#I don’t get it they just come home and sit around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kirammanswifey · 2 days ago

Note

hello!!! I really enjoy reading your writing, always reading them like it's a bedtime story lol. I was wondering how arcane characters would react with you wearing their clothes. like after a long day they come home and see you in their clothes or like you fall in a puddle and they give you their clothes to wear, anything you want

thank you for your words, sweetheart, you just made my day, hope you like this ;)

how arcane characters would react to you wearing their clothes (fem reader, romance/fluff)

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love you, person who asked for this. this kind of dynamics are fun because you can write it from many perspectives and use several genres, and i love a fluff with a little bit of spicy. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the door closing behind you seems louder in the silence of the room. The rain hasn't stopped outside, and each drop seems to remind you how soaked you are. Your wet clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin, and you decide you can't stay like this. You look around, and your eyes land on one of Viktor's shirts, casually draped over the back of a chair. You know he won’t mind, so you grab it and head to the bathroom to change.

The soft fabric of Viktor's shirt, slightly oversized for you, falls over your shoulders, enveloping you in its characteristic scent—a mix of old paper, ink, and something you've always associated with him. You feel a little warmer, wrapped in something so intimately his.

Soon after, you hear the familiar click of Viktor’s cane in the hallway. He’s back home after a long day at the lab. You know he must be exhausted too, but you still feel a little nervous about how he’ll react to seeing you in his clothes.

The door opens slowly, and Viktor steps inside. His slender figure pauses for a moment when he sees you, his amber eyes studying you with a mix of surprise and something else you can't fully identify. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can see his normally neutral expression gradually soften.

“Did you have a rough day?” he finally asks, his voice soft and concerned as he closes the door behind him.

You nod, fiddling with the long sleeves of the shirt that come down almost to the middle of your hands. “Yeah, I got caught in the rain on my way back,” you explain. “I changed so I wouldn’t soak everything, hope you don’t mind me wearing your shirt.”

He takes a few steps toward you, leaning slightly on his cane. His eyes linger on you, but this time there’s a warmth in them that he rarely shows. “I don’t mind at all,” he says, a faint smile curving his lips. “Though I must admit, it looks better on you than I expected.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at his comment, and he seems to notice, because his smile widens slightly. Viktor rarely makes such remarks, but when he does, they always leave you momentarily speechless.

“Come here,” he says gently, extending his free hand toward you. “You’re shivering. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours. He leads you to the couch and helps you sit. “I’ll make something warm for you. Wait here.”

You watch as he moves toward the kitchen, his steps careful and precise. As you watch him, you can’t help but feel a mix of tenderness and admiration. Viktor is always so considerate, even when he’s exhausted.

A few minutes later, he returns with a steaming cup of tea. He sits next to you, offering it with a look that reflects both concern and something more intimate. “Drink slowly, it’s hot.”

You take a sip, feeling the warmth spread from your throat to your chest. “Thanks, darling. You always know how to take care of me.”

He looks at you, his expression more relaxed now. “It’s natural to want to take care of someone who means so much to you,” he says with a sincerity that makes your heart race.

You set the cup down on the table, turning toward him. “And you? How was your day?”

Viktor leans back against the couch, his gaze drifting for a moment. “It was... long. But seeing you here, wearing my shirt, makes it all worth it.”

His words are simple, but the weight behind them hits you hard. You lean toward him, taking his hand in yours. “I like wearing your clothes. It makes me feel close to you, like I’m carrying a piece of you with me.”

Viktor looks at you, his expression softening even more. “Then you should wear them more often,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and tenderness. “Though it might be hard to get them back if you look this good in them.”

You smile, feeling completely at home in this little world you’ve built together. “Maybe I’ll never return them,” you joke, enjoying the soft laugh that escapes his lips.

He leans in a little closer, his hand gently caressing yours. “That wouldn’t be a problem. I can always buy more, but seeing you like this... that’s something priceless.”

Jinx

You're at Jinx's hideout after a day full of adventures in Zaun. You had been helping her with some of her projects, and amidst all the excitement and chaos, you ended up with your clothes completely ruined, covered in paint and grease stains.

"Wow, wow! Look at you!" Jinx says, laughing as she points at your shirt and pants. "Looks like your clothes lost the battle against my masterpiece."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Yeah, looks like I need a change of clothes urgently."

Without missing a beat, Jinx jumps towards one of her wardrobes, rummaging through her quirky collection of garments. "I know! Put this on." She pulls out a black crop top and one of her signature jackets—blue with neon details—and tosses them to you with a mischievous grin. "You'll look awesome. Trust me."

After taking off your dirty clothes, you put on the crop top and finish with the jacket. "How do I look?" you ask, spinning around so Jinx can see.

She watches you with a growing smile. Her blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she quickly approaches, tugging at the sleeves to adjust them on your arms. "Oh, for the love of explosions! You look amazing! It's like this jacket was made for you!" Jinx steps back to admire you better, placing a hand on her chin as if evaluating a piece of art.

"It's not what I usually wear, but your style suits me better than I thought," you say, feeling the warmth of her gaze.

Jinx claps, thrilled. "I knew it! I knew it! My instincts never fail." Then, her eyes light up even more, as if she just had the most brilliant idea in the world. "I know! From now on, we could wear matching outfits. It'd be awesome! You and me, matching styles, taking Zaun by storm as an unstoppable duo."

You laugh at her enthusiasm. "Matching outfits? That sounds... interesting."

"No, no, no! It sounds absolutely amazing," she insists, giving you a quick spin to see how the jacket fits from all angles. Suddenly, her eyes stop on the back of the jacket, and an even bigger smile spreads across her face.

"What is it, sweets?" you ask, noticing her fixed gaze.

"Well... look at the back," she says with a mischievous laugh.

You turn to see the back of the jacket and realize that, in big letters, it has "Jinx" written on it. You turn back to her with a raised eyebrow and a playful smile. "So, you're marking your territory or what? You don't want anyone getting confused about whose jacket this is?"

Jinx bursts into laughter, throwing herself at you and wrapping her arms around you. "Exactly! Now everyone will know you're mine... or at least rocking my style! It's perfect, right?"

You join her laughter, wrapping your arms around her. "Aw sweets, I didn't know you were the type to mark your territory."

She shrugs with a cheeky grin, her face close to yours. "Well, I don't want anyone else claiming my girl. Now everyone will know if they see you, they're looking at half of our dynamic duo!"

Jinx's energy is contagious, and although you know this situation is completely crazy, you can't help but feel comfortable and cherished by her. "Well, I guess I have no choice but to embrace my new look," you say with a smile.

"That's it! Now, with this jacket and my name on your back, we'll be unstoppable!" Jinx leans in, putting an arm around your shoulders and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You’d had a bad day. The city of Zaun wasn’t exactly friendly, and after a stumble, you ended up in a puddle full of dirty water with a nauseating smell you couldn't even describe. As you walked towards Vi’s place, with your legs soaked and irritation taking over, all you could think about was how lucky you were to have Vi to vent to and shake off this bad day.

When you arrived at her door, frustration and exhaustion were written all over your face. You knocked on the door, and as always, Vi opened it with a teasing smile, though upon seeing you like this, her expression changed to a mix of concern and amusement.

“What happened to you?” she asked with a playful grin, noticing the discouragement on your face.

"Zaun," you grunted, almost growling as you stepped inside. "I fell into a puddle. Everything stinks."

Vi let out a soft laugh. “Wow! You must be thrilled. Are you sure you're not going to become Zaun's new statue?” she said in her sarcastic tone, but there was something more in her eyes. A hidden concern behind her teasing tone.

“I’m not in the mood,” you muttered as you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. The sensation of the hot water was comforting, and after a few minutes, you managed to feel like some of your bad day had washed away. However, upon exiting, you realized you didn’t have anything else to wear.

Vi, always attentive to these details, had left one of her favorite shirts on the bed. The red shirt, which always fit you loosely and had, over time, become something you wore more often. You put it on without thinking too much. The smell of Vi on the garment gave you a sense of calm, but at the same time, the tension that had always existed between you grew a bit more.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Vi was in the living room, lying back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. She watched you silently as you entered, a gleam in her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. The shirt, oversized on you, moved with each of your steps, and despite how awkward the situation could be, you felt incredibly drawn to her gaze.

Vi sat up straight, her eyes fixed on you. The smile that spread across her face was almost predatory. “So, you’re wearing it again, huh?” Her voice was soft, but there was a touch of challenge and desire in it that you couldn’t ignore. “You look... interesting.”

You shrugged, though the way she looked at you made you feel more exposed than you’d like. “You left it there for me, Vi. And yes, I like wearing it, it's comfortable.” But as you spoke, her eyes didn’t leave you, scanning you from top to bottom with that intensity that always made time seem to stop.

Vi approached slowly, her steps sure, almost as if she was savoring every second that passed near you. “Just comfortable? Are you sure?” Her voice was lower now, filled with a dangerous softness. “Because that shirt... it’s kind of sexy. And it seems like it’s not just the shirt. It’s like you’re saying, ‘I’m yours,’ but without saying it out loud.”

The atmosphere became heavy, the tension floating in the air was impossible to miss. Your cheeks flushed red at Vi’s proximity, at the words she had said and the way she had said them. You tried to maintain your composure, but the heat in your body didn’t lie.

“And what if it is?” you asked, your words bolder than you thought, as you looked her in the eyes.

Vi stopped in front of you, her hands resting on her hips, watching you with a mix of challenge and attraction. “Then,” she said, her eyes sparkling with complicity, “can I claim you as mine?” The way she said it, with that low, enveloping tone, made your heart race. The tension between the two of you was palpable, as if the distance between you disappeared with every word.

You stepped closer, enough to feel the warmth of her body, her breath almost on yours. “I don’t think you need to ask for permission,” you said, using a defiant smile, knowing the game had begun.

Vi smiled with that mischievous glint in her eyes, stepping even closer. “You’re right. I marked you as mine long before you wore this shirt.” She tugged at the hem of the shirt and pulled you closer to her. “But, do you want me to mark you now in another way?”

You felt everything inside you react to her closeness, and you knew this was about to get much more intense. Vi always had that power over you, and the way she was looking at you now proved it.

“That sounds tempting,” you murmured, your words coming out softer than you expected, but without regret.

With a satisfied smile, Vi finally took you by the waist and gently brought your lips to hers. “Then let’s not waste time, little deer,” she whispered before kissing you with an intensity as great as your desire for her.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn and you had just returned from a recent mission. It had been a long day, filled with tensions, reports, and the constant need to maintain the facade of control. But now, after leaving the worries behind, all you wanted was to relax and enjoy Caitlyn's company, who always managed to make the chaos of the day fade away, at least for a while.

In the bathroom, the steam mixed with the heat, surrounding you as you sank into the relaxation the tub brought. Caitlyn was beside you, dipping into the water to wet her hair, the situation beginning to feel more intimate than usual. Both of you had made it a habit to share a bath after work, an opportunity to shed the physical and mental tensions.

Though you had been together in moments of camaraderie, the brush of your wet bodies in the water created a new, different sensation. Caitlyn's hands sometimes slid softly over your back, seeking to relax tense muscles, and you reciprocated, letting out sighs as the closeness became more palpable. Occasionally, her fingers lingered a bit longer than necessary, touching you with a softness that made you shiver.

After finishing, Caitlyn was the first to step out of the bath, running a towel through her hair with a certain awkwardness. "I need something comfortable, do you mind if we wear pajamas?" she asked, almost without thinking, as she headed to her room. There was no need to ask, as something always felt very natural about how she behaved with you, though this time something in her demeanor caught your attention.

When you entered her room, Caitlyn had already changed, but she left the door slightly ajar while pulling out a long-sleeved shirt and comfortable pants. The sight of her bare back made you stop for a moment, watching her with a mix of admiration and restrained desire. It wasn’t the first time you had seen her in light clothing, but something about her attitude tonight felt different. As she dressed, her movements were softer, more... delicate, as if she were waiting for something. Caitlyn turned just as you walked in, giving you the chance to see her in her comfortable clothes.

"Don’t look at me like that," she said, smiling, as always, with that mix of challenge and amusement in her gaze.

"Impossible not to, sheriff," you joked, moving closer to grab your own pajamas and change, but before you could do so, Caitlyn looked at you with an intensity that made you feel uncomfortable in a pleasant way.

You stopped, confused by the intensity in her gaze. "What’s wrong, Cait?" you asked, with a soft smile, feeling how the atmosphere was becoming heavier. "You’re acting different."

Caitlyn took a step toward you, approaching with her typical leader stance, but something in her face said she wasn’t as sure of herself as usual. Her fingers played with the edge of her shirt as she looked at you. "It’s just that..." she began, clearly hesitant, "it’s just that... I like seeing you in my clothes. It’s not just that they fit you well, it’s that... it feels right."

The air between you suddenly thickened, the tension floating, as if her words had opened a door neither of you knew if you were ready to cross. Caitlyn, usually so confident, was now showing vulnerability, but with a vulnerability you had never seen in her before.

You approached her, noticing how her eyes shone a little more than usual. You took her by the shoulders, with a softness that contrasted with her strong character. "Why is it so important to you?" you asked in a low voice, feeling that this moment was different from any other you had experienced with her.

Caitlyn sighed, her fingers touching the fabric of her shirt on your skin. "It’s... hard to explain, but seeing you in my clothes makes me feel closer to you, as if we were even more... partners. It’s weird, I know."

For a moment, all you could do was look at her, your heart pounding in your chest as you processed her words. Caitlyn, so reserved, so firm always, was showing you a side of her that she only shared with you. And that made you feel more connected than ever.

You took her hand, gently stroking it and recognizing the vulnerability in her posture. "I understand," you said, smiling softly. "I like seeing you like this too. Not just in your clothes... but in everything you are. I don’t mind."

Caitlyn looked at you, a shy but genuine smile appearing on her face as her eyes softened. "I guess I’m always looking for ways to stay in control... but with you, it seems I let go of that facade," she said, almost as if speaking to herself. "I feel better when I have you close."

Then, without warning, Caitlyn hugged you, wrapping her arms around you protectively, a soft caress, almost as if seeking comfort. The hug lingered, and in that moment everything seemed to stop. The mission, the worries, the rules. It was just the moment when the two of you truly felt connected, without any barriers separating you.

Jayce

After a long, exhausting day filled with endless debates in the Council, Jayce finally arrives home. The doors open with a soft creak, and the sound of his footsteps echoes down the quiet hallway. You know he’s had a rough day, and you’ve prepared to welcome him in the best way possible. You’ve been working on dinner, almost ready for when he returns, but the most important part is how you plan to greet him.

You’re in the living room, holding a glass of wine, your body draped in Jayce’s white shirt. You know it’s much larger on you than it is on him, and you’ve done it intentionally. Traditional dresses or outfits seem unnecessary now; all you want is to see him relax, to feel good after a long day.

As he approaches, his eyes widen at the sight of you, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, the hem brushing your thighs. However, what catches his attention the most is how you’re wearing nothing underneath. The contrast between your relaxed demeanor and the tension reflected in his face is immediate.

“Welcome home,” you say with a soft smile, raising the glass of wine towards him. “I thought you could use some rest.”

Jayce takes a long breath, as if trying to maintain his composure, but it’s clear that the sight before him has thrown him off balance. His eyes briefly trail over your figure before meeting yours, where the tension is palpable.

“What… what are you doing?” he asks, clearly affected but trying to keep his tone serious, though his eyes betray him.

“I’ve prepared some dinner,” you respond with a playful smile. “Come to the kitchen with me, please. It’s almost ready.”

As you walk towards the kitchen, you can feel his gaze fixed on you. Jayce can’t help but follow you with his eyes, appreciating every detail of your form, especially the way the shirt clings to your body, leaving little to the imagination. The atmosphere in the house has changed, becoming warmer, but also more charged than anyone could have anticipated.

When you reach the kitchen, you start chopping some vegetables, focused on the task but fully aware that Jayce hasn’t stopped looking at you for even a second. The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board fills the space initially, but as time passes, you feel the tension between you both growing.

It’s as if the air thickens, and finally, he can’t resist anymore. Jayce steps forward, slowly moving behind you until you can feel his warmth against your back. His body presses against yours, his breathing now deep and almost irregular. The closeness of his body makes your heart race faster, and the brush of his chest against your back heightens the intensity of the situation… in the best way.

“You look incredible,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to admit what he’s feeling. His breath grazes your neck, and the heat of his body melds with yours, filling you with an electric sensation. “Seeing you in my shirt... I can’t handle it. It turns me on more than I’d like to admit.”

You feel your skin prickling at his words, and for a moment, the knife in your hand is suspended in the air. But you don’t let it fall, even though you’re close to losing yourself in the sensation he provokes in you.

“Oh, really?” you tease, tilting your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “What, are you jealous of your own clothes?”

Jayce chuckles softly, a sound full of tension and desire. “It’s not jealousy,” he responds with a smile that barely conceals what he’s feeling. “It’s... fascination. I didn’t know something as simple as a shirt could... affect me this way.”

You feel him move even closer, his body now pressed fully against yours, making the space between you nearly vanish. His hand, soft yet firm, rests on your hip, and the contact is so intimate you could swear the world is about to fade away in that instant.

“You look so good,” he says, his tone now deeper, filled with desire. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.” His erection clearly pressing against your backside.

Finally, after that whisper full of desire, Jayce pulls back slightly, looking down with a small smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so direct… but I couldn’t help it. You drive me crazy.”

You turn fully towards him, still smiling, as you take a step closer, closing the gap. “I don’t want apologies. I just want you.” You whisper, before cupping his face in your hands and devouring his lips.

Ekko

Ekko enters his workshop, closing the door with a tired sigh. The gears keep turning, the hum of the machines welcomes him as always. You step into the space after hearing his footsteps. Ekko didn’t expect to find an unexpected scene: you, wearing his orange bandana around your neck, his sleeveless white shirt, and a pair of his baggy pants that barely allow you to walk properly. It was like you were cosplaying him.

You throw him a playful look as you adjust the shirt, which is obviously much larger than you. You smile as you see his eyes widen slightly, observing your figure draped in his clothes.

"What? Do you like my style?" you ask with a mischievous tone, noticing the sparkle in his eyes. The Ekko you know isn't easily startled, but now, you can tell something has slightly caught him off guard.

"I wasn’t expecting this," he responds with a sly grin, crossing his arms as he watches you with a mix of interest and amusement. "So, you took over my clothes without asking? Are you planning to take my entire wardrobe too, or just this for now?"

Your laughter is soft but playful. You know you're teasing him, but you enjoy seeing how his confident attitude meets this little challenge. "Does it bother you?" you ask as you step closer, playful.

Ekko takes a step towards you, wearing that characteristic, confident smile. "Of course, it doesn’t bother me, babe," he replies in a teasing tone, moving closer. "It’s just that I feel bad saying it doesn't suit you as much as it suits me," Ekko puffed out his chest with an air of arrogance that made you roll your eyes.

"Please, Ekko, we both know you're only saying that because you feel threatened. It’s not my fault your clothes look better on me than on you. It gives me a mysterious vibe," you joke in the same tone.

Ekko lets out a laugh, one that shows he’s fully into the joke, enjoying the chemistry between you two. "Mysterious, huh? You’re right. It’s strange seeing you so... you, but with a touch of my style," he responds, still smiling.

At that moment, you look him directly in the eyes, and without thinking, you say with a mischievous smile, "I think it’s going to cost you a lot to get it back, huh? Maybe I’ll make you a deal... I’ll give it back, but in exchange for something."

Ekko's face lights up with a grin of complicity. "Hmm, I don’t know if I want to know what kind of deal you have in mind," he replies in a low voice, clearly interested. "But now that you mention it, I might be willing to negotiate."

The tension in the air becomes more palpable, the electricity between you more intense. Ekko seems relaxed, but his gaze, his posture, everything about him says he’s enjoying the situation. You can’t help it; the power play between you is present, and you both enjoy it.

You step a little closer, almost closing the space between you and Ekko, feeling his warmth and the vibrant energy that always accompanies him. "Are you really willing to negotiate?" you ask, tilting your head slightly, letting your tone become a bit softer, more seductive. "Because if you are, I have a few ideas..."

Ekko looks at you with those bright eyes, always full of life and challenge. "Oh, I see you come with plans," he replies, his voice low and deep, full of the same playful energy you both are enjoying. "Tell me, what kind of deal do you have in mind?"

You slide your hands around his neck, letting them rest on his shoulders, while you play with one of his dreadlocks. "Well, you could start by convincing me why I should give you back your clothes," you whisper, leaning in close enough that your breath brushes against his skin.

Ekko smiles, clearly enjoying this little game. "Convince you, huh?" His hand slowly travels to your waist, holding you with a confidence that has always fascinated you. "What if I propose something? Maybe we could share it."

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, pretending surprise. "Share it? Wow, that sounds pretty generous of you. But what do I get out of it?"

Ekko tilts his head to the side, studying you with that sharp gaze that always seems to see more than you let on. "You get to have something of mine, something that reminds you of me every time you wear it. And I... I get the lucky chance to see you wearing it, like now."

His words, full of sincerity but wrapped in that light, playful tone, make your heart race a little faster. You feel the warmth of his hand on your waist, his proximity, and you can’t help but smile. "Sounds like a good deal," you murmur, brushing your nose against his.

Ekko holds you closer, his smile soft but confident. "And maybe, every now and then, you’ll let me get a piece of clothing back... but only if you promise to return it like this, with your added style."

You laugh softly, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body and the soft drumming of his heart under your hand. "Sounds fair," you reply before closing the distance between you and sealing the deal with a soft but meaningful kiss.

Silco

The atmosphere in Silco's office is always charged. The dim light from the lamps illuminates the dark corners of the room as he sits behind his desk, his calculating eyes focused on the pile of papers and documents in front of him. Since taking control of Zaun, his life has been immersed in a routine of power and difficult decisions.

However, today something has changed. Today, you have sneaked into his space. He knew you were approaching, he had heard your footsteps, but it wasn't until you entered that he realized what was about to happen.

You approach him with a firm step, and without warning, you settle on his lap, making him pause in what he was doing. You’re wearing his jacket, large, with the collar up, covering you completely and hanging from your shoulders. The garment is unmistakably his, and it fits you in a way Silco couldn’t have anticipated. The jacket, which gives your figure a more mysterious and dominant air, seems to imbue you with more than just his style; it makes you part of his world.

You settle comfortably on him, smiling playfully, enjoying the control you have over the situation. Silco observes you with a slight smile on his lips, though he doesn’t take his eyes off you. At first, he says nothing, but when his eyes fix on your clothing, his tone subtly changes, filled with that authoritative air that characterizes him so well.

"You've been holed up here all day, not paying much attention," you confess in a tender whisper.

"Is that why you're wearing my jacket?" he asks, in a deep voice, as his eyes scan your figure. It’s clear he notices the game you’re starting, and a spark of interest ignites in his gaze.

"I just wanted your attention," you respond with a mischievous smile, enjoying the closeness and the way Silco watches you, as if evaluating every move.

Silco raises an eyebrow, not losing his composure. "And what makes you think wearing my clothes will get it?" His tone is challenging, but something else shines in his eyes. There’s a mix of curiosity and, perhaps, a bit of amusement, something he rarely shows.

"Maybe because it looks much better on me than on you," you reply with a light laugh, feeling how the tension in the air shifts slightly, but without losing the essence of the power you both share.

"It suits you," Silco says, without taking his eyes off you. "You are… an interesting interruption."

He leans in a little closer, his presence always so imposing. "But, you know? What you're wearing isn’t just clothing," he adds, with that deep voice that always makes you feel as if you're being drawn into him. "It's a reminder. Of who you are, and who you belong to."

The air becomes tense, not because of the threat in his tone, but because of the intention perceived in his words. Silco, in his own way, is marking territory. It’s not something obvious or rude, but a subtle gesture that speaks of his way of claiming, of having control over what is his, over you.

You move closer to him, and the distance between the two of you shortens until you can feel his breath nearer. "Who do you belong to, Silco?" you ask softly, almost as a challenge, maintaining a firm, confident gaze.

Silco doesn’t respond immediately, but his eyes soften, and he looks you up and down with a mix of admiration and possessiveness. A side of him that he rarely shows.

"That’s something only you and I will know," he replies, and immediately takes a step toward you, positioning himself so close that the tension feels like a weight in the air. You can’t escape his presence, but you don’t want to either.

Finally, when the space between you is almost nonexistent, Silco places a hand on your shoulder, touching the fabric of the jacket delicately, as if this piece of clothing represents something more than just a garment.

"Take off the jacket," he orders in a whisper, with that deep voice that knows how to make every word feel significant.

Without waiting for you to do it immediately, he takes it with one hand and slides it off your shoulders gently, as if he wants to hold onto that moment a bit longer. When the jacket falls to the floor, Silco looks at it for a second, and then his eyes lock onto yours again.

"No need for more clothing between us, is there?" he murmurs, a challenging tone in his voice. "But if you insist on wearing something of mine, make sure it's what I want."

Mel

The atmosphere in Mel’s mansion is filled with sophistication and soft lights illuminating the walls adorned with high-class art. The event in Piltover, which both of you are about to attend, is one of the most anticipated of the year, and Mel, as always, is ready to stand out. Her presence is undeniable, but tonight, something feels different. The air between you is charged with an energy that rarely occurs between two such powerful individuals, but today, there is a closeness evident from the very first moment.

After hours of preparation, Mel is ready, but she notices that you still haven’t found the right dress. “Don’t worry about that,” she says with a confident smile, her tone soft yet firm. “I have something that will make you shine more than anyone else at that event.”

With an elegant gesture, Mel approaches the wardrobe where she keeps her most exclusive garments and shows you a dress that immediately takes your breath away. It’s a long black silk dress with golden details that seem to catch the light with every movement. The neckline is subtle but enough to suggest powerful elegance. The fabric falls gracefully, highlighting the figure without being vulgar, and at the back, there is a slit that reveals your legs in a sophisticated way.

Mel holds it up in front of you, and her eyes gleam with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. “This is perfect for you,” she says with confidence, knowing her choice is flawless. “I want you to feel as impressive as you truly are.”

It takes you a moment to process the idea of wearing such a stunning dress, but you can’t help but smile. You feel a hint of excitement and perhaps something more in the air.

The moment you put on the dress, something changes. Mel watches as the fabric fits your body, her gaze attentive and assessing, but also filled with something more, as if she’s seeing beyond just appearance. The dress fits perfectly, as if it had been made especially for you, and Mel can’t help but smile, proud of having made the right choice.

When you finally see yourself in the mirror, you realize what she’s seeing. You become aware that, somehow, you’ve transformed into someone else. The dress highlights your strength and elegance, but it also gives you a vulnerability you’ve never felt before.

“Perfect,” Mel says, her voice soft, but her gaze full of approval. “I knew you’d be dazzling.”

She then steps closer and places a hand on your shoulder, slightly adjusting the fabric as if ensuring everything is in place is an important task for her. When she steps back to observe you again, her eyes show a warm glow, as if she’s proud of you in a very personal way.

“Now,” she says, her tone more playful, “let’s make everyone in Piltover wonder who this woman with so much power and beauty is.”

You smile, taking her hand with renewed confidence. The tension in the air feels electric, but this time it’s different. It’s not just about attending an important event but about the closeness of how you both feel at this moment.

When you’re finally ready to leave the mansion, Mel looks at you with a small smile, but full of admiration. “Let’s conquer this event together,” she says with the confidence that always accompanies her, and you know that with her by your side, there’s nothing you can’t achieve.

Sevika

It’s a calm afternoon in Zaun, but you know you can’t relax too much. Sevika has just returned from a mission, her body covered in oil stains and dust, but it seems like just another layer over her tough, hardened skin. Although it’s unusual for her to show vulnerability, today, for some reason, she seems more human, more approachable.

She enters the room with a firm step, but something seems to have left her tired. She’s looking at you without saying anything, though you know that silence rarely means there’s nothing more beneath the surface with Sevika.

You decide to take advantage of being in her space, knowing there’s no work to be done tonight. As you approach her, a strange calm takes over you. Without much thought, you head toward her wardrobe, opening the doors in hopes of finding something comfortable to wear. You know she’s not one to be easily unsettled by your jokes or your presence in her space.

