sweetheart,” he whispered, confirming his statement by turning his head and staring right into your eyes, the tension palpable as your gazes locked, the look being too alluring for you to break the eye contact. 

His whole demeanour changed in a second when his serious expression morphed into a sweet smile, the kind that makes you melt right before he shifted his focus back on the road as if he hadn’t just provided you a sliver of hope about him being interested in you. 

He, however, didn’t bother moving his hand which was gripping your thigh lightly, his fingers were long and looked exceptionally pretty on your skin. You couldn’t help but look out of the window, trying not to let your thoughts get out of hand. 

It certainly didn’t help that he was singing explicit romantic songs with all his might while your best friend was sleeping peacefully in the backseat. 

Haechan loved every single reaction he got out of you, your little shivers when he caressed your thigh, your breath hitching for the very same reason midway a conversation, and your sweet blabber as you he initiated a conversation. 

“How was school?” He asked after a while. 

The conversation flowed smoothly after, the ride wasn’t long after all, his hand caressing your thigh throughout the journey, and you wished for it to be longer. 

The beach house wasn’t a house apparently, but a mansion with how grand it was. Meaning, everyone would easily get their own rooms. Mark’s car was already parked as they reached earlier, but you saw Jaemin coming out when he heard the sound of Hyuck’s car, helping you take the bags inside with his ever so charming smile while Yunjin and you silently gushed about the beach view. 

Others were busy preparing for the party that was to be held at night—which was news to you. 

The interior was in the shades of black, white, and greys, matching Haechan’s personality in a peculiar manner, given that he was filled with colours of all sorts. 

You and Yunjin selected the adjacent rooms on the first floor, the balcony giving you a pretty view wasn’t something you’d want to miss out on. Haechan occupying the room which was right in front of your room is another thing which boosted your excitement. 

The next few hours flew by as you rested on the beach with Yunjin, soaking up warmth of the sand with the cold ocean waves reaching your toes. It felt peaceful. 

“So, what are you gonna wear to woo Haechan today?” Yunjin asked, sipping on her iced beverage. 

The sun was about to set, your eyes never leaving the sky which displayed all shades of red, yellow and orange, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s no way they won’t be inviting girls, it was supposed to be a boys trip after all to get their dicks wet,” she said as a matter of fact. 

You winced again, not having it in you to watch your brother surrounded by girls. 

“And if Haechan was flirting with you, then it’s your chance to flirt back now, given that Mark would be drunk beyond the point of recovery. Not to mention how you’ll have to do something so he doesn’t stray off and give attention to other girls,” Yunjin listed out. 

She was right, it wasn’t like you were going to get this chance again, “red dress or black dress?” You asked with a playful smile and she squealed, rushing you into your room to help you get ready. 

The music was blaring by the time you applied the last swatch of lipstick, smacking your lips for the colour to blend in perfectly, complementing your skin tone ever so perfectly. Yunjin doing the same beside you. 

You weren’t sure how they managed to gather all this crowd for a party, granted you guys didn’t even live here, yet who would question these boys, an online invite and people would come running to attend their parties. 

Which was the case at the given moment as well. The second you stepped out from your assorted room, you found Jeno practically eating a girl’s face off with how passionately they were kissing  right beside the door, the music blaring in the background as you tried to overcome the initial shock of seeing your brother’s friend going what you’d consider wild. 

Making your way downstairs, you put on your best confident expression, your eyes immediately looking around, trying to find a certain black haired guy. 

Yunjin stopped you, pointing at the corner of the room where Hyuck was sitting with girls surrounding him, Renjun right next to him, a scoff of disbelief leaving your lips when one of them oh so comfortably sat down on his lap, his arm wrapping around her waist so naturally. 

Yet you couldn’t deny just how effortlessly attractive he looked in that black button up, the first few buttons undone to reveal his chest. The eyeshadow enhancing the look of his eyes to appear more slutry than they already seemed to be. 

Great. This is what you came on this trip for—to see Hyuck tilting the chin of a random girl, shoving his tongue inside her mouth. 

This won’t do, you averted your gaze, going straight to get alcohol, any kind would do, you just needed a boost of confidence to work upon your plan. Yunjin knew exactly what you were up to, winking at you before wandering off in the crowd. 

“Not dancing tonight?” Jaemin asked, standing right next to you as he poured himself a drink. 

His presence made your job easier, especially when he looked so good tonight. His dark hair was a little messy, sleeves rolled up as he was clad in all black, a simple chain adorning his slender neck. 

Perfect bait to get a reaction out of Haechan. 

If he’d bother to look your way, that is. 

“Talking to me tonight? Not scared of my brother anymore?” Your lips curled up, amused. 

That earned a laugh out of him, “he’s locked up in a room as we speak,” he said over the music. Translation: he was busy fucking someone and he won’t be here to monitor your moves. 

Your nose scrunched, not wanting to think about your brother doing the deed. Jaemin walked alongside you as you took up his offer to dance, but also made sure that you could see Haechan clearly with your spot. 

His eyes turned your way for the first time tonight the second you started moving your body along to the rhythm. The distance was fair, yet it felt as if you were the only person in this room and he was the only spectator to your actions. 

Jaemin’s hand came to rest on your waist, your body in sync with his moves, the proximity close and a blissful expression on your face. 

Again, you subtly looked Hyuck’s way, only to find his eyes darker than ever, not straying away from you for even a second, the girl on his lap long forgotten as he couldn’t find a reason to give her his attention anymore. 

Not when you were dancing with Jaemin, not when your dress rode up, revealing your thighs, not when Jaemin whispered in your ear and you giggled, getting closer to him. 

He couldn’t stand it, the muscle in his jaw clenched, his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek with annoyance bubbling up in his body. 

You turned around, only to find Haechan missing from the spot he was sitting at. All of a sudden, you excused yourself from Jaemin and made your way around the room, to find him again and you failed to do so. 

The room’s atmosphere got stuffy as the night progressed and you made your way upstairs to your room in need of fresh air which was very well provided by the grand balcony. 

Just as you twisted the door knob, getting inside the room, you gasped as Hyuck closed the door behind you, pushing you against the wooden surface of the door, his scent taking over your senses seamlessly as you breathed in deeply. 

“Hyuck—” you whispered, hyper aware of how close he was to you, his body pressed against yours in a way you could feel his torso muscles. His face tilted ever so slightly, just enough for your noses to brush against each other. 

The position alone sent you into a state of frenzy, and he didn’t even let you finish speaking out his name as he chuckled darkly. 

“Didn’t know you were into Jaemin, darling,” he whispered, causing you to gulp down the nervousness, which was of no use as your knees felt even weaker with his slender finger tracing your cheek, stopping right by your lips, “dancing with him while wearing the ring that I gave you.” His thumb caressing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, “doesn’t really sound fair to me now, does it, baby?” He asked, stopping his actions and looking your right in the eye. 

You couldn’t show him how affected you were with possessiveness laced tone, “I don’t see how it’s unfair, Haechan,” you smiled sweetly, keeping your hand on his chest. 

“Wrong,” he said in a beat, “his intentions aren’t pure,” he provided. 

You chuckled, turning your face to the side for a second, “what about your intentions?” You dared to ask. 

His hold on you tightened, “you wanna know my intentions?” He asked, voice so low it gave you goosebumps as he moved even closer to you, his lips on the verge of touching yours. 

They never fully touched, your hand becoming a barrier between you two, “maybe some other day,” you whispered, the expression in his eyes unreadable, “someday when you don’t come here with tainted lips after kissing god knows how many girls,” you smiled tightly, pushing him aside, the alcohol only providing you with unadulterated courage. 

He pulled you back, hand wrapped around your wrist so his torso was pressed against your back, which vibrated with his chuckles, “didn’t know it bothered you that much, pretty,” his lips touched your earlobe. 

“It doesn’t,” you seethed out, trying not to sound breathless as you shrugged out of his hold, “besides, we mean nothing to each other. I won’t stop you from snogging anyone and you can’t stop me from dancing with anyone.”

That’s all you said before slipping out of his grasp, rushing in and closing the bathroom door behind you and breathing in deeply. The feeling of his touch still lingering on your body, he was jealous as you were and he was so close. 

So close to kissing you. 

Hyuck leaned against the door on the opposite side of you, “we mean nothing to each other?” He scoffed under his breath, the image of Jaemin’s hands on your waist coming back to his mind. He was wrong to pay attention to someone else, he admits, but now he was determined to give you all his attention. 

“You’re mine, you just don’t know that yet,” he says, knowing you won’t be able to hear him, “all mine,” his tone was possessive still as he walked out of the room. 

The boys woke up all hungover the next morning, while you and Yunjin snuck out of the mansion before others woke up, only to avoid Hyuck, which was almost funny given that you were here to get his attention. 

Regardless, you sat in this cute cafe you found nearby, explaining the whole situation to your best friend. The slight smirk on her face gave away the fact that she was proud of you for not giving him attention last night. It’ll only make him want you more, she had said. 

Mark called you right after you finished your meal, “where are you?” He asked, panicked, “don’t tell me you got kidnapped,” the horror was clear in his voice and you rolled your eyes, not understanding how his brain worked. 

“I literally left a note on the fridge that I’ll be out for lunch and shopping, Mark,” you explained, almost laughing when you heard him say oh. He was standing right in front of the fridge apparently. 

“Right, have fun,” he said, hanging up the call. 

He wasn’t the best brother but he did care. At times, more than he needed to. 

“Okay so here’s the plan,” Yunjin started to explain. She loved giving out ideas and they always worked, which is why you found yourself in the swimsuit store, purchasing the one which flattered your body in the best manner. 

“And don’t lock your room at night. Knowing Haechan, he would definitely give you a little visit after seeing you pull that stunt.” 

The sun was setting and you were almost back at the mansion. You enjoyed the day and it was a great plan to get Hyuck out of your head, even though it wasn’t possible despite the fact that it had been only two days since you came back and met him again. 

Tonight’s plan was to have a bonfire by the beach, grill meat and have a good time. Mark had finally accepted and asked everyone to tone down and make the trip more family friendly, hence the bonfire.  

The place was empty when you got back in, and you saw the boys setting up the barbecue when you changed into your dress before making your way to join them. 

“Remember the plan?” Yunjin asked and you nodded, loving the feel of cold sand beneath your foot. 

Hyuck was the first one to notice your presence, his dark eyes fixated on your figure as you walked towards them, Jaemin being the second one as he smiled your way, to which you smiled back sweetly. 

You still had Hyuck’s ring on as you approached the place where Hyuck and Jaemin were grilling the meat, Mark was sitting down and playing his guitar while Jeno and Renjun sang along to the song, Yunjin being a great singer also joined those three. 

“Can I have a taste?” You asked, looking at Jaemin with hopeful eyes. 

The weather was cold yet the burning stare of a certain someone had you feeling all kinds of warmth, yet you didn’t look his way. 

“Of course, say ah,” Jaemin said, eyes shining as he held the piece of meat for you and you gladly accepted it, your lips touching his fingers in a caress, the juicy taste making you hum out in pleasure. 

In a second, you were turned around, “there’s something on your lips,” Hyuck muttered, expression stoic as he brushed his thumb on your lower lip, “all cleaned.”

You would have laughed at the jealousy had his action not been so intimidating, as if he was warning you not to do this. 

“Thanks,” you said, voice extra sweet before you looked back at Jaemin who was confused at the exchange, “can I have more?” You asked. 

“Here.” Hyuck shoved a plate in your hands before Jaemin could even reply, “enjoy your food,” he said, smiling but his eye twitched in the process, making you bite your lower lip to contain your laugh yet again and you sat down finally. 

“Do you think the water would be cold right now?” Jeno asked no one in general, his intrusive thoughts winning.  

“Why? Wanna take a dip?” Mark asked with a laugh, eyebrows raising once he realized that Jeno was serious about it. 

“It’ll be fun,” he said as everyone laughed around him. 

“There’s no light out here, Jeno,” Renjun said. 

“It’ll be fun.”

“The waves are strong too,” Mark reasoned.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, his vocabulary is limited,” Hyuck said, sitting by you as Jaemin handed over the plates to everyone, Mark sparing a glance to make sure Hyuck didn’t sit too close to you. 

“We can go one hour after eating, just dip our toes in,” Yunjin suggested and you guys agreed as Mark resumed playing his guitar. 

“Have more, Y/n.” Jaemin smiled, giving you more pieces to eat from his own plate. 

Haechan didn’t remember the last time he felt so pissed over something this small, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It had been two whole days since you made your comeback in his life but those two days were enough for him to want you, granted he did have a crush on you for the longest time, only now it wasn’t just your sweetness he was attracted to. 

“Thank you, nana,” you beamed, the nickname only infuriating Hyuck more while you could see Jaemin blush faintly and you truly wondered how all these goofballs pulled girls so easily. 

“Nana,” Hyuck mocked under his breath, Yunjin noticing the atmosphere and slightly pushing you towards him. 

“You’re doing brilliantly,” she whispered, “he looks like he’ll blow up anytime now.”

It felt nice, sitting in front of the bonfire while listening to others singing. You knew you were trying to make Hyuck jealous yet it was hard not to stare at his face, which basked in the glow of fire. He was already looking your way, noticing how you still had his ring on, which only tempted him to pull you on his lap, yet he knew it was impossible with your brother monitoring his every move. 

“Let’s go into the water,” Jeno repeated, as Mark smirked. 

“On the count of one, two,” he said, and didn’t even finish before your eyes widened as your brother came to pick you up in hopes of throwing you into the cold water. 

Mark was escapable. Jeno on the other hand, not so much and it didn’t help how they both had lifted you up despite your thrashing and whining and ran towards the water. 

“Mark I swear I’ll kill you—” you warned and Yunjin had the time of her life recording this whole scene. 

Renjun continuously reminded the boys to stay safe while also doing god’s work by providing you with the flashlight set on the highest setting from his phone. 

Within a second, you were screaming and thrashing as the boys dropped you into the cold water, laughing and doing the same with a horrified Renjun before rushing towards the mansion, especially Mark, leaving you all cold. 

Hyuck rushed to close the flashlight. 

You were wearing white, and the water only made your clothes look transparent, which is why Hyuck was taking his jacket off, but yet again, Jaemin was quick to wrap his leather jacket around your shivering frame. 

He was glad that you were covered but the annoyance was clear on his face, the amusement long gone even with you muttering and plotting Mark and Jeno’s murder with Renjun. 

Nor did he enjoy the sight of Jaemin taking you back to the villa, acting all protective as if he was your knight in shining armour. 

“You’re making it so obvious that you’re jealous,” Yunjin quipped, noticing how everyone walked ahead of them, rushing to the mansion. 

He laughed out, ending it with a scoff, “I have no reason to be,” he said, voice calm, “she’s mine anyways,” he shrugged, determination clear in his eyes. 

“Wow, you’re not even scared to admit it out loud? What if Mark hears?” She asks and Hyuck’s expression sours. 

“He wouldn’t approve. That’s a given but that’s not enough to stop me,” he shrugged yet again. 

