#It is not my fault they made them like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sabsberries · 2 days ago

Text

back to you - h.s.

summary - harry and y/n are forced into close quarters unexpectedly, but, despite the tension, it was the best thing that could've happened to them.

w.c. - 5.9k

warnings - swearing, use of Y/N, SMUT, fingering, p in v, oral (fem! receiving), pussy spitting, bondage, happy ending (sorry to my angst lovers)

part 1 can be found here - this also took me a week to write, and I think it's obvious where I finally got motivated...

Harry was fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

Despite both him and Y/N agreeing that their breakup was mutual, deep down, the pair knew she had been the one who insisted and fought for the breakup to take place, and he just went along with it to keep her happy. She broke up with him.

Harry also knew that he was too full of pride, and ego, to tell his friends that the relationship he claimed 'shaped him as a person', and 'gave him a reason to wake up every morning', had ended, and that it was partially (mainly) his fault. He stayed silent until it became impossible to ignore, and reluctantly made the phone call to his friends and family, trying his hardest to keep the embarrassing details to a minimum.

So when he got the panicked text from Sarah at seven o'clock at night, asking if he could come over and babysit because Mitch had managed to break his finger falling over in the shower, Harry was all in.

He jumped out of bed, pulled on the clothes he was wearing the day prior so that no one could tell he had spent his Friday laying in bed watching shitty movies, and rushed into his car.

However, the last thing Harry expected to see when he finally arrived was Sarah's car missing, and Y/N's car in its place. He paused in the driveway, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Had they forgotten that they called him? Was he taking too long so they called Y/N as a last resort instead?

He pulled up next to her car, paused, and turned down the radio. As much as he hated to admit it, even seeing her car was causing his chest to tighten and his throat to ache, and the nagging voice in the back of his mind was slowly getting louder, begging for him to put his seatbelt back on, turn around, and go home.

After taking a few minutes to compose himself, Harry hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut and reaching over to place his palm on the bonnet of Y/N's. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled. "Still warm."

He began making his way towards the front door, his brain spewing possible escape routes with every step he took. The door swung open before he was even arm length away.

"You're here! Did you find the house oka-- Harry." Y/N cut herself off, a half unscrewed bottle of wine in one hand, and the doorknob in the other.

"Me." He deadpanned, throwing her a tightlipped smile. "Expecting someone else?" He shimmied past her, ignoring the way she looked like a guilty teenager who just got caught replacing their parents vodka with water, and pulled off his coat.

"Uhm.. no. Not really. Just, y'know, pizza..." Her voice trailed off unconvincingly.

"Pizza?"

"Yeah? What's wrong with me ordering pizza?" She questioned, slamming the door shut and turning to look at him, an evident accusatory look on her face mirroring that in her voice.

"Nothing. What toppings? I'm starving. And finish opening that bottle." He grumbled. "Where's the little man?"

"Um, pizza is margarita, I can't finish opening the bottle because I can't find the corkscrew, and he is fast asleep upstairs with some white noise playing."

Harry merely raised his eyebrows in what was either shock, surprise, or a mix of both, and made his way over to the kitchen. Y/N trailed after him, grumbling something about how he hadn't even said "Hello," to her yet.

"Corkscrew's in the drawer next to the fridge." Harry explained, pulling it out and showing it to her. "Pass me the bottle."

"So," Harry scrunched his face up slightly as he pulled out the cork, smirking at the satisfying 'Pop!' that followed suit, "Clearly it wasn't pizza that you were expecting at the door."

Y/N paused, and turned her head towards him ever so slightly. "What?" Her voice was slightly breathy as she forced the word out as quickly as possible, and her eyes were locked on Harry's smug face.

"Earlier at the door. You opened it, saw me, and started stuttering about pizza."

Y/N scoffed. "I didn't stutter. I don't stutter. You just caught me off guard. That's all."

"I caught you off guard?" Harry questioned, reaching to grab two wine glasses and pouring in a hefty amount. "Is that all?"

"I don't know what you-- thanks. I don't know what you want me to say!" Y/N defended, grabbing the wine glass he was offering to her and taking a gulp.

Harry stayed silent, and resorted to taking small sips from his glass. For the first time in almost a year, the silence between them wasn't hostile. There were no lingering glances, no scoffs when the other moved, and, the best in Harry's opinion, his brain wasn't fighting itself trying to think of things to get her to finally talk to him.