In a moment of her inattention, you find a large leather jacket, rugged in design, clearly meant for someone more imposing than you. “I think this will fit me,” you murmur to yourself as you put it on without much thought.

When Sevika sees you, her eyes trail over your figure with a gaze full of attention. She doesn’t say anything immediately, but silence fills the air. However, her posture changes, and Sevika’s typical confidence unfolds with force. She crosses her arms and watches you, as if evaluating a new threat.

“Did you take my jacket?” she finally asks, her voice firm but with a small spark of amusement.

“What? Don’t you like how it looks on me?” you tease, challenging her to say something.

Sevika approaches you, unhurried but imposing. Her eyes never stop observing you, almost with curiosity. When she’s close, she extends a hand and, with a finger, touches the part of the jacket on your shoulder, examining it closely.

“Not bad,” she responds in a deep tone, but her gaze reflects something more.

You feel a bit provocative sensing her tone, deciding to play a bit more. “Do you like seeing me in something of yours?” you ask, smiling as you step closer to her.

The tension between the two of you rises. Sevika isn’t one to lose control, but you know that sometimes you like to challenge her. The brush of her finger on the jacket, her eyes fixed on you, and that way she has of dominating the situation make you feel the heat building in the air.

“Maybe you like being in my territory,” Sevika replies, her voice softer than you expected but still loaded with authority. The way she moves closer makes it feel like she’s already marking her space but leaves room for the game.

Suddenly, as if it had all been planned, Sevika steps toward you, her face close to yours, her lips almost touching your ear as she whispers, “Just make sure that jacket isn’t the only thing you take from me.”

Her tone is low, full of unspoken promises. The brush of her body against yours is inevitable, and at that moment, everything you’ve been waiting for seems to collapse in the air. Sevika isn’t the typical woman who gives herself easily, but she does enjoy playing with limits.

You stand there, wearing Sevika’s jacket on your shoulders, feeling her evaluating you, challenging you, and provoking you all at the same time.

You know Sevika isn’t someone who likes losing control, but you have a special place in her life, a place where trust mixes with that spark of madness that makes everything much more interesting.

“And what else would you like me to take from you?” you ask, keeping the challenge in your words, a playful smile appearing on your lips.

She stares at you intently, and the intensity of her gaze lets you know that, even though her attitude is one of control, she’s well aware of what’s happening between the two of you. The tension is at its peak, but Sevika simply smiles, that confident smile only she knows how to give.

“That, you’ll find out soon,” she replies in a softer tone than you imagined.

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djarindroid · 2 days ago

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Barely Surviving

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: An unexpected connection in the games challenges your will to keep going.

Warnings: Usual Squid Game stuff, drugs, depression, suicidal thoughts. Thanos is definitely ooc in some places

Word Count: 2,331

Comments: I hope you like this! 💕 I haven't written in a while but watching Squid Game I knew I had to do something for Thanos. I already have a rough idea for a part 2...

The past few days had been the worst of your life. You were told that you’d just be playing a few games with a chance to win some money to pay off your debt. No one mentioned that your life, and so many others’, would be on the line. How someone could subject others to this was beyond you.

After the second game you’d retreated back to the dormitories with the group you’d managed to survive with. Despite banding together you still felt hopelessly alone, wanting nothing more than to go home and forget any of this had happened.

But how could you forget? How could you forget all the people you’d seen die? How could you forget the feeling of warm blood splattering across your face? How could you ever forget this feeling of guilt? Guilt that you were still standing whilst so many others had fallen.

You sat at the back of your bunk, knees drawn up, whilst your hands trembled in front of you.

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the other players, some sat in groups, some picking at the remnants of the food handed out moments ago, and then your eyes landed on him.

Player 230, Choi Su-Bong or Thanos as he had introduced himself. His bright purple hair wasn’t the only thing making him stand out. He was leaning casually, his expression detached and seemingly completely unfazed. As if he wasn’t affected by the terror surrounding him.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers clenched and unclenched as you tried to gather some courage. Maybe you should just stay on your bunk, try and let this wave of hopelessness pass on its own. But no matter how much you told yourself, the deep ache in your chest refused to subside.

Finally, you managed to push yourself to your feet, making your way across the room. Your footsteps felt too loud, echoing around you as you walked. A few players briefly glanced at you before turning away, uninterested in what you were doing. You heard the small voice in the back of your head, telling you to turn around, but you kept going, driven by a desperation to feel nothing.

As you approached you watched as player 124, who was sitting on the floor near Thanos, nudged his leg, nodding his head towards you. Thanos instantly perked up, a cocky smirk taking over his face.

‘Hey girl,’ he cooed as you got close. ‘Did you wanna come join the Thanos world?’ He crossed his arms over his chest as he deliberately looked you up and down

Your stomach twisted, hearing player 124 snicker at what had been said. You pushed forward regardless. ‘I was just hoping… I know you have… Could I…’ You tried and failed multiple times to get the words out, your cheeks burned hotter at each failed attempt. You felt so foolish, so small, and Thanos’ response didn’t help with your nerves.

‘Aw look, the pretty girl is nervous to talk to me,’ he said with a mocking pout. ‘Don’t be señorita,’ he stepped forward, bending down to your eye level whilst invading your personal space. ‘I don’t bite,’ he added with another smirk.

Your hands trembled more, you shoved them into your pockets to try and still them. Of course this had been a bad idea, but you desperately wanted to stop this feeling, the seemingly bottomless pit inside you threatening to swallow you whole. You knew Thanos had what you needed.

‘I know you have something in your necklace,’ you murmured, voice barely audible. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his eyes. ‘I…I just want to stop feeling like this.’

He sighed and straightened himself, ‘you know I have something huh?’ He shook his head before carrying on, ‘I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.’ He shooed you away dismissively with his hand as he said ‘go on, go back to your side.’

Panic rose in you, quick and suffocating. No. You couldn’t take no for an answer. You couldn’t take it anymore. Every waking moment was a nightmare, and even in sleep, the images of people being shot haunted you. Your breath quickened, you’d managed to get the courage to come over here, you couldn’t let yourself go back still feeling like this.

Your knees were ready to buckle but you managed to stand straighter. ‘Please,’ you whispered as you finally looked into his eyes. You tried to convey everything in that one word, every ounce of fear and despair you were feeling as you repeated it again. ‘Please.’

His gaze pinned you in place, and for just a second you thought you saw his expression falter, maybe a flicker of pity. For that brief moment you thought he might actually listen, that he might offer you what you were asking for.

But as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. He looked you up and down once more, his tone flat as he said, ‘you don’t want what I have.’ You opened your mouth to argue but he held his finger up to your lips. ‘Save your breath, the answers no. Go back over there.’

The finality in his tone hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened as you watched him turn his back to you. A lump in your throat appeared and you fought back the tears threatening to spill. You quickly lowered your head, hiding your face from the room as you scurried back to your bed.

Thanos, settled into the spot beside Nam-Gyu, he let his gaze linger briefly on your retreating figure. You looked so hopeless, curling into yourself on your bed. His smirk faded slightly and the edges of his eyes softened.

Was it guilt he felt? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the uncomfortable weight of knowing you’d looked to him for help in such a way. For a moment he’d almost given in, but he knew what he had wasn’t the answer for someone like you. Still, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way you’d whispered to him, it clung to him heavily as he forced himself to pay attention to whatever the people around him were saying.

By some miracle you had survived through most of the third game, aided by the chaos of other people scrambling to reach the correct numbers before sprinting towards the doors surrounding the room. You hadn’t earned your survival this time, it had been handed to you by those more ruthless.

You dragged yourself back to the centre platform, the others that had used you to make up the required amount already abandoning you.The smell of blood hung thick in the air, making your stomach turn. How many more rounds would this drag on for? How many more bodies would be carted off in boxes before this finished?

You glanced down at your shoes, once bright white, now smeared in others' blood. The platform beneath you began to turn again, but the spinning in your head was worse. You knew you should have been paying attention to what number was going to be called, but what was the point? You’d only been a spare this entire game, why bother to start looking for people now?

‘TWO,’ the number was called and people immediately began shouting and dragging each other off. Time slowed down for you as you stood frozen to the spot. You had no one. There wasn’t a single person around you that didn’t already have a partner. Today would be the day, you thought. Tears welled in your eyes, though you weren’t sure if you were sad or relieved that this hell would be over for you.

Then, out of nowhere, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and yanked you forward. You stumbled, heart pounding in your ears, as you attempted to keep up with whoever had grabbed you. You could barely register what was happening, but then you saw the flash of his purple hair.

Thanos?!

There was no time to question why he’d chosen you, he had you, and the two of you were nearing one of the rooms. As you approached, another player lunged for you, trying to shove you out of the way and take your place. Thanos didn’t hesitate, he kicked the stranger hard, sending them flying to the ground. His grip on you tightened as he practically shoved you through the door with only seconds to spare.

The door locked behind you, you’d made it. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting, overshadowed but the sound of gunshots and screams outside. Your legs faltered and you collapsed against the far wall. Thanos remained by the door, his body blocking the view as he watched the aftermath through the small window.

You should thank him, you knew you should. He’d saved you, pulling you from the edge of defeat. But the words wouldn’t come, all you could do was sink to the floor, and wrap your arms around your knees. You’d both made it to the end of the third game. You were alive. So why did you still feel nothing?

Thanos slid down the wall beside you, he rested his arms on his knees and kept his gaze ahead. ‘How come you froze up out there? Don't you have anyone here?’

You thought for a moment, debating telling him at this point you’ve accepted your fate so why prolong it. You tapped your fingers on your knees anxiously as you searched for an answer that didn’t let him know how badly you’d given up. ‘I didn’t want to be a burden,’ you muttered. ‘I just..I thought I would wait.’

He let out a short laugh, ‘good thing I waited too then, huh? Without me you’d be out there in one of those boxes.’ He nudged your shoulder lightly, as if he was joking with you but there was no humour in this situation.

You didn’t respond, your eyes caught sight of him idly playing with the cross that hung around his neck, the chain snaking around his fingers. When he tilted his head towards you, his eyes met yours and you saw the dilation in his pupils, evidence of whatever high he’d been on to get through this.

For a moment, he seemed to study you, though his expression was unreadable. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as though he was trying to read your mind. ‘I wasn’t gonna leave you out there,’ he said finally, his voice calmer. ‘Couldn’t watch you just give up like that.’

You blinked at him and before you could stop yourself you were asking, ‘why do you care?’

He shrugged, briefly glancing away before meeting your eyes again. ‘Honestly? I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe I feel like you need protecting, and maybe I thought I could be the one to do that.’

You chuckled at that, though there was no humour in your laughter. ‘Do I really look that pathetic?’

He seemed taken aback. 'Someone had to step in,’ he replied bluntly. ‘You were just gonna let yourself lose.’

‘Maybe I wanted to lose.’ You snapped. ‘You don’t owe me anything so don’t bother protecting me. I’m not worth it.’

He took a moment to really look at you, leaning in slightly with an uncharacteristically serious tone he asked, ‘is that really what you think?’

Your breath hitched. The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over and you buried your face into your hands. ‘I just… I can’t take this anymore.’ you choked out. ‘This place, it’s not worth the money. I don’t care anymore, I just don’t want to be here.’

The weight of your despair hung heavily around you, your shoulders shook as you continued to sob. The emotions you’d managed to keep at bay flooding out all at once. Thanos remained silent for a moment, before lightly resting his hand on your shoulder.

‘Listen,’ his tone was softer than you thought possible. ‘This place screws with you, you already know what I’ve been doing to get through.’ He tapped his necklace briefly. ‘But there’s life after this place, so you’ve gotta keep trying, until your last breath.’

You moved your face away from your hands to once again look up at him. He exhaled slowly as he looked at your tear stained face. He carefully took your face in his hands and wiped away the tears.

The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming, a sharp contrast to how you expected him to be. For a brief moment you allowed yourself to indulge in his touch. Through all of his flaws Thanos was showing you a different side, something real. The way he had moved revealed the blue O badge attached to his jacket. You briefly glanced at it.

‘Urgh fine,’ he said with a dramatic sigh, catching your look at the badge. ‘If I vote to leave this time will you stop crying.’ His head flopped to the side as he threw on a fake pout.

You couldn’t stop the weak laugh that escaped you at his theatrics. His small attempt to lighten your mood worked, if only a little. You nodded ‘yeah, I’ll stop crying.’

‘Good, pretty girls shouldn’t cry like that.’ He smirked.

The sound of the door unlocking suddenly caught both of your attention, bringing you back to the present. He stood, holding his hand out to you which you gladly accepted. His grip was steady, grounding, and for the first time since entering this hell you didn’t feel completely alone.

‘Come on,’ he said, pulling you to your feet. ‘Let’s get you outta here señorita.’

As you both walked towards the door the weight of everything you’d been through still lingered but something had shifted. You started to let yourself believe that you could keep going, maybe you weren’t completely broken after all. And the strangest part? It was Thanos who had given that to you.

#angst to somewhat fluff #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #thanos #choi su bong #player 230 #squid game

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strayingawayy · 2 days ago

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flu blues...

...the one where chan gets sick and feels guilty about not being able to attend fan call events so you take it upon yourself to make him feel better <3 (warnings: soup and being sick)

the moment chan cracked open the door, his glassy eyes peeked out, paired with a sheepish sniffle. his voice was a hoarse whisper.

“hey…”

you stepped inside, arms full of essentials: soup, medicine, and the fluffiest blanket you could find. “hey? that's all i get? you’re sick, not on a secret mission.”

chan attempted a chuckle but dissolved into a coughing fit. you guided him back to the couch where he’d apparently been living. strewn tissues, half-empty mugs of tea, and a laptop with an endless chain of apology drafts to STAYs littered the coffee table.

“before you start. yes, i postponed the fan calls,” he said, groaning as he sank into the cushions. “and yes, i feel awful about it. worse than this flu, probably.”

you gave him a pointed look, placing a hand on his forehead. “chan, your temperature is higher than what jeongin told me when he called me to come over. the fans will live. you, however, need soup.”

he pouted, rubbing his nose with a tissue. “but—”

“no buts,” you interrupted, already ladling soup into a bowl. “you’re not running the world today. you’re barely running your sinuses.”

“wow, poetic.” he sniffled, pulling the blanket around himself. “but i can’t just sit and-”

“chan,” you said, holding up a spoonful of soup. “open up or i’m force-feeding you like a toddler.”

he blinked at you, bewildered, before reluctantly opening his mouth. “this feels degrading.”

“you’re lucky i don’t have one of those airplane spoons,” you quipped, and he snorted mid-swallow.

the day went on like that: you making him rest while he grumbled about the pile of work awaiting him. at one point, he tried sneaking his laptop back onto his lap, only for you to confiscate it.

“let me remind you of something,” you said, holding the laptop hostage. “resting isn’t slacking off. it’s so you can be 100% when you do work. your body’s not a machine.”

chan groaned, flopping back into the couch. “i hate it when you’re right.”

“get used to it,” you replied smugly.

despite his guilt, chan’s mood brightened as the evening wore on. you caught him smiling as you made exaggerated commentary during a rerun of a cheesy action movie. his hoarse laugh filled the room when you made fun of the villain's over-the-top monologues.

by bedtime, his eyes were drooping, exhaustion finally winning. you tucked the blanket around him one last time.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” he mumbled sleepily, his voice softer now.

“yeah, i know,” you teased, ruffling his hair. “now sleep, my star.”

as you turned to leave, his hand reached out weakly, catching yours. his fingers were warm against yours, soft despite the roughness of his usual work.

“stay?” he murmured, eyes half-lidded and a little dazed. “just… for a bit?”

your heart softened immediately. you climbed onto the couch beside him, letting him curl into your side like a sleepy cat. his head found its place on your shoulder, and you pulled the blanket over both of you.

“wait actually you shouldn't. what if you fall sick too-” he mumbled again, his words slurring as he drifted further into sleep.

“and then i'll let you take care of me,” you whispered, smiling as you pressed a kiss to his temple. “now hush, or i’ll start charging for my services.”

chan let out a contented sigh, his breaths evening out as he fell completely asleep. the domestic stillness of the room wrapped around you like a second blanket, and you couldn’t help but feel at peace.

taking care of him like this felt as natural as breathing, as natural as being home.

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dc-sideblog · 2 days ago

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Okay so I said more thoughts would go in the fic, and they did, here's the relevant snippet. Context you need to know: this comes from a Green Lantern Steph fic where she was recruited by Kyle right after Final Night and Batman firing her for the first time. Steph is crashing on Donna's couch because this was the era where she refused to go home to her mom

There was a knock on the window.

Kyle was floating out there. He waved sheepishly.

Donna sighed and pushed her chair back, opening the window to let him fly in. Kyle landed and his uniform vanished in a wash of green light and sparkles.

It occurred to Steph that this was the first time she had seen him out of uniform. Turns out Kyle was a leather jacket, combat boots, Nine Inch Nails t-shirt kinda guy. Who knew?

“So I’ve been evicted,” he said. “Something about not paying my rent for the past two months? Weird. Totally thought I had done that.”

“Uh-huh. So you got evicted and you came straight here? What exactly are you expecting, Mr. Rayner? My couch is taken.”

“Well,” he said. He leaned in, cupping Donna’s face. “I was hoping you wouldn’t want me sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous.”

“Is it? I seem to recall you—”

Steph cleared her throat loudly. “Reminder that I am here,” she said.

Kyle jerked back like he was shocked. “Oh! Hi, Steph.”

“’Sup,” she nodded. She twirled her fork around some noodles.

“Would you like some spaghetti?” Donna asked.

“I would love some,” Kyle said.

A minute later, he was sitting at the small table with her and Donna, steaming plates of spaghetti in front of them all.

“Thank you so much for putting us both up, Donna,” Kyle said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Steph agreed.

“It’s no problem,” she said. Her lips twisted wryly. “I’ve heard plenty from Diana about how often Hal was homeless. I expected it to happen sooner or later.”

“Homeless? We’re not homeless,” Kyle said.

“Oh? Then how would you describe it?”

“I’m just temporarily couch-surfing,” he said. “The starving artist bit is tired, Donna. I swear I’m not a bum. I’ll be out of your hair in a few weeks, tops.”

“I’d get over whatever hangup you have about the word ‘homeless,’ Kyle. It seems to be a fact of life for Lanterns. You’re gonna have to get used to it sooner rather than later.”

“The other Lanterns were all homeless?” Steph asked.

“Well, I don’t know about John and Guy, but Hal in particular always had trouble with stability. He was off-planet so often, you know. Didn’t give him much opportunity to hold down jobs or pay his rent on time. It was a recurring problem, especially towards the end.”

“He was a veteran, right?” Kyle asked. He twirled some noodles around his fork. “Was he in any assistance programs for that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Donna said. “He mainly relied on his friends, Barry and Oliver. Oliver especially. But then…”

“Yeah,” Kyle said.

They ate in silence for a moment.

Steph thought about that. About Hal Jordan, as a homeless veteran. As a soldier, still fighting, just in a very different battlefield. Putting his life on the line every day out in space. Doing the unseen work that almost no one on Earth knew about, much less understood.

She thought about how Batman always talked about him. About what a failure he was, how incompetent he was, how reckless and brash and cocky and a thousand other negative things he thought about the Green Lantern. She thought about how much money Batman had to have. It was coming from somewhere, and it was seemingly limitless, to fund all that tech and gear of his.

Batman had never been homeless. Not a day in his life. Steph may not be trusted with his identity, but she still knew that for a fact.

She thought about his leadership of the Justice League. How they all fell in line with his ideas. How isolated Hal had been towards the end. All his friends dead, his city gone, his support network completely deteriorated.

She thought about the idea of a savior of the planet, the universe, sleeping on the street. She thought about Batman criticizing him at work the next day. She thought about Hal detransforming his uniform and becoming just another homeless veteran in a soup kitchen for dinner afterwards. She thought about Batman going home to gourmet meal and a bed with silk sheets.

She wondered if Hal had even considered going to any other member of the Justice League. Or if they had all been marked as Batman’s friends, not his, not safe options for help. Because Hal’s friends were dead.

And now Hal was dead.

She wondered how Batman talked about her, to others.

She wished she could have met Hal before he died.

At the end of the day Hal Jordan is just another homeless veteran. He does unpaid hard labor every day and gets belittled and blamed by the 1% (Bruce)

#of course the full fic is on ao3 if ya wanna read it #✍🏻

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basicallyjeankirschtein · 3 days ago

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lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 6: meeting sukuna

summary: gojo and geto ditched you (again, after promising not too) but thankfully there’s another man there for you (:

warnings: ooc sukuna (i’m sorry i just think it’s so cute when a big scary man is mean to everyone but soft towards you), a teensy bit suggestive MDNI, not proof read

* this chapter is mostly writing!

masterlist. prev. next

you bit your bottom lip as you noticed the texts coming in from your friends, conveniently after the fact you’ve already asked for sukuna to drive you home.

sukuna surprised you. he looked scary, acted scary, sounded scary, and beat up gojo! you didn’t expect him to be so helpful, and to call you cute?

you were trying to side with the rational side of your brain, oh, he’s just saying that to get in your pants, but something told you that you could trust him.

sukuna did not lie when he said he would take only fifteen minutes. actually, he even got here in twelve minutes. your thoughts that told you you could trust him vanished immediately when you saw how huge and scary he was.

he towered over you, he was fucking huge. he had these huge muscles that looked like they could crush a man. he had these intricate tattooed scattered around his body, and suddenly you wondered if he was here to get revenge on gojo- not to help you.

“y/n.” he spoke in a deep, cold voice. it made you uneasy. he spoke like your name was a statement, staring at you coldly. you wondered if this is just how he always was.

“hi,” you managed to say, your voice small as if you were trying to hide yourself. you looked down at your feet, a bit nervous. when you finally had the courage to look up at him, his cheeks were tinged red. was he cold?

sukuna coughed awkwardly, “hi.”

you weren’t quite sure where to lead the conversation. should you just give him your address? you tried to search his face for any emotion, but his face was stoic. the only sign of life on his face being his flushed cheeks.

when you were about to speak up, you notified sukunas eyes widened. you quirked an eyebrow, pouting as you turned around to see what got him so surprised. before you could notice anything, sukuna took your hand and spun you around.

the action made you gasp, stumbling into him. to your surprise, this intimidating man began spewing apologies.

“shit, ‘m sorry.” he mumbled, glancing at your wrist to make sure he didn’t leave a bruise. “let’s bring you home. it’s getting late.” he insisted, not waiting for your answer as he brought you out to his car.

you didn’t protest as he opened the passenger side door for you, politely helping you sit down. if it weren’t for the circumstances, you’d have blushed and wondered if he was trying to be romantic.

“thank you, again.” you said sheepishly, hiding your shyness behind a giggle. he sighed, nodding. “no worries. if you need anything again, you can text me.”

again? you assumed this was a one time thing, to make up for beating up your best friend.

“no worries.” you told him, but he quickly shut you up.

“i’m being serious.” his tone definitely was serious, he sounded like he was mad. it made you uneasy all over again, practically curling into yourself. he was a scary, scary man.

when he noticed your discomfort, his face and tone visibly softened. “sorry.” he spoke, sighing to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, putting the car in drive.

“what’s your address?” he asked, trying to change the subject. you stammered out your address, still a bit nervous of his intentions. he muttered a thank you before beginning the drive to your place.

“i mean it.” he said, about ten minutes into the awkwardly silent car drive. you tilted your head, confused. “hm?” you hummed.

sukuna coughed awkwardly, the second time for that night. “i mean, if you need anything. if gojo tries something again-“ his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “don’t feel afraid to text, or call me. i can beat him up again, too. or beat up that other friend of yours.”

you couldn’t help the loud giggle that escaped your lips, “i’ll have to think about it.” you joked, though truthfully, you didn’t want to see either of them hurt. they may have hurt you, but you wouldn’t hurt them back. that’s not the type of person you were.

“you should leave them.” he said, turning into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

“huh?” you asked, eyes wide as he suggested such a thing. you knew after this event gojo and geto weren’t to be trusted as your friends anymore, but you didn’t actually think about the aspect of leaving them entirely.

before you could offer him a response, which you couldn’t really think of anyways, your thoughts were interrupted by a ding of your phone.

oh shit.

was that why sukuna looked so shocked? and he was so adamant of getting you out of that cafe so fast?

you don’t know if you should feel guilty for your friends, hurt that they’re mad at you even thought they ditched you first, or flustered that sukuna was concerned about your feelings. maybe all three.

sukuna seemed to notice your discomfort, something flashed in his eyes though you couldn’t quite notice what it was.

“you okay?” he asked, his typical cold tone unusually soft. once again, your response was interrupted from a notification, this time from gojo.

“oh no..” you mumbled out loud, biting your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. how embarrassing would it be to start crying in sukunas car?

“what’s wrong?” sukuna asked, his tone almost demanding. “what did gojo do?” sukuna seemed to have already known the center of your worry.

“d-drop me off before you reach my apartment building.” you spoke, making sukuna furrow his eyebrows together.

“this late? no. what did gojo do?” he persisted, his tone getting angrier and angrier. it was embarrassing, but you’ve always been sensitive when people raised their voice or got a mean tone with you.

“he saw us-“ you began, overwhelmed by all your emotions surrounding gojo and geto and your sensitivity to sukunas tone. “he’s mad.” you said after taking a deep breath, hoping to calm yourself down. “they’re already on their way to my apartment-“

this made sukuna growl. you didn’t even know a human was capable of making such a scary noise. if it was directed towards you, you’d start crying right here right now, but it wasn’t. it was directed at the assholes that hurt you. and that made you weak. you never even knew you had a kink for this thing-

“that bastard.” he groaned, voice raising as his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. it made you a bit scared, bottom lip trembling once more as he raised his voice.

“i’m going to bring you to my place. is that okay?” he spoke. he must’ve noticed your discomfort, as he tried to tone himself down. though you could still tell he was seething.

you probably should’ve declined. you didn’t know this man. maybe he was a serial killer and this is how he lured his prey. either way, you’d either be dead to gojo and geto, or this hot man. you’d rather die to the hot man.

“o-okay.” you spoke, voice shaky as you got the courage to speak.

“i won’t hurt you. i’ve got a roommate who can vouch. shit-“ he growled, suddenly remembering he’d have to warn his roommate he was bringing you home.

“just tell my roommate im bringing you over, or he’ll hurt me.” he forced a chuckle, trying to ease your nerves. it didn’t work, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

sukuna handed you his phone, giving you the password to his phone without a second thought.

“his contact name is toji, just say i’m bringing you home.”

i hope u enjoy my writing! i’m gonna be so fr the last time i wrote actual fanfiction was in middle school when i wrote bts fanfic.. so my writing has probably not improved at all but i enjoy writing this stuff out (:

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sturnmeovr · 3 days ago

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♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader - Indecisive

Your grip firm on the handle of your babydaddy’s passenger door, you take a deep breath before pulling it open, the thick scent of black ice mixed with a hint of weed wafts over you, nearly making you lightheaded. Your face crunching in disgust, “have you been smoking?” you ask him before dipping down into the passenger. Chris sits reclined back in his seat, one hand on the steering wheel, and his elbow propped up on the center console, “what – no!” he spits out defensively.

You knew he was lying; he was quick the lie. You decided to bite your tongue for the sake of what you were about to tell him. The next topic of conversation would ruin his night, much like the topic of him texting another girl behind your back that played like a broken record in your head, ruining every night and day for you since you found out. You crack the car window a bit, “I don't care,” muttering before turning to Chris with slumped shoulders, “just make sure you don’t do it around Bear when he gets here.”

A gummy smile makes its way across his face, “you took my name suggestion,” he coos, reaching a hand out to smooth over your belly, your son making sure to kick as soon as he feels Chris’ hand. As much as you missed the comfortability of being around Chris, you weren’t ready to go back home with him, seeing him every day would just cause you more heartache. Seeing his car parked outside of your best friend's house everyday like clockwork already hurt enough. Your pregnancy hormones were raging, and you were more emotional than you had ever been.