“Okay Mr. Someone is stealing your girl as we speak though,” Yunjin pointed out, a fake sympathetic scowl on her face. 

Haechan hated feeling this way, the feeling where things do not go his way. He hadn’t felt this way since—forever. He had everything he wanted, but not you. Mark being a hindrance is something he considered to be normal till some extent, but Jaemin? That’s unacceptable. 

“I’ll take care of it.”

It was one in the morning and you were wrapped up in a blanket, sitting down near the balcony to observe the spectrum of stars which you could have sworn were shining. 

Being thrown into the water wasn’t the best experience per se, but you knew it would soon turn into a funny memory you guys would look back at someday in the future. Yet, it wasn’t something you were thinking about much, granted you had better things to ponder about. 

Lee Haechan. 

You well expected him to show at least a sliver of reaction, some sort of outburst during the evening, however it never came. Either he was plotting revenge or he simply didn’t care enough. Or he was trying to keep it in, your mind tried to reason with you. 

You sighed, getting up and closing the sliding doors of the big balcony in hopes of getting a cozy sleep. You needed that warmth after all. Just as you dropped the blanket on the bed, the door swung open—which shouldn’t have happened, given that you were sure you had locked it.

Haechan entered the room, closing the door behind him and you couldn’t help but stand at your place, shocked at his sudden appearance, “how did you—” 

“It’s my place, I can get in and out anytime I want,” he replied, voice smooth, giving you goosebumps as he walked closer to you. 

He was clad in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, the attire was simple, yet he made it look a hundred times more attractive than the usual. 

“Oh,” you breathed out, the dim lights of the room caused his skin to glow a beautiful shade of golden. 

There wasn’t a single ounce of jealousy on his face, rather, he looked content with the setting, settling down and sitting on the corner of the bed, his dark eyes staring at you, the silence louder than ever. 

“Uhm, so—did you want something?” You asked, wincing at your tone as you suddenly felt conscious under his gaze, slightly aroused too, not knowing what he was actually here for. 

He clicked his tongue, looking away for a second before his eyes settled on you for the second time. 

Hyuck gave you no time to process anything as his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him in a single hard tug, which had your body stumbling forward and right on his lap. 

He held on to your waist, helping you stabilize your balance, “what’s wrong, princess? You were so confident, getting cozy with Jaemin, huh?” He raise his brow, letting the possessiveness show on his face, the I don’t give a fuck facade disappearing. 

Your breath hitched with the movement of his fingers on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on the part where your top had ridden up to expose your skin. 

“He was just being nice,” you breathed out, shivering slightly. 

He rolled his eyes at your statement, a scoff leaving his lips before he leaned in, earning a gasp out of you. His nose caressed yours, and you were scared to move, his lips hovering above yours. 

“Just being nice my ass,” he clicked his tongue yet again, and suddenly you were hyper aware about the fact that you were breathing in the same air, “you wanted to know my intentions, right, princess?” He asked, “then listen, I want you all to myself,” his tone was raspy, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support, “don’t think I didn’t notice your subtle glances towards me, especially when you were with Jaemin,” he chuckled and you gulped, looking elsewhere. 

He was quick to grab your chin, making you look right in his eyes, “trying to get me jealous, darling? Well, good for you, it fucking worked.”

“Hyuck—” you whimper, your body heating up as you realized you were sitting right on his crotch. 

“Shh, bad girls don’t get to talk,” he shook his head, disappointed, “now what do we do about this? Maybe I’ll just have to claim your body to make you understand that you don’t need to make me jealous to have all my attention,” he suggested. 

You could feel the wetness down in your lacy panties and he hadn’t even touched you. Something about the way his voice came out so luscious, something about the way his touch made you feel like putty, something about his eyes made you feel mesmerized. 

“Tell me, baby. Can I mark you mine?” He asked and you felt your heart flutter, his voice was gentle when he asked for your consent, and you couldn’t hold back from wanting him anymore, nodding gently, “use your words, love,” he urged, lips parted. 

“Yes,” you whispered, grabbing on to him as he bit your lip, eliciting another gasp out of you, a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Yeah? You sure you can handle it?” He asked and you tugged on to his collar, impatiently pulling you to him. 

“Let’s find out,” you mumbled. 

Without any more delay, you closed the distance between you both, his hand coming to rest on your nape, tilting your head to kiss you passionately, his tongue brushing over your lips, parting them with ease for your tongue to graze the tip of his own. 

The room felt misty as you continued to kiss, his kisses getting more possessive by second, thinking about how no one else should have you, that you belong to him. He picked you up with ease, putting you underneath him on the bed, his kisses trailing down as you took a deep breath. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled midway kisses, some were long, especially the ones around your clavicle and neck region while the others were feather soft, driving you insane to the point of no return. It only ascended when his fingers finally lifted up your top, exploring the expanse of your skin with teasing touches. 

Your back arched as soon as he caresses the area under your tits, before cupping them fully, leaning back to get rid of your top altogether. You couldn’t shy under his gaze, the way he looked at you only boosted your confidence, as if he was a predator hungry for a meal and you were his precious prey, all ready to be devoured. 

He had no time to waste, his mouth working fast to lean down, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, noticing how you react to his each touch, fondling your other tit, hearing you whimper and beg for more, his name chanting on your lips out of sheer pleasure. 

“It’s so fucking cute how your body reacts to every little touch of mine,” he whispered, biting your earlobe in the process, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he stuffed his pretty fingers inside your shorts, chuckling when he realizes how soiled your lacy panties had gotten, “fuck, I wanna taste that pretty cunt,” he says, taking off his T-shirt before doing the same to your shorts, dragging your panties down alongside it. 

You found yourself drooling at the sight of Hyuck’s muscles, he had started going to the gym and the results were clearly visible on his body, but you were ripped out of your thought train when he bit your inner thigh, causing you to clench around nothing, giving you kisses and licks all over, but not touching the part where you needed him the most. 

“P—please,” you cried out of frustration, and he immersed himself, licking a big stripe of your wet cunt, genuinely loving the taste as he hummed with satisfaction, holding your thighs open with his strong arms, “oh god,” you moaned out, causing him to smirk against your wetness, pressing sweet kisses to your clit. 

It felt like heaven when you were being destroyed by the demon himself. 

Hyuck was hard, his thick cock barely containing itself from splitting your pussy into two, but he wanted to see you fall apart on his tongue first, “your cunt,” he said, licking it to make a point, “belongs to me,” he whispered and you nodded. 

“It’s yours—all yours!”

“That’s my good fucking girl, you’re all mine,” he said, his tongue prodding at your entrance, fucking your pussy, which gave you more pleasure than you had ever felt through your life. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel your lower abdomen tightening, your fingers tugging on his silky black roots as he ate you out like a madman, as if he was drunk in the essence of your pussy. With a cry, you found yourself falling apart all over his tongue and he lapped it up, coming to kiss you right after, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. He knew you’d be overstimulated, but that’s exactly what he was aiming for when he finally pulled out his cock. You knew he’d be thick, but you underestimated him still, knowing well his cock wouldn’t fit in your cunt. 

“Gonna claim you mine,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours as he positioned himself on your entrance, “fuck, you’re all mine,” he said, kissing you deeply to absorb all yours moans as he pushed himself inside you. 

Your wetness helped him, yet he had to thrust in a few times to bottom out and could feel yourself clenching around him uncontrollably, loving the stretch and also the fact that he was twitching inside of you. 

His fingers grabbed your hips in a tight hold as he started pistoning into you at a pace which you hadn’t expected, and you were sure you looked crazy with how your eyes were teary, your hair a mess and your lips swollen, courtesy of the boy who groaned and slapped your cunt, fucking you deeper. 

“That’s it, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he praised and you let out broken sentences which he couldn’t comprehend, you were too gone, pushed into your subspace to the point you simply let Hyuck do all the work, moaning and whimpering for him, trying to keep your noises at bay in case anyone wakes up. 

Just when you both were about to read your high, he stopped fucking you, making you whimper out in distress, only to have you flipped with your ass up and head down on the pillow. 

It didn’t take him a second before he was entering your cunt again, fucking you from behind in hopes of giving you the brutal backshots you deserved, to fuck you in a way that you’ll be ruined forever, not even wanting to go back to another guy for their cock. 

This also gave him the perfect opportunity to spank your ass, the hurt only making you clench around him harder. 

“Fuck—I’m so—so close,” you sobbed, voice coming out muffled and Hyuck rubbed your clit to stimulate you further. 

“Go on, baby. Give me everything,” he urged and you both finally let go, groaning and whining as he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with your juices.

It felt as if the universe had blessed you with the highest amount of unadulterated pleasure one could have, and your eyes closed shut as Hyuck lay down next to you, breathing in and out just as quick as you to regain his strength to breathe properly. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, more gently this time, pulling you into a sweet kiss as you smiled into it, finding it amusing that he was the same guy who brutally fucked you not even a few minutes back, “you really are mine, yeah?” He said, caressing your cheek. 

“Yeah?” You asked in a whisper and he nodded earnestly, getting a washcloth and helping you into the bathroom, feeling proud when you couldn’t stand up properly. 

He was sweet. Sweeter than you had ever expected him to be and that’s why you found yourself kissing him again, and again as you both washed up in the shower, turning it to the point you both couldn’t help but giggle, his forehead resting against yours. 

“I really do like you, baby,” he whispered. 

“I really like you too, Hyuck,” you replied, feeling happier than you had ever felt, spending a while in his embrace, talking and kissing and eventually, falling asleep in his arms as you both smiled faintly, even in your deep slumber. 

Hurt. 

That’s what your body felt the second you blinked open your eyes. Images from last night revisiting you as a montage, a small smile lingered on your face, discarding the fact that you were disappointed, not having Hyuck by your side when you woke up, but then again, it was still better than getting caught by Mark. 

With the support of the bedside tables, you managed to stand up on your wobbly feet, stablizing yourself before going into the bathroom to freshen up, you needed that long bath to soothe down your muscles. 

Now wrapped up in your bath robe, you passed by the door, only to hear the sound of someone arguing. Curiosity got the best of you as you walked back, twisting the knob to open it just the right amount for it to not be noticeable, gladly the door opened seamlessly. 

“Stop playing with her feelings,” Jaemin whisper-yelled, and your heartbeat rose when you saw how it was directed towards Hyuck. 

“Who the fuck even said I’m playing with her?” Hyuck asked, his voice full of exasperation and anger. 

Jaemin scoffed, you hadn’t seen that expression on his face, ever. “So you’re just gonna go around fucking her right after Mark told you, specifically might I add, to stay away from her. What are you trying to do here? Take revenge by proving a point?” 

Your heart dropped hearing that sentence. Sneaking around made sense because Mark would, without any doubts, be against this setting, but what revenge was Jaemin talking about? When did Mark ask Hyuck to stay away from her, specifically at that? 

“That’s none of your business,” Hyuck replied, teeth gritted, “besides, weren’t you the one begging for her attention by putting up your good boy act? We aren’t that different, Jaemin,” he mocked, “you only want her cause she’s Mark’s sister.”

Your lip wobbled at his confession, he hadn’t agreed to Jaemin’s claims yet he hadn’t denied it either and suddenly you didn’t feel comfortable, all the positive energy drained as you rushed to get dressed, to get out. 

You trusted Hyuck too easily, and you knew you’d have to confront him about this, but you didn’t feel like doing it now. You wanted to go back home, alone, to deal with your inconvenience which would bother you for a while now. 

So you did what you had to do: run away from your problems. 

You texted Mark that you’d be taking his car, also mentioning it to Yunjin that you’ll be going back home, as you rushed to get dressed up and sneak out of the place without Hyuck knowing, and you were successful in doing so, sighing as soon as you started driving back. 

Hyuck thought you were sleeping in, and he couldn’t enter your room with everyone being awake and roaming around, especially when Jaemin knew what you two had done last night. 

The reminder only made him smile, as cliche as it sounds, he had never felt this way with other girls, your little confession only made his heart beat faster. You liked him back, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Yo, why did Y/n leave? She’s not picking up the calls either?” Hyuck heard Mark ask Yunjin, who knew exactly what was up. 

“She’s got some work to take care of, you don’t have to worry about it,” Yunjin patted his shoulder before making her way out to the beach to call you again. She knows you want space, but she also knows you like it when she checks up on you. 

Now, that was news to Hyuck, his eyes widening as he rushed to open the door to your room, only to find you weren’t actually there. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, getting his phone out and calling you, only for it to get declined, “no, fuck,” he groaned, thinking about if he upset you in any way, yet he couldn’t understand why you’d leave, especially when you were so happy when you went to sleep. 

Or maybe she heard you talking to Jaemin, his subconscious spoke up, making him lose his mind and punch the wall next to him, running down the stairs to follow Yunjin, calling out her name which caused her to pause and remove her sunglasses. 

“Where is Y/n?” He asked, breathing heavily. 

“Are you playing with her feelings?” She asked instead of replying to his question, “cause if that’s the case then I don’t care if we’re staying at your mansion, I’ll have to kick and break your baby making machine.” Her smile was threatening. 

“Oh god, that’s not it!” Hyuck was frustrated, “I’ve liked her since we were kids, I'm not joking around,” he said earnestly, “is she upset, why did she leave?” 

Yunjin watched the boy with amusement in her eyes, “you’re so dumb actually. If you like her enough then why aren’t you running after her right now? Get in your car and get your girl, shoo,” she dismissed him and Hyuck didn’t wait to chat about how she shouldn’t shoo him away, rather, he ran to grab his car keys, not paying attention to Renjun who asked why he was in such a hurry. 

Hyuck didn’t want any miscommunications whatsoever, it had been an hour since you had left, and it’ll probably be impossible to cover that distance in a short while so he decided to drive faster and get to your place. 

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me,” he muttered to himself, trying to call you again. 

You weren’t dating. It had barely been a week since you came back, a few days since he had started to get to know this new side of you and he didn’t want it to stop, not when he’s genuinely liked you for so long, minus his fuckboy ways of course. 

Mark had tried to call him a few times too, sensing that something was up, yet Hyuck didn’t pick up those calls, focusing on driving till he finally reached your place, relieved to see Mark’s car parked there. 

He knew there was an extra key under the third potted plant on the entrance, and that’s exactly what he took and opened the door. The living room was empty, which caused him to rush up the stairs to find you in your room, his chest heaving up and down. 

The sudden voice startled you, your mouth going dry at the sight of Hyuck. 

You couldn’t avoid him after all. 

“Hyuck, is everything okay? What are you doing here—why are you here?” You asked, pretending to be okay. 

“Did you hear us in the morning?” He asked, eyes softer than you had ever seen. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped, gulping down your emotions before staring at your feet, “I did,” you whispered, “but it’s fine, Hyuck. The sex was great—”

You didn’t look up while rambling, and it was cut short when Hyuck pulled you into his embrace, warmth spreading all over your body with how he held you close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so broken seeing someone’s face, and he couldn’t handle that it was because of him that you felt this hurt. 

“That’s not true,” he whispered, holding you tighter, you could feel tears forming in your eyes. 