The noise of the doorbell rang throughout the house, contrasting the silence and causing Harry's head to rattle slightly.

"I'll grab that." Y/N smiled weakly, passing her glass to Harry for him to refill, and rushing over to the door.

Harry stayed behind in the kitchen, swirling the wine in his glass as he leaned against the counter. The sound of muffled voices at the door echoed faintly through the house, and he couldn’t help the way his ears pricked up, trying to catch pieces of the conversation. He knew it was just the pizza, but his stomach still did that irritating little flip it always seemed to do around her. Old habits die hard, apparently.

Y/N returned a moment later with a pizza box balanced in one hand and a slight smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Dinner is served,” she announced, setting the box down on the counter and reaching for her wine glass.

Harry arched a brow, eyeing the box. “Margarita, you said?”

“Yep. Nice and simple.” She opened the box and grabbed a slice, her movements relaxed. "Much better than your weird combinations."

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes as he reached for his own slice. “It’s not weird, it’s called flavour. But thanks for sparing me the judgement tonight.”

“Oh, I still judge you, don’t worry,” she teased, taking a bite.

That earned a laugh from him—an actual, genuine laugh that surprised them both. The awkward tension that had been hovering between them like a storm cloud seemed to crack, just a little. Harry glanced over at her, catching the faint flicker of amusement in her eyes as she chewed.

"How come you're here?" Harry asked, finally taking a bite from the pizza.

Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, almost as if she were coming up with an answer, before she finally spoke. "I had a date."

Harry stopped chewing. "A date?"

"Mhmm. I was getting ready when Sarah called me and told me what happened, and asked if I could come here and babysit. I told her I could, but I had to cancel my date, and she told me to just move it to here. She never mentioned you, though. That's why I didn't expect to see you."

"Ahh." Harry nodded his head, and continued eating his pizza, focusing on unclenching his jaw so that it wouldn't be so difficult to chew. "And, I've been here for, what, fifteen minutes now. Where's the lucky guy?"

"I cancelled." Y/N pursed her lips. "I actually used one of your excuses."

Harry scoffed, "When have I ever used an excuse with you?"

Y/N straightened up and looked at him. "Our second date! Last year you told me that you actually weren't sure about me because you thought I was an undercover fan lying about not listening to One Direction, so you texted me and said you had twisted your ankle and took some strong pain meds to make you pass out!"

Harry nearly choked on his pizza, his laugh bursting out before he could stop it. “I did not!” he exclaimed, though his face betrayed him as he tried to suppress a smirk.

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, you absolutely did. And do you know how ridiculous I felt when I saw paparazzi pictures of you the next morning walking out of the gym? With no ankle brace in sight, might I add.”

Harry let his head fall back against the kitchen cabinet, groaning in embarrassment. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit it. That was bad. But in my defence, you were way too cool about the whole ‘not a fan of the band’ thing. It threw me off!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of a smile playing on her lips. “Right, because I had to be a crazed fan to want to go out with you? Very logical.”

“Well,” Harry said, dragging out the word with a teasing lilt, “you have to admit, I’ve met my fair share of undercover Directioners.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “True, but I wasn’t one of them. I genuinely didn’t care about the band.” She paused, then added cheekily, “Still don’t, actually.”

“Harsh,” Harry muttered, clutching his chest dramatically as if she’d just wounded him.

The laughter between them came easier now, the pizza nearly forgotten as they both leaned against the counter, sipping wine and trading playful jabs.

“Okay, but seriously,” Harry said after a moment, his expression softening. “You cancelled your date. Was it really because of me?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “Not entirely,” she admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting to see you, but I guess… when I realised you’d be here, it didn’t feel right to have someone else show up, too.”

Harry swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over him. “Why not?”

She met his gaze then, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. “Because I didn’t want to make things harder than they already are between us. We’re barely managing this, Harry. Adding someone else to the mix just felt… unnecessary.”

He nodded slowly, his grip tightening on his glass. “I get it,” he said, his voice just as soft.

For a moment, the air between them grew heavy again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It felt like something was being acknowledged—something neither of them was ready to say out loud yet.

Harry cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, thanks for sparing me the awkwardness of a third wheel situation, I guess.”