You blink away tears, giving him a toothless smile, “I really like it. It’s fitting,” you tell me, looking down at his hand still placed on your belly. It was bittersweet, Bear wasn’t even here, and he made it known he missed Chris almost more than you did. Chris lets out a chuckle, feeling the light kicks against his hand, “yeah?” he questions, looking up at you, those icy blue eyes burning deep holes into your figure, “can’t wait ‘til you're back home.” Your smile fades at his words, telling all that was needed to be told. Chris’ face crunches in confusion which ultimately makes you continue, “that’s uhrm — that’s kinda why I wanted to talk to you,” you chime in, looking away from his intense gaze. His eyes alone would make you crack under pressure any second, giving into whatever his wishes were, which is why you stayed as far away as you could. Chris was a dangerous type of man.

He clears his throat, “what is it?” looking back down at your baby bump like he’s reluctant to pull away. He missed the little butterfly kicks from his son almost as much as he missed seeing you waddle around the house with a jar of jiffy peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other. He sported bloodshot eyes, you couldn't tell if it was due to lack of sleep or if he was smoking too much weed, the dark bags underneath of them didn’t do him any justice either. Pressing your lips together, you didn’t want to tell him, but you knew it had to be done, “I think I might stay here for a little while longer — I’m not sure how much longer,” your voice comes out small and brittle, like it could break at any moment.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, emotion lies thick in his voice, “wha – what do you mean?” his Boston accent peeking thru subtly. Tears fill his eyes to the brim, and you watch as he blinks them back, scrunching his face before letting a stray tear stain his cheek. He quickly wipes it, looking out the front windshield like he's trying his hardest to find his next words. Staying strong was so hard when Chris was on the verge of an emotional breakdown in front of your very eyes. You had a soft spot for him, and you feared it wasn't going away anytime soon. It took all of you to not crawl into his lap, run your fingers thru his brown locks, and pepper his face with kisses while he cried into your chest. He was a ray of sunshine; seeing him sad was heartbreaking. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really felt as bad as you did or was it all an act to get you to come back home to him. Either way, his emotional state left you feeling gutted – just like the revelation of him cheating made you feel.

Chris sniffles, making you pick your head up to look at him, “you don’t want to be with me anymore?” The question that had been running loops thru your mind the last three weeks. Did you want to be with Chris? Of course you did. That wasn’t up for debate. The real question was - could you go back to normal with Chris, raising a newborn without dwelling on the fact that he cheated on you? You couldn’t say for sure.

“I didn’t say that,” you croak out, tangling a hand in your hair. You let out a breathy sigh as your hand drops to your bump, “I just need more time, m’sorry, Chris.” Bear was going backflips at the sound of his dad's voice, or maybe it was your emotions doing the work. A light scoff, filled with hurt leaves his lips, “I’ve been giving you time. It’s been weeks,” he says, tugging another hand thru his hair as he looks at you, biting on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

His sad puppy dog eyes are too heart wrenching for you to handle, so you look away. “I know that, but you’ve been parked out here every day,” you tell him, letting out another sigh. He’d never understand the turmoil and pain he caused you. He’d never understand that you’d never forget what he did. You were at your most vulnerable state, your body was going thru so many changes, you were constantly nauseous or vomiting, and you were keeping your pregnancy from the world. Regardless if Chris only had one conversation with another like he claimed, it hurt, and you didn’t deserve it.

“M’sorry — I miss you, I don’t know,” he blurts out, turning his body towards you to show you have this full attention, “Bears gonna be here soon and I don’t want anything happening while we’re apart.” You don’t dare to look at him until he places a hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. His touch sends tingles up your spine, as touch starved as you were. You missed his touch more than anything, “I just want to go back to normal; to us. you’re pregnant and —.” His hoarse voice getting cut off by yours, “exactly, Chris — I’m pregnant.”

Tears sting your eyes, a few escaping as you attempt to fan them away. Chris hangs his head low, and you can see his tears make water marks on the center console, “I fucked up, I know,” he manages, the words getting stuck his throat a bit, “I can make it better – I promise I will.”

You were at a crossroads. You didn’t know if you could believe him, you couldn’t trust him after all. You couldn’t trust the person you created a life with; it was crazy to think. The thought makes you lose control of your emotions. The waterworks start and light sobs leave your lips as Chris pulls you into a tight embrace, rubbing his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. His own tears soaking a wet patch into your hair, you can feel his chest rise up and down as he breathes staggered breaths. It was comforting in a way; the person who caused all your pain cared enough to console you, he cared enough to cry with you.

“Jus’ please come home,” Chris hiccups, making sure to keep his grip tight on you, “I’ll sleep on the couch. I can fix it, okay? Jus’ let me fix this,” he rambles on as he smooths your hair down with the palm of his hand, repeatedly pressing light kisses to your temple as your sobs fade out.

You pull away from Chris, tugging your sleeves over your hands and bring them up to your face to collect the leftover tears, “I don’t want — want Bear to grow up in a split up home.” The thought of having to coparent instead of having your son grow up with two active parents who love each other, and him, chokes you up. You and Chris both had two married parents who raised you, it wasn't fair that you son might not get that before he was even born. You fail to keep your composure, sob erupting from your chest, “but I don’t see us working if you can’t change your act.”

Wc - 1499

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - Big thanks to everyone who helped me reach 600 followers!! I love every single one of you so, so, sooo much!🥲🥰 I changed my handle, no longer m00nl1ghts1vt - I am now sturnmeovr! You guys are eating these angsts up and I'm not mad at you😋🫣 I made this one a bit longer, sorry about the delay! Send me asks or suggestions about Babydaddy!Chris & Sweetheart! <3

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sexy-monster-fucker · 1 day ago

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Crawling Back to You

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader SMUT

Summary: Hotch shows up at your place late one night needing company.

CW: newly divorced!Hotch, needy!Hotch, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie,

a/n: imma be real with yall, I don’t think I’ll ever write a Hotch fanfic where the reader isn’t a part of the BAU lol also this is pretty much straight sex