“N—no one’s ever approached me because of Mark,” your voice came out muffled, and Hyuck leaned back slightly just to look at your face, his thumb wiping the stray tear that cascaded down your cheek, “i felt like no one wanted to befriend me for me, all girls wanted to get to him through me and all the boys were so scared,” you laughed pathetically, knowing that your story wasn’t even sob worthy, “but you were the only one who still talked to me, even if it was just greeting me, asking me about my day,” you let out your breath. 

“Baby,” Hyuck cupped your cheeks. 

“You were the only exception, Hyuck. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve always liked you so much. So tell me, was it all a joke?” You asked, eyes serious. 

“It wasn’t,” he shook his head, gulping down before explaining it to you, “it happened at the party when I offered to drop you home but Mark was against it, thinking that I would use you to only fuck you, but that was not my intention I swear,” he says with a frown. 

“So that’s what you did,” your voice barely came out, it sounded broken. 

“God—no. No. I could never do that to you,” he felt helpless, trying to word his sentence properly, “I’ve liked you since we were kids, and I was heartbroken when you switched schools and cities. But I just got so excited when Mark told us that you were back—I wanted to see you, talk to you, but Mark only gave me a reminder that I couldn’t have you.”

You listened to him, your heart undoubtedly fluttering with how earnest his eyes looked, how the distress of being denied of you flashed clearly on his face. 

You really wanted to kiss him. 

“And when he gave all those permissions to Jaemin, I couldn’t help it. I never had revenge in my mind Y/n. I like you too much to hurt you, and I know we’re not even dating right now, but I don’t want anyone to ruin it for us even before our story starts and I swear to god I’ll fight Mark if it means that I can have you,” he breathed out, cheeks flushed as he had confessed to someone for the very first time.

You broke into a smile despite the tears in your eyes, “you promise?” You held up your pinky finger. 

He laced his pinky finger with yours, tugging it so you stumble slightly, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you into a deep kiss, his soft lips caressing yours in a possessive hold, promising that he’ll take care of you. 

“Good, cause I was going to be really upset if you didn’t,” you mumbled against his lips. 

He chuckled before saying, “don’t ever run away from me, yeah?” 

You nodded, hugging him back tighter as you felt your anxiety calming down, your smile widening as he kissed your forehead, easing out your worries and you were sure you wanted to give it a try—you wanted to give you both a try. 

Yet another problem lingered in your mind. 

“So, about Mark,” you winced, knowing it’ll be disastrous.

“Shh, we’ll think about him later,” he mumbled, but the peacefulness wasn’t here to stay for long as a loud voice boomed up, indicating that Jaemin had snitched. 

“Lee fucking Donghyuck, I told you to stay away from my sister!” Mark shouted, your eyes widening as you both looked at each other. 

“Fuck, hide!”

Despite the chaos of hiding in your closet, you knew that Hyuck would always be your exception. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

TAGGING: @ajayke-reads @jenoslutie @jjaeyuns @heesuncore @celeste-hoon

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[harstyle]

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

��Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

-

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

[blimpintime]

jade green prologue

azriel x reader

in which Azriel has a personal healer, and she needs to be saved.

word count: 830 words

warnings: light angst, head injury, rhys is an asshole!

unedited

Being a traveling healer meant a few things; one, knowing how to defend yourself is the most important thing next to healing. Two, paying attention to new science and healing techniques will always benefit you and your patient. Lastly, being kind to everyone you meet, will get you further than having people fear you. 

Well, for the most part. Sometimes defending yourself and staying kind contradict one another hence why you are running, no, rolling down a snowy mountain trying to outrun some bandits. 

The snow is wet and mushy, not quite the firm snow that Illriya gets further into the cold season, so you are having a hard time grasping anything to regain balance and stability. Your winter gear is starting to become soaked with the cold and wet ground you have been sliding in, and eventually, you are wet head to toe when you slide into a river with no way to slow yourself down or stop.

Your head reemerges from the frigid water rushing around you, face freezing and refreshed at the same time. The sky is a bright white reflecting off the snow on the mountain making it hard for you to see. At this point, you have no idea what direction you are even facing or heading towards, and your body is dropping its temperature rapidly. 

“Shit.” You manage to cough out, your bag of healing items now long gone in the river.

 You try swimming toward a branch you see floating near you but get swept by the current and smack your head on the branch instead, causing everything around you to go dark.

There is not much that will get a reaction of Azriel but seeing one of his close friends (who he hasn’t seen in years)  floating lifeless in the Sidra was a scenario that made his stomach drop to his feet. 

He isn’t sure how he recognized you, floating face up in the water and blueish gray, but he is glad he did because he quickly shot down to where you were and ripped your frigid body out of the painfully cold water his hands going numb with pain. Your hair glowing around your face no doubt your healing abilities trying to save your body a little, but it is clearly having a hard time considering you still have a large gash on your forehead dripping sticky blood. 

He lifts your lifeless body into his strong arms and winnows to Madja’s healers’ cabin. He feels your pulse faintly but at least it is still there. A bit of panic flushes through his body when he realizes how long you have been in this state. And then anger washes over him, who could do this to someone so kind? He thinks harshly to himself.

Where are you, brother? A voice appears in his head, Not now Rhys. He responds sharply. 

Oh, at a pleasure house? Finally, taking up my advice? Don’t forget about family dinner. Rhysand quips back in a joking tone, to which Azriel blocks him out completely. 

He could not care less about family dinner more than he did right now. You limp in his arms freezing cold with blue lips and eyes faintly closed with what looked to be ice crystals around your lashes and eyebrows. You who have saved him from the brink of death on more than one occasion. You were all that mattered in this moment. 

When Madja finally helped you in, you were lying there with your chest softly rising on the bed. He couldn’t leave your side nor did he want to. 

“It is good you found her when you did,” Madja spoke to him. “She was getting to dangerous levels of freezing. Without her abilities, I am fairly certain her blood would have frozen.” 

Azriel winced and ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t even know what she was doing here. I have never met with her in Velaris.” He responded softly.

“You know her?” Madja asked in the same tone.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, “Long time friends.” 

She nodded in response. “She should wake when she is warm enough. If there is anything else I can do just yell for me, but I will be in my office.” With that, she walks off and closes the door gently.

Azriel for once does not know what to do, sitting there feels like a waste of time when he could be hunting those down who did this to you. However, he does not want you to wake up alone and confused.

Then he thinks about how he is expected to be at family dinner with his happily mated brothers and the girl he thought he was infatuated with. He felt guilty for a moment thinking about his family being happy when you were lying here lifeless, but then felt anger towards someone he calls a brother. A pleasure house? He scoffs verbally. His soul aches for companionship but right now all that matters is when you wake up. 

a/n: it is a little guy but welcome to the prologue!

[harmonicakai]

Powerslide

Pairing: Yeonjun x Reader

Summary: Usually, your best friend’s player roommate is the most annoying person on earth, but after your date ditches you, he’s more than willing to step in as a replacement.

Tropes: enemies to whatever this is, frat boy!yeonjun, bff!taehyun, college AU, soft dom!reader, sub!yeonjun, kinda exhibitionism & dacryphilia

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut (mdni!!!!!!!!!!), mentions of alcohol

A/N: My friend really wanted a Yeonjun fic to happen and I suddenly felt like writing this. I am NOT a smut writer, so this might not be very good, but I tried <3

“Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you” —Boyfriend, Ariana Grande & Social House

The guy you’ve been seeing has pissed you off for the last time. As soon as you got a text asking to reschedule tonight’s date, while you were already standing outside of the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at, it was over. 

You reply for him to go fuck himself and trudge back to campus to complain to your best friend, Taehyun.

Despite the two of you becoming almost inseparable after being paired up in organic chemistry together, it’s clear to both of you that it’s just a platonic thing. If you had to pick which one of his friends you were most into, it’d be his roommate, Yeonjun.

Except he pisses you off more than the guys you actually go out with. You can’t recall a time where you’ve ever talked to him sober or he hasn’t shamelessly flirted with you in front of whoever else was involved in the conversation. 

You know he sees girls as pawns and not people, and so you don’t even bother thinking about the two of you together. Until he answers the door instead of Taehyun, fresh from the shower, water still dripping from his hair onto the towel barely clinging to his waist.

“Where’s Taehyun?” you ask. Your line of sight naturally falls on his bare chest, but you do your best to look up at his face. He’s smirking at you.

“He’s got a soccer game,” Yeonjun says, stepping aside to let you into the common room. “Should be over soon if you want to wait for him.”

You walk past him, plopping yourself onto their small couch. Yeonjun’s eyes don’t leave you, taking in your full date night outfit and the way it hugs you perfectly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. You can swear you can hear him about to burst out into laughter as he watches you go through the five stages of grief. “You had a date tonight, didn’t you?”

“How do you know that?” you sit up, finally locking eyes with him. By now, he’s got a full fledged grin on his face.

“Taehyun told me,” he shrugs, his towel becoming looser with every movement. “Listen, I was just being nice and asking. If you want to ice me out like you always do, go ahead.”

His honesty makes your face heat up in anger. Yes, you’ve never been very nice to him, but for good reason. He’s just another fuckboy in a frat, and you’ve dealt with enough of those in your first years of college to know better.

“I can be nice,” you scoff, turning to look out the window. It’s so dark that all you can see are the streetlamps in the distance. 

“Then by all means, show me,” he says, his voice shifting from playful to something more serious. “I’d really like to see how nice you can be.”

There’s something about the way he’s talking to you that feels good. Wrong, but good.

“Fine,” you relent, looking back to see he’s gotten much closer to you than before. “But you need to go get dressed.”

“Am I distracting?” he smiles, tilting his head at you. You roll your eyes.

“More like nauseating,” you lie. He is distracting, just like usual. The only thing that really keeps you from giving him a chance is how annoying he is, but for some reason, you’re happy to entertain his advances tonight.

“I’ll be right back,” he says before walking into his bedroom. When he comes back, he’s got a red hoodie and ripped jeans thrown on, his hair still damp and messy. “Better?”

“Much better,” you approve. He nods before sitting down next to you on the couch, close enough so that his hand can graze your knee without it being obvious that he’s totally doing it on purpose. “Do you really want to hear about my love life?”

“Hmm, what else would we talk about?” he hums, his gaze locked on your glossy red lips. You can feel your face heat up, prompting you to scoot further away from him. 

“We could talk about yours instead. Although, from what Taehyun tells me, I’m not sure you’re even capable of love.”

“Ouch. I could be, you know? For the right girl.”

“And who’s the right girl?”

“You.” You want to laugh at how ridiculous this all is, but Yeonjun’s breath is hot against your neck, and he leans in to place a single kiss against your sensitive skin. “I can treat you better than any of those other guys, Y/N. Let me show you.”

Fuck it, you think to yourself. He’s here and he’s hot and he’s desperate for you. You turn to face Yeonjun, crashing your lips onto his. He tastes sweet, no doubt from the bubblegum he’s always smacking whenever you’re around.

When he moans into your kiss and grips his hand in your hair, you feel a shockwave in your core. You climb into his lap, his hard-on nestling in between your legs. He groans at the pressure.

“God, you’re so hot,” he gasps in between kisses. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Trust me, I know,” you laugh. “You make it so obvious.”

“I can’t help myself around you, Y/N.” He snakes a hand underneath your skirt, his fingers feeling how he’s already got you soaked through your panties. It takes everything in him not to finish right then and there. “Can I touch you?”

“Not now,” you say, your hand gripping his wrist and pinning it against the couch. Tonight, you’re in charge. “Maybe if you’re good for me, we can do this again.”

“Please,” he sighs as you grind your hips into him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

You never pegged Yeonjun as someone who begs in the bedroom, but you aren’t complaining. You pull away from him, moving off of his lap to beside him, your hand palming his erection through his jeans.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he says, his eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched. You bring your free hand up to his chin, moving his head to face you.

“Open your eyes,” you tell him. “I want you to look at me.”

“I can’t,” he stammers. “I’ll cum if I do.”

“You aren’t allowed to cum until I say so,” you whisper, sucking at the sensitive spot on his neck. His breathing grows heavier by the second. “Yeonjun. Look at me or I will never let you touch me again.”

His eyes shoot open and he’s not sure how much more he can take. Sure, your body is to die for, but it’s always been your face that he likes the best. Seeing you with messy hair and smudged lipstick, all because of him, is an image he won’t be able to get out of his head for months.

“You sound so pretty for me, baby,” you tell him, moving your hand faster. He could really get used to you calling him that.

By now, he can’t control his moans and tears start to run down his face. All he can do is whine your name over and over in the hopes that you’ll finally give him permission to finish.

As if it weren’t agonizing enough, the front door’s handle starts to jiggle. “Hey, Jun?” Taehyun’s voice calls from outside. “Can you let me in, man? I forgot my key.” 

Yeonjun’s eyes go wide at the sound of his roommate. You reach up to cover his mouth. “Be quiet, Junie. You don’t want Taehyun to hear you, do you?”

He shakes his head as you continue palming him through his pants, one of your fingers slipping into his mouth. He moans around it. 

Taehyun starts banging on the door. “Dude, are you asleep? Wake up! I need to shower and get to bed.”

You laugh at the nervous look on Yeonjun’s face, cupping his cheek with your free hand and placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Cum for me, baby. It’s okay.”

Your words send him over the edge and he’s bucking his hips into your hand just seconds later. He does his best to keep quiet, although not even your kiss is enough to dampen the string of profanities that leave his lips.

When he’s done, he stares at you with sleepy eyes and the most satisfied grin on his face. Both of you look down at the wet spot on his crotch. He’s never going to be able to wear these pants again.

“Go change,” you say, patting his cheek and getting up from the couch. You smooth your hair down and fix your skirt into place. “I’ll get the door.”

Yeonjun knows that every time he looks at you now, he’ll be thinking of coming undone under your touch. He quickly scrambles out of the room before you can let Taehyun in. 

“It’s about fucking time, man,” Taehyun scoffs, his eyes locked on his phone. When he looks up, he’s shocked to be greeted by you instead of his roommate. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” you say, smiling at the confused look on his face. “I wanted to tell you about my date.”

“Oh, yeah, that was tonight. Sorry, I picked up a game at the rec center.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, following him into his bedroom and shutting the door behind you. “Yeonjun kept me company.”

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @niningtori @csbenthusiast @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9

Literally only tagging the people from my taglist that I KNOW are over 18!!!

[mordredisacoolname]

BRIDGERTON BROS FALLING FOR A MALE READER

Male reader

HEADCANONS

Characters: Anthony, Benedict, Colin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anthony

-this boy is in DENIAL

-what do you mean he's in love with a MAN??

-he's so doomed

-you were very tight before

-spent every day together

-he really enjoyed your company, more than anyone, and he didn't understand why

-but when he realized he loved you he started avoiding you like the plug

-you don't understand why

-even tho you made peace with liking men and than fact that you're in love with your best friend, you didn't think he returned the feeling

-so you think you did something wrong

-you try talking to him but every time he finds an excuse to be somewhere else

-he is jealous of every man you talk to

-he doesn't have the right, but he still feels it

-after weeks of avoiding you he realizes the feeling won't go away

-so he with Benedict to a party, and sees you kissing a man

-you mean he has a chance with you???