Y/N smiled faintly, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “Anytime.”

They clinked glasses again, and just like that, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. By the time the pizza box was empty and the wine bottle drained, they were sprawled out on the sofa, laughing like they hadn’t in ages.

The laughter eventually died down, leaving a comfortable silence between them as the night settled in. The living room felt warmer somehow, though it could’ve just been the wine coursing through Harry’s veins—or maybe the way Y/N had let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, his socked feet brushing against hers where she had tucked herself into the corner of the sofa. He didn’t pull away, and neither did she.

“Remember how we used to do this?” Y/N said softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic edge.

Harry turned his head to look at her, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. Except back then, I think we still liked each other.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “We did. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Harry agreed, his smile fading slightly. He let his gaze drop to the rim of his empty glass, his thumb tracing its edge. “I miss that, you know.”

Y/N stilled, her expression unreadable as she studied him. “What, the pizza?” she joked, trying to lighten the moment, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

Harry chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “No, not the pizza. I miss... us. Just being around you. Without all the... mess.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the sound of the baby monitor’s faint white noise the only thing breaking the stillness. Y/N swallowed, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “It turned to shit pretty quick, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, leaning back into the sofa and running a hand through his hair. “But it wasn’t all bad. I mean, we had good bits too, right?”

Y/N smiled faintly, nodding. “We had a lot of good bits. You were... you are a big part of my life, Harry. That hasn’t changed.”

The way she said his name made his chest ache. It wasn’t angry or cold like it had been before. It was soft, almost hesitant, like she was letting herself feel something she wasn’t sure she should.

“You’re still a big part of mine, too,” Harry said quietly, his green eyes locking onto hers. “I know I never said it enough, but I’m sorry for... for everything. For how things ended.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly, her lips parting as if to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned her head back against the sofa, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “It wasn’t just you, Harry. I wasn’t perfect either. I didn’t know how to handle us falling apart, so I pushed you away.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly fight to stay, did I?” he countered, his voice tinged with regret.

The quiet stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Harry shifted closer, his knee brushing against hers. He didn’t know if it was the wine or the way the room felt so heavy with memories, but he needed her to know he still cared.

“I miss you, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. “I miss you too,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Harry’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time in months, it felt like they weren’t running from the truth anymore.

Before either of them could say anything else, a soft cry came through the baby monitor, breaking the moment. Y/N sighed, pushing herself up from the sofa.

“I’ll check on him,” she said, her voice steady, though her cheeks were flushed.

Harry watched her leave the room, his heart still racing. Maybe they weren’t fixed yet—maybe they never would be—but god did it feel nice to sit with her and just talk. No fighting, no spewing insults about the other and the generations before them, just talking and laughing.

The soft cry over the monitor faded as Y/N disappeared upstairs, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit living room. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as he stared at the nearly empty wine bottle on the table. The weight of what they’d just admitted hung heavy in the air.

When Y/N returned a few minutes later, she looked slightly frazzled, her hair falling loose around her face. “He’s fine, just kicked his blanket off,” she murmured, brushing her hands down her thighs as she sat back down. This time, though, she didn’t tuck herself into the far corner of the sofa. She settled closer, close enough that Harry could feel the faint warmth radiating from her.

“You’re good with him,” Harry said, his voice low.

Y/N gave him a soft smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ve had enough practice babysitting for Sarah. Besides, he’s an angel compared to some of the kids I’ve looked after.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes lingering on her face. There was a glow to her in this light, something he hadn’t allowed himself to really notice in so long. “Still. It suits you.”

Y/N arched a brow, her lips twitching. “What does?”

“Taking care of someone,” Harry said simply, leaning slightly closer. “You’ve always had that in you.”

She looked at him, something flickering in her gaze that she quickly masked with a light laugh. “Well, I used to take care of you, didn’t I? Someone had to make sure you didn’t live off toast and pot noodles.”

“Oi,” Harry protested, though his grin gave him away. “You loved doing that.”

“Maybe I did,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. Her fingers played with the hem of her jumper, a nervous habit Harry recognised all too well.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged, the kind of quiet that demanded to be broken. Harry shifted slightly, his knee brushing against hers again—but this time, neither of them moved away.