*This is the fanfic the won the poll so it’s the one I finished first!*

~~~

It was nearly midnight.

So when a hasty knock pounded against your door, you were apprehensive. Finger resting flat against the side of your gun as you looked through your peephole. Unsuspecting a familiar face at this hour.

“Hotch?”

Aaron Hotchner. Your supervisor and Unit Chief. Bags under his eyes heavy with lines mapping his face. Lips pierced tightly into his mouth as his doey brown eyes looked at you. A small bit of stubble decorated his jaw. You examined his body making sure he did not have anything physically wrong with him. Noting his lack of work attire. T-Shirt with a zip-up over it along with some jogger pants and tennis shoes. Far more casual than you ever saw him.

“May I come inside?”

You stepped back into your home, allowing him to pass by you. Scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses. Musky, with some sweeter hints underneath. Closing and locking the door behind you. Placing your gun back into its holster and hiding it in its usual spot.

“Is everything okay?”

Your hand rubbed your neck as you watched him look around your place. It was dark and silent. You made it a routine to read before bed. Curled up under your soft, yellow lamp on your couch. Just getting to the end of the latest chapter when you had been taken aback by the noise at your door.

Hotch’s silence worried you. Brow resting heavy upon his head as his fists clinched at his sides. Fearing he had some extremely troubling news to share with you. His disheveled hair and lack of formality clued you in that he had come over after something happened.

“Hotch…?”

You trailed off as you closed the distance between you. Hand flattening against his back with your question. Turning to look at you over his shoulder. Orbs glossy and sad. Your expression dropped when you saw the tears staining the corner of his eyes. Never having seen your boss like this. It tugged at your heart.

“Oh, Aaron…”

“Can I… stay here tonight? I can’t be alone in that house another night,” Hotch’s voice was soft and broken. Fighting off showing his emotions to you. Expression as if he had just seen someone kick his puppy. Urge inside you wanting to caress his face and pull him into a hug.

Divorce was hard. Even for someone as cold and stoic as Aaron Hotchner. It was far worse when a child was involved. Throwing his mundane life through the wringer. Ripping away the semblance of normality he had.

“Of course,” your fingers trickled down his arm, “Can I get you anything?” Offering as he slumped into your couch.

“Just some water,” his shaky voice had your stomach doing flips. Hurrying into the kitchen to hide your flushed expression. Pouring him a small cup and sitting it on the table in front of him. His neck strained backward as he rested his head. Admiring how the soft glow of your living room highlighted his jawline.

The two of you sat in complete silence. You fidgeting with your own hands. Pinching and rolling your fingers. Watching Hotch’s broad chest rise and fall with each deep breath he took. His nostrils flaring with slight irritation. Clearly defeated and tired. Unable to properly rest on his own.

Sighing heavily as he sat up. Leaning forward to grab the water. Drinking nearly half the glass in one go. It was strange seeing him here. On your couch in some ordinary clothes. Feeling like ordinary people momentarily. Hotch’s face fell into his hands. Rubbing along his worry lines.

“Hotch—“

“Y/N, I—“

You spoke at the same time. Awkwardly smiling as you cut each other off. Soft, unsure chuckles vibrating off your walls. Your hand planting itself against Hotch’s arm as you leaned forward, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Hotch’s sorry eyes blinked towards you. Eyebrows curved and mouth frowned. Same glassy stare from before returning. Nodding slowly, “I’ve been so lonely…” Your arms raised as Hotch laid his head in your lap. Unsure where to place your hands. Blushing at the intimacy your boss was seeking in you. Unable to deny the feelings swimming around your chest for him.

Resting one hand on his head and the other softly lying against his arm. Fingers petting his hair, stiff locks slowly softening. His hand came up and interlocked fingers with yours against his arm. Pulling your hand closer to his face. Cheek resting against it, a soft peck of his lips gifting itself there.

Your heartbeat rang in your ears. Trying your hardest to steady your breathing. To stop the shaking of your hands. Warmth engulfing you from where each part of him touched you.

Intimacy was not something anyone in the BAU ever got from Hotch. An occasional hug after something may have endangered someone. His tended to be spoken. Not physical. So this was a strange new feeling.

Not helping with the under-the-table feelings you had been harboring for Hotch for so long.

“Y/N…”

There was a whine on his tone that made your head spin. Your fingers tightened in his hair instinctively. Gripping on to something to support the pulse that radiated in your lower half. His brows knitted together at the feeling, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Yeah?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Loosening your grip. Going back to gently petting him. Trying to calm yourself down.

Hotch turned, reaching his arm up to cup your face. Thumb tracing against your cheek. Dark pupils looked into yours. Admiring your face. Pushing himself up to meet your lips. Capturing you in a deep kiss.

Surprising you.

“A-Aaron…”

You stumbled. Not wanting him to do anything he would regret. Eyes scanning his for some semblance of— Regret? Fear? Hesitation? Something?

“Please…”

Aaron’s sultry voice and the feeling of his large hand against your face had you melting into him. His wanting tone begging you. Puppy dog eyes looking into you. Lips finding yours again. Pulling your lower lip between his. Tongue wanting to explore your mouth. Allowing him to pin you mostly against the couch with his torso. Thick fingers tangled in your hair. Holding you close to him as he latched onto you.

Pulling away for only a moment. Looking into each other’s eyes. Seeing nothing but desperate desire in his.

“You look so beautiful in this light,” Hotch gently pushed your hair behind your ear. Watching your face redden and lashes fluttered at his compliment. His lips planted on your neck, hand gripping the back of your head. Sucking and licking softly against your skin. Trailing along your pulse. No doubt, leaving soft purple marks behind. Nothing that would not fade or be easily covered by makeup, of course. Just enough for you to feel how badly he wanted you.

“Aaron…” you began, wanting to tell him how you were not some cheap hookup to help him get over his wife. How you needed to be something more than that with him. Confessing all your pent up feelings for him. How heavily they had been lying on your shoulders. And that you wanted this, just more special.

But.

When Aaron looked up at you with his big, sad brown eyes every thought you had disappeared. Consumed by how pathetic and desperate he looked. Disheveled hair and shiny lips sending you into a feral state.

You mouthed attempting to find the words. Losing every semblance of a thought as you watched his eyes dart between your eyes and lips. Hand coming up to cup his face. Nuzzling into your grasp as he stared at you. Warmth from his cheeks heating up your palm.

“Are you just wanting an outlet?” the whisper escaped your mouth without thought.

“No… I just want you,” Aaron whispered back. A soft confession of his true feelings. Leaning in to kiss you once more. Tongue parting your lips to lap into your mouth. Deepening the kiss as he sat up further. Attempting to shift so that he was pulling you onto his own lap. Shuffling around each other until your legs straddled him.

Long, thick fingers rubbed up your exposed thighs. Resting against your hips. Doeing his eyes up at you. Hands resting on his shoulders as you sat upon him. Enjoying the weight of you on his body. His hands danced under your loose fitting shirt, feeling your soft plump skin. Running up to squeeze at your breasts. Softly pinching at your nipples through your bra. Hotch sighed, hint of a smile on his face.

Gentle hands splayed across his chest. Fingertips tracing the zipper until you were pulling it down. Helping him remove his jacket, throwing it onto the floor. Leaving him in only a tight, white shirt. Muscles accented by the short sleeves and dim lighting. Lips falling against his jugular. Featherlight kisses scattered across his skin. His own hands gripping onto your back tightly. Shortly finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it.

Coarse fingertips hooked around the hem of your shirt, pulling it and your bra off in succession. Hotch’s hands gripped your back. Awestruck by the look of you above him. Nipples hardening when the cold air washed over your body. Softly cupping his cheek as you leaned in to kiss him once more. A groan vibrating through his throat when your breasts pressed against him.

“I’ll do whatever you want, Hotch,” you spoke into his mouth.

Corner of his mouth curved into a grin. Eyebrows still pressed tightly together as if he was still unsure. Not completely convinced on why he came here. Just knowing his body craved yours tonight.

“Take me to your bedroom,” Hotch breathed out. Not demanding, simply asking. Pleading eyes locking into yours.

You rose off his lap. Standing before his disheveled state. Legs spread wide with a tent pitched between them. Heating up your face when his body followed yours like losing contact with you physically hurt him. Interlocking fingers to guide him down the hallway. Smiling over your shoulder at him.

Allowing him into the room first, closing and locking the door behind you. His body was quick to pin yours against the door. Knocking the air out of your lungs momentarily. Strong hands squeezed at your softness. Pulling a moan from you when his rough fingertips pinched at your nipples. Leaning down to capture the bulb between his lips. Muttering curses and his name under your breath.

“Please, Y/N… I-I need you,” Hotch mumbled against your flesh. Hands trailed the waistband on your shorts.

“How do you need me?” You kissed his jawline.

“On top, please…” he trailed off. Moaning when your hand flattened against his erection. Fingers gripped around him, gently stroking his shaft. Hotch became a whimpering mess in your hand. Eyes squinted shut and mouth hanging open. You led him back against your bed step-by-step. Back of his knees buckling when they met the mattress. Resting up on his elbows to continue looking at you.

Thumbs tugged at your waist, pulling down your shorts and panties. Causing Hotch’s breath to tighten in his throat. Seeing you in your full nudity leading to his clothes feeling obscenely tight. Practically ripping his shirt from his chest.

Kneeling down before him. Hotch’s bare chest heaved. Melting expression stirring around your stomach, finding itself nestling between your legs. Manicured fingertips played at his waistband. Hotch craned his neck back, adoring the feeling of your hands on him. Steadily, shaking hands pulled his joggers down his legs. Revealing the outline of his erection in his boxer-briefs. Mouth watering sight before you.

"Oh, God, please," Hotch begged with a broken voice. Your lips kissed against his stomach directly above his underwear. Traveling down to be kissing the length of his shaft. Hatch's legs bounced with anticipation. Finally, you removed his underwear from his body. Cock bouncing free. Thick and swollen, with a drop of pre-cum decorating the head. Throwing his boxer-briefs somewhere on the floor as you straddled his waist. Passionate hands dug into your waist. Completely slack jawed as he took in every inch of you.

"Y-You... you're incredible," Hotch breathed out, eyes finding their place in yours again. Shining in the moonlight that beamed in through your barely opened curtain. Your cheeks burned at his compliment. Unable to deny the full faced smile that overtook you. Blushing at his soft expression.

You hovered directly over his cock. Nose to nose with your boss. Kissing him again before resting your hips against his. Cock gliding through your slick folds as you capture it between your bodies. Hotch moaned at the feeling of your warmth, "Oh, Y/N."

You grinded down on him, lathering his member with your arousal. Shaky gasps escaped him with each move of your hips. "Please, please," Hotch stammered with squinted eyes, "I need to be inside you, now."

Hand lined him up with your entrance. Sinking down slowly as to adjust to his girth. Your face contorted in pleasure at the feeling of him stretching you. Calling out his name when you were flush against his body. Large, brown eyes stared up at you. Face flushed and agape as he watched you rise and fall onto his cock again. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you found a perfect rhythm. Chanting his name over and over again as you rode him.

Hotch's hands grasped under your thighs, helping you get higher off him. Sloppy sounds filled your silent bedroom. Mixed in with the grunts and moans that escaped you and Hotch. Sound of slapping skin rang in your ears.

"Perfect," Hotch sighed breathlessly, finally relaxing his neck and head onto the mattress. Your nails dug into his chest, arching your hips to allow him deeper inside you. Panting as you hopped up and down. Lost with how perfectly his cock hit every spot inside you. Running your hand down the front of yourself, fingers finding your sensitive clit. Circling it.

"Aaron," you whined when he hit that spongy spot deep inside that had electricity shooting through your nerves.

"I love when you say my name," Hotch grunted. Your insides constricted with his deep, sultry voice. Causing him to rut his hips upward, chasing the feeling.

And you swear you had never had someone this good. As if his cock had been made perfectly for you. Almost like Hotch already knew your body. Knew how to make it feel good and how to get you there. He had you seeing stars.

"Can I cum inside you?"

His shaken voice pleaded. Feeling himself twitch and grow more sensitive knowing his end was approaching. Not wanting to lose the sensation of you wrapped around him.

"Please, Y/N."

You nodded viciously. Feeling your own orgasm preparing to wash over you as the familiar tightening in your stomach returned. Bottoms of your feet tingled with heat as you moaned above him. Looking down to see his puppy dog eyes doeing up at you. As if he had never seen anything as beautiful as you in his life. Admiring every single piece of you. Never wanting to leave you.

A few more swirls of your fingers had your insides clamping around Hotch. You fell forward, holding onto him for support as you shook. Moaning into his ear, his name a mantra from your tongue. He held you tight against him, bottoming out inside you as you finished around him. "So good," he praised into your ears.

Hotch continued the movements you had been doing. Thrusting his hips up into you, clearly chasing his own high now. Forcing a squeaky whine with each snap of his hips. Strong fingers dug into your back as kept you flush to his chest. Angled hips causing your sensitive cunt to spasm. Few more before he was shooting up into you. Filling you to the hilt with his seed, keeping his hips firmly pressed into yours. Trembling as he finished.

Lying in silence other than both of your panting. Refusing to move from the position you were in. Cock halfway softening inside you. Your nose was tucked into the crook of his neck. His hands gently rubbed up your back. Enjoying the feeling of your bodies still tangled together. Hearts beating in sync. Minds consumed by thoughts of the other. The world fading around you.

Hotch planted a kiss on the side of your head. Causing you to lean up and look at him. Being greeted with a smile that caused you to blush. Somehow still making you feel flustered even after fucking you. As if you were not lying completely nude against him. Nestling your face back into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. Hotch chuckled at your embarrassment.

"Thank you," Hotch broke the silence.

"You don't have to thank me," you smiled against his skin.

Hotch hummed in response.

You remained like this for several minutes. Drifting off, the late hours catching up with you.

"Let's get under the blanket," you shivered with the chill of the room hitting your warm skin.

"Don't wanna move," Hotch's sleepy tone made your stomach do a flip.

"Come on," you pushed yourself up. Causing his member to slip out of you. The two of you wincing at the sensation. Hotch groaned at the lost of your body heat. Reaching up for you as you crawled up to the pillows. Finally rolling to meet you under the blanket. Nestling under the bedding together.

Hotch wrapped his arms around you. Getting as close to you as possible. Engulfing you in his warmth. You wrapped your own arms around him. Limbs tangling together as you found a comfortable position together.

You felt yourself falling asleep in his comfort. Hoping that in the morning this would all be a happy memory you shared. Begging for him to still want you by daybreak.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! You all have been nothing less than wonderful ever since I started writing for Hotch. I really love seeing all the comments and reposts, you guys mean the world to me! As always, my inbox is always open and if you want to be tagged in the future let me know! //

{tags}

@mrs-ssa-hotch ~ @bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @cherriready ~ @khxna ~ @megangovier ~ @justyourusualash ~ @boybandbaby ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #thomas gibson #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics #thomas gibson x reader

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days ago

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Hi, I read your review of Eddie teaching his shy girlfriend how to kiss and it made me think about how sweet and patient he would be with her when they took their relationship a step further. I wasn't the one who requested the first review, but I was wondering if you could write a second part.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, grinding

part one

Eddie opens the door to the hotel room that he payed for the two of you to stay the night in. You had discussed taking your relationship to at length and you decided that you were finally ready.

He wants this night to be perfect for you. Someone’s first time should be special, especially in his mind. His wasn’t so he wants to be as kind and gentle as possible, repeatedly telling you how well you’re doing, how pretty you look.

You’re nervous, he can tell. You’re constantly wringing your hands and biting down on your bottom lip as your eyes dart around the room. Eddie’s wondering now if maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should just take you home.

“This is a nice room,” you tell him as you sit down on the edge of the bed, setting your duffle bag at your feet. “You didn’t have to get a hotel room for this, Eddie.”

“Do you not like it? Is it too much?” Now he’s nervous and you hate that he’s overthinking it. He’s done something so nice for you and it kills you that he think he’s fucked to.

“No, no,” you shake your head as you take his hands in yours, pulling him towards you so he’ll sit next to you. “I love it. This is so sweet. I’m sorry. I’m just…nervous.” You’re wringing your hands again and Eddie takes them in his, pressing a gentle kiss to them.

“And you have every right to be. This is a whole new thing that you’re not used to. But I’m gonna be so gentle, gonna show you just how much I love you.” His honey eyes are boring into yours and you swear that your heart stops for a second.

He loves you. And he said it with so much meaning, as if it was something he had thought about it for a long time.

“You love me?” You ask, your eyes lighting up and the two of you are now smiling like idiots.

“More than you’ll ever know. Now come here.” He gestures for you to lean in so you and his hands rest on your hips while yours wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“I love you too,” you murmur against his lips and he smiles as he pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling his waist. His hands move higher up your back as he lets you take the lead, your tongue dipping into his mouth.

This is safe, comfortable. You’ve done this now more times than you can count. These exact movements in this exact position and you can always tell that Eddie has been holding back as you often feel his erection against you.

But this time you’re not going to ignore it when it inevitably happens. You’re finally going to go all the way and Eddie is the only person you’d want to do it with. He’s nothing but sweet and gentle and he loves you. He loves you.

Eddie moans into your moan and you’re getting wetter as your make out session progresses. You feel him underneath you and need to something about it, something that doesn’t require you to take your clothes off just yet.

You try your best to grind against him but you don’t think you’re doing it right as Eddie laughs into your mouth. It’s more because he thinks you’re cute and not because he’s making fun of you. He would never do that. His hands move down to your waist, moving you back and forth so that you’re grinding against him the right way.

Once you get the hang of it, you take the lead as your lips find his again, his cock getting even harder underneath you as he moans into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his.

“Do you want to take another step?” He asks, pulling back to look at you, his hands moving up and down your back.

“Yes please,” you beg, getting wetter by the second.

“Can I take off your dress?” His eyes are searching your face for any sign of hesitance but he doesn't see it. But he still waits for you to respond.

“Yes.” You nod, trying to not seem too excited.

His hand moves up to the zipper on the back of your dress and he pulls it down slowly. Your eyes stay on him as he pushes it down to your waist, your pretty, lacy bra now on full display. One hands stays on your him while his other one moves up, his fingers grazing the lace with a feather light touch.

Eddie presses his lips to yours once again as he slowly picks you up, your lips continuing to move together as he carries you over to the left side of the bed. He pulls the cover back with one of his hands and helps you into it. You look so pretty and he can't wait to show just how pretty he think you are.

He gets in the bed with you, pulling the blankets over your bodies so that you're cover. He notices that you've slipped off your dress and that it's now crumpled up by the side of the bed.

"Can I remove these?" He asks, his fingers looping through the waistband on your panties."

"Yes please," you nod and he slips them off with ease and tosses them on top of your dress then looks up at you, silently asking permission to move onto the next stop.

"I-I'm gonna stretch you out, okay? Wanna make sure you're ready for me." You nod, knowing exactly what he means. You've read lots of smutty book so you know exactly what to expect.

"Okay," you nod. His fingers make their way inside you, pumping as slow as possible to get you used to the feeling. This is like nothing you've ever experienced before. You clutch his shoulders as his fingers move in and out, already feeling a moan in the back of your throat. You don't know why you're so afraid to let it out. It's a normal thing to do in this situation and you're sure that Eddie would love to hear it.

"So good," you finally moan and if just his fingers are making you feel this way, you can't help but wonder what he'll feel like inside you.

"That's a pretty sound," he compliments as his lips find yours again. "Wanna make it for me again?"

"Mhm," is all you're able to get out and his fingers move just a little faster and you moan even louder. He's imagined this so many times but the sounds you're making are much prettier than he's been thinking.

"Oh," you moan again and even though Eddie's desperate to see just how much you can take, he decides against it. Maybe after you've done this a couple of times. He's still determined to make this a gentle first time for you. Soft and sweet just like you.

"I think I'm ready," you tell him as your fingers dig into his shoulders.

His continues to kiss you, taking your hands and guiding them to the bottom of his shirt. Your fingers latch onto it and you pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the side as he takes off his pants, followed by his underwear.

In the blink of an eye, he's undressed and putting on a condom that seemed to appear out of thin air. He then looks down at you, that lovesick smile on his face. He wouldn't want to be anywhere else with anyone else. And it warms his heart that he's the only person you'd want to take this step with. He's nothing but honored.

His lips find yours once again as his hands slide underneath you, unhooking your bra with ease before letting it slide to the floor with all of your other clothes.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he sighs as he looks as your naked chest, then his eyes snap up to your face and your arms wrap around his neck, pulling you down to him for what seems like your millionth kiss of the night, but neither of you mind. You could easily do this for hours and have.

"Tonight is all about you, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips before pulling away and you whine at his absence. "Greedy," he chuckles. "Just let me say this then you can have all of the kisses you want."

"Fine."

"If I do something you don't like or you want to stop at any point, don't hesitate to let me know, okay? On the opposite end, feel free to make as much noise as you want. It's actually encouraged. I-it's important to me that you enjoy yourself."

"Thank you for saying all of that. That makes me feel a lot better."

"Good," he nods, happy that he made you feel less nervous about the whole thing.

"Now kissy?" You pucker your lips and Eddie rolls his eyes at you before giving in.

"Give me your hands first," he instructs and you give them to him before he laces your fingers together before lying them against the bed. He then places himself on top of you, his lips capturing yours as his tongue slides into your mouth. You moan at the sensation just like you always do and Eddie's getting harder by the second.

He slowly slides inside you and you wince at the sensation, but as soon as thrusts, the pain lessens just a little. The whole thing feels odd, foreign, but you have to admit that you're starting to understand why people are doing it all the time.

The more he thrusts into you, the more you get addicted to the feeling, moaning whenever you feel the need to, the sounds you're both making and your labored breaths mixing together in the air.

His hair is hanging down above you and his face is sweaty and he lets out moans of his own. He looks so hot and you can't believe that he's yours. That he paid for a hotel room and one that was far enough away from everyone so no one would hear the two of you. He's been nothing but a gentleman your entire relationship and you hope he sticks around forever. Knowing Eddie and how wrapped around your finger he is, you're certain that he will.

"Just like that," you tell him as he hits just the right spot to make you see stars.

"Yeah?" He asks. "Like this?" He hits it again and you feel like you're going to black out but you don't dare ask him to stop.

"God, yes," you moan and he continues, doing it again and again as your hands hold onto his for dear life, making his skin turn even more white. You're close you, you can feel it.

"Taking me so well," he compliments and you think you're going to be fully melted by the end of the night because of his sweet words. "Maybe next time I'll let you have the whole thing," he winks.

"Eddie," you whine. "I think I'm gonna-" and right on cue, an orgasm courses through you, your back arching as you do so, your boyfriend's name passing through your lips as he gets one last thrust in before your back hits mattress, Eddie following you as he pulls out.

He disposes of the condom and lies with his head on your chest, his hands moving up and down your bare hips as he murmurs sweet nothings against your skin to lull you into a much needed sleep.

"You did so good," he tells you, pressing a kiss to the spot right between your breasts. "Did you have a good time?"

"So much fun," you slur, feeling sleep taking over your body.

It's the best first time you could have ever asked for. Eddie was an absolute gentleman and you didn't expect any different. You wonder if you ask nicely then maybe you can have your second in the morning. Since he's never able to say no to you, you think you'll take the chance. He does love you after all.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

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usercelestial · 2 days ago

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Forever Love

General Audiences | Words: 3,753 | TW: Sexual Harassment

Buck misses Tommy. He always misses Tommy. He misses him when he’s in the bathroom, when he’s at work, when he’s sat across the table and their feet aren’t touching. Buck is self-aware enough to know that he has a problem. But this time, it’s serious.

He’s drunk. And Tommy isn’t here.

And they’re fighting.

He’s just a little past tipsy in a gay bar where the music is too loud and the floor is too sticky but the rainbow flags in the window give him this fuzzy feeling in his chest. It’s nice, knowing he has a community, having a sense of belonging. Having something he didn’t know he was missing, being with people who are like him. It’s queerness and tacky rainbow tank tops and seeing color for the first time and breathing in and out without the weight of something missing sitting on his chest.

“Dude, this place is great!”

Oh, Eddie’s here too.

They started the night at Eddie’s house. Buck ran to Eddie the minute he slammed the front door of his and Tommy’s new house and jumped in his Jeep.

He doesn’t remember what the fight was about, not just because the alcohol was kind of making it hard to remember details, but because it was really about nothing in particular. Or maybe it was about everything. All the little things like Tommy leaving his shoes in the doorway and Buck forgetting to load the dishwasher. One bad shift, a few small jabs, and then suddenly they were screaming at each other. And then Buck ran.

They had moved in together three weeks ago. The first two weeks were bliss, but now a heavy storm cloud has settled over their home. Buck thinks about the honeymoon phase everyone was warning him about and he aches to go back to it. He remembers when he used to think Tommy had never done anything wrong and if he had, there were perfectly reasonable explanations for it. But now he’s seeing him in more varied colors than just rose-tinted ones. And he’s realizing Tommy is having the same revelation. They're more themselves, more adult, messier and complicated. And Buck’s terrified.

But he’s also pissed.

“Can you fucking believe he yelled at me for something so petty?” Buck had said, pacing around Eddie’s living room, “It’s like he wasn’t even listening to me.”

“Well, didn’t you also yell at him?”

“Who’s side are you on?”

A small, petty part of him was smug about getting to Eddie before Tommy did. The last few fights they had, Tommy had been the one to storm out and seek solace in the Diaz home. This time, Buck ran before Tommy had the chance. He had been happy to share his side of the story and Eddie was a kind enough friend to realize Buck needed to vent his very biased account of things, nodding along and giving support where it was needed.

Then came the beers. Then the bars. Then Buck spotted those rainbow flags in the window while stumbling along the sidewalk and told Eddie that if he was a good ally, he would follow him in and let him blow off some steam.

Except now, he’s kind of running out of steam. He misses his boyfriend and the guilt of raising his voice is starting to dampen his mood. He feels regret souring on his tongue and it’s diluting all the endorphins that were released from doing shots with Drag Queens earlier in the night.

Eddie’s still going strong though. His hair is kind of messy, glitter decorating his pink cheeks, a goofy smile plastered across his face. He lost the button up he started the night with so now he’s rocking a white tank top that shows off his arms nicely. Needless to say he’s getting a lot of attention- attention that he’s either ignoring or oblivious to.

“Dude, dude, why don’t we come here more often? Why do we go to the sad bar for straight people when we could come here instead? Everyone’s so nice!” Eddie is starting to shout in his ear a little bit.

“You can just come here on your own, you know,” Buck suggests.

Eddie shakes his head, “I don’t wanna… um-” he cuts off, snapping his fingers, “intrude! I don’t wanna intrude. Do you think if I ask Josh, he’d take me? He talks about feeling weird coming to bars alone all the time! OH!” Eddie gasps, like he’s had a great idea, “Should I text Josh? He could come down here, it’d be great!”

Eddie starts to take his phone out before Buck stops him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eds.”

Eddie waves him off before the song changes and suddenly he’s disappearing back into the crowd of swaying bodies. Buck should probably try to keep an eye on him but he’s busy silently mourning the quiet night in with his boyfriend he was going to have. Then he starts to mourn the night he wanted to spend distracting himself from his own grievances with said boyfriend, trying to drown out the voice telling him how badly he fucked things up. Now, he’s playing babysitter to giddy-drunk Eddie.

“Don’t you look lonely.” Suddenly there’s a body pushing against his side and alcohol-ridden breath wafting over his ear.

He reels back, cringing at the close proximity. He huffs and takes another sip of his beer.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna give me the cold shoulder?” The guy moves closer again. “Come on, what’s got you so down?”

He ignores him again, trying to turn his body away. The guy slides a hand against his side and fingers the hem of his shirt. Buck shoves him off.

“Fuck off,” Buck growls, and then for good measure, “I’ve got a boyfriend.” Who he misses. God, he wishes Tommy was here.

“Well, I don’t see him anywhere. Must not be a very good boyfriend, then.”

Buck starts to get defensive, opening his mouth to speak, before the words jumble in his throat. It’s a little hard to think coherently, but what comes to mind are images of Tommy making him dinner after a long shift, scrubbing his hands through his soapy hair in the shower, kissing his birthmark before bed every night. He’s not sure how to articulate it, all the feelings rising in his throat at the claim that Tommy isn’t a good boyfriend, a good partner, a good person.

“Buck! Buck, listen, man, you gotta try this drink- oh, who’s this?”

The guy scoffs as Eddie suddenly reappears from God knows where, “Really? This guy?” He points at Eddie.

Eddie looks behind him wildly, “Who?”

Buck thinks briefly about drowning himself in one of the bar toilets. Then decides he’d be getting out of this too easy, and this is probably karma for ruining the great thing he had going with Tommy.

“So you’re his boyfriend?” The guy is now directly talking to Eddie.

There are several looks that pass over Eddie’s face. He looks like he’s solving a puzzle for a second then there’s a little twinkle in his eye and then he straightens his back with determination and pride, “Yep!”

Buck chokes on his own spit, “What?”

“Hey, I’m Tommy, Buck- no, Evan’s boyfriend.” He looks immensely proud of himself, “So, bye. He’s taken. By me, Tommy, I’m a great pilot and subpar at Muay Thai. So leave us alone.”

The guy apparently has decided to double down on being an ass, though, “Really, you could do so much better.” He’s turned back to Buck now. “Why would you ever choose to be with a guy who can’t hold his beer and makes an idiot of himself in public?”

“He’s not an idiot!” Buck throws his hands in the air. He’s not sure if he’s defending Tommy or Eddie here, but they’re kind of blurring into one person right now.

“What do you have going for you anyways, bro? I’m a pilot!” Eddie decides to puff his chest out a little now, shoving his hands in his front pockets. Buck realizes he’s trying to mimic Tommy’s mannerisms, much to his own horror. Now is probably not a good time to mention that this guy doesn’t actually know what Tommy looks like, therefore he doesn’t actually need to pretend to be Tommy. But his heart clenches at how hard Eddie’s trying anyways. “A firefighter-pilot!” Eddie continues, “Those are like two of the hottest professions you can have. I also do Muay Thai, although not as good as my amazing friend, Eddie, but still very good.”

“Wow, self-obsessed much?” The guy tries to touch Buck’s arm, “Come on, don’t you wanna ditch him? Do you really think this guy is gonna give you what you need?”

“What do you know about what he needs? I’ll have you know that we live together, actually!” Eddie is starting to shout again, “It’s going great. Or well, it is, isn’t it?” He turns to Buck.

“What?”

“It is going great, right? Like we’re still happy, aren’t we?”

Buck thinks of Tommy at home right now, sitting on the sofa in his stupid, sexy reading glasses. He’s probably still fuming from the fight. Buck pictures him biting his nails, a habit he’s tried to kick. He whines a little in the back of his throat at the thought of being his point of stress. His bones ache to curl up in bed, head tucked into Tommy’s shoulder, feeling Tommy’s arm gently graze over his spine. He thinks about moving around the kitchen with him, seamlessly in tune with his every move. He thinks about coming up behind him and pulling Tommy back’s flush against his chest and kissing his hairline.

“Yeah, of course, we’re still happy.”

“Do you really have to ask?” The guy asks smugly, quirking an eyebrow.

Eddie’s still looking at him though, eyes searching, “I worry about that sometimes, you know? Like,” he breathes and makes a decision, “sometimes I’ll talk to our friend, Eddie. And I’ll tell him how much I love you, but how scared I am that I don’t make you happy enough. And it doesn’t matter how many times I-or Eddie tells me that you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, I’m scared you’re gonna wake up and realize there’s something else out there for you. At least, that’s what I tell Eddie. And I swore him to secrecy too, I made him promise not to mention that to you because I don't want you to think I’m a burden or anything. And because Eddie is such a good friend, he promised he wouldn’t say anything but I think now Eddie is getting tired of watching us both think the other one could do better. That’s how Eddie feels. Cause we’re both great, you know. Best friends he’s ever had.”

“Is that how uh- you really feel?” Buck asks, “You think I’m gonna find something better?”

Eddie nods, lips pursed, “Well, it's not like- I don't think you're gonna just walk out with some fuck-face you meet at a bar,” he gestures to the guy still standing there confused, “but I think I’m more worried you’re going to realize I’m not what you want. That it's too hard, I guess. And we've been fighting more and more recently and it's really getting to me, man.”

“I just feel like you keep shutting me out, though. It's not the little things that get to me, it's the fact that every time I try to talk to you about it, you just shut down.”

“Okay, I get that. But I think if I had to say why I do that, it's because I’m scared that if we really start to talk about it, you’ll come to the conclusion that you won't want to put up with me.”

“Tommy, I’m trying to build a life together, I’m in this, all the way. And don't you think I’m scared, too? It's like you’re not listening to what I’m telling you.”

“You talk about how you don't feel listened to, but it’s never really clear what you’re saying,” Eddie throws his hands up and clears his throat awkwardly, “I think.”

Buck stops to consider that. He’s tried to tell Tommy how he feels, how scared he is he’s gonna fuck it up. He still feels like he’s a guest in Tommy’s home, not because of anything Tommy’s done per say. He thinks maybe he’s still trying to walk on eggshells, not make too many waves. So he beats around the bush. He points out Tommy’s shoes in the doorway when he’s made a point to put his own in the closet, clearing his throat when he picks them up and puts them away. Tommy glances at him and hums, looking away.