-he barges to the room, his fist aching to punch the other guy, but he controls that feeling and just orders him to get the fuck out

-you're shocked, both just standing there staring at each other

-anthony steps closer to you starting intensely at your eyes

-"I think..." He doesn't finish the sentence and just kisses you

Benedict

-he first meets you in an art class

-watching your hand gracefully moving the paint brush on the canvas

-his starting is interrupted by lord Granville, asking him why haven't he started sketching

-by the end of the class you compliment him on his painting, making him feel something funny in his chest

-next time you're both in the studio he gathers the courage to talk to you, learning you'll be at the Granville's party next week

-you both meet there and spend the whole night together, you invite him to your studio, just the both of you

-he spends the leading days thinking about you

-"so, you want to pose or should I do it?" You ask him once you've taken out the canvas

-"I'd like to paint you" he saying with a playful twinkle in his eyes

-you settle into the chair in front of the canvas, posing for him

-"you know, I've been wanting to practice some anatomy"

-you understand the hint and take off your top, smiling to yourself

-after he's finished for the day you get up to look at what he did

-"so, what do you think"

-"this is amazing" you tell him

-"well, the muse is all to blame" he gets closer to you, looking briefly at your lips

-"oh sorry, next time I'll make sure to move in my sit and not let you work"

-"I won't be complaining if you were the one distracting me"

-he smirks looking into your eyes

-this waiting is killing you so you lean forward pressing your lips against his

-"we'll see next time" you say and leave him standing alone in the studio, eager for your next session

Colin

-you're a featherington relative visiting your family

-you're the closest to Penelope, always getting along

-you arrive together at the ball, all dressed up

-you're in a middle of a conversation with Pen when a man interrupts you to say hello to Pen

-"oh hello, I haven't seen you before" he looks at you in slight awe

-"I'm Penelope's distant relative, 'name', nice to meet you Mr....?"

-it takes Colin a couple seconds to respond "oh right, I'm Colin bridgerton"

-"the famous bridgerton, what a pleasure"

-"famous? You've heard of me?"

-"of course, Penelope never stops talking about you Mr bridgerton" you smirk at her red face

-"ah, that's nice, I think"

-"well, I shall go speak to other people, enjoy your night, Colin"

-he's absolutely smitten

-your voice, your smile, everything

-he visits the featherington house every day after that night, just to see you

-you talk a couple of time, and once he invites you to play cricket with his brothers

-you have am absolute blast, winning against Colin all the time

-he's usually good at this, but he can't seem to pocus

-except he does focus, just not on the game

-one day you sit together on a bench, watching people pass by

-"I'm returning to my hometown in two days" you suddenly say

-his heart sinks

-"what?"

-"yeah, I don't really see a future here, I thought that I'd find me a...wife, and settle down, but no such luck"

-his mind goes blank, he can't lose you

-he's next day he hurries over to the house, asking for you

-you're in your bedroom reading something when he storms in

-"is everything well Colin?"

-"don't go, stay here"

-"I told you, there's no reas-"

-"stay for me" he tells you before he overthinks it too much

-you're surprised, not because you didn't feel something going on between you, but because he actually said it, you thought it would never happen

-you're kinda relieved Colin presented a reason for you to stay, with him

[daryltwdixon]

Kinktober #3 Playing House

that’s it, that’s the title

Warning: smuuuuuuuuuuuuuutty wheewwy! 🥵🌶️

You and Daryl are out scavenging on a run, going through a row of houses to find canned goods to stock up for winter before the cold front hits. No one knows what winter will bring-will walkers be more docile?

Surely the cold has to slow them down like it does for people, right? But no one is sure.

When Daryl offers to make the run, you're surprised when he calls your name to join him. It's not that you're afraid-you go on runs all the time. Just... not usually with Daryl. He's intimidating and aloof, and usually you head out with Glenn and sometimes Rick. You're quick, good at getting in and out, even it there are a couple of walkers around. You can get what's needed and leave.

So when Daryl asks you to join him today, you only hesitate because you ve never been alone with the man before. But you agree, feeling like you kind of miss the adrenaline of not knowing how the day will go since you all moved to the prison. You're happy life feels safe-of course, you are-but at heart, you might be called an adrenaline junkie.

You walk a few paces behind Daryl in the woods behind the row of houses, your eyes drawn to the way his muscles move beneath his shirt as he navigates the path ahead. Every time he pauses to check the trail, you take the opportunity to watch him longer than you should. His broad shoulders, the way his fingers expertly grip his crossbow… if only it were warmer and he wasn’t wearing that damn long-sleeve, you could see the gorgeous valleys of his arms. You catch yourself staring once or twice when he turns suddenly, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, and you look away quickly, a blush rushing to your cheeks. You swear one time you catch the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

It only gets worse when you stumble on a root sticking high out of the ground, feeling the earth rushing toward your face. Daryl’s strong grip catches you before you hit the dirt, pulling you up effortlessly. He holds you there longer than necessary, his eyes scanning your face as he brings you back to stand.

“Thought you were supposed to be good at bein’ quiet,” he murmurs. The rasp of his voice sends a tingling sensation through your skin. Why did you allow yourself to be alone with this man?

“Usually I am,” you grumble. You pull away, but the feeling of his hands lingers longer than it should.

There are a few more times where you know you stare too long at his arms as he holds up the crossbow, or brush up against him when you pass by to stake a lookout to the street before crossing into the suburban neighborhood.

Finally, you reach one of the houses. You quietly open the front door, wincing as it creaks so loud it might as well paint a big target on your back for any nearby walkers. You stop just as it’s wide enough to slip through, hyper-aware of Daryl’s body close behind you, his closeness throwing you off your game. You need space to breathe. You take off into the rooms, sweeping through with your knife held high as you check around. You’re at the top landing of the stairs when you feel a hand on your leg. You nearly jump out of your skin, turning quickly to see Daryl reaching through the banister, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of your pants. For a second, you forget how to breathe.

“We ain’t got time to mess around,” he grunts up at you. “Don’t be long.” Your eyes flicker down to his hand, and he follows your gaze, quickly removing his hand as if it’s burned him.

After checking the rooms, trying to shake off the goosebumps from his touch, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. Your nerves are still buzzing, but you realize Daryl is nowhere to be found. You trust he’s around somewhere. You reach up on your tiptoes to quietly sift through the top cabinets above the counters, your fingers coming into contact with a cool metal can. As you pull it down, you read the label—Baked Beans. You’re about to set it on the counter when you feel a hand wrap around your waist, fingers firm on your side. Your breath catches as another hand covers your mouth before you can make a sound.

The grip is firm, possessive, and for a split second, your body tenses in shock, adrenaline spiking in your bloodstream. But then you hear the familiar rasp of Daryl’s voice in your ear.

“Easy,” he growls quietly, his breath hot against your skin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Your heart races in your chest, but not from fear. The roughness of his palm against your waist sends a shiver down your spine, and though his grip softens, he doesn’t pull away.

He’s close, too close, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.

The smell of leather and sweat clings to him, his warmth radiating into you as his hips press you forward, pinning you against the cold surface of the counter. You suck in a breath, goosebumps rising as his voice rumbles low in your ear.

“Wanna play house?” The words are playful, teasing, but there’s an edge of something darker, something that makes your pulse quicken. His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, sending a jolt of heat straight through you. He pulls his hand from your mouth now that you’ve settled from the initial shock of his appearance.

There's a moment of heavy silence, the tension between you thick. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest, the weight of him pressing into you as if he's been waiting for this, as if the world has finally stopped long enough to give him this moment.

After a beat, his voice comes, low and gravelly. "Ain't like I just thought 'bout this today," he mutters, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. "Been thinkin' about it... for a while."

You swallow hard, your pulse racing, utter disbelief clouding your thoughts. "You have?"

His grip tightens on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel every inch of his strength. "Yeah," he admits, his voice rough but certain. "Tried to stay outta your way, but.." He pauses, his breath catching for a second. "Every time I look at ya, it's like... I can't stay away."

He shifts behind you, his mouth hovering dangerously close to your ear again, his words thick with something between need and frustration. "Ain't good at sayin' shit like this, but... you gotta know, I been wantin' this... you." His voice drops even lower, almost a growl, "Wanted ya since the first time I saw you."

You feel the truth of it in the way his hands won't let you go, the raw edge to his words, the way he's so close, yet still holding back just enough for you to make the next move.

"Daryl..." you start, your voice soft, but you don't know what else to say.

His lips brush your skin, rough, like he's fighting not to lose control. "This what you want too?" His voice cracks slightly, a vulnerability hidden behind his usual gruffness. "Cause if it ain't... you gotta tell me now. Ain't gonna stop once I start."

“I—I—“ you stutter, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Suddenly he’s spinning you around, his hands coming up under your thighs. You squeak at the sudden movement, your arms flying to grip his neck as he hoists you up onto the counter, your legs around his waist. He keeps your hands firmly on your hips as he says, “been wondering what you’d feel like,” he whispers, rubbing up your thighs, “your skin,” his hands move up to your face, eyes flickering down to your mouth, bringing his thumb up to trace it, “these lips,”

"Tell me," he rasps, his thumb brushing along your jaw now, rough and slow, "you want this." His lips hover, so close, yet still not touching.

The air between you is electric, and you're frozen, caught in the space between wanting more and the shock of him finally saying it.

Finally acting on it.

"I want this." It's barely a whisper, but it's all he needs.

In an instant, his lips crash into yours, rough, urgent, and desperate. The kiss is nothing like you expected-it's not soft, not tentative.

It's raw, almost hungry, like he's been holding back for so long and now he can't stop. His hand on your jaw slides up to your hair, fingers tangling as he deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer.

His other hand grips on your waist to hold you steady, keeping you tight against him, his body solid and warm.

His kiss is demanding, lips moving over yours like he's trying to memorize every inch of you, every breath. You open your mouth for him, his tongue plunging into you, discovering your taste, your tongue, everything.

His lips leave yours for just a second, barely giving you time to breathe before he's kissing down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Shoulda done this sooner," he mutters against your neck, his voice thick with frustration and something darker.

"Daryl..." you gasp, your fingers slipping under his shirt, feeling the rough edges of his skin, the scars, the heat radiating from him.

He groans at your touch, his hands bringing you flush against, pressing harder into you.

"I ain't stoppin' now," he growls, his mouth returning to yours, the kiss even deeper, more desperate this time. His teeth graze your lower lip, and you shudder, feeling him smile against your mouth, a rare moment of triumph as he finally lets go of the control he's always kept so tightly wound.

His hands are everywhere now-one gripping your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as if he's afraid to let go, afraid this moment will disappear if he does. He's rough, but there's a tenderness hidden beneath the urgency, a need to show you exactly how long he's wanted this, how much he's held back.

You’re pulling at his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin radiating off of him as he pulls away for a split second to remove it, his fingers expertly finding the hem of yours a moment later, ripping the fabric off of you. His kiss is ravenous as he pulls you in again, its teeth and tongues and fire as you explore the heat of his body against your bare skin, your body feeling electric under his touch. Soon his hands leave you, and for a moment you’re left feeling only the cold counter under you until you hear the clatter of a belt coming off, and pants being pushed down. He has his fingers hooked into the waste and of your pants soon after, pulling them off in a haste. The counter is freezing under your bare body and the contrast of the heat of him on you only raises more goosebumps along your skin.

His lips hungrily trace down your neck, nipping your shoulder and skin of your chest as his lips find your nipple and his tongue flattened against it, teeth grazing just right until he’s moving to the other. You lean your head back and moan quietly. His head comes up quickly, hand in your hair pulling him into you.

“As much as I want to hear you sing for me, sunshine, you’re gonna have to be quiet out here,” he growls into your lips, pulling you in for a desperate kiss before continuing his torturous teasing of your skin. You whimper at the sight of him lowering down in front of you, his blue eyes flicking up to yours as he pulls you forward, so the apex of your thighs sits at the edge of the counter.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his breath fanning the slick heat of your center. You bring your own hand up to your mouth, biting your finger to keep quiet as he dives for you, his tongue expertly finding every crevice of you, lapping and drinking you in. He’s moaning against your wet cunt as he continues his greedy attack, and you feel the pressure of an orgasm building in your abdomen. Daryl’s eyes are on you as you whine and whimper, and he brings a finger up to tease your center. Your eyes roll back, your hand coming down from your mouth to cling to his hair. He gently pushes in a finger, quickly followed by a second, and you’re spasming under his touch when he hits the top of your g spot, making you gush around him. He hums his devotion and rapture at your pleasure.

As he pulls away from you, his fingers dive into his mouth, his tongue cleaning up every last drop of you as you grab for him. Pulling his face to you, you kiss and slide your tongue along his, the sweet tangy taste of you still on him. He’s growling into the kiss, pulling you off the counter to stand. Your knees nearly collapse at the sudden need to have to support yourself, but his hands hold you, the rough calluses sturdy against you. He spins you around, pushing you flat against the counter. The cool touch of the countertop makes your nipples harden as they press against it, your cheek laying gently down as Daryl kisses along your back.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do ya?” His voice is gravely against your skin as he kisses down your spine, his hands traveling up and down the sides of you and landing on your hips as he stands.

“Can ya feel what you do to me?” He asks you, his thick, hot cock pressed up against the center of you. You gasp at the contact, never knowing how thick he really was. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take it, and maybe he can feel the tension in your body as your hands come up to your sides, bracing yourself.

“Shhh, shh.. say the word and I’ll stop right here, right now, baby,” he says, hands gentle on your sides, thumbs rubbing circles where they lay against you. You let out a shaky breath, leaning up against him. Your hand snakes up and around his head, holding his hair while the other goes behind you to touch his side. He smiles, kissing your shoulder, bringing his hands to your front and kneading your breasts and your breath steadies.

“Just… be gentle, at first, please,” you whisper, “I don’t think I’ve had anyone— not that big,” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh.

He breaths against your neck, and you can feel the smile against the column of your throat, “I promise,”

You tentatively lay your hands back on the counter, laying yourself back down. He brings his hand to his cock then, stroking it himself before bringing it to your wet lips, readying himself for you. You hear him spit, and look behind you to see him lubing himself up with his own juices, and something about how absolutely carnal he is makes you shiver in fervent anticipation.

He holds you hip with one hand and gently guides himself into you inch by inch. You gasp at the feeling of nearly being split in half, and hear his deep, animalistic growl at the feeling of your walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts out, barely above a whisper. He pauses as he bottoms out into you, his entire length buried so deep you swear you can feel him in your womb. After a long moment letting you adjust, you’re shaking with need. The list coursing through your body causes your mind to go blank with absolute desperation for this man, for friction, for movement.

“Daryl, please— move,” you beg, pushing yourself against him. He leans down suddenly and bites onto your shoulder.