“Y’know,” Harry said after a moment, his voice dropping, “you still do that. Get under my skin, I mean.”

Y/N blinked, her breath hitching as she met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in just a fraction more, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint mix of his cologne and wine. “I mean,” he murmured, “you walk into a room, and I can’t think straight. Always been like that with you.”

Y/N’s lips parted, her pulse quickening at his words. She should’ve said something to deflect, to break the tension, but she couldn’t. Instead, her eyes dropped to his mouth, lingering there just a second too long before flicking back up to meet his gaze.

Harry noticed, of course he did. He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly confident way that made her stomach twist. “You’re doing it now,” he said, his voice softer, more intimate.

“Doing what?” she whispered, her voice betraying her as it wavered.

“Driving me mad.”

Her breath caught as his hand lifted, hesitating for just a moment before he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, the touch light but enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Harry...” she started, though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She swallowed, her heart racing as she searched his face. “This... this is dangerous.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his thumb brushing lightly against her jaw before he let his hand fall. “But it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Y/N couldn’t help the way her eyes flicked to his mouth again, her resolve faltering. Harry noticed, of course he did, and when he leaned in just a little closer, she didn’t stop him.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips hovering a breath away from hers.

But she didn’t. How could she?

Instead, her hand lifted, resting lightly against his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

“Harry,” she said again, this time softer, almost pleading.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, his green eyes locked on hers.

And just like that, the space between them disappeared.

The kiss started soft, hesitant, as if neither of them could quite believe it was happening. Harry’s lips brushed against hers, testing, waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, her fingers curled against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his jumper like he might disappear if she let go.

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t rushed, but there was a hunger behind it, a need that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her free hand moving to his shoulder as she tilted her head to give him better access. She could feel the warmth of him, the way his body seemed to press closer to hers with every passing second. It was overwhelming and intoxicating all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath.

“This is a terrible idea,” Y/N murmured, though there was no conviction behind her words.

“Maybe,” Harry said, his voice rough and low, his thumb gently stroking the side of her neck. “But I don’t care.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t give her the chance. His lips found hers again, more insistent this time, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. She went willingly, her own hands sliding up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw.

The kiss grew hotter, more desperate, as the tension that had been building between them finally began to unravel. Harry’s hands slipped beneath the hem of her jumper, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her waist, and she shivered at the contact.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. His green eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“We shouldn’t...” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But do you want me to stop?” he asked, his hands still resting on her waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles against her skin.

She hesitated for only a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

That was all he needed to hear. He captured her lips in another searing kiss, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. They gave in completely, their bodies moving instinctively as they closed the remaining distance between them.

Harry shifted, guiding her back against the sofa until she was lying beneath him, his weight pressing her into the cushions in the most delicious way. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down to her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she tilted her head to give him better access.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice raw and full of emotion.

She froze for a moment, her fingers stilling in his hair as his words sank in. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers as if he’d just realised what he’d said.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cradle her face. “I’ve missed you every single day.”

Her breath caught at the vulnerability in his voice, and she felt her resolve crumbling all over again. “I missed you too,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “More than I wanted to.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to hers as he closed his eyes. “Then maybe this isn’t such a bad idea,” he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Maybe we just... don’t fight it this time.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her mind racing as she tried to process everything. But when he kissed her again—soft and slow, like he was trying to prove just how much he meant every word—she realised that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

She stayed quiet as he began trailing wet kisses down her neck, and instead focused on the warmth flowing through her body from the wine. "How mad do you think Sarah and Mitch would be if we had sex on their sofa?"

Harry laughed, and tucked his head into the crook of her neck, placing a final kiss before pulling away and scanning the room. "Blanket?" He asked, turning his head to look down at her.

He'd barely done more than a hickey or two and she already looked out of it. Her pupils were slightly blown, her lips puffy and pink, and her cheeks were flushed. She had never looked more beautiful.

“Blanket.” She reaffirmed, and moved out of the way so that he could lay it beneath her.

Harry smirked as he grabbed the throw blanket folded neatly on the armrest. “You’re really making this easier for me, aren’t you?” he teased, shaking the blanket out before draping it over the sofa.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the soft smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Just trying to be considerate. Sarah’s got that whole ‘no shoes in the house’ rule. I think ‘no bodily fluids on the furniture’ falls under the same category.”