It always made Buck feel like Tommy’s just tolerating him- putting up with his “clipboard” tendencies.

“Okay, I guess you have a point. I’m not actually that mad that you leave your shoes wherever you take them off, or how you leave dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, or that you always make the bed too tight. Like, I don't care about those things. I just- fuck, I don't know. It feels like it's still your house, and I’m still living out of a few drawers and an overnight bag.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “Do I make you feel that way?”

Buck sighs, “Not on purpose, I don't think. I think it's just a lot of other bad experiences with living with people I’ve dated and yeah, maybe, it feels like you keep erasing the mark I’m trying to leave. I keep trying to get you to put your shoes in the closet, and you just won't.”

“I thought you said you weren't really mad about that.” Eddie seems like he’s having a hard time following their relationship lore.

“It's not that. It's more that all of the little things I’m trying to do to make it feel like ours, you’re just not having.”

“Have you ever told me that? Like in those words? Cause from where I’m standing, I think I’m just trying to give you your space and stay close to mine.”

“I don't just want my space and then your space, I want our space. I want to have things we do together, systems we can agree on. Not just because it annoys me when you don't follow my rules, Tommy. I don't want you to feel trapped with me.”

“Well, I don't want you to feel suffocated. That's what I told Eddie.”

Buck breathes in a small sob. He’s always been an emotional drunk.

“I love you, all of you. Even your messiness. I just want to feel like you're in this too. I’ve had a lot of shitty relationships where I'm the only one putting anything into it. And you’ve always felt different. Like I could actually get attached to you. And it feels like you're pulling back.” Buck sinks in on himself, heart breaking at the idea that Tommy’s falling farther away.

Eddie looks pained, but enlightened, “I think I’m pulling back because I don't want to pressure you. I think I’m really, really into you, dude. And it's scary to put so much of yourself on the line. I think I’m afraid I was putting too much of myself into this, and you're gonna get exhausted.”

“Exhausted with what?”

“With how much I love you. With how amazing I think you are. With how I think I’ve decided I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” Eddie finishes.

“Okay, what the fuck does all that mean?” The guy is still just standing beside them.

“Bro, go away.”

“Like why are you even still here?”

The guy walks away, muttering something about them being exhausting and a waste of his time.

“He’s said all to you?” Buck ducks his head, not wanting to look Eddie in the eye.

“Some of it, yeah,” Eddie nods, wrinkling his forehead, “The feeling like you're too much of a good thing, wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, generally feeling like shit whenever you fight, yeah, we talked about all that.” He hiccups, “Some of it I improvised. I know both of you pretty well by now, and I’m tired of constantly going back and forth between you whenever you fight. Especially when you're saying the same thing. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

Buck waits for him to elaborate. Eddie rolls his eyes. “You guys are committed. It's just that you're both being really, really stupid about it. And living with another person is hard, especially when you’re trying so hard to keep so much of yourself in. You’ve got to open up a little, man. And so does he, but I think the first thing you gotta do is talk.”

“Hm. I should probably go home.” His head is starting to hurt and he feels like throwing up or passing out or crying, and he doesn't want to do any of those things outside of the comfort of his own home.

His and Tommy’s own home.

Eddie's eyes light up again and Buck had the exact same thought at the exact same time, “Uber!”

Eddie falls dead asleep on the ride to Buck and Tommy’s house. When they arrive, Buck profusely apologizes to the Uber driver for all the snoring and retching.

Eddie leans against his shoulder as they walk up to the door. Buck notices a wreath that wasn't there before and remembers talking about decorating the house for the holidays early. Tommy hadn't been completely sold on the idea at the time but there it was, displayed on their front door. It felt like a peace offering in of itself.

He fumbled with his key and accidently locked the already unlocked door, which Eddie laughed at for the full minute it took him to realize and then unlock the door again.

“Shhh. He’s probably asleep.”

“Evan?”

“Oh shit.” Then Eddie falls on the floor somehow. Buck isn’t really paying attention to whatever Eddie’s issues with gravity are. The moment he sees Tommy standing in the hallway in his sleeveless red top and sweats, he bolts and throws his arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Buck mumbles into his neck.

Tommy sighs and hugs back, “I know, baby. I’m sorry, too.”

Eddie stands back up, celebrates quietly to himself for a second, and then redirects his attention to Buck and Tommy, “Hey, Tommy.” He waves politely.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“I don’t wanna be Buck’s boyfriend anymore. You can have him back. You’re both so complicated. Josh wouldn’t be so complicated.” Eddie starts mumbling to himself, swaying back and forth on his feet while fiddling with the leaves on the plant they have in their entrance.

Tommy seems to take a second process of what he just said and is doing mental gymnastics to decipher it, “What?”

“There was this guy, right? And he was kind of an asshole about it. So I pretended to be you, so he would leave Buck alone.”

Buck feels Tommy’s chest rise with jealousy, “A guy was messing with you?” Buck is man enough to admit that the heat in his voice does something for him.

“Mostly just being annoying.” Buck shrugs, arms still tied around Tommy’s neck.

“Hey, don’t worry. I defended his honor.” Eddie pounds a fist to his chest and then stumbles over to the couch.

Tommy worms his way out of Buck’s grip so he can close and lock the door and then turns back, “So, we’re good, then?”

Buck smiles, shoulder’s rising to his ears, laughing a little. He’s back to feeling giddy, a rush of love flooding through his chest, “Yeah, we’re gonna be great, Tommy, I promise.”

Tommy smiles and gravitates back to him, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing his collar bone.

“No funny business while I’m still here.” Eddie turns over on his side, tugging the throw blanket off the back of the couch.

“We gotta talk, though.” Buck traces a finger down Tommy’s chin, parking it in the little divot that used to taunt him. He has a cleft, Buck giggles again.

“About what?” Tommy goes still. His arm freezes up and the soft, gooey feeling in Buck’s chest gets a little chillier.

“I know about your annoying habits and you know about mine. We need to talk about ‘em to move past ‘em”

“And what if when we talk about it, we can’t find a way to move past it.” Tommy says quietly. For a second, Buck feels like he’s looking at himself. The facade of confidence cracks and suddenly there’s a lonely boy in a cold, empty house that starts to leak through. Buck’s chest hurts thinking about little Tommy. He was lonely and afraid. Buck remembers that feeling like a ghost whispering up his spine and he hates it. He hates that he ever thought this wasn’t something he could have. He hates that Tommy thought he’d be lonely and afraid forever. He hates that they both did.

He hates that Tommy feels like that right, standing in their home, in each other’s arms, where it should be safe from old wounds and lingering ghosts.

“Hey,” Buck’s finger on Tommy’s chin tightens and he brings his thumb up to force eye contact, “Don’t do that, please.”

Tommy shudders.

“Tommy, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you and you,” Buck grabs Tommy’s face with both hands, “Tommy, you are my forever love, okay? Your bad habits are not going to get in the way of that. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

“Forever love, huh?” Tommy muses.

“If you let me, I wanna be your forever,” Buck places his index finger on Tommy’s lip, swiping. He wants to reach forward and never let go.

“Gladly,” Tommy leans over to bridge the gap, connecting their lips. They kiss for what feels like an eternity, with Eddie's snores as background music. Tommy slides an arm around Buck's waist and gently guides him to their bed.

Tommy kisses his birthmark and covers him with their warm cotton sheets they had picked out together. The bed is still too tight but he’ll tell him in the morning. They’ll talk, fight a little more, cry, and make up. They’ll fight for it, even when things get hard.

They fall asleep wrapped gently in love. Forever love.

#3000 feels like a lot for a tumblr post but ehhh i want it here too #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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pampushky · 1 day ago

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and I hate the way the townspeople gather outside

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 4 - 5.5k words

And we're back baby! Warnings for this chapter: uh, just lore building. Lando thinks maus is lying lol. apologies for the possibly incorrect german, I'm rather rusty on it lol, but I'm brushing back up on it lol

oh and eggroll the service hound is a queen ofc.

also in need of more beta readers. dm if interested.

don't worry it'll make sense soon...ish

previous part | next part | masterlist | series masterlist

The Previous Day, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain.

Lando Norris watches the conveyor belt at the baggage claim, standing next to Oscar. The Australian’s arms are folded. You’re casually drinking a tall can of Red Bull as if you hadn’t gotten them into this situation, with a hands-free leash looped around you like a cross-body bag, connected to your little beagle, sitting patiently at your feet.

His eye twitches when another bit of luggage comes out that’s not his.

“Doesn’t your sire literally own a private jet company?”

“Not anymore. He sold it. Gained quite a bit of money from it.” You shrug. Offering a sip of the can to Oscar, who actually takes a hard drink from it, tipping his head back. “Besides. I fly normally most of the time. Better for the environment, no?”

“Who gives a shit about the environment?”

“I do. I actually quite like to hike.” You frown as you look at him, brow furrowing. Your beagle yawns. “So does Seb. Didn’t you flirt with him your first year?”

“I did what— no! He was like my grid dam!” Lando screeches, almost immediately trying to banish the images of Sebastian and himself in any type of relationship beside that of a rookie and a veteran driver mentorship.

“Ah.” You nod slightly, and then go back to looking at the baggage claim. Studying it. “We flew business anyway. Why are you so pissy about it?”

“We could have flown private or— or at least first class!”

“Why, though?” You tilt your head at him. Momentarily scowling at Oscar as he’s drunk all of your Red Bull— a fact only discovered when you try to take a drink for yourself. “It’s not even a long flight, just seven hours.”

“Seven hours is a long time,” Lando chuffs, folding his arms across his chest. “I need to be able to lay down!”

“Okay, next time, we’ll fly first class,” Oscar buts in, already trying to smooth things over between the two of you. You almost look offended until Oscar glares at you from the corner of his eye, which gets you to bite down on your cheek. “Lando can schedule that.”

“Fine.” Lando sniffs, watching as more luggage lands on the conveyor belt. “But we are so upgrading to first for the flight home.”

“But that’ll cost extra,” you whine, which makes the dog at your feet snort. Lando silently decides that your beagle is on his side, in this argument, even if you don’t acknowledge it.

“Compromises, Mousey,” Oscar just puts one of his hands on the top of your head, the way an older litter mate might do to quiet an argument. It’s quite funny for Lando to watch, especially with the little huff you let out, conceding. “Compromises.”

The little smirk that Lando gives you nearly makes you growl, until Oscar just pushes down on your head a bit harshly, saying something about grabbing his bag and leaving the two of you alone.

“So….” Lando starts, standing a bit awkwardly as you both watch Oscar struggle with his frankly oversized duffle bag. Your dog has now sat back down at your feet, watching the Aussie nearly fall over himself. “Mousey?”

“Oh my god,” you rub your face in frustration and prepare to clobber Oscar for revealing that to Lando. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“What is it?” Lando grins widely, suddenly finding a new way to torment you. To possibly break down the walls you have set up, all in the interest as making yourself seem like a hardass. “Like— some pet name, from your Oscie?”

“My Oscie?!” You screech, just as the Australian in question lets out a loud ‘oof’ from where he’s finally managed to lift the duffel, only for it to get caught on someone else's luggage, forcing him to walk awkwardly beside it while trying to unhook it from the other bag. Both yourself and Lando watch in partial amusement on Lando’s part and disappointment on yours. “Do you think I’m— oh, no, that actually makes sense you think I’m dating him,” You murmur, more to yourself, before looking at him stoicly, as if to clear it up. “That idiot is more like my littermate.”

“Hey! He’s not that bad, he’s quite smart.”

As if to prove him wrong, Oscar somehow stumbles over his own feet, and falls onto the conveyor belt, now moving along with all the luggage, looking somewhat surprised at his new situation.

“Okay, so he’s got some quirks,”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” you watch as Oscar just sits on the conveyor belt for a few seconds, as if relaxing, before realizing he’s tangled the strap of his duffel bag around himself. “Besides— he’s courting someone.” You follow Oscar’s movement on the conveyor belt as he further entangles himself. “And as for Mousey… it’s a stupid name the media gave me. Because my Sisi was die Ratte, so I was called die Maus.”

“Why not like— Rat two, or Rat junior?” Lando’s brow furrows. He seems genuinely confused about the nickname, instead focusing on how it didn’t seem to make sense to him. Oscar’s adventures and struggles with the luggage are completely forgotten to him, while the poor omega finally manages to free himself from the conveyor belt.

“Ich weiß nicht. The media is dumb.” You mumble. Not looking at him for fear of him calling your bluff.

But you do know the origins.

Before your identity was made public, a picture had leaked of you, when you were still healing. A rare moment when you were allowed outside of the hospital to get some sunlight, and to slowly introduce you to the new country you were now living in, Mathias and Lukas doing their best to amuse you.

The picture had been you, sitting on Niki’s lap, looking tiny and frightened by how loud Vienna was, despite sitting on a bench in a park near the hospital.

Your eyes were wide. Your little face was still bandaged, your hair shorn close to your scalp, and your hands so heavily wrapped in bandages that it made you look like you were wearing white mittens as your wounds healed. Sitting on Niki’s lap, oblivious to the paparazzi, while your sire was looking at the camera straight on, the calculating fury on his face a heavy contrast to your wide-eyed anxiety and innocence. Flinching at every noise that wasn’t something familiar, with a shy smile on your lips as you stretched a bandaged-wrapped hand towards Mathias.

How had it been leaked?

Published to the press not a day later, the front page of some gossip magazine Niki had sued into oblivion. But that was the first picture of you the public had ever seen, tucked under the headline: “Die Ratte und das Mäuschen!” The rat and the little mouse.

The article itself was just blatant gossip. Theorizing about where you’d come from, based on the fact he’d just recently flown to the United States and returned not even a month ago. Who you were to Niki to make him so protective of you— and what an unfortunate event it was that such a pretty young girl was to be branded with the same scars Niki bore.

Had Lando ever seen the picture before? Probably not. But you could never be certain. Especially not with your last name, and the weight it carried in motorsport. Not with how freely any information the media got its hands on became public knowledge.

“I agree,” Lando said tartly, snapping you out of your little dissociative state. Eggroll sitting at your feet, now aware and pressing a paw to your shin. Alerting that you were experiencing the start of a dissociative episode. Not that Lando knew that part— he probably just assumed it was a pet asking for attention. “Is your dog… asking for Red Bull?”

“She’s alerting. I had a trigger, or something,” You mumble, already going to lower yourself to the ground so she can sit in your lap to help keep you calm, her weight reassuring and familiar. “Eggroll’s my service dog.”

Before Lando can even question the fact that you have a service dog, and further, the fact that they dog's name is Eggroll, Oscar finally lets out a yelp for assistance, now pulling your bag and Lando’s from the claim, looking like he’s going to get pulled onto the little conveyor belt again by his bag.

The older driver rushes over, forgetting about Eggroll and your mystery disability that required you to have her, helping Oscar pull the two remaining bags off the track. And by the time they’re both heading back towards you, you’re standing up again, and Eggroll is alert by your side, and Lando’s already forgotten about the little talk you’d both had.

Two Days Later, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain.

It’s the second day of pre-season testing. Everything is terrible. You’d always hated testing out your ideas and putting a driver in the seat. A chance to have all of your carefully laid calculations and strategies, brought to you by countless other mechanics and engineers, and then having to make the hard decisions on what should actually be included. Or. That’s what it was like at Williams. No one would dare say it to your face— but they underestimated you. You were, firstly, the child of a wealthy and famous Formula One legend. Secondly, a woman. And third, your worst crime, an incredibly well-educated and blunt omega who would never back down when you knew you were right about something.

The Williams team who worked with you always seemed to regard you with thinly veiled loathing. Jealousy. You’d applied under an assumed name, wanting to strike out on your own without your sire’s name attached to you, cutting the symbolic umbilical cord. They’d already removed the fact that gender wouldn’t be taken into account, much less your designation. When you’d shown up, with James to back you up after you’d gotten the job, and the proof to show that all of the accolades under your name were your own, he had immediately sunk his teeth in. The investigation had revealed just how much he’d whispered about you to the rest of the team. The lies told about you from the very first moment you’d stepped in the garage. He had orchestrated it all as if it were part of his plan to have you as his mate, stuck in his web from the moment you’d joined Williams.

Only Alex had been truly welcoming. Understanding the struggles of your stepping up and the jump into Formula One after finishing your masters. And Nick… he’d been nice enough. A bit awkward. But that was alright. You’d both commiserate over being considered “outsiders” to the Europeans, occasionally joining Lance at separate events when the isolation grew to be too much.

But you were at least partially European. A dual citizen in the United States and Austria. And your name helped to at least cover more of the disappointment in your parentage, or what the public knew about.

You were a Lauda. Plain and simple.

The last name Lauda originated in the Latin language. Likely from the word Lauds. The Morning Office. The first prayers of the day in the old, old ways of the Catholic Church. A Lauda was someone who sang the praises of a god you’re not quite certain you or your sire even believed in anymore.

You’d seen the way his hands twisted when he’d prayed after one-to-many accidents. How his head bowed lower with each life or career-ending injury of some promising motorsport legend. The way he had cursed and screamed and raged after Jules Bianchi had died. You were almost 15. The funeral had been quiet.

All you remembered was how broken the F3 driver had looked as he touched the coffin before it was pushed into the vault.

Lauda became a name that people sang praises about. Raising your beloved Sisi on their shoulders and holding their hands together, clasped in worship when they saw him in the holy red and prancing black horse on a golden background. And you. The little Lauda, the new light of the family. They stared at you and whispered as if you already had a halo about your little head, shining bright enough to hide the mottled scars on your jawline and neck, your wide eyes more reminiscent of a little mouse than the slick, calculating rat your Sisi was.

The drivers cried for his guidance there. Micheal would lean and talk with him in hushed tones, with you balanced precariously between the two of them. There’d been a picture of you looking up at the two of them from where you sat between them, as if you could understand what they were discussing. Already trying to figure out a solution to the worries that creased your Sire’s brow, and to make your uncle smile. It’d made its rounds on social media when Williams announced you were going to be a Race Engineer starting in 2021. Now with your halo photoshopped in.

To extol. Everyone wanted to see another Lauda charge forward in a car, backed by a legendary team. McLaren or Ferrari, they didn’t care, the media just wanted to see you from the moment your identity became public.

That’s what everyone wanted.

But the notebooks stacked by you state a different story. An alternative ending. The true ending. The way your eyes watered from the thick contacts being in too long. But the glasses caused too much of a glare when you were out in the sun. The twitching of your hands and the lack of the compression gloves that’s stopped them from aching.

You would not be charging forward with a team in a car. But you could atleast guide them.

That’s what you liked more, anyway. It was what you could do.

What you wanted to do.

A mechanic drops a wrench behind you, snapping you from your daze. Lando talking over the radio as you sit along the pitlane wall.

You haven’t spoken once. Just watching and listening carefully as Will walks Lando through a practice run to get an idea of what McLaren ran like. The Alpha smiles at you warmly, lifting up one side of the headphones. You follow suit, intent on listening to whatever advice he may give. Even if you plan on turning everything on its head.

“Lando does quite well with positive reinforcement! It’s really been able to drive him to success in the past,” Will explains, his voice soft and his eyes kind even as he glances at the screens with all of their data. “Would you like to try? There’s no time like the present—“

“I’d rather not,” you murmur, looking back at the screens. He was doing alright. But not what you expected out of the current car. Not with what all the calculations and simulations had been saying. Positive reinforcement or not, the results were lackluster at best, and you weren’t about to reward him for pretty much just taking the car out for a joyride when he was supposed to be getting you data to work with and to use for strategies. “I thank you for the advice. But his data is not looking good.”

“What does she mean it’s not looking good?” Lando’s voice crackles through the headsets. “That was my best lap yet!”

“I mean it’s not looking good.” Your words are blunt as ever. Will’s face seems to drop at your… rather indelicate speech. “You’re not following the race line, and you’re taking the corners much too fast. You’re just playing around with the car, honestly.”

“Better than losing speed.”

“Tell the mechanics that when you crash. You’re driving the car like it’s the shitbox you had from five years ago.”

Will visibility winces at that comment, and Zak just raises an eyebrow as he listens in on your conversation. Andrea laughs. Then you can hear the huff Lando lets out, actively taking another corner and nearly clipping the front wing on the railing. You hear a few yelps from the mechanics behind you for the close call.

“Rude.”

“It’s the truth. You’re understeering like crazy right now due to how fast you’re taking the corners. I’m literally looking at the data to prove it.” You close your notebook, the final page filled with ink scrawls of notes you’d taken. No more notes. Only bluntness. “Do you want to be a champion? Or are you content to be Lando Nowins?”

“You’re a fucking dickhead, you know that?” Lando starts to take the corners even faster as if to spite you. But he’s following the set path much closer now. Your brow furrows. “Just let me fucking drive!”

“Stop taking the corners fast. You will make your own calls when you have at least four wins to your name.” You snap back, adjusting the mic to be a bit closer. “A single win can be a fluke. Match your number and we will talk.”

“Just let me fucking drive!” Lando roars, the radio crackling from how loud he shouts. Another near miss with the railing seems to scare him straight, responding curtly to you as you start to give him guidance. And you just smirk, folding your hands in front of you as you watch the data start to turn upwards, Will beside you, looking shocked as you seemingly force Lando’s hand into doing better.

“He gets positive reinforcement for doing well. Not for throwing tantrums.” You say to him, muting yourself so that Lando won’t hear the little comment. Still facing forward. Will’s face flushes slightly, and Zak just leans in a bit closer, looking at the notebook you’d written in.

“He’s not a dog for you to train,” Will mutters. “Not like that American you worked with.”

“Watch it,” your voice is cold, and your eyes narrowed to slits as you look at him. It’s bad enough that you’re already tired, and that your eyes hurt from the contacts. But having someone drag Logan’s name through the mud when he wasn’t there to defend himself nearly makes you snap, pulling your teeth back over your lips, your scarred skin making your mouth almost seem lopsided, with the way it creases under the heavy makeup you used to even out the bumps, not looking quite right to those who are too close to you. “I have my ways. You have yours. But I am the one with the job now.”

You just focus back on the screen above you, calmly giving directions to Lando, who complies with sullen responses. When he gets out of the car, you notice Will leaning down to whisper something to him. But you don't care.

You have your ways. He has his. But you will not feed yet another ego.

The debrief after the second practice session is full of tension. Thick enough that Lando nearly gags when he enters the room. Something that makes Lando’s blood boil a little, especially with how you’re sitting just relaxed, arms a bit folded, leaning back in the office chair as you look at the slide deck of all the data that’s still being edited by the strategists. You’re across from him, while Will is next to Lando. Oscar is next to you, and on his other side is his own race engineer. You should be sitting next to Lando. Will should be a bit further down, with his new position.

Yet there you are, sitting beside Oscar and laughing as the two of you speak.

That idiot is more like my littermate.

Your words ring oddly in his ears. Were you just trying to throw him off? The two of you have your foreheads pressed together, whispering and discussing something like it was just the two of you in that room. Oscar smells so undeniably happy, with his eyes shining, and a little smile on his lips to reveal his bunny teeth.

You seem so satisfied. Pointing out the positive turn in data when you had held Lando’s feet to the fire. Doing the opposite of what Will had recommended. Zak just listens silently while Andrea stands at the front of the room next to Randeep, the head of strategy. The praise makes you give a small smile— Lando’s not even sure he can call it that. The corners of your mouth tip up, just a tiny bit, almost imperceptibly— and you continue to pay attention as Andrea signals for everything to move on. Oscar seems to preen at your being praised, and that all-but-seals the deal for Lando, realizing you’d probably lied about not courting him, for whatever reason.

But Will raises his hand.

“Uh— I actually have a few concerns,” The blond alpha is polite, but there’s clear agitation in his words. You stiffen a little, but ultimately tilt your head to the side, questioning. “Mainly about how Lando’s new engineer seemed to ignore my advice,”

“....Elaborate,” Andrea motions for Will to keep speaking, though he seems agitated, a prickle of annoyance scenting the air. “Please try to keep this unbiased, Will, and also remember that each race engineer does things differently.”

“Right. I’ll just get right into it. I don’t like the way Ms. Lauda talks to Lando,” Will stands, clapping his hands together, and looking directly at you. You, in response, raise both your eyebrows and meet his gaze head-on. Cold. Calculating. The way you’re addressed almost feels too formal. Like you’re not really welcome at McLaren yet, as he refuses to use your first name.

It’s not lost on you. And it certainly isn’t lost on Lando, who suddenly realizes Will is trying to make a statement of some kind, as the other alpha smiles at him, like Lando’s his littermate, that they’re closer than they’ve really ever been.

“Lando, in previous years, has done great with positive reinforcement, even with how often his race engineer changes—”

“He’s also never gone further than the top five in driver’s ranking, nor won a race yet.” You respond cooly. Under the table, you’re picking at your nails. The claws on your left hand extend to pick at the back of the compression glove you’re wearing, custom-made to match your skin tone and to hide the burn scars that mar your right hand. Being careful not to break the fabric. Practiced. A perfected nervous tick that had only worsened since he had been sentenced. Perhaps you should take your anxiety medication earlier, rather than at night.

Will ignores your response, though he does pause a bit, biting the inside of his cheek. ��Yes, that may be so, but we’re here to uplift him, and help him go further than before. Admittedly, the car hasn’t been the best in the past few years, but that’s changing. I’m speaking as his race engineer here—”

“Former race engineer,” You remind him, looking at Will, who looks to Lando again, as if ask for him to jump to his defense. “You’re not his race engineer anymore.”

All Lando wants to do is curl up in a ball because he really, really doesn’t want to get into the political power struggle between his current and former race engineer right now, even if you’ve not exactly been the most… approachable, for this first month.

He feels nauseous, caught between the two of you right now. With how you’re staring him down, lips turned downward. One of your upper canines slightly snagged on your lower lip.

“Yes, but,” Will huffs through his nose, now looking straight at you. You no longer look as calm as when the conversation— confrontation, more accurately— started. Just staring down Will, sitting stiffly in your chair. Maybe trying to intimidate him, using the legendary Lauda death stare. Perhaps it’s working— Will isn’t even trying to talk to you directly anymore, looking straight at Andrea and Zak. “Be reasonable, the way she spoke to Lando is unacceptable, I mean, Lando can’t help that he hasn’t won yet— but to outright taunt him as she did, it makes me wonder why she actually left Williams!”

No one’s quite sure when he’d started to growl. Or when his scent had turned so bitter with frustration and outright disgust as he spoke.

But the fact is, Will used his voice. The edges of his irises had flashed red, showing his designation, and showed exactly what he was doing, even if he wasn’t aware he was doing it.

The aggression from him is shocking. Completely unlike him, in all honesty. But everything is frozen by the loud, panicked baying of your dog, now pressing itself into your lap, her nose against your face and licking your cheeks. Your eyes focus on the table in front of you, while Oscar grabs you by the shoulders, turning your chair to look at him. You let out a low, defensive hiss, and Lando can see the way you bare your teeth at him.

An odd ripping sound fills the room, the tips of your fingers extending and stretching until Lando realizes you’re wearing a glove on your right hand, and that your claws had ripped through the fingertips of it as Oscar now holds to your wrists to stop you from clawing at him. The edge of a scent-blocking patch is just visible on your wrist, where the glove had partially stretched and ripped because of the extention of your claws.

And your dog keeps baying. Ear-splitting and urgent, as you wrestle yourself from Oscar’s grip, before directly baring your teeth at Will. Sharp canines under your pulled-back lips, one side almost looking a bit… droopy, as if your skin couldn’t tighten the way it normally would.

That snaps Will out of his daze, and he pales, starting to stutter out a response. “I—I didn’t mean—”

You barely manage to make it from the room, a flash of white near the door, in what Lando can only assume is your canine form, Eggroll still hot on your heels, baying and howling as she chases you. Oscar sprints after, pushing past Zak, who tries to hold you there. You’re gone— god knows where— along with the younger driver and your beagle.

“Mr. Joseph. A word.” Andrea hisses, and motions to the door quickly, the team principal's face set in a rare display of utter fury.

Lando has no idea what to do. Because this goes against everything he’s been taught and everything he believes in, Alpha or not. No matter how angry you got, no matter how aggravating someone might be— you never, ever let it get to that point. Not like Will had just done. Using his Alpha voice and almost certainly setting off some episode that your service dog was trained for.

Truthfully, Lando had never seen someone use their Alpha voice. Yes, he had it. All the other Alphas he knew had it. But he’d never seen it actually used on someone. Sure, he’d seen people speak with it, but that was when he was in school, in health classes, learning to control it so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone. Just like how Betas had to learn how to properly recognize scents, and how Omegas had to learn how to control their own scents, so as to not cause accidental distress to those around them. That’s just how everything was.

Zak closes the meeting with little decorum. His face is stoic, a mask that hides whatever he’s thinking. But it’s clear that not a single word of what just happened will be spoken about outside of the team and those who’d witnessed it.

“Zak,” Lando walks up to him, flinching at how the older Beta seems to stare right through him, “I didn’t— he didn’t tell me he was going to do that. He only said he didn’t like how Mouse did things,”

“Mouse?” Zak says in confusion. “Do you mean— never mind, but— we’ll— we’ll get this figured out, Lando. Just.... take the night."

The way he says it doesn’t fully convince him, though. Even as he trudges to the nesting rooms, following the faint trail of the heavenly scent from last night. Room 12 is open this time. And Lando is a creature of petty desires. So the moment his body hits the pre-built nest in the little room, he closes his eyes and hopes the third and final day of testing while somehow be less of a shitshow than today.

You need to use your canine form more. The click of your claws on the floor is a dead giveaway that it was a bit... neglected.

You’re panting, trying to find a small place to tuck yourself to hide, like your instincts are telling you to do. Following your instincts is good. Great, even. But you can hear Oscar and Eggroll’s steps behind you, almost upon you.

The wind is knocked from you, and you tumble forward as a human, with Oscar in his canine form on top of you. Eggroll trots up to your face, lets out an angry bay, before sitting down and licking your face to help ground you. It takes nearly a minute before Oscar trusts that you’re not going to try and run, and turns human himself, gently lifting both yourself and Eggroll, while you try (and fail) to tuck yourself into a ball, still thinking you're being chased.

Eggroll, seemingly all-knowing, bays again. Shoves her nose against yours. And then leaves a slobbery lick up your face, forcibly grounding you as you glare at the little beagle.

“Okay. Let’s talk.” Oscar hums, taking you to the nesting rooms, haphazardly choosing one that won’t look too odd to be closed. He helps you through the paces, wiping off the remaining adhesive for your scent-blocking patches. Letting you hide slightly under him, Eggroll grumpily pushing her paws into your side. “What was that?”

"What was what?"

"That," Oscar moves his arms as if to gesture to the entire debrief. "What else could I be talking about, Mouse?!"

“I don’t know. He started getting so angry,” You mumble. And you’re genuinely confused— nothing like that, even at Williams, had happened before. There were usually warning signs, if it was something with your scent. It was hard for you to regulate it, with how damaged your scent glands were. But you could, and that’s what your scent blockers were for.

An omega’s scent could cause those around them to feel whatever the omega felt if they so wished it. It was a defense tactic that had evolved back from the early days of humanity. To control one's scent was to control the pack, and it often became a task for any prime omega to keep the pack calm, able to make sure level-heads prevailed in any circumstance. Just as the prime Beta and Alpha served their purpose, the prime Omega had their own duties to uphold.

You’d never been able to control your scent. Even when you presented, with Marlene to guide you through your Omega schooling, the majority of your scent glands, were too damaged. Quite honestly, you were unable to scent anything. If you tried too hard, the damaged glands would start to ache, and the few untouched ones would blister from having to overproduce the scenting hormones.

“Do you think your scent…?” Oscar trails off as you go silent.

“Shouldn’t have. My scent blockers are prescribed.” You mumble, squeezing Eggroll a little bit tighter. “They’re meant to make it so I don’t have to try and regulate my scent.”

As if to show your friend, your pack mate, you tremble, squeezing your eyes shut to try and regulate it as you’d learned to from Marlene. The scarred part of your neck aches with the effort it takes for you to control it. The gland on the other side of your neck manages to splutter out a weak stream of your scent before it starts to sting. Trying to make Oscar feel calm. Oscar just frowns, and then lightly pushes you to break your concentration so you don’t continue to try and regulate your scent, obviously not affected.

“Point taken.” He looks at the mostly undamaged part of your neck, checking it carefully. “Jesus. That’s gonna blister.”

Eggroll huffs, and digs her front paws into your chest. Her mournful brown eyes look up at you in seeming judgement for pushing yourself. “They always do.” You gently scratch the dog’s head. “She did her panic alert. Not the scent alert.” You look back down at her.

“So maybe you set him off?”

“Maybe,” you shrug it off. “He probably got scared of my face, right?” You feel the uneven texture of the scar on your jaw, the makeup you’d been wearing to even everything out now sitting on a soaked cloth in the corner of the room. The media knew you had scars. Fuck, everyone did. But your strict skincare and makeup routine ensured that many didn’t know just how bad they were.

“You have makeup on, though.”

“But it doesn’t always hide the… droopyness.” You frown. Feeling how one side of your mouth moves less than the other. “Be honest, does it look like I'm having a stroke? Like a chronic one, or some shit?”

“No, you're just dramatic. ” Oscar puts his chin on top of your head, huffing. “The new treatments have been helping.”

The huff you make isn’t as convincing as he’d like it to be. But you’re too tired to try and argue with him anymore as you let yourself try to relax and focus on the next and final day of testing tomorrow.