“Say no more, darlin,” as he snaps his hips back and into you with hungry speed. You jolt forward, your body never feeling as full as it does now. He stays leaning over you as he grips your waist even harder in your hands, his hips unrelenting in their thrusts. His cock feels like it’s splitting you in half and filling you to the brim as he continues ruthlessly fucking you against the counter. You’re trying with all the caution left in you to not scream his name, only letting whimpers and small moans out, his name on repeat from your mouth.

“Drive me crazy, that’s wha’ ya do to me,” he says breathlessly between kissing your back as he moves in and out of you, “couldn’t stop thinking about you— about this. How you’d feel taking my cock, how you’d look with it buried in ya, fuck, baby,” his thrusts are becoming irregular, and he snakes one hand between your legs and your eyes widen at the overstimulation as he pulls back the hood of your clit, pressing the calloused pad of his finger perfectly on the nub, causing your legs to shake.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper into the counter, unable to stop your body from convulsing under his touch.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock. Love seeing you so desperate for me, so cock drunk for me,” you barely can hear his words as your cumming again, biting your lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming and you taste the metallic hint of blood on your tongue. The feeling of your walls squeezing him like that has him toppling over the edge too, a long, carnal grunt escaping from him.

Both of you are gulping down breaths as you come down from your highs, his arms now tight around your waist. You both finally stand and you turn to face him again, your hands coming up around his neck.

“If I knew this is what you had in mind, Dixon, I would’ve gone on a run with you a long time ago,” you tease, a smile tugging at your lips. He mirrors it, his rough exterior softening for a brief moment as he pulls you into another kiss.

But then, a distant snarling fills your ears, snapping both of you back to reality. You whip your heads toward the kitchen window, eyes narrowing at the sight of walkers accumulating by the woods where you came from. The urgency crashes over you—it’s time to go, and you have to move now.

“Time to show me how quick you really are on your feet, sunshine,” he says, scooping the discarded clothes into his arms before holding yours out to you.

[santanasaintmendes]

“i wish i was who you drunk texted at midnight”

wc!: 5.2k (i’m sorry i’ve got serious problems 😔)

ollie bearman x reader + childhood friends to ?

warnings: angst asf, heartbreak, swearing, let me know if there are any more!

part 2

summary: after moving to Chelmsford you meet ollie, the two of you quickly become friends but unfortunately you fall for Ollie. he moves away for f2 and leaves you, until he’s supposed to race in Jeddah. you fly there only to gain more than what you bargained for

type: angst (cliff hanger ending IM SORRY)

a/n: this is just something I wrote because I was sick in bed the last few days, it’s super long but so hope yall like it! Also i’m sorry if it’s bad lol i am still sick and this is just something i wrote for fun to entertain myself. ALSO no hate to Estelle Ogilvy (is that how i spell her last name) i just used her for the plot of the story please don’t come after me.). The name is inspired by “drunk text” by Henry Moodie, please give it a listen it’s such a good song, enjoy xxx

They say that you should always be friends with the person you like before you start to fall for them. Well, that’s one thing you could check off the list if you looked back on your friendship with Ollie. The truth was, being in love with your best friend sucked. Friends can break your heart too, something people tend to forget. 

6 and 6 

The first time you ever met Ollie was in a library. A week prior to that you had moved to a strange town named Chelmsford. A name that 6-year-old you found difficult to pronounce, to be frank everything in the new town sounded different to what you were used to. The people there spoke with such a different accent to what you were used to, it would take you quite a while to get used to it. As you sat in the back of the taxi with your backpack at your feet, you stared out the fogged up window. The sky was a gloomy grey and the landscape seemed to be an endless plain of sad looking meadows. 

You couldn’t seem to understand why your parents would choose to move to such a sad looking place, it didn’t make any sense. The taxi soon came to a slow stop, the brakes squealing loudly. You glanced out the window hopefully, rubbing the condensation away with your sleeve. Only to be disappointed to see a boring brick building of some sort. It was an odd combination of white wooden window frames and red bricks, like something out of one of those 1600s movies your Father once showed you. You anxiously looked back to your Mother who was watching you as your Father sorted out something with the taxi driver. Upon seeing your unhappy face your Mother chuckled softly.

“I heard that there’s a library just down the street, maybe sometime this week we could visit it.” she offered. You nodded, slightly content. Reading books was something you enjoyed and maybe with a library being close by, not all was lost. 

As it turned out, that boring brick building was your new house. 

Despite having to unpack and sort adult-y things out, your Mother took you to the library just as she had promised. As you skipped down the cobbled road, your Mother held a bright yellow umbrella over your head to shield you from the rain that was pouring down from the cloudy grey sky. 

You pushed upon the heavy front door to the library which also happened to look like a sad white brick square with a pointy red roof, a depressed mushroom if you will. You halted in your steps as giant wood bookcases rose before you, shelves full of books. Never had you ever seen so many books before. In the corner there was a lady sorting things in a trolley with her back turned to you, she still hadn’t noticed you. 

“C’mon, let’s head to the kids section.” your Mother said, taking you by the hand and leading you deeper into the library. Stunned by the amount of books that filled the shelves you couldn’t help but wander off when your Mother told you to stay put while she set up a borrowing card for you. 

Luckily, the children’s section of the library was much more pleasant looking than the eerie hallways of adult books. You scanned the shelves in search of something to read, until you came to a stop. Two round brown eyes among the books blinked from the other side of the shelf, scaring you. 

It was a boy. 

You blinked back, unsure of what to do. So you did what any other 6 year old did when they believed they had found a new friend. 

“Do you want to read with me?” you abruptly asked the boy who was still staring at you with wide eyes. A moment of silence passed before he nodded slowly, the boy rounded the corner. He wasn’t much taller than you with chocolate brown hair and small freckles that spilled over his face like tiny stars. He stuck out his hand, “I’m Oliver. But my friends call me Ollie.” he greeted, a smile taking over his face. His voice sounded odd, like the taxi driver who’d driven you from the airport to your new house. Ollie reminded you of a rabbit with his two front teeth that seemed to take up over half of his face, but you didn’t say anything because your Mother told you that saying things like that wasn’t nice. 

You took his hand cautiously in yours, “I’m Y/N.” you replied slowly. He enthusiastically shook your hand, taking you by surprise as he led you to sit down on the bright coloured bean bags. You watched curiously as he picked a book off the shelf before plopping down next to you again. You peered over as he opened the book to the first page, you frowned, not recognising the book. 

“It’s a book called Where’s Wally (Where’s Waldo if you’re American). You have to find the characters, there’s Wally, Wenda, the wizard guy and Woof - that’s the dog.” Ollie explained to you, pointing to each character on the page. The initial nervousness of meeting another kid, melting away. You began to feel excited as you nodded along while Ollie continued to explain how to play. The two of you spent the next hour doing all sorts of things, talking about favourite colours, favourite animals, reading books, drawing, playing board games together. Both getting along so easily it was as if you guys had known each other forever. That was until you heard your Mother calling your name to go home. 

You stood up, looking down at Ollie who was still seated on a yellow bean bag. He blinked up at you, with those big brown eyes that had scared you only an hour earlier. “I have to go home now.” you told him, a wave of sadness passing between the two of you as you both realised your fun had come to an end. 

“That’s okay, maybe I’ll see you at school.” he suggested hopefully upon seeing your downcast face. You broke into a smile, “Okay, bye Ollie.” you waved slowly as you began to walk away. Ollie waved back with a giant grin on his face as he watched you disappear behind the wooden bookshelves. 

“Hey Mom!” you called out to your Mother as she came into view, she was chatting with the lady who you’d seen at the desk sorting books. She paused and turned to you, “Hey, I was just talking to the librarian, she was saying about how she has a son who hangs out here while she works on the weekend.” 

Putting two and two together you realised that the book lady was Ollie’s Mother. You smiled at the lady, “I was playing with Ollie, we were reading that one book, ‘Where’s  . .  .” You trailed off, racking your brain for the name of the book he’d shown you. 

“Where’s Wally?” the librarian offered, she nodded fondly. “That’s his favourite book.” You grinned up at the lady, looking back in the direction where you’d been playing with Ollie.

“Mom, am I going to the school as Ollie?” you asked, looking up at your Mother. She chuckled softly before nodding, “As a matter of fact, you are.” 

Those golden words were what made you unbelievably excited to begin at your new school. You had barely been able to sleep with the thought of seeing your new friend again, so on that Monday morning you bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. “Good morning!” you greeted both your parents, taking a seat at the dining table, legs swinging off the chair impatiently. 

“Someone’s excited for their first day of school.” your Mother hummed as she set a plate of pancakes in front of you. You nodded, “I get to see my new friend.” you replied as you stuffed your mouth with your breakfast. 

You were basically pulling your Mother through the front gates as you scanned the sea of other children in the same uniform as you. The uniform also happened to be grey, it complimented the terrible weather perfectly. Your eyes fell onto the brown haired-freckled boy from two days earlier, you ran up to him, “Hi Ollie.” you smiled. A giant grin took over the boy’s face, “Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Where one of you went, the other followed right behind, Ollie helped you adjust to your new school, showing you around and never leaving you by yourself. As the years passed the two of you only became closer, though you would soon find out that that wasn’t the greatest thing. 

13 and 13

As the two of you grew into teenagers, things began to change and not always for the better. Ollie and you still remained close friends, having dinner at one another’s house on Friday’s, walking home together after school and occasionally spending afternoons playing Mario Kart with Ollie’s siblings. Your families were also extremely close now courtesy to both you and Ollie, his younger siblings becoming like your own. But the worst thing? 

You’d caught feelings for Ollie, it had been so sudden almost like it had crept up on you, taking you by surprise. You didn’t understand. It felt so wrong. 

One day out of the blue it hit you like a pile of bricks, you just couldn’t stop staring at him. Absolutely enchanted by him, his chocolate brown hair, those pretty freckles that you’d memorised on his face. 

Ollie was like a brother to you, he was your best friend, so how come you felt these things for him?

To make matters even worse for little 13 year old you, Ollie liked another girl. A girl who absolutely hated your guts. 

What had you done to her? You didn’t know. 

You and Ollie had been having a sleepover when he told you about her, her name was Estelle Ogilvy. She was gorgeous and untouchable, by far the prettiest girl you’d ever seen. You didn’t hold a candle to her and you knew it too. Ollie had been hopelessly in love with her since the start of high school when he shared science and maths class with her. Time and time again he would ramble on about her to you, completely oblivious to your feelings for him. You could only nod along wishing it was you who he was talking about. That’s just how it was, you were stuck in a bubble of unrequited love. So all you could do now was watch from afar as Ollie ran after a girl who you just knew would never like him as much as he liked her. 

15 and 15

Ollie’s karting career really took off in the last few years and you couldn’t have been prouder, those feelings for him still lingered around but you’d come to terms that he’d never like you in the same way. Because there he was, still stuck on chasing Estelle. You couldn’t blame him, and maybe that’s what you were always just supposed to be, friends. 

Yet you were jealous, something you refused to admit. Jealous of Estelle because oh how you wished to be talked about so fondly by Ollie. To always be on his mind, to be the girl he liked and would never shut up about. You still didn’t understand why you felt this way, in your mind it made absolutely zero sense. Then why did it feel so right when you were by his side, almost like you belonged there next to him? But Ollie being Ollie could just never get a hint whenever you tried to subtly let him know. It sucked because there’s nothing worse than loving someone who’ll never love you the same way. 

18 and 18 

It got worse as the years passed, your feelings for your best friend would just not go away. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you tried to find another boy to fawn over, your gaze would always fall back on Ollie. But he was dating Estelle now, he was in Formula 2 now. It almost seemed like an eternity ago when you first met him in the library just down your street. An eternity ago when you would attend his karting races, cheering the loudest for him in the stands. All of that was now in the past. You barely even saw him now that he had dropped out of school to pursue his career in Formula 2. Now all you could do now was watch from a distance as he looked the happiest you’d seen him in ages.

He was spectacular at what he did, you would watch him race on TV every week no matter what hour the race was or even if you had school the next day. 

Yet inside of you there was a giant hole, a hole that Ollie had left behind when he abandoned you. Abandoned was a bit of a stretch but it was the only word you could use to sum up what you had felt when he left. Ollie had to move to Italy for his career, news that he hadn’t even told you in person, you had to hear it from his Mother. He’d taken your hands in his at the airport as he waited to board his plane and promised you he’d stay in touch, that he’d call every week but here you were with the last time you’d spoken to him being over a month ago. 

You refused to be the first one to reach out to him, you felt like he owed you that much effort at least. So you waited  . . . and waited only for the world to keep spinning while you were stuck in the past. That was until you finally realised that you had never meant as much to Ollie as he had to you. 

19 and 19 - present day 

“Y/N! WAKE UP OR YOU’LL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” your Mother’s voice echoed up to your bedroom, rattling the glass in the window frames. You groaned as you groggily sat up, pulling open the curtains only to be greeted with dark overcast weather, rain pouring down outside. You rubbed your eyes, yawning as you dragged yourself out of bed. It was your second year of university studying mechanical engineering at the biggest university in Chelmsford. It proved to be difficult with its endless nights of staying up doing work but you knew it would be worth it in the end. 

Your university never failed to confuse you and make you late for class with all of its giant identical hallways. You ran down the corridors, heels clacking on the marble floor until you came to a stop at the door to where your lecture was for that day. Slipping through the door you weaved through the seats of the auditorium to find an empty seat. Luckily for you, your friend Bianca saved a seat for you. 

“Thanks.” you whispered only to be shot dirty glares by the students around you. You winced as you looked ahead at the teacher in an attempt to catch on what he was droning on about. Bianca gently nudged you, passing her phone to you. You frowned, eyebrows knitted as you looked down at the screen. A notice on Ferrari's official instagram with Ollie’s face plastered above the words “Oliver Bearman to race in Jeddah this weekend for Carlos Sainz.” 

You narrowed your eyes and huffed, passing the phone back to Bianca who smiled nervously. “What was the point of that?” you whispered, leaning closer to her. Bianca sighed, “You’re not fooling anyone, I know you still have unresolved feelings for him.” she whispered back only to get a loud shushing sound from a nearby student. 

Bianca shot them a glare before turning back to you, “You have to go, I don’t care what you say. You are going. This is his Formula 1 debut, whether you’re still friends with him or not you’ve got to be there for him.” she whispered-shouted, looking at you sternly. You sighed, leaning back into your chair, shaking your head. 

“It’s not the same anymore. He’s clearly forgotten about me, the last time we spoke was last year and he’s been back home 4 times in the last 12 months.” 

Silence hung in the air, only the voice of the teacher rambling on and on about something you still hadn’t caught on about. 

“That Estelle girl, she’s clearly using him. You were his best friend, surely that means something to you both.” Bianca tried again but it wasn’t any use. There was no purpose in bringing up something that you both had clearly tried so hard  to forget about. 

So then why were you here booking a flight to Jeddah to watch your old best friend debut in Formula 1? 

It was something you couldn’t answer and didn’t want to. 

The thing that you hated the most is that you didn’t even think twice before booking those tickets. 

How could you care so much about a person who had so blatantly forgotten about you?