He let out a low laugh as he smoothed the blanket into place. “Good point. But for the record,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at her, “this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to babysit tonight.”

“Oh? And what did you have in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“God knows, but definitely not this,” he said, turning to face her. His expression softened as his eyes met hers. “But I’m not complaining.”

Her cheeks flushed under his gaze, and for a moment, the teasing faded. The air between them felt charged, buzzing with an unspoken intensity. Harry took a step closer, his hands finding her hips as he guided her back against the sofa.

“Still sure about this?” he asked quietly, his voice low as his thumb brushed the hem of her jumper.

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she nodded. She knew this was reckless and fraught with risks. Still, the way he was looking at her with such raw, unfiltered longing made her forget every reason to say no.

“Positive,” she murmured, her fingers gripping the fabric of his jumper to pull him closer.

That was all Harry needed to hear. He leaned down, kissing her with a slow, deliberate intensity that sent a wave of warmth cascading through her body. His hands slipped under her jumper, his fingertips grazing her skin and making her shiver.

She gasped softly, her back arching against him as he pressed her down onto the sofa. His weight over her was comforting and electrifying all at once, grounding her in the moment even as it made her pulse race.

“Y/N,” he groaned, resting his forehead against hers for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smiled, sliding her hands down to the hem of his jumper and tugging it upwards.

He helped her pull the jumper over his head before tossing it onto the floor. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, leaning back down to kiss her.

“And you love it,” she shot back, her fingers tracing along the lines of his chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I really do.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, his hands exploring the soft curves of her body. She let out a shaky breath as his fingers brushed the edge of her bra, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her hips against his.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside fading into nothingness. Every kiss, every touch felt like a silent conversation, years of unspoken words expressed in the warmth between them. As her hands roamed and his lips pressed against her skin, the quiet sounds of their shared breaths and murmured names filled the room. Neither of them cared about the consequences; all that mattered was right now.

“Can I take your bra off?” Harry questioned.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” She laughed, reaching behind her back to unclip it and pulling it off.

Whatever snarky comment Harry had ready to shoot back melted on his tongue as looked down at her. “My gorgeous girl.” He mumbled, ducking his head to kiss along her right boob.

Y/N moaned as his tongue found her nipple, swirling around and biting it gently. “Harry, please.”

“Shh. I’m getting there. Be patient.” Harry muttered. reaching down to pull her thighs apart and pushing his hips against hers.

She arched her back into his chest at the friction, and lifted up her hips, chasing against his as he moved away.

“Turn around.” Harry pulled away, his hand gently rubbing against her hip bone.

“What?” She asked.

“Turn around.” He repeated, this time squeezing down ever so slightly on her hip.

She nodded her head and rolled onto her stomach. “But what if I wanted to see you?” She asked, feigning sadness in her voice.

Harry grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back, holding them in place with one hand whilst the other worked on pulling off his belt. “What if you don’t deserve to see me?” He mocked, looping the belt around her hands and pulling tightly.

“Oh my.. fuck.” Y/N mumbled, dropping her head onto the sofa and arching her back slightly.

Harry’s hips met hers once again, but this time there was a sense of urgency behind. “You alright?”

“Oh my god, yes.” She practically moaned.

Harry smirked, and grabbed the edge of her leggings, pulling them, along with her panties; down her legs in one quick motion. “Good.”

He leaned down and began to pepper kisses down her lower back, kissing any freckle or small childhood scar he could find, before finally sinking his teeth into the meat of her right hip.

Y/N yelped, and Harry’s hand pulled her back in place before she could move away. “You’re fine.” He said, and dipped his head to lick a bold line straight up her slit.

Y/N moaned, her body jostling forwards as Harry wrapped his arms around her thighs and dove right in, not leaving a single spot neglected.

He began to nibble her clit, his thumb quickly moving to rub soothing circles soon after whilst he pulled back to admire what was below him.

“You have got the most gorgeous pussy.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against her right asscheek and lifting his hand to brush through her. He pushed in his fingers, scissoring them open and using the sound of her moans as motivation.

“Are you not going to thank me? Maybe I should just stop since clearly you’re not appreciating what I’m doing for you.” Harry sighed, pulling away completely and sitting up against her.