tags: @charlesgirl16 @boo8008 @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @vellicora @st0rmzi3 @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @seonghwaexile @mrsmelinda @actuallyazriel @noam-rosier-icr

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader

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peri4stral · 2 days ago

Text

For Sweets

Pairing: Bsf! James Potter x F! Reader

Word count: 9k

Synopsis: You and James have been best friends for ages, but when you go to the potters for Christmas break, certain feelings come to light.

Warnings: MDNI! Mentions of the reader having familial problems, few uses of Y/N, eventual smut, reader is described as shorter than James, porn with a lot of plot, oral (f! receiving), unprotected piv, no pull-out

The pub you and your friends frequent is not far from campus or your flat with Marlene. You two decide to walk despite the chill in the air; Marlene never seems to get cold. A contrast to you, who began to shiver the moment you stepped out of the comfort of your flat. The walk is unexpectedly pleasant despite the cold that nips at your nose. Snow has just begun to fall, clinging to the pavement and dusting your hair when you hear a distant whooping.

Down the street opposite you, you see the familiar faces of Sirius and Remus. You immediately notice the lack of James as you hear Sirius whistle and holler. “Oi, lovelies! Are you not freezing your knickers off?” he yells far too loudly as he approaches.

“My blood runs hot, Sirius, you know that,” Marlene laughs as she runs up to him, giving him what you assume is a bone-crushing hug.

“S’pose I was talking about our lovely Y/N. James would kill me if I let his Sweets freeze!” The sound of the nickname James had given you back in your first year of Hogwarts feels foreign coming from a mouth that isn’t his.

“I’m fine, Pads, don’t you worry about me,” you reply, though your teeth chattering leaves Sirius unconvinced. With a peck on the cheek, he gently plucks the hat off Remus’s head and places it on yours. “There, all better!” Sirius grins, clearly proud of his chivalrous deed before he links your arm with his and continues on your path to the pub.

“I thought James was coming?” Marlene asks, looking back between Sirius and Remus. You’re glad that you weren’t the one to ask. There’s no need to give your friends another opportunity to pick on James and your friendship.

“Monty called him just before we left. James said he’d meet us at the pub,” Sirius shrugs. “He’s probably making sure everything is in order for when we go home.” He squeezes your arm a little tighter.

Before you know it, you find yourself at the familiar table, back to the door as you sit across from Marlene. Sirius is off grabbing some drinks for the table and Remus is setting up a game of billiards.

The leather beneath you is cracked and worn by the patrons over the years, and your fingers trace the stitching of the seat as Marlene gushes about Dorcas.

“I just don’t know, I mean I think she might like me, honest! But what if she’s just being friendly?” Marlene puts her head in her hands, exasperatedly.

“Marls, it doesn’t sound like she’s just being friendly! You said she was being all touchy,” you point out. “Friends aren’t just like that!”

“Well, what about you and James?” Marlene raised her eyebrow. You became aware of the clamminess of your palms. “You’re constantly all over each other!” She sounds more accusatory than you’re prepared to address.

“That’s different!” You assert.

“How is that any different?!” Marlene looks very pleased with herself as your eyes go wide.

“It just is!” You say a little too loud. “James and I have been best friends for years.” Marlene starts to open her mouth to say something, but her eyes focus on something behind you.

Before you have a chance to look, you feel a warmth radiating from behind you as the hat Sirius snatched from Remus for you is pulled over your eyes. “Guess who,” a cheerful voice chimes.

A smile spreads across your face before you move the hat back up your head. “Jamie!” You playfully chide. You stand and wrap your arms around his shoulders, acutely aware of his scent that reminds you so strongly of home.

“Hello, Sweets,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist. You can feel Marlene’s eyes burning into you before you return to your seat and James takes his next to yours.

“What did Monty want?” Sirius asks as he returns with drinks and beckons Remus back over to your table. He had just finished racking and made his way over.

“Just making sure we’re still coming,” James smiles at the table.

“He worries too much,” Sirius says, taking a swig. Remus leans over the table and takes a bottle.

“Who’s up for billiards?” Remus challenges before the table breaks out in cheers.

The next few hours are spent laughing and drinking with lots of Marlene getting flustered over the game. Despite the stress of upcoming exams, you allow yourself to fully melt into the moment. The atmosphere is something you wouldn't trade for anything: your best friends, full of love and laughter.

A couple groups of students linger towards the end of your night along with a few older patrons you have come to know as regulars. You look up at the clock, noting the time. Not too late, but with your final two exams less than 48 hours away, you figure it’s time to call it a night.

“Oi, pretty lady!” a man calls drunkenly across the pub. “What does a guy gotta do to get a date with you?” He comes up to your table and leans over you. “What d’ya say sweetheart?” James takes a swig of his drink.

“Well, as much as I’d love to, I should actually be getting home,” you explain in the kindest tone you can muster. You begin to stand to walk to Marlene but the man follows your movements. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Come on, baby,” he says as you pull on your jacket and try to ignore him. “I don’t bite!”

“Mate, she’s not interested,” Sirius barks across the table. The man is clearly about to say more, but closes his mouth as Remus appears behind Sirius. Remus, despite his gentle nature, is very visually imposing and much taller than the man, who scoffs, and walks away.

“I’m about ready to head out, what about you, Marls?” you ask, trying to ignore the feeling gnawing in your stomach.

“Yeah about that…” Marlene begins. You look at her with wide eyes.

“You’re going to see Dorcas again?” you jeer. “I guess I’ll just have to walk home all alone!” You sigh dramatically.

“You know I’ll always walk you home, Sweets,” James says tenderly as he slips on his jacket. It glides elegantly over his toned arms and you can't help but admire him. “Only if you’d like of course,” he says. You almost think he sounds nervous.

“Yeah, of course. I’d like that,” You say snapping yourself back into the moment.

“Well, Padfoot, Moony, it looks like it’s time for Sweets and I to head out. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, don’t have too much fun,” Sirius quips, and Remus elbows him. You try to ignore the comment and instead, turn to Marlene.

“Say ‘hi’ to Dorcas for me,” you say as Marlene gives you her signature bear hug.

You and James slip out the pub door to find the snow still falling. Looking beside you as you start down the road you see the snow gently landing in James’s dark curls. You look at him a moment longer, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes.

“Enjoying the view, Sweets?” James startles you and you avert your gaze immediately.

“I was just thinking,” you begin, now looking at your feet. “Thank you for walking me home,” you look back to see him smiling kindly. He reaches out a bare hand to hold your gloved one; he and Marlene seem to share that kind of warmth.

“You don’t even have to mention it, Sweets. I meant it when I said I’d always walk with you. I enjoy the company,” his tender smile shifts to a cocky smirk. “Besides, you would be oh so bored without me!” You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

“Jamie, you can’t walk home in that,” you motion to the window. The snow hasn’t stopped since you walked to the pub hours ago, and the streets are now coated in thick blankets of white while the snow comes down heavier and heavier.

“It’s not very far. I’ll be fine, Sweets,” James says reassuringly, though your years of friendship and the tell-tale tousling of his hair tell you that he is dreading it just as much as you are.

“No, you won’t,” you assert. “You’ll stay the night. It’s not like it’s the first time,” you say without waiting for a response, though you notice the tension melt from his shoulders. You don’t mean to sound bossy, but there’s no way in hell you’ll let your best friend walk out in that weather. “I’ll get some blankets and take the couch.”

“Absolutely not!” He protests. “I’m not kicking you out of your bed!” He steps closer and you take an involuntary step back.

“You're not kicking me out, James, I’m offering,” you tell him.

“Well I’m declining,” he says smugly. Merlin, that smirk.

“James, please,” you say exasperated. Something shifts in James. The smug look is replaced by something softer.

“What if we just both take the bed?” James asks, finally done protesting. Your heart pounds a little harder. It shouldn’t be weird, you and James have been best friends for years. You shared a bed when you were younger, what’s different now?

He is. He’s taller and broader in a way that makes your heart leap into your throat. His boyish charm was replaced long ago with something that makes you dizzy. You’re different. Your desires even more so.

“Fine,” you concede.

“Which side do you want?” James asks as you enter your room.

“This one,” you answer as you walk to your side and begin to turn down the blankets and sheets. James does the same, and you can almost imagine this as the norm. You observe his form clumsily turning down the sheets before he looks up.

“D’you want to have a pillow in between?”

“Only if it would make you more comfortable,” you answer almost too quickly. “I’m gonna brush my teeth,” you say as you grab some clothes to change into and walk to your bathroom. As the tap runs, you wet your brush you begin to zone out. Thoughts of James plague your mind. You imagine what it would be like to crawl into bed with him and fall asleep wrapped around each other like you'd wanted for so long. You know it is a futile thought, James sees you as one of his best friends, nothing more. Why is that not enough for you?

You finish up and pull out an unused brush for James. After slipping out of your jeans and jumper, you put on your shorts and T-shirt. “I left a brush for you on the counter,” you say as you reenter the room.

“Thanks,” he says with a smile. “D’you maybe have a shirt like that I can borrow?” You look down at your baggy T-shirt and feel heat rush to your face.

“Yeah, let me grab one,” you walk to your closet and pick out a shirt that you think will fit. He disappears into the bathroom with the shirt and you slide into bed. When James reappears, you roll to face the door as he strides towards the bed. The shirt did not, in fact, fit. Your eyes trace over his body, from his blue plaid boxers to the bit of toned waist that your Queen shirt doesn’t cover.

“Should I get the light?” he asks before slipping into the bed.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you say. He fiddles with the switch and as the room goes dark, lays down facing you. Soft moonlight filters in through the blinds as you stare into each other's eyes, inches apart.

“You excited to go back home?” James asks, referencing your trip to his parent's house for Christmas. Home he called it. It had been your haven so many times throughout your years at Hogwarts.

“Of course,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I can’t wait for Effie’s cooking, Merlin, I swear there’s nothing better.” James chuckles at your enthusiasm. You just smile at each other for a moment before you yawn.

He matches your yawn. “Y’gave it to me,” he mutters through it. You fight your heavy eyelids but soon enough your eyes fall closed. You listen to James’ breathing as it slowly evens out. You roll over, back facing him, and quickly drift off to sleep.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

The early morning light filters through the window. Your eyes just barely flutter open to see the barely risen sun poking over the horizon. It looks cold outside. With that realization, you notice the warmth that surrounds you. You remember the events of last night and recognize James’ arm draped around your waist. The warmth is nice. A stark contrast to the cold you know waits just outside of your blankets. You feel at peace enveloped in James’ arms. You’re too tired to think about it fully.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

Your eyes open to the sound of the kettle whistling and a distant mutter. “Shit, shhh,” you hear faintly. You blink the sleep from your eyes and roll over to see the spot where James had slept empty. You're suddenly freezing, remembering the warmth of James wrapped around you.

Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, you pull on your pink fuzzy socks and a jumper. You leave the shorts you slept in on and step out of your bedroom door. Marlene’s is still closed and you hear careful clattering of dishes from the kitchen.

As you walk down the hall, James comes into view with a tea towel slung over his shoulder as he stands in front of your hob. The floor creaks beneath your feet as you approach and James turns, his curls bouncing as he does.

“What’re you making?” You ask noticing him still in your too-short shirt from the night before.

“Bangers and mash,” he says with a shrug.

“For breakfast?” You cock an eyebrow.

“You really need to go shopping,” he replies smoothly. “It’s what I could make with what you’ve got.”

“I didn’t even realise we had enough for that. Marls was s’posed to go days ago,” you walk into the cramped kitchen and observe the two mugs laid out on the counter. “For me?” You ask.

“Yeah, I figured this was the least I could do to repay you for letting me stay,” James says, motioning to the meal he’s cooking.

“Jamie, you really didn’t have to do all this,” you say grabbing your mug. “It wasn’t a problem,” you insist.

“Well still, felt like doing something nice,” he smiles sweetly.

“You’ll be giving your mum a run for her money with the way it smells,” you say as you sit in your dining area and watch James finish. “Plates are up —” he already knows where they are as he reaches into your cupboard and pulls out two.

“Is Marlene home?” He asks. You peek around the corner and see her door closed.

“Think so. I wouldn’t count on her being up in time for breakfast though,” you say with a fond smile. James chuckles and sets a plate down in front of you. He places his own across from yours and sits.

“What’s that?” James asks pointing to the comically tall stack of books and loose papers.

“Why’d you have to remind me,” you groan. “I really should be studying for my last final exams.” With elbows on the table, you place your head in your hands and massage your temples. You were stressed. You tried to deny it to enjoy your time with your friends but eventually, reality always creeps back in. You were stressed.

“I could help if you wanted,” James offered. “If you’d rather study alone I understand. I’d be shocked, of course, I mean, I’m a great study partner but, if you’d rather be boring-”

“James,” you cut him off. You imagine he could ramble on and on if you let him. The cocky smile drops from his face slowly. “I’d love for you to help me.”

The smile quickly reappears, this time with a softer undertone.

The two of you pick at the food James made slowly, plates being pushed farther and farther across the table as books consume the space in front of you. James was right. He is an excellent study partner. Though when you weren’t busy studying the pages in front of you, you were studying his features; sharp yet gentle in the same way he is.

Everyone knew James was a troublemaker, back in Hogwarts and still today. Not everyone knew that James is one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. He easily picks up any challenge thrown at him and promptly masters it. Yet somehow, he doesn’t let it get to his head… too much.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

Hours of flashcards and practice quizzes later, you’re wrapping up, much more confident than you were before when Marlene finally emerges from her room. It’s well past noon, but this is typical for Marls. If she doesn’t have to be up, she won’t be. What’s not typical for Marlene, is Dorcas following after her in a skirt clearly from last night, and one of Marlene’s jumpers.

You’re closing your final textbook when James shoots you a look as Marlene guides Dorcas to the door with a hand on the small of her back. They’re giggling about something as they put on their shoes and you raise your eyebrows at Marlene. She returns the look and walks outside with Dorcas.

The door closes and in a second you and James are at the peephole fighting to see. His height gives him the advantage. “Shhh!” he flails his hands motioning to be quiet and you give up fighting him.

“What are they doing?” You whisper-shout.

“They’re just talking,” James says, face still pressed against the door. “They’re smiling. Wait, they’re laughing.” Not being able to watch drives you crazy.

“Jamie, please just let me see!” You whine.

“Just wait, Sweets,” he says calmly. Oh, wait, hold on. " It’s silent for a few seconds. “Merlin,” James says, breaking the silence as he pulls away from the door. She actually did it.”

“What!?” You push James away from the door finally and take a look for yourself. Marlene’s hands are on either side of Dorcas’s face as you watch years of pining all pay off. “Blimey! She actually did it!” You echo James. You look away after Dorcas rests her hands on Marlene’s hips. You and James look at each other, mouths agape, dumbfounded.

The doorknob rattles a bit, and you and James scramble back to the table, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Marlene closes the door, smiling. She takes off her shoes and looks up at the pair of you. “You guys can stop pretending y’know. I heard you against the door,” she shrugs.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

Euphemia Potter opens the door with a wide grin that matches her son’s and wastes no time pulling him into a crushing hug. This type of aggressive affection seems to run in the family. The house smells of incense and vanilla; Effie must have been baking. James goes to Fleamont next, Effie takes hold of Sirius, and finally you.

“How are you, my dear?” She asks warmly. “I trust James had been behaving himself?” She gives a sly smile and heat rushes to your face.

“Of course, Mrs. Potter. Jamie is always a gentleman,” your eyes glide to James, who is facing you from across the foyer when he sends a wink your way.

“Let me take your bags, dear,” Fleamont offers. You smile and hand your things over.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” you say.

“Oh, don’t bother with the formalities, dear,” Fleamont chuckles. “You’ve been around enough you could be our daughter.” You feel that warmth in your chest that the Potter’s always bring out.

“Why does she get her bags carried?” Sirius whines.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

“Now that you’re home, I hope you’d all like to help with the tree!” Euphemia’s eyes gleamed as you sat around the mahogany table. A table that has seen countless meals with the Potters and honorary Potters. A table that is worn with years of stubbed toes and bumped hips. With memories.

“Oh, Euphemia. Trust that this will be the best-dressed tree you’ve ever seen,” Sirius says, dramatically planting his fingertips against the wood.

As serving plates fly around the table and conversation blooms, you can’t help but feel a certain bitter-sweet bliss. The warm and inviting environment of the Potters is something you wouldn’t trade for the world, but that lack of warmth in your family tends to make the holidays hard.

James catches your eye. “You okay?” He says across the table as the elder Potters and Sirius engage in some talk of him and Remus.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m just glad to be home,” you flash a grateful smile and James returns it with his upside-down smirk.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

The boxes fly around the room, organising themselves on the ground as James and Fleamont carry the questionably tall fir through the halls. Sirius immediately goes to open the ornaments, his eyes reflecting the glimmer of the baubles. You open the box of lights to test if they still work. They don’t, of course, not completely. You run the strand through your hands, searching to find a visible problem.

The problem, it seems, is a single shattered bulb. You unplug the lights and reach onto the table where your wand was left. “Illuminatis,” you pronounce. Your wand produces a faint yellow light as the pieces seem to reassemble. You lean across the shag rug and plug the lights back in.

“Always knew you were the smart one, Sweets,” James says, standing in Sirius’ way, as the lights illuminate the room, eyes locked onto you. You roll the lights into a ball.

“Glad you finally caught on, Jamie,” you call back, walking the lights to the tree. You see in your periphery Sirius fake gagging and James giving him a firm clap on the back. You feel the heat rush to your face again. Effie helps you string the lights up. The scent of pine envelops you as you pass the string of lights between yourself and Effie, slowly working your way up the tree. You struggle on your tiptoes, attempting to reach the top with needles poking everywhere when James appears behind you, plucking the ball of lights from your hands.

“Here, love,” he strings up the last of the lights.

“I’ll start with the tinsel!” Sirius cries out, nearly toppling over an armchair in the process. He removes the tinsel draped around his neck in a makeshift scarf and pushes you and James away from the tree. “Everyone stand back,” he spreads his arms wide. “Let me work my magic.”

You slump onto the sofa, James beside you, arm casually slung around your shoulders and you find yourself appreciating the domestic feel of it all. Watching Sirius meticulously place his tinsel while leaning into James’s embrace. You could get used to it.

“Oi, when will you let us take a turn?” James complained as Sirius moved on from the tinsel to the ornaments.

“I have more of an eye for this, Prongs, we know this,” Sirius mumbles while placing a golden bauble. Euphemia hurries into the room with a platter of ginger snap cookies. James lunges towards them before she sets them down and even Sirius takes a break from his precise decorating to snag a cookie.

James sits huddled over the cookies when Fleamont and Euphemia sit on the other end of the sofa, Monty’s arm around Effie’s shoulder. Your stomach flutters at the thought of you and James growing up to be them before the reality of your friendship twists in your heart. You barely notice Sirius’ spectacle of placing his final ornament.

“Monty d’you want to place the star?” Sirius asks.

“You kids do it this year, Monty smiles affectionately at Sirius and you, James still hunched over the ginger snaps.

“M’lady,” Sirius bows as he hands you the star. “Would you Like to do the honours?”

“Y’know you can be such a gentleman when you try,” you say with a smile. You take the star from his hands and walk to the tree. As you approach, you realize again just how tall the tree is. You step up on your toes again, stretching your arms as high as they can reach, just barely unable to reach it. You feel James’s presence behind you and his hands on your waist. Your hands instinctively go to push him away, a flush of embarrassment washing over you. “I could just use a stool, Jamie,” you protest.

“But I’m right here,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. “And the stool is all the way over there. Just trust me, Sweets.” you move your hands away and reach up with the star again. He only lifts you a few centimetres, an honestly unnecessary gesture, but James has always been good at being close to you. Just enough to make your heart skip.

When James sets you down, you both step back to admire the tree. “You do have an eye for it, Sirius,” you say, sitting back on the sofa. James follows you like a shadow, snagging another cookie before sitting next to you.

You all sit for a long while, basking in the light of the tree and the warmth of the fire. Effie goes to bed first. Monty sticks around awhile, telling stories of his Hogwarts days, before eventually joining his wife.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to surrender to sleep,” Sirius yawns. “You coming, Prongs?”

“Sounds good to me,” James says, catching Sirius’ yawn. “G’night, Sweets,” James says.

“Night, boys, I think I’ll stay a little while, ” you say as they begin to walk to their rooms. You hear Sirius’ footsteps start up the stairs, then, James’s footsteps padding across the hardwood floor. He grabs another cookie.

“My before-bed cookie,” he explains with a wink. He follows after Sirius and you giggle a bit to yourself before you’re interrupted by your own yawn. You fall asleep in the light of the tree.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

You wake up to the sound of footsteps pattering in the kitchen. You don’t remember grabbing a blanket, but you throw the one covering you off and make your way to the kitchen. You see James standing in front of the sink, in nothing but his plaid, red pyjama pants, filling a tall glass of water.

James turns around, adjusting his glasses to focus on you as you enter in your shorts and tank top. “What’re you doing up?” James whispers.

“I heard you in the kitchen,” you whisper back. “I was on the couch.”

“I know, I gave you a blanket,” James shrugs. “I didn’t want you to get cold,” “Well, there's the fire too,” you quietly say back.

“I know, I put another log on it,” he steps towards you. “I really didn’t want you to get cold.” You couldn’t help but grin at the man standing before you. It’s so easy to love him. Even when you try not to, you love him. “Why’d you fall asleep on the couch?” James’s grin turns into a face of genuine curiosity.

“I just wanted to be in front of the tree…” you admit. “My family’s never been the type y’know. I just love you all so much, ‘n it makes me so happy to spend the holidays with you,” your nose stings with tears threatening to form.

“Sweets, I-” James starts. “We love you too.” Heat flushes your face with words left unspoken. You take a step forward without registering it, and he follows suit. “Do you want to talk more about it?” Another step.

The moonlight filters through the window across the kitchen. He looks so beautiful. You think to yourself as you take another step forward.

She looks so beautiful. James’s mind flashes with thoughts he shouldn’t have of his best friend. He takes a sip of his water and takes another step.

You take a step closer and by the time he sets his water down, you’re practically chest to chest. The moonlight reflects off of his glasses. You look past them into his eyes, trying to decipher them. The same innocent look in his eyes that you always saw in moments like this shifts to a look you’ve not seen before; a certain darkness to his hazel eyes.

His brows furrow in what looks like some internal turmoil before every muscle in his face relaxes. You take a step closer and James opens his eyes, looking between your eyes and lips. He lifts a tentative hand to your face, brushing a thumb along your cheek. You tilt your chin up at him, rising to your toes ever so slightly. He lowers his face. You can feel his warm breath against your face.

His breath hitches in his throat, as you lean closer together. It’s so quiet out. The soft fresh snow outside muffles any sound surrounding the house. All that you can hear is the thumping of your heart against your ribs, and every thought in your head screaming at you to kiss him. James bends down before you can debate it any further.

He presses his lips to yours cautiously, almost scared. Every voice in your head stops at once, leaving only the feeling of his lips on yours. While he holds your face in either hand, you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. You tug on his curls slightly, earning a deep moan against your mouth. He presses his forehead against yours. “Fuck,” he whispers. “You don’t know how long I've wanted that,” he smiles giddily, his glasses crooked.

“Jamie,” You breathe. That’s all it takes for him to be back on you. With lips anchored to your own and a hand tangled in your hair, his other hand trails down your body. From gently tracing your jaw he slides his hand down your neck, fingers brushing against your collarbone.

His hands find the crook of your back, massaging gentle circles into your skin. You bring your hands to his shirtless waist, scratching along his sides, feeling his toned abs and the heat of his skin. You shiver at his movement around your waistband. You feel his hand move to the fabric of your red thong. He runs his fingers under your waistband, just to feel you squirm.

“Jamie, stop teasing!” You whine. He only smiles against your lips before he moves his grip from your waist to your hips. He grips your ass and lifts you in the air, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sets you on the island countertop, the cool marble of the counter stings against your ass.

Your hand which was wrapped around his neck, instinctively reaches for his hair, tugging at a handful of curls. He pulls away and throws his head back with a groan. James has wanted this for so long. He has thought of this moment a million times in a million different ways. Never before did he think it would feel this good. He rubs circles onto your hips with his thumbs while moving his lips to your neck.

“You taste so sweet,” he breathes against your skin. You tilt your head to the side and let out a breathy moan. You pull him closer with your legs, craving some form of relief from the heat rising through your body. You feel him smile against your neck. “Have some patience, Sweets. We have all the time in the world now.”

You scratch your nails down his back while your face is buried in his hair. You gently move his face to meet yours and pluck his glasses off. You turn to set them on the counter and when you turn back to face him, you kiss him again. Slower, more innocently.

The innocence is soon gone when you run your hands down his chest, stroking your nails down his abs, resting on his waistband. He looks down at you, eyes dark. “James,” you whisper.

He’s on you in an instant. His tongue licks along your bottom lip, waiting for an entrance, which you gladly oblige. Your core presses against him, with nothing but the thin fabric of your shorts separating you.

James and you are so involved with each other, that you don’t even hear Sirius enter. Sirius walks around the corner of the kitchen rubbing his eyes groggily, not noticing the sight before him. He reaches into the cupboard, grabs a tall glass, and turns on the sink. It's not until his water is almost full that he hears it. Lips on lips and heavy breathing.

He turns around slowly, water still flowing. He wipes a stray hair out of his face to clear his vision. A vision of James and you, snogging on the kitchen counter. His water is overflowing now, he stares in shock, James finally fucking did it. Sirius had been telling James for months now to make a move. And he finally did. Sirius stops the sink, takes a sip of water, and walks back upstairs, a proud smile gracing his features.

You open your eyes, from the creak of a nearby floorboard. You pull apart from James, looking around for the source of the noise. “Is Sirius up?” you ask James.

“No, he was dead asleep when I came down.”

“Wonderful,” you smile blissfully and return your lips to his. You tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning another deep groan from his throat.

“Fuck, Sweets,” he moans. “D’you even know what you do to me?” You giggle slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he stares blankly. “You don’t do you?” You go silent. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Sweets. Wanted you for so long,” James holds your jaw in his hand, ensuring you’re looking at him and only him.

“Why didn’t you say anything, James?” You ask while lost in the intensity of his eyes.

“Guess I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin what we have,” James looks almost shy. “I care about you too much, Y/N.”

“What changed?” you ask. “Why now?”

“It was killing me, Sweets. Watching you talk about other guys, the idea of you move on without me. I couldn't let that happen without giving it a shot.” your tears threaten to spill, but you keep yourself collected.

You reach your hand to his face. “I’m glad you did,” you stroke your thumb across his cheek and lean in, tentatively brushing your lips against his. You close the space between you, nipping at his lip.

You feel his hands wrap around the backs of your thighs and lift you off the small counter. You cling to James’s shoulders as he carries you, giggling into the crook of his neck. Your breath tickles his skin. His hands feel warm against your marble-cooled ass as he walks you over to the mahogany dining table.

He sits you down at the head on the large table, talking care to be quiet. He presses between your legs and lifts one from behind the knee to get closer to you. He slowly lays you on the table, still holding your leg up.

You begin to roll your hips slightly against his bulge, seeking relief. James groans, throwing his head back and you pull his face back down to yours. “James, I need you,” you breathe heavily. James responds with nothing but a smirk.

He kisses you again, quickly this time, before moving to your neck, leaving clumsy dark marks in his wake. He makes quick work of your shirt, playing with the hem a bit as he looks back into your eyes. “Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “Jamie, please,” you beg. He begins lifting your shirt off your chest while you sit up a bit to make it easier. You lay back down, chest exposed to your best friend, who pulls away enough to take in the sight of you. You reach up to feel his arms planted on either side of your head. You feel heat rush through your body as he stares at you with a piercing intensity.

“Merlin, you’re so beautiful,” he says, knowing words can’t convey the intensity of his emotions. He lowers himself back to your neck, where he begins placing urgent kisses. His lips graze against the sensitive skin behind your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. He slowly trails his lips down your body, leaving darkened marks behind across your neck and chest. He inches closer and closer to where you need him most.

He’s kneeling on the hardwood floor, head level with your cunt when he looks up at you with a ravenous look in his eyes. He loves seeing you like this. “Do you want this?” James says hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes,” you whine. Your shorts bunch up as he pulls them off along with your thong and tosses them away from you. James raises his gaze to your eyes with a sultry look in his. He hooks his arms under your thighs, spreading your legs open wide. He sucks and nips at your inner thigh, darkened marks left behind to prove he was there. He kisses closer and closer to your heat causing your back to arch slightly.

After what feels like an eternity, James dives in. He dips into you, licking a stripe through your folds. You let out a carnal moan and James runs a hand up your thigh, to your stomach. “I want to hear you, Sweets, believe me, but we’re in my parents’ dining room,” James says, savouring your taste.

He slides his tongue through your cunt again. “You taste so sweet, love,” his voice reverberates through your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. He flicks his tongue across your clit repeatedly, arms hooked securely under your thighs.

“You’re soaked,” he admires. He licks through you again, now pumping his fingers into you. You arch your back, a moan ripping through you that you try to muffle, hands tugging on his dark curls. His long fingers curl inside you, hitting exactly the right spot while his tongue ravishes you.

He swirls and flicks his tongue around your sensitive bead, fucking you with his fingers all the while. Erotic curses and stifled moans slip past your lips. With every tug on his hair from your desperate hands, James would moan, sending vibrations through your core. The knot in your stomach that you'd only ever dreamt of James Potter tying, began to tighten.

“Jamie,” you hiss.

“Hmm?” He moaned into your cunt. The knot tightens.

“James!” You cry out. He pulls away immediately. The climax that was just about to wash over you, drifting away.

“Sweets, are you okay?” He looks at you concerned. You brush some of his sweat-stuck hair off of his forehead, smile, and nod.

“I need more of you, James,” you plead. James licks his lips and tastes you again, savouring every drop.

“Are you sure, Sweets? If you’re not sure then-”

“Jamie,” you interrupt. “I want you to fuck me.”

James stands and wraps your legs around his waist, then your arms around his neck as he lifts you off the table all in a smooth motion. You giggle as James walks you to the staircase, hikes you up a bit, and carries you up the stairs. He walks past the door to his room, with Sirius’ beside it, down the hall a bit to your room.

He playfully but still gently tosses you onto your bed. While he turns around to close your door, you inch up to the pillows, not-so-patiently waiting for him to return to you. When he turns back to face you, his cock twitches in his pants. He’s sure he must be drooling at the sight before him. He removes his pyjamas and boxers at once, thick length finally freed.

He strides across the room to you, placing himself between your legs, he rushes to kiss you again. Frantic, sloppy kisses are all over your neck and chest when he positions himself at your entrance. He looks into your eyes again, waiting for confirmation. You eagerly nod your head. He slides the tip of his cock through your slick, brushing against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

He pushes his cock into you gently at first, stopping before halfway, giving you time to adjust to him. His eyes are on you, checking for any signs of discomfort. You nod again, wanting him to keep going. He pulls out a bit and sinks back into you. He does this a couple of times before bottoming out with a groan.

He pulls out and buries himself into you, eyes locked on yours. His hands steadying himself on either side of your body. He’s so gentle, almost irritatingly gentle. He pumps slowly in and out of you, every whimper or whine you release is encouragement for him. He begins to push in deeper and faster, interlocking your fingers with his and pressing your hands into the bed. You grip his muscular arm with your other hand, nails digging into his skin to leave marks.

He takes your leg, lifting it to get a better angle as he pounds into you. The new angle makes your thoughts blur and a wave of pleasure washes over you. “James, ohh fuck!” You cry out. He pulls all the way out, leaving you gasping and clenching around nothing. The sight drives him wild.

He grabs your ankles, placing one on each shoulder. He strokes himself a couple of times and lines himself up at your cunt. He sinks back into you, his brows furrowed in pleasure. With your legs over his shoulders, his cock hits exactly the right place deep inside you with each thrust. You’re completely at his mercy as he pounds into you relentlessly. You feel your orgasm approaching when James slides out again.

He deftly flips you around so you’re lying on your stomach and he pulls you backwards onto your knees. He leans over your back, kisses your neck and shoulders, and then sits back on his heels.

He presses a few kisses to your lower back while gripping and squeezing your ass. You look over your shoulder and see James, beautiful as ever, glowing with a sheen of sweat and lust. Your admiration is interrupted by his sudden thrust into you. A guttural moan tears through you.

James continues gripping your hips, pounding into you at a merciless pace, fucking you dumb. He only slows to fuck you deeper. You arch your back and James moves his hands onto your ass, gripping and moving you against him. Unintelligible curses and moans flow freely from your mouth, emboldening his movements.

He reaches his arms around your body, lifting gently until your back is flat against his chest. His lips move to your neck, one of his hands to your hip, and his other to your tits. He’s so close to you. In every way someone can be close. You’ve never felt such bliss.