Deep down you knew the answer, it was because to you Ollie was like your home. He was the first person to make you feel like you actually belonged somewhere, he never abandoned you to eat lunch alone at school, he never cancelled plans once you made them, he was a good person, a good friend. 

Or at least he was. 

Were you insane? The answer was yes, yes you were insane. Being here was so crazy; it nearly made you want to turn around and jump on the next flight back home. You were standing in line to go through the gates when you heard someone call your name. You secretly hoped it was Ollie but much to your disappointment it was . . . Arthur?

Ollie had introduced you to Arthur back when they had raced in Formula 3 together. You hadn’t seen him in forever. 

“Arthur?” you questioned as he pulled you into a hug, you hugged him back before pulling away, still unable to believe it was him. 

“I was about to ask what you’re doing here but that would be dumb.” you confessed, only noticing now the massive crowd that was surrounding the two of you. Arthur chuckled before nodding in the direction of the gate, “C’mon, I can get you in, you’ll be my guest.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you began but Arthur was already pushing you through the gates. Walking back onto a race track was like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a car for a long time. You used to accompany Ollie to all of his karting races each weekend in Chelmsford, so being in the stands had become like a second home to you. 

“Are you here for Ollie?” Arthur asked as you walked in the direction of the motorhomes. You caught yourself before you could answer too irrationally, “No, I’m just here to watch the race.” you shrugged, realising how dumb that sounded as soon as it left your mouth. No good person would fly all the way to Saudi Arabia to watch a race if there was a Grand Prix in their own country.  If you wanted to “just watch a race” you could’ve watched it on TV or gone to the Silverstone GP. Arthur only hummed, you knew he had already caught on, it was so obvious it made you want to dig a hole and jump in. 

“Anyways,” you quickly said, eager to move onto a different topic.

“Anyways.” Arthur agreed, looking at you, eyebrows raised. “You can’t fool me, I’ve known it since the moment I met you.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “What am I going to say to him?” you asked, looking to Arthur for help. He shrugged, “No clue but you might want to think of something quickly because he’s walking over right now.”

“Y/N?” 

You blinked as you came face to face with the person you wanted to see so badly for the last year and now that you were here facing him it felt like all the air in you had gotten sucked right out. He looked  the same since the last time you saw him. In the last year you wanted to hate Ollie so much but it was impossible because you still loved him and that was the big terrible truth that you refused to admit. 

“Hi. Ollie.” you said, to not let the jumble of words that you’ve kept in since the last time you saw him spill out. Arthur sent you a quick salute, “Gotta go, I’ll see you afterwards, Y/N.” and with that he left you with Ollie in silence. 

“What are you doing here?” Ollie finally asked, he was acting so . . .  so normal. As if nothing had changed between the two of you.

“I’m here because I’m your number 1 fan, remember?” you scoffed, looking up at him. A reminder of the time when you were both 10, Ollie gifted you a t-shirt at Christman with the words: “Ollie’s No.1 fan.” plastered on it for you to wear to his karting races. It was sure to be buried deep in your wardrobe somewhere. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah you are.” guilt written all over his face. 

“Why’d you leave me then? Tell me the truth, did I do something wrong? Was I too normal for you?” you asked, questions pouring out of you. 

“We were best friends, how could you just leave me like that? Do I mean nothing to you? Because you were everything to me, my best friend, the first person who made me feel like I actually mattered to someone, so tell me, why did you abandon me?” 

Silence hung in the air as you stared up at Ollie. You wanted answers, perhaps it would be the only thing that would let you move on from him. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze. This was so. . . so unfair. You wanted to yell, scream at him even so he could feel even a fraction of the pain you’d felt in the past year. 

“So that’s it? You don’t even have an explanation?” you asked him, your voice shaking with anger it made your throat ache as you blinked back tears. 

“I waited and waited for you to call me, to even send a message but that was a mistake. You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.” 

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, Ollie finally meeting your eyes as the three simple words left your lips. 

You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.

The world stopped like everything had been put on pause as you realised your mistake. You felt like you’d gotten hit on the head with a cricket bat. 

“I have to go.” is all that left your mouth as you turned around. The ground was moving like a spinning wheel - a blurry mess of colours. It made you sick to your stomach as you walked away, your cheeks flushed hot and your forehead sticky with sweat. Ollie didn’t even call out for you, nor run after you for an explanation because it was so blatantly clear what you’d just confessed to him. 

You wished you could hate him, hate the fact that he’d left you, forgotten you like an old stuffed toy, you hated that he didn’t love you. 

You sat on the curb, clutching your knees outside of the entrance to the racetrack wallowing in self-pity. Wiping away tears that just kept falling down your face much to your distaste. The sun was beginning to disappear behind the buildings, the sky now a deep shade of orange. You stared at your feet, it was dumb, you should’ve known that coming here to Jeddah was a mistake. Ollie had moved on, something that you hadn’t done in the last year. You felt so stupid, why did you believe you could repair your friendship?

Why did you-

“Excuse me?” a voice interrupted your train of thought, you quickly wiped your tears and looked up to see Arthur standing beside you, a pitiful smile on his face. You looked away, “What do you want?” you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest bitterly. Arthur sat down beside you, watching you closely as you stared at the trees in the distance. He sighed, “The race is about to start and Ollie’s not coming out of his driver room. Estelle said she’d be here but she’s not and he’s locked himself in.” 

The words hung heavy in the air, “And what does that have to do with me?” you asked flatly. You knew exactly what he meant. But you weren’t going to do that, you were done with Ollie and everything to do with him. 

“You know exactly what it has to do with you. Did you really think Ollie forgot about you that easily? You’re dumber than I thought.” he quipped unhelpfully. 

“Thanks,” you muttered miserably, Arthur winced. 

“What I meant is that you can’t give up this easily, you and I both know how stupid Ollie can be sometimes.” 

You chuckled softly, letting a tiny smile creep onto your face. Arthur wasn’t wrong. When you and Ollie were both 8 you invited him over for Easter to make coloured eggs. It resulted in 20 cracked eggs on the kitchen tiles when Ollie accidentally knocked them off the bench. The two of you had stared at the mess on the ground before bursting out laughing until you were both in tears. It was safe to say that you both spent the next 2 hours scrubbing the tiles and the yolk that had stained the grout in between them. 

“Yeah.” you said softly, looking at the sun that had been swallowed by the top of the palm trees, the stars in the sky beginning to appear as you sat in the light underneath a lamp post. 

“So?”

“Okay, I’ll get him out of the room but after that I’m out of here. I want to go home.” 

Arthur gave you a quick thumbs up as you raised your hand to knock gently on the door to the driver’s room. There wasn’t a reply, only dead silence and that’s when you heard it, crying from inside the room. 6-year-old you would’ve kicked down the door and done anything to get to your best friend. But here you stood outside the room, sending hopeless glances at Arthur who was standing behind you. 

“Ollie?” you called out hesitantly, the crying halted and there was another long moment of silence. You pressed your ear up against the door, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah?” his shaky voice replied, you breathed a sigh of relief. You turned around, beckoning Arthur to leave you both, he only nodded, mouthing ‘OK’ as he slipped down the hallway. Turning back to the driver’s room you took a deep breath in, you didn’t want to go in. You didn’t think you could face him after what happened earlier. 

“You came,” he said as your hand rested on the handle of the door but there was resistance, it was still locked. 

“Of course, are you okay?” you asked, immediately regretting asking as soon as it left your mouth. You cursed yourself silently as you awaited Ollie’s answer. Soft sniffles came from the other side of the door, “Yeah.” he finally replied quietly but loud enough for you to hear from the other side of the door.

What were you supposed to say to get him out of the driver’s room?

“Everyone’s waiting for you, you can’t stay in there forever.” you gently reminded him, sighing as you sat down, back leaning up against the door. There was another long moment of silence as you rested your head on the door, stretching your legs out for comfort. 

“I don’t think I can do it.” he said, taking you by surprise. The Ollie you’d known wasn’t afraid of anything, he was confident in almost everything he did, almost it seemed. 

“Oliver, you’re being crazy. You are by far the most talented driver I’ve ever seen.” you told him, staring at the roof of the building as you heard a sigh from the other side of the door. “You’re just saying that because you’re my girlfriend, Estelle.” 

You froze as if you’d just been stabbed by icicles, Ollie thought you were Estelle. 

Of course. He’d been expecting her, Arthur had told you before. You scoffed to yourself quietly, you would’ve stood up and left if it wasn’t the fact that you were here to get Ollie out of the driver’s room he had oh so nicely locked himself in. You let out a soft sigh as you racked your brain for what you should say to him. 

“I’m not. It’s the truth, Ollie.” you told him with a heavy heart, feeling as if you were just setting yourself up to get your heart broken all over again. You took a deep breath in, “You are such an amazing driver it’s literally insane, not only that but you’re by far the kindest, most selfless person I know. It’s crazy that you think you can’t do this, because I know that you can. Ferrari chose you to drive for them for a reason, they know what you’re capable of, everyone else does too. I see you and you’re extraordinary, you have this spark inside you that’s amazing. And . . . maybe that’s the reason why I love you. I always have, and when I had the chance I should’ve told you but I didn’t because your friendship has always meant more to me than my own feelings.” you let out a shaky breath. 

“You’re a good person, Ollie. You’ve earned a chance to show the world just how great and insanely talented you are, are you really going to throw it away?” 

You blinked back tears, who knew you could get so emotional after giving such a life changing speech?

You rubbed your eyes and cleared your throat, letting out a deep sigh. It was time to leave now, Ollie would have realised by now that it was you who was speaking to him and not Estelle. As you began to get up, leaning against the door for support you heard a click!

Oh shit, was the only thought that went through your mind as you lost your footing and fell backwards, the door frame offering you no help at all as you grasped at it helplessly. You stared up at Ollie as you laid at his feet, a million thoughts racing through your mind. He was in his fireproofs with his race suit tied around his waist as he looked down at you, eyebrows knitted. There were tear stains on his flushed cheeks as he stared at you with those wide brown eyes you’d seen among the books all those years ago. 

“Y/N?” 

a/n: sorry if it was so quick and rushed i just wanted to post something! Thank you if you got the end, ik it was super long for no reason, so thank you! Please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you and have an amazing day xx

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[titania-sleeps]

ARGHHH i can't choose!! i love all house husband though!!

i'm glad you do hehe... i devise and plot deviously just for them bc they deserve it. i do wonder if people enjoy meaner readers vs. loving readers; I'll release both eventually but the two of them have such a different dynamic. the normal sub house husband is a bit more assertive and a brat, while the inadequate one just really really wants you to love him and only him... but in like a pathetic way.

here's a little snippet of what i had for them (i think the initial draft for both dated around 2022...)! as a note, my ideas may seem to blend in w some of my other works simply bc i didn't bother making them too distinct from each other, but i'll edit it to become more cohesive when i post in full in the future :D

warning: mild nsfw, dom reader (implied afab), minors DNI pls

Submissive House Husband Yandere x Independent Strong Reader

He is undone by you, a knot slipping apart. Seams unraveling, hair untangling, his entire vessel breathing erratically. Your nails grazing his skin erupt whispers of flames, dancing and swimming to his face. You thumb his cheek, tenderly and softly. You are never tender with him, at least not to such an extent.

His excitement grows, but he fears to open his eyes. He fears that if he opens his eyes, he will peer too far into your thoughts. And he knows that you are not thinking of him, even when you let your kind lips leave little love marks on his face.

"Why won't you look at me?" you ask, your voice like a pleasant temptation to his ears. It slithers slyly into his brain, and like a command, his eyes flutter open.

"Good," you purr. A praise. He cannot stop the shy grin from stamping itself onto his lips.

"You don't..." he pauses, wondering if he should continue. You stop and look at him, giving him your full attention. Shying under your gaze, he mutters, "You don't do this to anyone else... right?"

Your laugh echoes back at him, as though mocking him, but it is not unkind. Your thumb presses against his upper lip. "No. You are my husband, are you not?"

His face lights up in bright pink. How could he doubt you? Oh no, you look disappointed. Frantically, he nods his head.

"Yes, I am yours," he responds quickly. You hum in satisfaction, leaning in for a gentle peck. But you leave too soon, much too soon.

Hungry for the saccharine taste of your lips, he wraps his arms around your neck and brings you in closer. Closer and closer, so that the lining of your lip becomes a perfect match with his. So close, to the point that your tongue is melted into his, and your needy flesh encase upon another.

He seeks for you with the vigor of a beast, no longer quite the same timid house pet he once was. As you pull away for a breath of air, he whines. Just a moment without your lips is painful for him.

The eyes that peer down on him are now focused, like a trained sniper on their target. His body shivers; now your attention is wholly on him. Now you are looking at him.

You are truly divine. You are a goddess sent from above to smite him for his sins, for loving you far too much. He can only beg by your feet, day by day, pleading for a single audience with you. He just wants to please you, to become something that relieves you from strife and suffering. And to think that his goddess is now looking at him, just him! Only him!

The sound of silk slipping off jolts him from his daze. His eyes trail the discarded piece of clothing; a snake slithering its way up to an iridescent apple. The soft gleam of your skin meets his own eyes, and the sight breathes life into his fingers.

"Not yet," you say, a wonderful smile presented to him on your countenance.

[To be continued...]

Inadequate Submissive House Husband Yandere x Loving Reader

His wife is everything he has ever wanted in his life. You are beautiful and kind; forgiving whenever he makes a mistake and even patient she he does. And he always does. You are so lovely, he cannot help but want to be with you forever and ever and ever and ever and ever—

But he can't. He knows he can't, and it hurts so much, because he knows that he is useless. Deep down, he has already realized that you are only keeping him around because you pity him, not because you love him.

He wants to do better for you, but his abilities are limited to very little. He wishes that his love is enough to satiate you, but he is far too well aware of your disappointment in him. If he is lucky, you will not divorce him in the next year or two.

♡♡♡

Oh, your sweet, foolish husband. Always so patient, always so soft. Demure mannerisms and shy mumbles cloud his true worth. He may bumble and stumble about like a newborn doe on two legs, but his demeanor and intellect are worth far more. Yet only you are allowed to know this, and it is something you intend to keep locked up in your little treasure box of secrets.

Although he should most definitely refrain from doing housework.

[To be continued...]

ty for reading if you made it this far!!

-> masterlist

[creativewritersposts]

introverted - Luke Hughes

summary; Luke Hughes x reader

You know him for years over the internet. But when you meet him in person, he acts awkward and uncomfortable. It's a big step for an introverted guy. Can you handle it?

warning(s); FLUFF!!, mentions of insecurity, maybe grammar errors

author's note; hi you wonderful people out there! Hope you're all okay✨

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

Luke Hughes is everything.

He's awkward, he's a good player and wraps every girl around his finger even when he looks like a zombie, because he stayed awake too long last night to watch the new movie.