His hand snakes around your waist, moving to your clit, rubbing urgent circles on your sensitive bead. “J-James! ‘m so close,” you falter with each slam of his hips.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Say it again,” he says with each thrust.

“James! ‘M gonna cum,” you cry out his name again. He pushes your chest back to the bed, joining you as he presses his body against your back.

“You’re gonna make me cum, screaming m’name like that,” he thrusts deeper somehow. His lips return to your neck and his fingers to your clit.

“James, I w-want you to cum inside. I want all of you,” you say between moans. He groans against your neck and pushes your legs a little wider with his knees. He continues the abuse on your clit as his pace grows sloppy. His cock repeatedly hits the perfect place inside you.

You’re close and you both know it. James fucks you until you’re in pure ecstasy. The wave of your orgasm crashes into you, washing away everything but James.

James pumps into you a few more times, slower but harder and deeper. You feel his warm cum release inside you. He slows his pace and stops, his chest still pressed over your back. He kisses up your neck to your ear.

“You okay?” He whispers. You nod in response. “I’ll be right back, love,” he presses a kiss to your cheek and gently pulls out of your pussy, your combined fluids leaking out onto your leg. You hear the door open and close. In a blissful haze, you lay down on your side, and shiver at the sudden cold air against your body. The door opens and closes again. There’s a weight on the bed, a kiss on your cheek, and a sudden tickle of a washcloth on your legs.

James cleans you up and peppers kisses all over your body. He helps you under the blanket and joins you, of course. Your back is leaned against his chest and his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. “Are you sure you’re okay, Sweets?” He asks again. You turn around in his arms so you’re face to-face with him.

“I’m really good, Jamie,” you smile at him, moonlight barely illuminating his features. Your hand reaches to his cheek. You press your lips to his softly but passionately and smile into the kiss. You pull apart and cling to his shoulders like he was keeping you alive and he pulls you tighter against him. You drift into a comfortable sleep wrapped in his arms.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

You roll over to get the sun out of your eyes when you smell him. A homey cinnamon scent. “Jamie?” You say groggily, eyes not yet fully focused. When they focus, you see an indent in the pillows and sheets where James had been. You extend your arm and hope to feel some warmth you’d hoped he’d left behind. Instead, it’s cold.

You wonder what time it is, so you look at the clock on your nightstand. One of James’s T-shirts sits folded on top of the clock, covering the time. You sit up and lift the shirt off the clock, revealing a pair of his trunks and a note. For Sweets. The note read. You dress yourself in James’s clothes and a pair of trackies. You walk down the hall and to the stairs.

Monty and Effie sit at the dining room table. “Do you want this?” James says hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts. You remember James's words from the mahogany table the night before.

James and Sirius sit on the couch, watching the telly. Worried about if or how James wanted to go about telling your friends what happened, you sit politely next to James with a respectable amount of distance between you. You look at the boys and see James frowning slightly. He wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you toward him, draping his arm around your shoulders. You lean into his embrace, no longer worried.

Sirius clears his throat. “Finally!” He covers his jab with a cough.

“Oi, I did it, didn’t I?” James rebuts.

“Only after I begged you to stop moping and make a move!” Sirius cries out. You can’t help but smile at the bickering of two of your favourite people. They continue back and forth for a while when the doorbell rings. They don’t stop bickering.

You hop off the couch and hurry to the door, where you see Marlene standing out in the snow. You pull the door open and erupt into your ecstatic greetings. That was one of the best things about practically living with the Potters, Marlene's parents’ place is only two doors down.

“Happy Christmas Eve!” You yell together. “How have you been, darling? Has something happened?” She asks eyeing you.

“W-what do you mean, Marls?”

“Well, I mean…” She tugs at the waistband of James’s boxers poking above your trackies and the sleeve of his large shirt.

“Right…” Heat rushes to your face. Marlene looks at you with an inquisitive smile on her face. “We slept together, is all,” you shrug trying to remain nonchalant despite the butterflies in your stomach when you think of last night.

“Darling, you shagged the man you’ve loved the entire time I’ve known you!” She almost shouts. You rush to shush her, not wanting the whole house to hear Marlene’s theories.

“I don’t love him, Marls,” you insist. “I mean I do, but I’m not ‘in love’ with him!” The look on her face is incredulous. Marlene’s eyes flash behind you.

“Speak of the devil!” Marlene goes to embrace James.

“Only bad things I hope,” James stands behind you, hand snaking around your waist. “You should say ‘hi’ to Mum and Dad,” James tells Marlene with a hand stroking along your arm. She narrows her eyes but goes to greet the Potters anyway.

Once she is down the hall, James’s lips are on your neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him.

“Jamie?” You ask, turning in his arms to face him. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, love?” He brushes some hair out of your face.

“Us? I mean, what are we doing, James?” You’re looking into his big hazel eyes and suddenly the smile on his face drops.

“Well, I thought… That y’know,” his usual confidence seems shattered. “We’ve been circling each other for so long, I just thought maybe it was time.”

“James,” you say seriously.

“Yeah?” He looks like a deer in the headlights.

“I think it’s time too,” you reach your hand to his face and tenderly kiss his lips.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

You take off your trackies and James’s shirt, leaving you in only his boxers. He turns down the comforters and climbs into bed, with a spot for you already carved out. You climb in and face him. Your breasts are pressed to his chest and you feel his gentle breath on your face. You fall asleep listening to the sound of James’s even breaths in his arms again.

✫✫✫✮✫✫✫

Christmas morning comes with a gentle light through the curtains waking you slowly and softly. The warmth of James next to you creates a perfect cocoon of bliss. Your eyes flutter open and when your vision unblurs, you see James, lying peacefully asleep.

You roll over and start to sit up when James’s arm finds your waist. His muscular arm effortlessly pulls you back to him. “Mmm, five more minutes, Sweets?” he mumbles. You roll back to face him and play with his hair mindlessly while admiring his features.

When you both decide to get up and go downstairs, it’s been much longer than five minutes. The sun had already risen despite the clouds that darkened the sky. You trample down the stairs hearing the commotion of the elder Potters and Sirius.

“The lovebirds are finally awake!” Sirius yells when you trample down the stairs. Euphemia squeezes Fleamont’s hand, sharing a knowing look.

“What time is it?” James asks.

“Past 9, Prongs. It’s well past time for gifts!” Sirius exclaims, shoving a box in James’s arms as he sits down. He places a box gently in your arms, he always has a soft spot for you. “Now which ones are mine?” He rubs his hands together mischievously.

“Sirius, grab that one with the candy canes,” you say pointing to a gift beneath the tree. “It’s yours.” James hands a gift to each of his parents, and you all begin to unwrap.

Sirius opens his with a gasp. “You got me Bowie?!” He squawks, holding his newest album, ‘Let’s Dance’. “You are so lovely, y’know that?” He leans over holding your shoulders. You shrug and smile with the satisfaction of a gift well-gifted.

The morning ends with a mountain of gift wrap on the floor and smiles all around. You gather your gifts and walk upstairs. You open your door to find James already sitting out your bed, with a small box laid in his lap.

“I have one last thing for you, Sweets,” James reaches out to hand you the box, which you take as you sit next to him.

“Jamie, you didn’t have to do that,” you playfully scold.

“I know, but I really wanted to,” he says with a wink. You open the box to reveal a small charm bracelet. Not only any charms but miniature candies. Sweets. You hold the bracelet in the light, admiring each charm.

“Oh, Jamie!” You wrap your arms around his shoulders. “The sweets! I love it! Do you think you could put it on for me?”

“Of course, Sweets.” You stick your wrist out and he clips it shut, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. You admire each charm decorating your wrist.

“Merlin! Are these little lemon drops?” Your mouth is agape. They’ve always been your favourite, since back in Hogwarts. The little yellow pearls that earned you your nickname.

“Yeah, of course! It wouldn’t be a bracelet for my Sweets without lemon drops,” he says with a genuine tone. You breathe out a laugh. “What’s so funny?” He asks.

“‘Your Sweets’” you quote. “I’ve just wanted this for so long, it doesn’t even feel real,” you shrug.

“It’s real, Sweets,” he reassures. “It’s never been so real,” he takes your hand in his. And you raise your other to his cheek, bracelet charms jingling with your movement. You meet each other's lips, savouring each moment. “Happy Christmas, Sweets.”

“Happy Christmas, Jamie,” you smile against his lips.

dividers by: @enchanthings

#james potter x reader #marauders fanfiction #harry potter #x reader #james potter #background wolfstar #background dorlene

87 notes · View notes

staylovesmiley · 1 day ago

Text

Mixtape: OH~ Chapter 1

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Han Jisung x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; Having a crush on your friend/roommate while trying to navigate college life is hard enough as it is, what happens after you find out the secret he has been hiding?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; college!au, female!reader, angst, smut, mentions of sexual harassment, alcohol and drug use, she/her pronouns used for reader, this is very loosely based off the overall themes/tones of the manga and anime “kiss him, not me!”~

“So…you gonna buy it?”

Soft chocolate brown eyes flit around the room, his honey skin flushed lightly caused by the cider he had been nursing throughout the night.

“Ya know what? Sure- gotta take down Minnie-opolis one property at a time.”

Cool condensation wets your palm due to the cold glass of cola you sip on while you listen to the chatter of your friends around you, not fully paying attention to anything but the man sitting so close beside you on the floor that your thighs are pressed together.

“Pay up then, baldie!”

“oh that was so uncalled for! I still have hair, ya know! It’s just buzzed.”

“Yeah, you look like a kiwi fruit.”

An exchange of flimsy paper money for a piece of card stock printed with the property being purchased is made across the coffee table and a moment later there is a shout that draws everyone’s attention, well….almost everyone.

“Ya! Don’t think I didn’t see that, you little cheat! That money is supposed to go in the bank not your personal stash!”

Playful argumentative yelling bounces off the walls of the small apartment belonging to two of your dearest friends, ending with a little metal playing piece being thrown and the sound of it making contact with its target as a loud shout sounds to your left.

“Okay okay someone else please be the banker?? We can’t trust this dog with such an important task, the power is going to his head.”

A tongue licks over a plump bottom lip after the bottle of cider is finally finished off, a soft clink sounding as it is placed gently on top of the table. God you wished it was your tongue instead.

“Uh- hellooo? Earth to Winnie??” You startle slightly, the sound of your nickname jolting you out of your trance as you turn to see Jeongin eyeing you expectantly from across the table, blush fanning over your cheeks as you realize they had been trying to get your attention for a while.”Sorry, Innie…think I’m starting to get sleepy.” You say, playing off your lack of attention with what you hope is a convincing yawn and a little stretch of your arms and shoulders. “You wanna call it a night? We do have class in the morning-“ Jisung whispers from your right, hand coming to rest on your thigh and the warmth you feel from the contact makes your brain feel fuzzy.

“Uh- yeah, maybe that’s a good idea. Sorry guys-“ You reply sheepishly as you move to rise from your spot on the floor. Your best friend is giving you a knowing look, smirking as he nudges your other best friend to his left and you mentally groan as Celine stifles a giggle and turns to whisper something to a confused looking Chris who’s eyes widen after she pulls away with his mouth making a little ‘o’ before he nods in understanding.

“Night guys! Gotta drive the lightweight home and pray he doesn’t have too bad of a hangover in the morning.” You tease, bumping your shoulder lightly against your roommates as he whines. “Ya- I’m not that much of a lightweight anymore!” He complains though you know it’s all for fun. The two of you say your goodbyes to your friends before heading out and down the wooden steps to your car parked a few spaces down from the exit of the old apartment complex.

Your roommate, Han Jisung, slips into the passenger seat as you enter on the drivers side. With your foot on the break you push the start button and the engine roars to life while your passenger princess eagerly turns his heated seat on max and cozies up against the leather material before buckling himself in. “We could have stayed a little longer if you had wanted to, ya know…I could have gone and crashed in Celine and Chris’s room for an hour or two to let you all finish the game-“ The man is quick to shake his head at your admission, giving you a warm smile as you start to back up from the parking space.

“Nah, you and I both know the second your head hit that pillow your ass wouldn’t be up until morning and you’d be late to class having to double back and grab your book bag from home.” You sigh in defeat, knowing full well he is right. “No fair- you know all my bad habits by now you shouldn’t be allowed to call me out like that.” He chuckles and leans his head against the cool pain of the window while looking over at you to watch as your focus lays on the road ahead. “No can do, my baby. It’s cause I know you so well that I have the privilege and duty to call you out.” You groan, hearing him call you his baby always makes you weak and really you shouldn’t let it go to your head too much as just last week he was calling Hyunjin in the same way as you both met in the quad before grabbing a quick lunch in between classes.

You had met Jisung two years ago, at the beginning of freshman year when your friend Celine had introduced you to her new boyfriend Chris and his slowly growing group of friends. The two of you had instantly hit it off and after years of feeling like an outcast despite your two best friends always being by your side you finally felt like you had found somewhere you belonged. Your crush on the slightly older man didn’t happen until after you had moved in together your second year of college as you had both been desperate to get out of the dormitories and into a proper apartment.

It was simple, really. The way he would brush his hand against your lower back gently as he passed by while you were cooking a meal or washing the dishes, giving you a soft smile and muttering an apology as you both maneuvered in your impossibly tiny kitchen. You always felt a blush creeping up your neck and to the tips of your ears when he gave you one of those smiles, big boba eyes looking so soft and apologetic you couldn’t help but step aside to make his exit a bit easier despite wishing he would touch you again in such a soft manner. Your feelings for him only deepened over time, though you would never admit it to him. You couldn’t admit it to him, despite Celine insisting that Chris said your roommate was obviously down bad for you as well. His evidence? The way he would always cut their producing sessions short the second your location showed that you had arrived home, the way he would light up at the mention of you or when he would be in the spare room of Chris and Celine’s apartment and both of you girls would pop in to say high after a girls day out, or how he hadn’t changed his phone’s lockscreen from the picture Jeongin had taken of the two of you in the living room of your then brand new apartment, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around the surrounding space as you both held up your keys with cheesy grins that made your cheeks feel sore after it was taken.

You were not convinced, however, your bad brain telling you that no one as charming and charismatic as Han Jisung could ever feel more than a platonic connection with you.

Even now as you entered your small two bedroom apartment just outside of campus, dropping your keys in the bowl by the front door and slipping off your shoes as Jisung did the same with a slight stumble as even though he’d only had the one drink he was such a lightweight it still had an effect on him.

You made your way inside with your arm loosely around his waist under the guise of helping him steady himself. Jisung allowed it, head coming to rest on your shoulder as you made it to his door. “Winnie, baby?” He cooed softly, looking up at you with big brown eyes that always melted you into a puddle under their gaze. “Yes, Ji?” You said softly, pulling away to look at him just as soft. “Do you um-“ he started, looking between you and his door a few times giving you the impression he was going to ask you to stay the night in his room.

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to fall asleep in one of your beds, snuggled up on nights after a long study session or when either of you needed an extra bit of comfort after receiving a bad grade. You nodded to him, trying to not seem too eager as he looked down at his feet. “Do you want to stop by the cafe on campus before class tomorrow morning?” You paused, trying to hide the disappointment you were feeling with a smile and small nod. “Y-Yeah, Ji. That sounds like a good idea.” He looked back at you with a bright smile before opening his door. “Sweet! Okay- I’ll see you in the morning then.” You giggled a bit, nodding to him as you turned to head for your own room. “Don’t over sleep too much or we won’t be able to go to the cafe without being late.” You called out to him before closing yourself in your room.

You sighed, the darkness of the room surrounding you as your eyes slowly adjusted. It was silly to be so upset at not being asked to sleep in your roommate’s bed, as if you had any claim on the space. You carefully got dressed into an oversized hoodie and pair of sleep shorts before laying down and grabbing a make up wipe from your bedside table to haphazardly remove the small traces you had worn that night before pulling your spare pillow to your chest. If you couldn’t fall asleep with the beautiful musical theory major in your arms then this would have to do until you maybe one day worked up the courage to tell him how you felt.

The smell of deli pickles and the loud sound of the latest pop hits surrounded you as you poked around at your salad absentmindedly while Jeongin sat across from you ranting about something your professor had left a comment about on his most recent assignment. You were too busy thinking about how earlier that morning Jisung had come up behind you in the quad in between classes and wrapped his arms around your waist with his head rested on your own while you had been talking with Felix and Jeongin about the party that was happening later that evening.

The musician had lit up as he pulled back to look at you in surprise. “Wait- you’re going to Junnie-hyung’s party too? I thought you said those were too loud and crowded.” He pouted, arms giving you a squeeze before falling limp at his sides. “Well I wasn’t gonna go but Lix insists I need to get out of the house more than our normal game nights with the crew.”

He still held the pout on his lips, arms crossing over his chest. “But if you’re going to the party who’s gonna stay in and watch dramas with me and listen to me complain about the lead girl picking the wrong guy??” He said with a little whine, one hand coming to hold your bicep and you felt your resolve cracking. Maybe you should just stay in after all with your crush instead of going out to a party you’d most likely get overstimulated at and wish you were at home anyways. That’s when Felix perked up and bounced over to wrap his arms around Jisung with excitement. “Well then you should just come with us!” The musician groaned as he let the slightly younger engineer squeeze him before shaking their bodies dramatically. “Come ooon it’ll be fun! Please?” You gave him a small smile, and that’s all it took for Jisung to agree.

“Hello? Winnie- Are you even paying attention?” Jeongin huffed, popping a fry in his mouth as you looked up from your salad to give him a bashful smile. “Sorry, innie- was trying to figure out what I’m gonna wear to the party tonight…” You felt his smirk on you before you saw it and you whined, knowing what he was about to say before he even spoke. “Why? Trying to impress a certain someone?” He teased lightly as he took a bite of his sandwich. “No- just…there are gonna be a lot of people there so I wanna look nice.” You shrugged, taking a bite of your salad while your companion gave you an exasperated look. “Stop playing around, it’s just the two of us here. Anyways, it’s not like everyone isn’t already aware of your little crush but him.” Jeongin comments as he finishes off half of his sandwich and goes in for a bite of the second half. “Still- you act like my world revolves around pleasing Jisung.” You mumbled, eating a piece of chicken out of your salad as you thought for real this time about what you should wear to the party. “Will you help me pick something out? You’re way better at this than I am.” Jeongin smirked, nodding his head enthusiastically. “You’re giving me a chance to dress you up? Hell yeah. I’ve been dying to do something about your wardrobe situation for a while.” You gasped at him playfully while picking a fry off his place to throw at him. “Are you saying I don’t have style?!” He laughed, picking up the fry you threw from the table to pop it in his mouth before answering. “You have the style of an eighty year old grandmother with those cardigans you always wear.” You rolled your eyes before continuing with your meal. “Besides, gotta make you look hot so maybe you’ll finally grow the balls to tell Hanji how you feel.” Your eyes widened at that. It’s like he could read your mind- how you had been thinking of using this party as a way to gain the confidence to confess. The two of you finished your meal in relative silence, chatting here or there about class before finishing up and making your way back to campus for the rest of your day.

The bass was loud, as expected, the floor beneath your feet practically vibrating as the drink in your hand left a bitter taste on your tongue but you continued to sip at it in hopes it would blur the anxiety edging in your mind. Jeongin had done a wonder on you, dressing you in a lacy black cropped cami you completely forgot you had purchased and a miniskirt with a red floral pattern you normal would have worn under thick tights but tonight he had handed you a pair of fishnets you knew you did not own prior and he had to have brought them with him. You had to fight him on allowing you to wear a plain black cardigan, insisting that the cool autumn air would freeze you to death without it.

You made your way through the crowds carefully as to not spill your drink on yourself or others as you were already starting to feel a nice buzz when you happened to run into the man of the hour, your friend Yeonjun who was now the chapter president of the fraternity who’s party you were attending. “Winnie! Oh my god I didn’t think you’d actually come!” He exclaimed excitedly as he pulled you into a warm hug, patting you on the back lightly as he pulled away. “Well I wasn’t going to but Felix made a compelling argument-“ you giggled, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as he reached for the drink in your hand. “Whatcha got here?” You made to stop him before he tipped it back and made a face like he was going to spit it out. “What the hell was that?! Who gave you that?” He groaned, taking your hand firmly before dragging you towards the kitchen. “Wooyoung mixed it up- no clue what he put in there but he swore it’d be good.” The older man scoffed as you leaned against the counter while he poured your cup out and began making something new for you to drink. “Figures. That dude has no taste- I’m sure he’d drink nail polish remover if he thought it would give him a buzz.” You laughed, taking the drink he offered you with a thanks before taking a sip and sighing in relief. “Better?” He asked, an amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you nodded. “Much, thank you again.”

You stayed talking with Yeonjun in the kitchen for a while, catching up with him before he was pulled away by another member of his fraternity to play some drinking game you weren’t too knowledgeable. By the time you found another familiar face you were pleasantly intoxicated with yet another drink to sip on being thrust into your hand by an equally as intoxicated Hyunjin. “You look hot, Winnie bear.” He said with a smirk and a nudge to your hip with his own. You heard a chorus of agreement from the rest of your friends around you causing a blush to fan across your cheeks. “It’s all thanks to Innie! He deserves the credit.” You said, trying to take the attention off of yourself and thankfully it worked somewhat as the conversation naturally drifted off and you were able to sip your drink and listen in as your mind wandered until you could feel someone’s gaze burning into you.

Jisung. He was staring at you with an unreadable expression as he sipped at the drink in how own hand. The colorful flash of the strobe lights in the living room illuminated his honeyed skin in a way that mesmerized you and you swallowed hard before stumbling up to him. His hand came to your waist instantly as he let out a light chuckle. “Woah there, careful baby.” You blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed but the feeling of his hand still resting on the dip of your waist spurred you on as well as the earlier gassing up of your attire that evening. “You were staring, Hanji~” You sing songed to him, giggling a bit as you looked up into his eyes adoringly. He blinked a few times before shaking his head. “Just making sure you’re alright. You don’t usually come to these and you seem to be pretty drunk.” Jisung teased, poking your cheek though he pulled his finger away quickly as you turned to bite it playfully.

“You are so sweet, Ji…always looking out for me.” You cooed, head coming to rest on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you to steady you against him. “Well I-“ he started but you cut him off quickly. “And you’re always so pretty…prettiest man I’ve ever seen.” He blushed now, though you could barely see it under the still flashing lights in the room. The bass still booming around you caused you to feel hazy and the smell of his cologne would have been intoxicating alone without all of the alcohol you had consumed. “Have you seen Lee Minho?” He asked, obviously trying to tease but his voice seemed a little bewildered as he looked down at you curiously. “Han Jisung just take the damn compliment!” You pouted, stomping your foot in playful annoyance causing him to laugh. “Okay that’s enough alcohol for you, you are acting silly.” He said, gently taking your cup from you and sitting it down. “Noo no I’m having a good time! I’m with a pretty boy and I’m at a party and I feel greaaat~!” You stumbled more as you tried to leave his side to grab your drink but his arm tightened around you until your chests were flush together.

You both stood there for a moment with wide eyes staring at each other, and something seemed to possess you as you slowly started to lean in. You were gonna do it, gonna finally kiss the plush lips of the gorgeous man you had been living with for the past year and a half. Just as you were inches from impact his hands moved to your shoulders and he took a step back. “Alright, really you are being silly now. Let’s go find Channie-hyung and get him to take us home, yeah?” You sighed, feeling defeated as you nodded and let him take your hand and lead you to where Chris and Celine were sitting making out on the couch. Fuck your life, that couldn’t have gone any worse.

It was a few weeks after your drunken attempt at kissing your roommate that you were sat across from him in the library studying for your respective classes while quietly snacking on the grapes you had packed for the stuffy session.

Neither of you had spoken about that night much, besides Jisung teasing you about the massive hangover you had the next day. Nothing had seemed to change, and you were grateful for that. Jisung didn’t treat you any differently, probably assuming you trying to kiss him was only due to your intoxicated state and not any underlying feelings you’ve had for him since moving in together. You felt like you could breathe easy with that thought comforting your nerves.

Just as you were popping another grape into your mouth your roommate stood with a stretch of his likely sore muscles from sitting folded up in an uncomfortable library chair for the past few hours. “I’m gonna take a bathroom break, yeah? Don’t slack off without my moral support while I’m gone.” He teased, giving you a wink as he turned and made his way to the far end of the building where the restrooms were located. You hummed to yourself one of the tracks Jisung had played for you earlier, asking your opinion on the tune although you knew next to nothing about music in comparison to the prodigy he was. You both had a shared sociology class that you had been studying for a test together for the past hour and you got to a spot you knew he took some good notes for. He wouldn’t mind if you just..took a look at them while he was gone, right? Surely not. You know if you asked him he’d willingly turn them over anyway so it shouldn’t be an issue to just take a peek. You got up from your spot and took his seat before carefully scanning over what he had open on his laptop.

her moans echoed off the walls as his hand traveled lower, caressing her body in a way that drove her mad as he pressed he back firmly against the wet tile of the shower wall.

Oh. These were definitely not the notes for class. What even was he working on? Probably some fanfiction for one of his beloved dramas or animes. You giggled a bit and continued to read, your curiosity getting the better of you and also maybe you could get an idea of what he was into this way.

Gently he pushed a finger inside, the wetness from her arousal and the steady stream of water flowing down their bodies making the slide easy. His forehead rested against her own as she gasped. “J-Jeongin~”

Wait- what?! Jeongin. As in….Yang Jeongin? Your Yang Jeongin? Yang Jeongin who grew up in the same neighborhood as you, whose mother was your mother’s best friend in college. Jeongin who for the first few years of your life you were convinced was your cousin and even your parents couldn’t tell you that you weren’t. Why was Jisung writing explicit stories about him- what even was this?! Still, you continued to read until your eyes caught something that confused you even more.

”oh Winnie, so wet for me already? I’ve barely touched you.” He chuckled darkly as he began pumping his finger in a slow rhythm before adding a second and picking up the pace.

You- you’re Winnie….no- what is even happening right now?! Your roommate who is one of your best friends, that you have had a crush on for a year, is writing….smut about you and your childhood best friend? You shake your head, unable to fully wrap your mind around what you just read but then your eyes widen as you hear Jisung singing along to some song that had been playing in the car earlier that day and getting scolded by the librarian as he made his way back to you. Shit.

You scramble back to your seat, heart racing as you try to seem nonchalant like you hadn’t just read that Jisung was writing about one of your closest friend’s finger blasting you in the shower. “Hey baby, miss me?” He teased, taking his seat and casually placing his headphones back around his neck. “Haha yeah definitely- you have those notes from Mr. Lewis’ class? I’m stuck and you always have better notes-“ You feel sweat beading at the back of your neck from the adrenaline, worrying in the back of your mind that you will get caught for snooping. “You got it, baby.” He coos, pushing a notebook your way and you curse yourself in your mind that of course he wouldn’t have notes on his computer but in one of the millions of notebooks he kept on his person. “Thanks, Ji.” You breathe out, trying to keep calm as you attempt to get back to work.

What the actual fuck was that.

author’s note; happy birthday to meee~~ it’s currently 12:36am Jan13th and I’m officially half fifty ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱⸒⸒ hope you all enjoyed the first chapter~~ this is just the beginning hehehe

taglist; (pink users I wasn’t able to tag) @chancloud8 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @extremechaoswarning @jisunglyricist @imeverycliche

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mattsobvimyfav · 2 days ago

Text

neighbors (matthew sturniolo)

pt 13

It was a couple of days later, and things had been oddly quiet. I had been texting Matt here and there, nothing too serious, just small conversations to test the waters. But since the night with Abbie, the boys hadn’t been over at all. It felt strange not having them around, but I told myself it was probably for the best—for now.

A week or two ago, we had all talked about taking a trip back home, and the time had finally come. Charlie decided she wasn’t going with us. She planned to stay in LA, since she had already visited home not too long ago, and lived quite far from me and the boys. That left me flying back with the boys.

I stood in my room, packing for the 6 a.m. flight. My suitcase lay open on the bed, half-filled with clothes, and I kept double-checking my list to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything important. It felt surreal to be going back. A mix of excitement and unease bubbled inside me.

As I folded my last pair of jeans, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it, seeing a message from Nick:

Nick: "We’re all set for the morning. Don’t oversleep"

Me: "Not a chance. I’ll be waiting on you"

Once my suitcase was zipped up, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it for a moment. I sighed, pulling my phone off the nightstand again. I sent Matt a quick text.

Me: "Ready for the flight?"

It only took a few seconds before my phone vibrated with his reply.

Matt: "Yeah. Can’t wait to see you."

A small smile tugged at my lips as I stared at his response.

I climbed into bed, feeling the exhaustion of packing and overthinking catch up to me. Charlie climbed in with me asking for a sleepover before I leave for a week.

The next morning, Charlie's arms were loosely draped around me, and her steady breathing was oddly comforting. I blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window, stretching lightly as I disentangled myself.

Charlie stirred, groaning. “Mmm, already time to go?”

“Yeah,” I said softly, sitting up and running a hand through my hair.

She rolled onto her back with a yawn, mumbling, “I fucking hate getting up this early.”

I laughed, tossing a pillow at her before heading to get ready. I threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black sports bra, something comfy for the long flight. After brushing my teeth and double-checking my carry-on, I made my way downstairs.

The sound of laughter hit me before I reached the living room. When I turned the corner, I saw the boys all hugging Charlie in a big group.

“Don’t crush her,” I teased, leaning against the doorway with a smile.

Nick turned first, grinning when he saw me. “We wouldn’t dare. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Matt and Chris stepped aside, letting Charlie catch her breath. “Y/n’s turn,” Charlie said, reaching out for me.

I walked over, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Thanks you, I love you” I whispered.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes soft. “Always. I love you. Text me when you land, okay?”

“Of course,” I said, squeezing her one last time.

Chris grabbed my bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, or we’re gonna miss this flight.”

As I followed him out the door, I turned back to wave at Charlie one more time. She stood in the doorway, smiling sleepily but warmly.

The car was waiting, and soon enough, we were on our way to the airport.

As we entered the airport, the bustling atmosphere instantly surrounded us—rolling suitcases, echoing announcements, and the hum of conversations blending into one constant noise. The boys moved like they’d done this a hundred times, which they probably had, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. I stayed close to Matt, my carry-on bag slung over my shoulder and my phone clutched in my hand.

At the check-in counter, Chris dropped the bags onto the scale with a theatrical sigh. "I swear, every time, my bag's underweight. You guys are just amateurs."

Nick rolled his eyes, holding up his boarding pass on his phone. “Maybe because you pack like you’re leaving for a weekend, not a week.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The playful bickering was comforting, a small slice of normal in the middle of the chaotic airport. After checking our bags, we moved toward security, where Matt gently guided me in front of him. His hand rested on my back as we shuffled forward, taking off shoes and emptying pockets.

“Still good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “I’m just ready to get through all this and onto the plane.”

Once we were past security, we all regrouped near a Starbucks. Chris was already making his way to the counter before anyone else could say a word. “I’m ordering for everyone,” he called over his shoulder.

“Not a chance,” Nick said, jogging after him. “You don’t even know what Y/N drinks.”

Matt glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Chai latte,” I replied with a small smile.

He grinned. “Noted.”

After grabbing our drinks, we found a spot near the gate. I stretched my legs out in front of me, sinking into the uncomfortable airport chair.

Matt sat on my other side, his arm resting casually along the back of my seat. He leaned in slightly.

Boarding was called not long after, and we shuffled onto the plane, finding our seats in a row together. I ended up in the middle, sandwiched between Matt and Chris. Once we were settled, Nick was across the isle next to a huge guy.

As we lifted off, Matt reached over, squeezing my hand briefly. I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me. “Ready to be home?”

I smiled back, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. I really am.”

The flight had been surprisingly peaceful. After we reached cruising altitude, I pulled out my laptop, eager to pass the time. I’d downloaded a Harry Potter movie to watch—it felt like a comforting choice, something familiar and nostalgic for the long flight.

As the opening credits began, Chris leaned over from his seat, glancing at the screen. “Harry Potter? Good choice,” he said with a grin.

“Obviously,” I replied, smirking.

Matt, sitting on the other side of me, peeked at the screen too. “Which one is this?”

“Half blood prince,” I said, adjusting my headphones. “Best one, no argument.”

Chris scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “Bold claim. I’m more of a Goblet of Fire guy myself.”

“Of course you are,” I teased.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to shift in their seats. Chris laid his head on my right shoulder, while Matt leaned against my left. “Is this your plan? To use me as a pillow?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Multitasking,” Chris mumbled, already closing his eyes as the movie played.

Matt chuckled softly. “You’re just comfortable. Don’t ruin it.”

I shook my head, amused but secretly enjoying the closeness. The three of us sat like that for most of the flight, quietly watching the movie. Occasionally, I’d catch Matt glancing at the screen, asking questions about the plot, and I’d explain in a hushed voice. Chris, on the other hand, just dozed on and off, occasionally shifting his weight but not moving from my shoulder. I quickly snapped a .5 of the boys looking like children on each shoulder.

By the time the movie ended, the flight attendants were announcing our descent. Both boys groggily sat up, stretching and yawning, while I shut my laptop and tucked it away.

“That movie was better than I remembered,” Matt said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“See? Told you,” I replied, smiling.

Chris rolled his shoulders, giving me a lazy grin. “I still stand by the goblet of fire.”

The three of us laughed softly as the plane began its final approach, the city below growing larger as we descended. It had been a quiet, comforting flight, but now the anticipation of being home was setting in. As much as I’d enjoyed our little mid-air movie night, I was excited to see my dad.

Nick groaned, rubbing his face as he stood to grab mine and his carry-on from the overhead compartment. “We’ve landed, but now we have to get out of this airport.”

Chris rolled his eyes, already slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “It’s not that bad, kid. You just like to complain.”

Matt stood next to me, letting me step into the aisle first. “You good?” he asked softly, his eyes searching mine.

“Yeah,” I said with a small smile. “Just ready to stretch my legs.”

We filed off the plane and into the terminal, the familiar signs and smells of home hitting me immediately. It was surreal to think about how long it had been since I’d walked through this airport.

Chris sighed dramatically as we waited by the baggage carousel. “Let’s place bets on whose bag comes out last. My money’s on Nick.”

“You’re the worst,” Nick muttered, glaring at him.

Matt chuckled, his arm brushing against mine as he stood close. “What about you?” he asked. “How does it feel to be back?”

I shrugged, watching the conveyor belt whir to life. “Weird, but in a good way. Like it doesn’t feel real yet.”

“It will soon,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile.

One by one, we grabbed our suitcases and made our way toward the exit. As we stepped outside, the humid air hit me like a wall, the unmistakable scent of the city wrapping around me. It felt like home, but also like I was stepping into a new chapter.

Chris nudged me with his elbow as we walked toward the car waiting for us. “Welcome back,” he said with a grin.

I smiled, taking a deep breath. “It feels so good to be here.”

The car pulled up in front of my childhood home, and I could already feel the swell of emotions building in my chest. The familiar sight of the house, the porch light glowing softly in the early evening, made my heart ache in the best way.

Chris hopped out first, helping me grab my bags from the trunk. “You good?” he asked, giving me a small, knowing smile.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Thanks, Chris.”

Matt gave me a quick hug and kiss on my forehead before I turned toward the house. I waved at them as they got back into the car, and I could hear Chris yell, “Call me if you need anything!”

With my bags in hand, I took a deep breath and walked up to the door. Before I could even knock, it swung open, and there he was—my dad, standing in the doorway, his arms already open for me.

“Dad!” I yelled, dropping my bags and practically launching myself into his embrace.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with warmth as he hugged me tightly. “Welcome home.”

I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave. “I missed you so much,” I whispered, my voice cracking just a little.

“Missed you too, honey,” he replied, pulling back to look at me. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, but I couldn’t help noticing how much older he looked. The lines on his face were deeper, his hair beard grayer.

I swallowed hard, suddenly overwhelmed by the passage of time. My dad had always been my rock, my steady constant, and seeing him like this made my chest tighten.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied my face.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m just really happy to be home.”

He grinned and patted my cheek. “Me too. Come on in—I made your favorite for dinner.”

I grabbed my bags and followed him inside, my heart feeling a little heavier despite the joy of being home. As I stepped into the house and took in the familiar warmth of the place I grew up in.

Dinner was a comforting mix of nostalgia and love. My dad had outdone himself, cooking my favorite meal—spaghetti and meatballs, a classic. As I sat across from him at the table, I felt a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time, the kind that only home could bring.

“So,” my dad started, taking a sip of his iced tea, “what’s been going on with you? Anything new?”

I hesitated, fiddling with my fork. “Actually… yeah. There is something.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

“Matt’s back in my life,” I blurted out, watching his reaction carefully.

For a moment, my dad didn’t say anything. He just set his glass down and leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “Matt,” he repeated slowly, the name heavy with history.

I nodded. “Yeah. He, uh… ended up being my neighbor at Charlie and my house.”

My dad studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “How do you feel about that?”

I let out a shaky breath, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. It’s… complicated. He’s apologized—more than once—for what happened back in college. And I believe him. But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t still hurt sometimes. I was so broken when he left.”

My dad’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table to take my hand. “Honey, I remember how hard it was for you. You were in pieces. And as your dad, watching you go through that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I blinked them away, squeezing his hand.

My dad cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious. “Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you. I wasn’t sure if I ever would, but after everything you’ve said about Matt… I think you deserve to know.” He hesitated, looking at me like he was searching for the right words. “For the past four years, Matt has been texting me. Not often, but every now and then. He’d ask how you were doing—if you were happy, how school was going. He even asked me for pictures once or twice, just to see you smiling. He made me promise not to tell you, said it was better that way. But now it makes sense why I haven’t heard from him in months.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, and my chest tightened as tears spilled down my cheeks. All the pain, the confusion, the doubt I’d held onto for years suddenly felt small in the face of this revelation. Through my sobs, the realization pierced through: Matt had never truly let me go. He had loved me, even from a distance, even when it hurt. And somehow, despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel the same.

I wiped at my tears, but they kept coming, uncontrollable and relentless. “I need a minute,” I choked out, barely able to meet my dad’s concerned gaze. Without waiting for a response, I stood and rushed upstairs, closing the door to my room behind me.

The second I was alone, the weight of everything crashed over me. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow, and let out a muffled scream. My chest heaved as the sobs tore through me, my mind racing with the truth my dad had just revealed. The thought of Matt—checking in, caring, holding onto some piece of me for all these years—shattered something inside me. It was overwhelming, maddening, and deeply heartbreaking all at once.

Between the cries, I grabbed my phone, my hands trembling. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before I opened our text thread. The words spilled out in a flurry of desperation and raw emotion.

Y/N: We need to talk. Please.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding as the message sent. The dots indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately.

Matt: What’s going on?

Matt: Are you okay?

Matt: Do you want me to come there?

I hesitated for a second, wiping my face as I sniffled, then typed back.

Y/N: Can you come get me? I need to get out, but it’s important.

The reply came almost instantly.

Matt: I’m on my way. Be there in 15.

I exhaled shakily, my heart a tangled mess of relief and anticipation. Closing my phone, I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face and trying to compose myself. The tears kept threatening to spill over.

As I sat on the edge of my bed, wiping futilely at my tear-streaked face, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down at the screen.

Matt: I’m here.

I took a shaky breath, my chest still tight from crying. My eyes were red and puffy, and I knew there was no use trying to hide it. Grabbing a hoodie off the back of my chair, I pulled it on, hoping it would offer some semblance of comfort.

Walking downstairs, I found my dad sitting in his usual chair, a knowing look on his face as he caught sight of me. He didn’t ask questions; he didn’t need to.

“I’m going out to talk to Matt,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression soft. “Be careful, Honey,” he said. “And take your time.”

I swallowed hard, giving him a small, grateful nod before stepping out the door and into the rain. The drops were cool against my skin, soaking into my hoodie as I threw the hood over my head and hurried down the steps toward Matt’s car.

His headlights illuminated the driveway, casting long shadows, and I could see his silhouette through the windshield. I opened the door and climbed in, the warm air inside immediately contrasting with the chill of the rain.

Matt’s eyes met mine as I pulled the hood down, and his expression shifted, concern flooding his face. “You’ve been crying,” he said softly, his voice filled with worry.

“Just drive,” I mumbled, my voice breaking. “Anywhere. Just somewhere alone, away from everything.”

He hesitated, clearly wanting to press me for more, but instead, he nodded. Without another word, he shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the driveway, the rhythmic patter of rain on the windshield filling the silence between us.

Matt drove in silence, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. The only sound was the rain hitting the windshield and the low hum of the car's engine. I stared out the window, watching the world blur by, my thoughts as chaotic as the storm outside.

After a while, the car slowed, and I looked up to see a familiar spot—the secluded parking lot we used to escape to in college when the world felt too heavy. It looked almost the same, surrounded by trees and shrouded in quiet, except for the steady patter of rain.

Matt parked the car and cut the engine, turning to look at me. “We’re here,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of everything I’d been holding in crashed down on me again, and before I could stop it, the tears started falling. I buried my face in my hands, sobbing as the emotions overwhelmed me.

“Hey, hey,” Matt said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning toward me. “It’s okay. I’m here. Talk to me, please.”

I took a shaky breath, wiping at my face even though the tears kept coming. “My dad…he told me something tonight. Something I had no idea about.” My voice cracked, and I looked at him, his face full of concern and patience.

“What did he say?” Matt asked, his brow furrowed.

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat, but I forced them out. “He told me you’ve been texting him. For years. Asking for updates about me. Asking for pictures. He said you told him not to tell me.” My voice broke again, and I could barely get the next words out. “You never stopped caring, did you?”

Matt’s face fell, his expression full of guilt and vulnerability. “No, I didn’t,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I couldn’t. I tried to move on, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “You’re it for me, Y/N. You’ve always been it. I didn’t want to ruin your life by barging back in, but I couldn’t stay away either.”

His words only made the tears fall harder. “You hurt me so badly back then,” I said, my voice trembling. “But hearing what my dad said tonight, it hit me. You’ve been carrying this too. And I realized…I’m ready, Matt. If you’re serious—if you’re really ready to take this seriously—I’m willing to try again. I want to try again.”

Matt’s eyes searched mine, and I could see the storm of emotions swirling in them—relief, love, regret, hope. “I’m ready,” he said firmly. “I swear to you, I’m ready to do this the right way. No games, no half-measures. Just us. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes.”

I nodded, the weight in my chest lifting just enough to let a small smile break through. “Then let’s do it,” I whispered.

Matt’s hand tightened around mine, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “I love you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions in his gaze. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I never stopped, not for a single second.”

The words hit me like a wave, and I felt a fresh surge of tears prick at my eyes. “I love you too, Matt,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Even after everything, I never stopped loving you. I tried to hate you, to forget you, but I couldn’t. You’ve always been it for me too.”

Matt’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of years of pain, longing, and love finally breaking. Then, without a word, he leaned in, his hand gently cradling my face as his lips met mine.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as though we were both afraid it might shatter the fragile hope between us. But as his other hand slid up to cup the back of my head, it deepened, and all the emotions we’d been holding back spilled into it—love, regret, passion, and promise.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together. Matt’s thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I’m never letting you go again,” he murmured.

I smiled, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Good,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’m not going anywhere either.”

We sat there in the quiet of the car, the rain softly tapping against the windows, holding on to each other like we were finally home.

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#matt sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #neighbor #roommates

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anakinstwinklebunny · 2 days ago

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bunny oh my heavens you're such an amazing writer like I stumbled upon your account and I'm obsessed rn. Like I read all of Teen Dad Sam Monroe and I was gagged when I realized I finished it so quickly-

So I was thinking if we could get a background story about how Sam Monroe and reader met? Or about how Sam was there while reader was pregnant? Ofc totally up to you queen

🦇 - bat anon

Author's note: YAUYUYYY WELCOME 🦇 NONNIE IN BUNNY'S FAMILY‼️‼️ tysm for all the kind words, hugging you tight till we both can't breathe 🙂‍↕️😝

You weren’t supposed to be his type. Too sweet, too cheerful, too goddamn put-together for someone like SAM MONROE, who barely survived each day and bitterness was like his second skin. He didn’t even notice you at first--why would he? You were everything good, everything bright, and he? Well, he was the guy skipping class, chain-smoking behind the school, and growling at anyone who dared look at him too long.

But you? You were relentless all the damn time. Not in an annoying way tho, but in a way that scratched at his walls without him even realizing. You’d smile at him in class, offer him notes he didn’t ask for, and one day, when he was sketching aimlessly during a particularly boring lecture, you’d leaned over and whisper, “That’s really good. Do you do this often?”

It threw him off, the softness in your voice, the way you didn’t seem disgusted in him or scared like everyone else. He’d shrugged, mumbling something about “just messin’ around,” and waited for you to look away. But you didn’t. You kept looking, asking questions, smiling like you weren’t sitting next to the grumpiest asshole in school.

But Sam wasn’t the kind of guy you were supposed to talk to, let alone fall for. He was trouble--every teacher at school said it, every kid whispered it. He walked the halls with that slouched, pissed-off posture, earbuds in. He didn’t care about his reputation, and he sure as hell didn’t care about people around him.

But you? You weren’t scared of him, and that pissed him the most.

Leaving the school's building you caught him behind the bleachers, a cigarette between his fingers, time to time between his lips while he sketched on the back of some crumpled notebook paper. Of course, Sam could feel you standing there like you saw a ghost yet, he didn't dare to look up at you, simply confronting you in the grumpiest way possible about your staring problem “What? Come to tell me I’m ruining my life?” he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Not really,” you said simply, voice calm as you stepped closer, leaning against the railing. “Just wondering what you’re drawing this time.”

That made him pause. Blue eyes flicked up to meet yours, suspicion written all over his face. But when you didn’t laugh or tease him like everyone else, he shoved the paper in his pocket without a care it would probably be destroyed afterwards “Nothin’. Just some stupid house.”

“You gonna build it someday?”

Sam blinked, caught completely off guard. “Maybe,” he muttered, shrugging like it didn’t matter. But for the first time, someone had seen past the walls he’d put up, and it scared him just as much as it intrigued him.

---

After a few weeks of you making a small talk with him, being super nice and super sweet, Sam himself began to try to make a small talk. Yet, he didn’t like how much he started looking forward to seeing you each day. It just felt..weird.. dangerous, to let someone like you get so close to him. But still he couldn't help it when you'd catch him in the hall, offering a soft smile that always made his stomach twist in a way he couldn’t explain. He’d walk you home after school, even if it meant dealing with the nosy neighbors who always gave him side-eye for his, in their opinion, demonic style.

And when more time passed, it turned into a thing--you and him. You’d sit with him at lunch, even when he would mutter, “Don’t you have better people to hang out with?” You’d drag him to study sessions, ignoring his protests that “school’s a waste of time.” And slowly, he stopped fighting it. He even looked out to all those meetings with you. To share classes with you he hated so much. To have you drag him to the library, the place he'd never been in, and help him study, help him learn.

Around you, he immediately softened--no, he wasn’t sweet, not in the traditional sense at least, but he had this gruff affection that came through in little ways. Like how he’d stand between you and a group of loud guys at lunch, glaring until they finally shut up. Or how he’d hand you his hoodie without a word if you so much as shivered and even force you to put it on, not taking any buts and no's for an answer

He didn’t smile much, but you caught that he started doing this thing where he’d smirk whenever you said something dumb or tripped over your words. He also started waiting for you by your locker, even if he pretended like it was no big deal. And when some jerk made a snide comment about you “slumming it” with Sam, he’d take care of it in his own way

---

So it wasn’t long before you were more than just friends. He kissed you for the first time in his car after a late-night drive. It was awkward--his lips chapped, hands clumsy. First sex came year later, in his room while his parents were out of the town with his stepbrothers.

He didn't last eight second.

You’d expected him to bolt, honestly. That’s what everyone said he’d do--Sam Monroe, the screw-up, the guy who never took anything seriously. But instead, he stayed. Although he did pace the length of your room, he did run his hands through his hair, and he did mutter curses all over, “Shit, shit, shit,” under his breath. "I fucking pulled out! I---i swear!! This fucking isn't real..I-im only seventeen for God's sake" he groaned, anxiously sitting on the edge of your bed

You didn't really use much protection..You just trusted when Sam would say he pulled out in time or use some old condom his friend gave him. So when your period was getting late, when you out of the sudden had nausea..you took the damned test. Out of sanity of your overthinking mind. But hell, did you prepare yourself for it to be positive..

The first time you told Sam you were pregnant, he froze. Like, fully stopped breathing, face going pale as he stared at you. “You’re… what?” voice cracking in a way that would’ve been funny if the situation wasn’t so serious.

“Ehm--wha--what do you want to do?” he asked, voice quiet, almost scared, eyes finally locking with yours. And when you said you wanted to keep it, he nodded, exhaled, hide his face in his hands with jaw tight. “Okay..um... okay..Then-- we’ll--figure it out, I guess..But I need time to think, alright?”

---

Sam threw himself into trying to figure it out. He started taking an odd jobs, fixing up cars for cash and doing whatever he could to scrape together some money. He hated asking his mom for help, even more his stepdad, but when it came to you and the baby, he swallowed his pride.

But still, he was himself in all of that--grumpy, sarcastic, and stubborn as hell. “You’re not eating that,” he’d grumble when he saw you reaching for something unhealthy, swatting it out of your hand and replacing it with an apple. But then, a few hours later, you’d find your favorite snacks hidden in your bag because he couldn’t stand to see you looking so upset.

Sam didn’t suddenly become the perfect boyfriend—damn, he never was---but he tried. He took on extra shifts at some crappy diner, even though he hated every second of it. He’d show up at your house with random things, like pickles and ice cream, grumbling, “Dunno if you wanted this, but whatever.”

He argued with his mom constantly about the baby, about how he was going to be a dad at such young age..

But it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes, late at night, he’d lie next to you, hand splayed over your belly, whispering, “Hey, little dude" (he was sure as heck it was going to be a boy) "It’s your dad....or whatever.. you're just my sperm..But..Don’t give your mom too much trouble, yeah?” He’d laugh quietly, breath warm against your tummy “She’s already got enough dealing with me.”

#bunny's replies ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა #🦇 nonnie #hayden christensen #life as a house #sam monroe x you #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe fluff #christensen hayden #haydenchristensen #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x female reader #hayden christensen characters

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beenbaanbuun · 23 hours ago

Text

Neighbour w/ song mingi

words - 3.1k

genre - smutty

warnings - fem!reader, afab!reader, neighbour!mingi, mysterious!mingi, drop-out!reader, bitter!reader, wet dreams, masturbation, nicknames (kitty, good girl), i think that’s it

——————————————————————————

Coming home from a night shift is never fun, but its even less so in winter. As if the bone-deep tiredness wasn't already bad enough, now you have to compete with the inescapable chill of the air and the long, dark mornings that seem to drag on for eternity. It feels like months since you’ve actually seen an ounce of sunlight, sleeping through the few short hours that you’re granted around this time of year. Then you wake up again at 4pm, just in time to watch the sun go down beyond the horizon as you cook your breakfast of packet ramen and coffee.

Its a depressing existence, and you’d be the first to admit that, but you cant really afford much else. As a drop-out in a city full of students, you don't really have too many options. Full time jobs favour people with actual qualifications, and the part-time job market is wildly oversaturated by struggling teenagers looking for a way to fuel the various addictions that come hand in hand with being at university. You remember it well; the £16 bottles of Tesco’s own brand vodka that went down about as easy as a fist full of gravel, the weed from a random dealer who passed you his number at 3am while you were sitting drunk on a park bench. Its an expensive life to live, and you don’t blame them for snatching up every single decent part time job your city has to offer.

Not really, anyway. Theres certainly a little resentment there whenever a drunken customer cusses you out for refusing to serve them. Perhaps a little hatred when you’re sent in to handle yet another bar fight between two men twice your size. Definitely a lot of frustration whenever you feel the amused eyes of your neighbour as he watches you sleepily fumble with your keys whenever you return home in the morning. You’ve yet to learn his name since he moved in, and part of you doesn't want to. From the few run-ins youve had with him, you can already say that no amount of resentment or hatred or frustration you feel towards your working situation compares to what you feel for him.

That stupid bleached hair that he lets grow into something akin to a shitty mullet before cropping it short again, that brash voice that you can hear through the thin walls of your apartment as he yells at whatever sport is playing on his tv, those strangely soft eyes that watch you with so much amusement as you stumble around your shared corridor. He gets home about the same time as you after his morning run, and you hate it. You hate him. Cocky, irritating, handsome bastard.

“Someone pissed in your cereal, Kitty?” he pulls you from your thoughts with a quick quip. His shoulder is leaning against the wall on your side of the corridor, almost as if he was waiting for you to arrive home or something. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was; he seems the type to imagine camaraderie where there certainly isn't any. Perhaps he sees you as a friend, despite never having asked you for your name, or your age, or where you work, or anything else about you, for that matter. Maybe he’s lonely.

“I don’t eat cereal,” you scoff as you brush past him to get to your front door. He twists his body to watch you amble past him, your keys already poised in hand, “why would i want to eat cold mush every morning? Its gross.”

He chuckles brightly as if you’ve just told the joke of the century, and you weren’t just complaining about the concept of the nation’s favourite breakfast food. The judgemental glare you shoot in his direction happens just as easy as his laughter.

“It's a metaphor, Kitty,” God, you fucking hate that nickname, “surely work can’t have fried your brain that much.”

He wears a smirk that stretches from ear to ear, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he stares you down. Part of you wishes you could sock him right in his pretty little face, but a smarter part of you knows that the muscles that decorate his body arent just for show. He's like a dog in that sense; no matter how cute and unassuming he makes himself out to be, there's always going to be a part of you that understands what hes capable of. Dogs were once wolves, after all.

Your gaze cant help but flicker to a scar on his cheekbone, and then up to the newer one that sits on his left hand eyebrow. They’re not the type that you get from playing a little too rough as a kid, nor the type thats left over from surgery. They’re purposeful and dangerous and it makes you wonder just what he did to deserve them.

“My brain is fine,” you make a point of looking away from the scar above his eye, no longer wanting to dwell on what might of caused it, “not that the state of it is any of your concern.”

He laughs again, his smile cracking his face in two as your annoyance only grows. How is it that he can make you feel so… undermined? With such ease too! Its like every toothy grin is an act of condescension, every comment crawling beneath your skin like beetles. You’ve met plenty of arseholes in your life, and yet theres been no one who angers you quite as much as him.

“I’m just being neighbourly, Kitty–”

“That’s not my name,” you growl out, a thick layer of impatience coating your words.

“Yes, but it suits you,” he says with a shrug, “far better than the one written on the front of your mail, don’t you think?” What business did this man have looking at your mail? You’ve never once paid attention to his, nevermind going as far as to read the name that sits just above the address. You regret it now as you watch the playing field become even more uneven than it already was. Its you against him; the older, stronger, cockier man that knows more about you than you do him. Logic says that this is a game; one that you've already lost.

He says your name, humming it lowly to himself as if its an equation he’s trying to figure out. It sounds good, coming from his mouth, his accented drawl pulling at the letters in a way you’ve never heard before. The vowels get extended and the consonants ring out clear like a bell. It feels like the first time hearing your name, and whilst that might not necessarily be true, it certainly is the first time you’ve liked it. Its the first time its ever felt correct.

You could kick yourself for even thinking something so… pathetic.

“It might not suit me, but it is my name,” you insist as you try to ignore the desperate pitter patter in your chest. Its not a sensation you’re familiar with, especially not when it comes to him. You can only blame it on the romantic dry spell you’ve been facing as of late. Turns out the night shift isn't exactly conducive to meeting new people.

“Sure it is, Kitty,” you grind your teeth against one another, “but what's a nickname between friends, hm?” his teeth glint in the flickering overhead light, flashes of luminance against his pearly white canines. If he truly were a dog, you’d already be running, the look in his eyes telling you exactly whats going to happen if you entertain him for much longer. Like a rodent stuck in the maw of its predator, you can already feel your fate closing in on you. If you don't leave now, you fear he wont ever let you go.

You slip your key into your lock and twist it.

“We’re not friends,” is all you say as you bump your shoulder into the wood to pry it open, quickly slipping inside before locking it behind you.

Theres a chuckle, and a single soft tap against the door.

“We’ll see about that, Kitty.”

——————————————————————————

You sleep strangely.

Despite your mind wandering and your heart rate shifting between erratic and arrhythmic, it doesnt take you long to slip into a dreamland once your head is actually resting on the soft fluff of your pillow. Darkness washes over you like waves lapping at the shore, pulling you further and further into the deep until you’re stuck within the murky abyss of your mind. Fish swim past in the form of dream fragments, very few of them making sense.

Your neighbour grins down at you with a softened gaze, hands flitting around your face as if he cant quite help himself but touch. You feel it so clearly; a finger tip gracing the end of your nose, a warm palm cupping your cheek, minty breaths tickling your skin so perfectly. It feels so natural, which is strange given your regular distaste for the man. And as he pulls his hand away, you can’t help but to chase it. You lean in close; so close that you can almost taste his musk on the tip of your tongue. It feels so real, and while every rational part of you thanks the heavens that it isn't, there's still a tiny voice in the back of your head praying that one day it will be.

And the worst part is, your sleep addled mind doesn’t even try and shut that voice it. It seems to nod along, letting your mind wander further and further until the dreams shifts to you lay on a bed. It’s not your bed, so you conclude that it’s his. You’ve never seen it before, but your mind seems to have conjured up something that works. Dark walls, dark bedsheets, dark furniture, all illuminated by the glow of his laptop which loops an animated screensaver of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn.

Heavy hands paw at your flesh, pushing and pulling at you like you’re a ragdoll. They’re careful, yet firm, putting you in position without pushing too far, or tugging too hard. Its like he’s done this a million times before, and you’d believe it if he had! Everything from his smirk, to the unfounded confidence lets you know that he’s good at this; good at catching women in his trap and fucking them until they belong to him, mind, body, and soul.

And you can deny it if you want, but something tells you that perhaps he has you on a tighter leash than you care admit. Perhaps he already owns your soul, and judging by the way his tongue presses upon your clit in your dream, it’s clear that he already owns your mind. All that’s left for him to take is your body, and would it really be so bad if you gave that to him as well.

If you were awake, you’d be hating yourself for having these thoughts, but you’re not, so you indulge. Your hands fly to his hair and tug on his silky strands like they’re the only things keeping you anchored to earth right now. It’s all too much; far more than you’ve ever felt in a dream before, and before you know it, you’re coming undone. Your heart is hammering, and your eyes are flying open and your own fingers are being drenched in your cum as they stimulate the motion of your neighbours tongue on your clit.

Fuck, you really must’ve been horny if you had to resort to sleep-wanking.

Disgust fills you from top to bottom as you sober up and let sanity rain down on you once more. Your fingers are sticky, but not quite as much as your thighs. Your underwear is seemingly nowhere to be seen, although you don’t doubt that it’s had the same treatment. You feel a mess, both physically and mentally. Seriously! Thirsting over a man you’ve dedicated your last few months to hating? It all feels too surreal to think about.

Yet think about it is all you can do. As you crawl out of bed, you can still feel his breath on your skin, and as you strip with wet sheets and shove them into the wash, you can still practically smell him. The steam that surrounds you in the shower makes your head spin, and its almost like you can’t stop yourself when for the second time that night—although the first time in whisky awake—your fingers find their way dancing over you clit to the thought of him consuming you.

You cum twice, maybe three times before the water turns cold and you’re left shivering and ashamed of yourself. This time it’s worse than when you first woke up, though. You’re conscious, and you willed those images to come into your head. No longer can you give your brain the benefit of the doubt because this time, this is exactly what you wanted, not just some crazy, nightmarish concept you’ve dreamt up.

“Fucking hell~” you growl to yourself as you switch off the water and lean your head against the cold tile. Your fingers are pruned, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the shower or the constant abuse of your poor clit. Either way, it’s a clear signal that you need to get a grip; get out of the bathroom and remove any thought of that man from your brain. These thoughts aren’t normal, you tell yourself as you wrap a fuzzy towel around your body; you don’t even know the man’s name for heaven's sake!

You make a mental note to check his mail the next time you leave the flat. By the end of the day, you want to know as much about this man as possible. If he’s going to take over your every thought, waking or otherwise, then you at least deserve to know the name of the man that’s ruining your life.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?

There’s a knock on your door; three short taps that almost go unnoticed by you. “Shit—coming!” You yell out as you hurriedly slide some pyjama bottoms over your thighs and a loose hoodie over your head. The towel on your hair remains in place, keeping your wet locks contained and out of your face. It makes you feel a little silly, as you make your way over to the door and crack it open to reveal your neighbour, but then you remember that you’ve painted him as a slut, and so a woman with a towel wrapped around her head probably isn’t too unusual of a sight.

“Kitty,” he says with a sly grin the moment the two of you come face to face. What would happen if you just slammed the door in his face, you wonder? Would it wipe that look off of his face? You doubt it; a man like that is only spurred on by rejection. They’re too full of themselves to understand that not everyone in the world wants to get in his pants.

Fragments of your dream flash through your mind.

Maybe you do want to get in his pants…

“What do you want?” You try and push the thoughts of his tongue on you away as you speak, but you can’t push away the warmth that pools in your stomach as he looks you up and down. His gaze is so brazen as it studies your form, taking extra time to travel over your curves. They’re well hidden by the oversized clothing you don, but with the way he studies you, you almost feel naked.

“Oh, nothing much,” he takes his time in returning his gaze to your face, letting his eyes linger on your chest for a moment or two. You’re almost tempted to cross your arms and cover yourself, but there’s some sick part of your brain that’s enjoying the way he looks at you. It’s the same part that conjured up those dreams, and make you play with yourself in the shower; the same part that’s trying to convince you that lusting this hard over a man you’re supposed to hate is entirely logical. You hate that part of yourself, and yet you don’t dare fight it as it takes control. “I made too much food; I wanted to know if you’d like to come over and have some?”

Immediately, your brain goes blank. Stepping into the apartment of a man you don't really know is a bad idea, right? Sure, he’s your neighbour, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. Your eyes flicker across his scars again, and the burning question of where they came from returns. Your mind wanders to all sorts of dark places, and you try to ignore the way it makes the uncomfortable ache in your stomach deepen. You remember reading somewhere that fear is a powerful aphrodisiac and it’s the only explanation for the wetness that’s gathering between your thighs for the hundredth time today. It has nothing to do with his fluffy hair, or how hot he looks when he wears that condescending expression!

Even you can’t seem to make yourself believe that lie.

“I don’t really know you well enough to go to your apartment,” you try to reason, although you hardly sound stern about it. Your voice is weak, shaky, and there’s plenty of room for push back. With your brain teetering on the edge of too-horny-to-be-logical, you have no doubt that if he were to push too hard, you’d be sat at his dinner table by the end of the night. Perhaps you should just slam your door in his face; it would solve a plethora of issues, including giving you the privacy to fix the one between your legs (again).

“Well, my name is Mingi,” he smiles and you almost collapse to the floor right then and there. The name bounces around in your skull. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. It suits him; you like it; you can imagine moaning it.

“Mingi,” you whisper back to him, and his eyes darken.

“It sounds pretty coming from you, Kitty,” suddenly the nickname doesn’t sound so bad. It shoots a tingle down your spine right to that aching spot between your thighs. You gasp, and he looks at you like you’ve just moaned his name for the entire building to hear. Something tells you that the night is heading in that direction anyway. “So what do you say? Come over?”

And against all your better judgement, you nod.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, you just fucking nod.

“Good girl.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi smut

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