"-so he told me I'm boring-", you spill him the tea on FaceTime, talking about the boy you really liked and ghosted you. "He's wrong", Luke smiles in his camera, looking comfortable. It's something you learned about Luke- he's very shy and uncomfortable when he doesn't know people. It's weird how you became friends, - somehow. You're living one continent apart but your connection went good and never had problems to talk with each other. "well I have something to talk about", Luke speaks out and looks away from his display, you nod. "I booked you a ticket. I know you're having your summer vacation next week and being alone at home so you can join us in Michigan", his shy side shows again.

"MICHIGAN?", you squeak under panic. "yeah", he chuckles and looks insecure, thinking if it was the best idea. "Like Michigan with your parents, siblings?", you follow up. "Yeah", he smiles. "i told you not to pay things for me!", you warn him, "take it as an early birthday present ", he argues back. "my birthday is in december!", you roll your eyes, "ok, see you in Michigan!".

Here you are, with all your bags at the airport, searching for Luke. Or a nice sandwich, you're hungry. "Hey!", Luke waves awkwardly at you, coming closer, until he gives you the hand. "Luke", you raise your eyebrows, "we're friends for three years now, gimme a hug!", you hug him because he could say something against it. "I'm sorry but Jack is the driver", he warns you, talking a bag over his shoulder. Jack leans on the car door with sunglasses on, "hi", he hugs you without asking, driving to the lake house. "Mom cooked a lot of food, hope you're hungry", Jack eyes meeting yours, Luke just smiles. "sure, can I sit next to Luke?", you ask Jack. You're here because you want to spend time with him. "I'll not interrupt you lovebirds", he laughs and walks in front of you both. "Are you ok with sitting next to me?", Luke leans over to your ear, whispering these words. "sure, Lucky Luke", you smile at him. His cheeks are blushing. After meeting the whole family you ate dinner, but Luke looks very uncomfortable next to you. Barely talking. He avoids you for three days now, you try to get along with the family but you want to talk to him. You're here because of him.

"Luke?", you ask him, when you finally found a moment in piece with him. "hm?", he smiles.

"Do you want me to leave?", you speak out your worries. "no!", he shakes his head, "I am just very shy, ok? I need my time to feel comfortable", his ears getting red. Your body feels like under electricity, you're more extroverted and never thought he feels that way. "Sure, don't worry", you smile respectfully and leave the room. "Ohh trouble in paradise?", Jack asks you with his girlfriend under his left arm sleeping. "No, it's just too much", you sit down on a camping chair. "did he say something silly? He talked about meeting you nonstop in New Jersey", he focuses on your emotions. "He avoids me for three days and i asked him if i should leave. He told me he's shy and feels uncomfortable", you blame yourself. "sounds like Lukey", he nods understandable. "It's not your fault. After a few days he's the most annoying person ever, trust me", he huffs playfully with a small grin. "what can I do?", you ask him for advice. "He loves movie nights. Ask him to do that?", he thinks about his little weird ass brother.

"I don't want him to feel uncomfortable!", you worry. Jack nods and lays his girlfriends head on the lounger without waking her up.

"Luke!", Jack steps into the house, standing in front of his younger, taller brother. "you told me about this new movie, can you remember?", you join with them. "Yeah, it's a sequel from Harry Potter ", he nods friendly. "your best friend has no plans this night so you can watch it with her", he points with his finger at you, to stop miscommunication. "uhm-", Luke's voice cracks. "If you say no I'll watch it with her", he looms. "you have a girlfriend!?", you think out loud, both turn their bodies in your direction, "I can handle two women", Jack gets sassy. "okay, after dinner", Luke plays with his fingers.

Time flew away. Now you're sitting in Luke's bed, you can smell his cologne and waiting with snacks. "ok I'm ready", Luke comes in and smiles softly, but very nervous. "What are you wearing?", he blushes again, "a pyjama", you laugh. "uhm.. without bra?", he mudders. "Who knows", you mock him. You're laying both in his bed, you can feel how your eyes feel heavy, you yawn after a while. "Can i lay down on your chest?", you ask. His bed is like wood under your body, it's definitely not comfortable. "Sure", he's distracted with watching the movie, petting your hair without thinking much until he hears your softly snores. "sleep well", he kisses your cheek, wrapping his arm around you in the comfortable way and sleeps in, too.

The next morning you wake up from voices around you, "mom take a picture!", jack stresses. "Jack stop being so annoying in the morning!", she tells him, "they're kinda cute together", he whispers. And you close your eyes again.

[gguk-n]

Safe Haven (Carlos Sainz x Reader)

Thank you for the 200 followers. I'm having a lot of fun writing. Hope you guys enjoy this celebration post!!

Summary- Meeting Carlos was the best thing to happen to you.

{Reader's POV}

Ever since Carlos and I had gone public with our relationship; all the people I had avoided informing of our relationship had found out from the news. It was hard to miss when the world like to talk about who the girl was hanging on to one of the hottest F1 driver was.

The one person I had avoided telling about my relationship with Carlos the most was my own mother. Our relationship was always a tough one; she never could accept my choices or decisions. I've lost a lot of partners because of her. Either she would convince me or them that we weren't meant to be; and the next day I was crying on the bathroom floor.

I met Carlos after a particularly bad break up where the guy cheated on me because my mother said I was cheating on him and he should get me back. I really loved him but I felt like the stars had aligned when I met Carlos at the Real Madrid match I was dragged to by my roommate who was tired of watching me mope. The match wasn't very memorable but the guy I was sat next to was. I didn't know he was some formula one driver; all I knew was he was some hot Spanish guy who's voice made a shiver run down my spine. We exchanged numbers at the end of the night and stayed in touch for a while before we could meet up for a date. The date was beautiful and magical just like the fairytales.

We'd been dating for almost 2 years when I finally agreed to go to one of his races. I had moved out from the town that held me back and far far away from my mother. I felt like I was invincible at this point. I guess I forgot what she was capable of. The moment my face was plastered all over the news, my phone wouldn't stop ringing. I was scared. Carlos didn't know the extent of my hurt and why I avoided my mother.

Until a few days after the race, Carlos was out cycling with his friends and I was busy making cookies when I heard the door ring. Thinking it was Carlos, I opened the door; only to be met with the one person I was trying to run away from. "What are you doing here?" I asked, a tremble in my voice. "I heard you got yourself a rich and famous boyfriend. Won't you introduce me to him?" she asked while trying to look behind me. I tried to close the door but she was strong and walked right in. "Can't believe you actually found someone, gullible enough" she sneered taking the whole house in. My hands were shaking and there was a lump in my throat. "The house is big and looks expensive. You must be giving him a good reason to keep you around." she jeered. "Can you leave?" I asked, unsure of anything. "I could but then I wouldn't get to meet this boyfriend of yours, now would I" she replied taking a seat on the couch.

"Why are you here?" I asked, finally finding some strength. "Isn't it obvious? You got rich and famous and forgot your poor old mother who raised you?" she said solemnly. If I didn't know better, I would've been fooled. She leaned back on the sofa, "Come sit darling. It's your house after all" she said, patting the space next to her. I quietly took my place on the sofa next to hers. "I'm hurt. I see you after years and this is the kind of welcome I get" she sighed. "What do you want, now?" I asked more boldly. "I don't get what he sees in you" she started avoiding my question. "You're not pretty or petite like those models, or have money or fame that you can offer. Must be the sex. Am I right?" she asked. I was disgusted at what she said. "Good thing you learned how to please a man. The previous one had to find solace in another woman's arms because of you" she tsked. "He wouldn't have, if you hadn't lied" I spat. "I was only looking out for him" she smiled. "Carlos won't want you around once I'm done talking" she smirked. "He's different, he loves me." I cried out. "Oh dear, all men are the same. They'll leave for a better thing any day." she replied.

As if on queue, I heard the door open and Carlos called out, "Carino, I'm back and I have your favourite cheesecake from that shop you love." I sat there with bated breath. The moment he came in view, I quickly strode towards him. He had placed the cake in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a quick peck. I turned towards my mother and introduced him to her. "Babe, this is my mother. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Carlos." I said. Carlos sensed my unease with my posture to the way I was shaking slightly. He placed a hand on the small of my back and raised his hand to shake my mother's. "Nice to meet. Mrs Y/L/N. I've heard so much about you" he said. "Sadly, I haven't. You'd think that after you grow, birth and raise a child they'd care about you at least. But she left me to rot" she fake cried; the crocodile tears ready to fall. My heart was beating out of my chest. I felt weak and a part of me was scared that what if he listened to my mother and then what. "Mom, you should go, we have somewhere to be." I said, standing my ground. "What a shame? I was hoping to have lunch with you. Carlos, sweetheart, if she ever troubles you; give her a good beating, she's quite docile. I've let her loose and look at the trouble she is causing us both." she said, shaking her head. I felt like throwing up. Carlos was shocked, "Why would I hit her?" he asked. "It's ok darling, all righteous men hit their wives to keep them in line. I mean if you'll make this whore your wife that is" she snickered. "Y/N isn't a whore and I do plan on making her my wife" he replied disgusted at what my mother said.

"I would like it if you would stop disrespecting my girlfriend and leave right now." he asked politely. "Where would the fun be, if I left?" she asked. "Please leave before I call the police" he said sternly. I was shaking violently at this point, all those memories, resurfacing. Thankfully Carlos was able to get her to leave. When he came back after locking the door, I crashed in his arms. "Are you ok, hermosa?" he whispered. I started to cry, "Please don't leave me. I don't know what I'll do without you. I love you so much" I cried out in one breath, holding his shirt tightly. "I will never leave you, hermosa" he replied now carrying me to the sofa. We sat down in each others embrace while I cried my heart out. His shirt wet from all the sweat and my tears.

After I had calmed down, "I didn't know it was this bad" he whispered. "She's the reason my last boyfriend cheated on me" I mumbled. "Well, he was stupid. Good he left. That way I found you." he said while smiling. I finally smiled at him for the first time since my mother came. "Don't listen to anything she says. She doesn't know me, she doesn't know us. I love you so much and I would never let anything happen to you" he comforted. I gave him a hug, burying my face in his neck. He placed me on the sofa before getting up to go to our room. I thought he was going to get changed but instead he came back with something in his hand. "I had elaborate plans that my sisters were helping me in. But this is a better time then any." He said, while getting on one knee. My hands were on my mouth. "I love you since the day I first saw you at the Real Madrid match. I'm so happy that we were sat next to each other. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honour by marrying me?" he stated. "Yes" I croaked out, giving him my left hand. He got up and kissed me. "I'll make sure no one can hurt you ever again. Not even your mother" he said giving me a kiss again. I smiled into the kiss wrapping my arms around him, knowing I was finally safe. "My sisters are gonna kill me, I asked them to plan such an elaborate proposal" he laughed. "I think they'll understand" I said, smiling at him. "Yeah, they love you more than they love me anyways" he chuckled. I was happy I thought while looking at the ring on my finger.

[johnbrand]

Successor

As soon as the notification came, Alan accepted the weekly meeting with his boss. He readjusted his new tie and tailored navy suit as the invitation sent him through.

“Good morning, Alan.” His boss was an older man, a large, refined one at that. Rumor had it that he would soon be leaving the company for retirement. Alan hypothesized it was arriving much quicker than people realized.

“Good morning, Sir.” Alan had quickly picked up the honorific through these weekly meetings. “How has your day been so far?” 

“We will skip the questions for today and be prompt to work. Hit the ‘Record’ button.”

This always happened. Alan’s boss never wanted to discuss anything outside of business. He was always so worried about the company and their profits. Without a second thought, Alan hit the ‘Record’ button. Across the screen, his boss smiled as Alan face went pale. His eyelids drooped and his jaw went slack.

“That is much more appropriate,” Alan’s boss relished smugly. “Let all those pesky thoughts dissipate and evaporate. Clear your mind completely for our meeting. Let my words be the only thing that resides within your mind.”

Alan remained empty and still on the other end. His boss held a malicious smirk. “You have been coming along swimmingly as my successor, Alan. It still fascinates me that you have not realized it when this is our last meeting.”

It was true. Since these weekly meetings had begun, Alan’s boss had been prescribing various updates into Alan’s system. Each time Alan hit the button to ‘Record’, his conscious state went on standby while his subconscious transcribed each addition, subtraction, and modification his boss made. Once Alan’s boss was finished, the recording ended, leaving Alan unaware of any changes or abnormalities.

“I should have solved this issue long ago, but no more of those brazen personal questions. Being stern and direct is more productive. It is much better commanding attention.”

“Yes sir,” Alan replied flatly.

“Speaking of commanding attention, it is time to address that sound of yours as well. A deeper voice that contains emotions is better suited to keep others calm and in control at all times.”

Alan’s neck thickened, significantly jutting his Adam’s apple.

“Yes sir,” Alan agreed, his voice now mimicking his boss’s deep, disinterested, and gruff texture.

“I see you have acquainted yourself to the glory of a three-piece,” his boss grinned. “But it appears to be a little large on you. If you want to be as successful in my position, then perhaps you ought to wholly fill the space I am leaving behind, would you agree?”

“Yes sir.” 

Each part of Alan seemed to pulse as the recording translated across his body. His legs stretched and thickened, the torso magnificently broadened, his butt swelled from underneath. The chest expanded, his neck and arms bulked, and his height ascended ever so slightly. Even his feet vibrated, slowly expanding and widening until they fit perfectly into the shoes that had been previously tailored and then altered larger by his boss’s words. 

“Tall and thick, just like me,” Alan’s boss purred. ”If you are to lead our company, you ought to have my strong jaw to capture our investors.”

Alan’s face rippled, losing its youthful charm as it morphed into traditional masculine perfection. His bouncy curls receded and thinned slightly, a thick coat of pomade gelling it up into a mature quiff.

Alan’s boss was jubilant. The physical work was always much more fun than the tedious mental tasks they had been dulling over for the past few months. “I believe something will need to house your newfound testosterone, Alan.”

Alan’s crotch tingled, swelling and growing. He now had a thick, juicy member, swollen and throbbing. Alan’s low-hanging balls swelled as he began to palm himself.

“As you are aware, Alan, the majority of our meetings have been spent on realigning how to address this issue.” His boss then pulled out a stiff cock from his suit pants, one identical in length and size to Alan’s. He began stroking it as he continued. “As a leader, I adapted to the needs of the majority. You must do the same.”

Before the meetings with his boss, Alan had been a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community. But week by week, he had found his fantasies shift from his masculine boyfriend to twinks, to femboys, to watching the male in straight porn, to eventually watching the woman in straight porn. His boss had monitored all this behavior, waiting until the lesbian porn appeared in Alan's search history to announce his retirement to the board, and enact the physical changes to his successor.

“You have already given up so much for me, for the company. Your boyfriend, your personality, your figure and identity. Now all that remains is your genetic code.” His boss sniggered taking a dramatic pause before instructing, “Rid of it, Alan.”

With a forceful grunt came a massive load. Alan’s existence was expunged out into the suit pants. His boss smiled with satisfaction, ready to present his successor to the company.

[savi0rr]

The Delicate Flower of Madame Kaji’s Brothel.

Spoilers!!

Backstory: Your husband, had sold you off to Madame Kaji for a good price, a large price. One, because of your looks. And two, because you are a virgin. Your father had made sure to keep you young and pure for your husband. Once you had met your husband, you didn’t want to have anything to do with him (or his small dick), so you completely refused for your husband to take your virginity. Which made your husband sell you off to Madame Kaji, to which she happily accepted. She had to state to many men that came by the brothel that you were off limits. You never understood why, and Madame Kaji didn’t tell you. She would say that it wasn’t the right time. To which now, many people would call you the ‘virgin of Madame Kaji’ or the ‘Delicate Flower of Madame Kaji’s House’.

Mizu and Madame Kaji were speaking together in the room where Mizu would be staying. Ringo was still out in the main area. The door to the room slides open, to which you walk in holding tea. “Ah, my flower.” Madame Kaji said, smiling as she waved you over to which you immediately go over and placed the tea down gently. Mizu glanced at you, before looking back at Madame Kaji. “This is Y/N.” Madame Kaji said, glancing at you. You were pouring in tea. You bowed your head slightly at Mizu. “She’s one of my special girls, my only special girl.” Madame Kaji said proudly. “What makes her special?” Mizu asked, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, well you see. She’s still a virgin. Some of the men around here call her the Delicate Flower of Madame Kaji’s house.”

Mizu’s eyes widened a little, before scoffing. “I’m not sure if I believe it.” She said. “A virgin? In a brothel?” “She’s off limits to everyone.” Madame Kaji said, smirking. “You’re free to go.” Madame Kaji said to you, smiling softly at you. You nodded, glancing at Mizu once again. Making eye contact. You got up, patting down your dark purple kimono, before leaving the room, sliding the door shut.

“What’s your main plan with her?” Mizu asked suddenly, frowning as she stared at Madame Kaji. Madame Kaji sighed. “I wish to have her get married, run off far away. I wish to not make her one of my girls. I want her to live a good happy life with a husband who will make her happy.” Madame Kaji confesses, looking down as she frowned. Mizu froze a little, glancing away. “Makes sense.”

You were growing bored, so you had decided to talk to man that you had saw who looked to be waiting, Ringo. “Hello.” You said, smiling softly as you sat across from him. “Hi! I am Ringo, rjn-go!” Ringo said happily, blushing as he stared at you with curiosity. “Nice to meet you, Ringo. I’m y/n. What brings you here?” You asked, titling your head to the side. “I’m traveling with my Master. Who is very strong and mean!” Ringo cheered. You thought of the man you saw with Madame Kaji. Before softly smiling. “Say, why don’t you tell me more about your Master?”

Mean while with Mizu and Madame Kaji.

“Does she know about your desire?” Mizu asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “No. She’s completely innocent. She had no idea.” Madame Kaji frowned, shaking her head. “There have been many men who know about this, and have tried to fight for her hand. None of them was for her taste, or mine. Perhaps I should I give up.” Madame Kaji said, sighing as she stood up. Mizu followed in suit, standing up has well and followed Madame Kaji out of the room. Before they both made their way to the main entrance.

You and Ringo had been talking, giggling. Men had been eyeing the whole time. Noticing how you were fully covered up. There was no skin of yours showing off. But Mizu couldn’t help but wonder what secrets you were hiding. “I see you two have been getting along.” Madame Kaji said, walking over to the two of you, gently patting your head. “Hi Master!” Ringo said, smiling happily as he stared at Mizu. Mizu only nodded, drawing her attention back at you. She noticed the way you were smiling, the way your eyes were shining. The way you had your hands on your knees. You’re back straight, hair down up and yet none of your neck was exposed. “Y/N. Should you be a doll and show out guests to their rooms and the bath room? The private one for them.” Madame Kaji said, looking down at you with a soft smile. You nodded, standing up so effortlessly. “Please, follow me.” You spoke softly, before walking off. Both Ringo and Mizu followed you.

“This is the bathroom, it’s private. So you won’t get interrupted.” You said, holding the door to the bathroom. There inside was a small hot tub, with towels onto of counters. You then showed them to their rooms. “My room is right down the hall, if you need anything. Please, just come knock.” You said, bowing as you smiled. Mizu was thinking, what if I needed you? But Mizu pushed towards feelings down. “Thanks.” Mizu said, frowning. “Thank you, Y/N!” Ringo cheered happily, before walking into the room. You giggled, glancing at Mizu, before you walked down the hall. You could feel Mizu’s eyes on your every move. Mizu’s eyes traveled up and down your body. She then, walked into her room.

Once you made it into your room, your face was completely red. You were giggling like a small child, covering your face. “What a cute guy..” You muttered, sitting on the small cot on the floor, still giggling.

“She’s pretty, right master?” Ringo asked, looking at Mizu. “I guess.” Mizu said, shrugging as she took off her hat and cloak. “I saw the way you stared at her, Master.” Ringo said, laughing. Mizu frozen, glaring at Ringo. “Shut it Ringo. How about you go have fun with those sluts?”

You came by Mizu’s room. Softly knocking on the door, before sliding it open. Mizu glanced behind her, raising an eyebrow. She was about to speak, but she saw it was you. So she stayed silent. You were holding a small tray with two bowls of soba. “Hey..” You said, sliding the door shut behind you. You placed the tray down. “Do you mind if eat with you?” You asked, glancing at her. Staring at the back of her head. Mizu sighed, before turning around and slowly nodding. “Thanks.” You said, smiling as you pushed one bowl towards Mizu. You began to eat the soba slowly. Mizu on the other hand was eating like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. To which she had ate anything in two days. You noticed the small little mess that she was making. You softly giggled, reaching over with a napkin and gently whipping her chin. “You must have been hungry..” You said, sitting back. Mizu grew embarrassed, but only shrugged. “Thank you for the food.” Mizu said, bowing her head. “Where’s your friend?” You asked, noticing how quiet it was. “He’s not my friend, he’s more like an annoying bug.” Mizu said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not sure, probably off with those girls.” She said, staring at you through her orange leans. “Annoying bug? That’s one way to put it.” You said, laughing a little. That made Mizu’s heart flutter slightly. “Good night.” You said, standing up, taking the trey, before leaving the room. “..fuck.”

The next day, Madame Kaji and Mizu were speaking once again. “I’ll do anything to know about the white men who was here when I was born.” Mizu said, getting straight to the point. “You must do something for me then.” Madame Kaji said, frowning. “Which is?” “Take y/n with you.” Madame Kaji said immediately. Mizu froze, before scoffing. “What? Why?” Mizu asked, raising an eyebrow. “She’ll be much more happy with you. She herself told me.” Madame Kaji said, sighing. You were listening from the other side of the door, along with Ringo. You and Ringo both looked at each other, before smiling widely. Then you both ran off to cause some trouble.

“I also need you to do another task for me.” Madame Kaji then explained the situation with Kinuyo, the deaf-mute girl. Mizu accepted.

“I’ll be back soon.” Mizu said to Ringo. Before Mizu left to go and kill Kinuyo. Ringo nodded happily, before going to chat with you. “Alright, Goodnight Ringo.” You said, before standing and walking back to your room. You had released that you hadn’t seen Mizu at all. You frowned, before settling down for the night. Completely unaware of what will happen.

a/n: THIS IS CLEARLY NOT PROOF READ. We are also gonna ignore the fact that Akemi isn’t in this. We are gonna pretend that she’s somewhere😭❤️

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

The Elevator - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1741>

You had just gotten into the elevator of your apartment building, eyes glued to your phone as you texted a few friends. You knew there was someone else in there, but you didn't pay them much notice. 

As the elevator started to ascend, the lights above you started blinking. The elevator rattled, before grinding to a stiff halt. "Shit," you mumbled, unsure of what to do. The stranger stepped forward to see if he could find the 'open doors' button on the control panel, but he just looked downright confused.

You finally got a good look at him, and he was handsome, to say the least. His dark brown hair was slightly overgrown and his green eyes glowed under the emergency lights of the elevator. "Normally the door button works," he mumbled, pressing the button a few times.

"I think you should probably press the 'get help' button," you explained, looking at him with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," he lightly smiled, pressing the button with no more back-lighting. "And now, we wait," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

"These guys take a while to fix this thing, so we're going to be here for a while," you said, knowing how long the maintenance people took to get to the elevator and find out the problems with it. "You live here?" he asked, trying to make conversation so that it wouldn't be awkward.

"Yeah, I've been here for about a year now, and I have taken the stairs every time apart from today," you said, causing the stranger to chuckle along with you. "What about you? I've never seen you around here before,"

"I'm just here visiting a friend, but I don't think I'll be seeing him anytime soon," he nodded, sighing. Silence settled over the two of you, and there was some sort of tension in the air. Both of you wanted to say something, but neither of you knew what to say.

"So, what's your name?" You asked, his attention averting back to you. 

"I'm Charles, what about you?" he asked back, glad you were getting acquainted.

 "I'm Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," you said, holding your hand out to him for him to shake. You had never done that before, so you were mentally asking yourself why you were being like that. Normally you just smiled or hugged someone, not shook their hand. 

But, Charles was cordial and extended his hand out to you,  shaking it. "The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," he said, something in his eye sparkling as he looked at you.

"So guys, we think the problem is something to do with the wiring, but we'll need to get a team down the elevator shaft to be sure. The minimum time we're going to be able to do that is an hour, the maximum... I don't know. It is a Saturday after all. The cameras aren't working, so if you two want to find a way to entertain yourselves, be my guest. I'll give you a five minute warning," the voice of someone rang out over the speakers.

You and Charles were both visibly creeped out by his suggestion, and you had a feeling that the cameras were in fact working and he was probably just being creepy. "I am perfectly entertained, thank you," you said, as if he could still hear you.

Charles chuckled at your comment, knowing it wouldn't come to that. Probably. 

"We've got an hour, so there's time for a movie or something?" Charles asked, getting his phone out of his pocket. "You don't happen to have any popcorn, do you?" You smiled, taking a seat next to him as he also sat down. 

"No, I don't, but I do have Netflix," he smiled, shuffling up closer to you. 

"It's a good job I have bad habits when it comes to leaving the house," you said, producing a bag of popcorn out of your bag. "Every time I go out, I have to get some from the store around the corner. It's an own-brand, and it is the best," you explained, opening the bag and placing it in-between you. 

"What kind of movies do you like?" Charles asked, taking some popcorn and popping it in his mouth, "This is really good, by the way,"

"I like comedies, or a nice romance. Or even better yet, a rom-com," you told him, taking some of the popcorn yourself, "But whatever you like is fine, I'm not too fussy,"

"Action comedy?" he asked, scrolling through his phone to try and find a movie. 

"Sounds good to me," you nodded, taking your jacket off and making a pillow for yourself out of it. It was a lot better than sitting on the cold floor. "Now that is a good idea," he said, shrugging his jacket off as well. "Can you hold this?" he said, handing you his phone. 

You took it and immediately scrolled to his 'continue watching' section. "You've got good taste here, Charles," you said, looking through what he had. "You've got some classics, The Office, Friends, Drive to Survive? What's that? And why have you only watched like, two random episodes?" 

"Because they're the best ones, they have this guy called Charles Leclerc in them. He's great," he smiled, knowing full well you didn't know who he was. "We have the same first name, it's pretty cool," he smugly smirked, taking his phone back off you. 

"How's Murder Mystery with Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston sounding?" he asked.

"Pretty good," you nodded as he clicked play. You both sat there, laughing along to the movie and he had made a pretty good choice. 

"Hello lovebirds! This is your five minute warning. I know the phrase is 'don't come knocking when the elevators' rocking', but we have to do what we have to do," the maintenance guy said over the speaker.

"This guy is so strange," you said to Charles, and he nodded in agreement with a laugh. 

"And very horny," he said, causing a blush to creep up onto your cheeks.

"You got that right," you said, wanting to resume the movie. You stood up to put your jacket back on, since the temperature in there had dropped significantly. You decided you were just going to deal with having a sore behind.

Even with your jacket on, it still wasn't warming you up like you thought it would. You tried not to physically shiver, and Charles noticed. "You alright?" he asked, turning to the side to look at you. "Yeah, just a bit cold,"

"Here, take this," he said, pulling his jacket out from underneath him and draping it over your shoulders. "Are you not cold?"

"No, I'm fine," he said. Sure, it was a bit cold in there, but you looked like you needed it more. You were shivering.

After a bit, you heard some banging and crashing going on above you. "It's either help is here, or the sky is falling down," Charles said, pausing the movie so you didn't get interrupted anymore. 

"Thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully for you two, the issue is nearly resolved and you can be on your merry way in around five minutes," the weird speaker guy said. 

"Does your friend still want you to go over?" you asked.

"Yeah, he said he's made dinner for us," he nodded, as the elevator sprung back into life and whirred into action. It started ascending the apartment block again, and stopped at the floor you had been waiting to go to for hours. 

The doors opened with a ding, and the pair of you stood up from the cold floor. When Charles looked away for a second, you slipped a small piece of folded paper into his jacket pocket. "After you," he said, standing beside the door. 

"Thanks," you said, stepping out and glad to stretch your legs. "You going left or right?" You asked as you stood in the corridor. "I'm going to 118, so that is...?"

"Left. Wait, 118? I live in 116," you said, smiling. 

"You must know my friend, then,"

"I sure do, he's a nice guy," you said, leading the way and walking down the hall. "This is us," you said, standing outside of your apartment door. "Well, I enjoyed spending the world's longest elevator ride with you, Y/N," Charles smiled, standing in front of you. 

"I enjoyed it too, Charles," you said. Charles didn't move, he just stood there with you. 

"Hey, Charles, Y/N," your neighbour said, opening the door to his apartment. 

"Hey, I'll see you later, Charles. I'll let you get to dinner," you smiled, unlocking the door. Charles reluctantly walked away, stepping into the next apartment along. As you took your multiple jackets off, you realised you still had Charles'.

Quickly running out of the door, you knocked on the next door and Charles opened it since he was still in the entrance hall. "Hey, your jacket," you said, handing it to him. "Thanks for that, I needed it," you smiled, turning away.

"Have a nice night, Y/N," Charles said, poking his head out of the door. 

"You too," you chirped, closing your door. 

When Charles went home that night, after taking the stairs, he rummaged around in his pockets to try and find his keys. As he pulled them out, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. He picked it up, and unfolded it when he went inside. 

'We should go and get fresh popcorn next time - Y/N,' it said, with your number scrawled on the bottom. He smiled, opening his phone and immediately punching your number into his contacts. He didn't message for a while, but his curiosity got the better of him. 

"Hey Y/N, it's Charles. You free on Sunday? There's a carnival in town and my friend said they make popcorn with any topping you want, would love to go with you," he said, rewriting the message over and over before plucking up the courage and sending it. 

You were about to close your eyes for the night when your phone beeped, and you saw a text from an unknown number. A huge smile spread across your face as you saw who it was from. "Hey Charles, I'd love to go to the carnival. We could walk from mine? Saves you driving all the way," you replied.

Charles was itching with excitement when he saw your text, and was immensely glad to have been in that elevator. Taking the stairs was overrated anyway. 

A/N - Do we want to see Charles and Y/N go to the carnival in town and have popcorn?

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