“No— no Harry please. I’m begging you- please. It feels so good I— Thank you! Thank you, thank you. Please, Harry, don’t stop.” Her words were blending into one, and Harry couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He’d barely touched her like he used to, and this is how she was reacting?

“There’s my good girl.” He smirked, unbuttoning his jeans and shimmying them down his legs. His ground his clothed dick against her, hoping she didn’t notice the way he barely choked out a moan at such a simple touch.

His boxers were gone soon after, and finally, it felt like it was just them again. It felt like everything Harry had wished for had come true, and he was finally where he was supposed to be.

He reached down to grab her hands, bending over her to place a brief kiss against them, and pulled away once again. He rubbed the head of his dick through her slick, collecting as much as he could before hunching over and spitting directly above her clit, moving his dick to chase after it and distribute it.

“You ready?” He questioned.

“So fucking ready. Please, Harry-” Y/N cut herself off with a moan, her hands squeezing against nothing and her already overstimulated body was shaking as he pushed in.

Harry threw his head back as he groaned, his hands twitching with the need to grab something as the pleasure took over.

He waited a couple of moments before pushing in the rest of the way, gradually speeding up until finally his hips were flush against her ass. He bent over her once again, his hands resting against her head.

“I love you, my gorgeous girl.” He whispered, kissing the back of her head.

“I love you more. I’m sorry.” She whispered back, her voice cracking with what was either pleasure or regret.

Harry shushed her gently, and straightened back up so he could hold her hands. He pulled out ever so slightly, and pushed back in, repeating until eventually his whole dick, bar the tip, was out. He waited another moment, and, despite it being extremely unnecessary, spat once again, this time onto his dick, and slammed his hips back against her.

Y/N practically screamed as the pleasure set in, moving her head to bite against the throw pillow as her hips moved against Harry’s, desperate to get him deeper into her.

“Fuck I’ve missed this.” Harry groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Y/N was incoherent. Her moans were gradually getting louder, and she was starting to appreciate Harry making her turn around as she knew that her face would be covered in drool, as well as mascara and lipstick smeared all over.

“Can’t believe you tried to take this away from me. As if you’d ever find someone who could make you feel like this.” He pushed down on her back, forcing her to arch even further into him.

“Please, Harry.” She cried, her jaw aching from the excessive force she was using to bite down on the pillow as a muffler. “Please don’t stop, I'm so close.”

Harry slowed down, his hand dropping from her hip down to her clit and rubbing slow, small circles, whilst his other worked on unbuckling the belt from her hands. “Turn around. ‘Wanna see your pretty face.”

He pulled out of her gently, and watched as Y/N shakily rolled over, her face flushed and makeup ruined beyond repair. “Hi, baby.” Harry grinned, caressing her cheek gently.

“Hi.” She whispered, her voice raw and rasp. Once again, their hands connected, and Harry pushed back into her, their moans harmonising as Y/N clenched around him.

“I’m so fucking close.” Y/N whined, her nails digging into the backs of Harry’s hands whilst her pushing up her chest to rest against his.

“I know, baby. Hold it for me, alright? I’m almost there.” Harry muttered, resuming biting at the hickeys he had abandoned prior.

His hips began to match his harsh assaults on her neck, each thrust matching the way he nipped, licked, and suckled any bare spot from her jawline to her collarbone.

“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum. C’mon pretty girl, let go for me.” Harry whined, dropping her hand and moving to rub circles on her clit.

Y/N was incomprehensible. Her jaw was dropped, and her mouth open as she cried out a mixture of curses and praises as she came, Harry tailing along soon after, whimpers escaping the two of them. He slowed down, now ever so slightly moving inside of her as he watched a blend of their cum fall out of her with every movement.

“Well, shit.” He chuckled, brushing the sweat and hair off of her forehead gently.

Y/N nodded, a small giggle escaping her lips as she looked around the room. “How long do you think it’ll take Mitch and Sarah to figure out what he did?”

Harry smirked, and stared down at her with a look of admiration in his eye. “You open the windows and chuck the blanket in the wash, and I’ll run us a bath?”

“Deal.”

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

taglist - @empathyroad @harryshouseo1 @hannah9921 @hisparentsgallerryy @secretisme4 reply here or dm to be added!

#harry styles #sabsberries #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #one direction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #im sorry it took me so long

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kuroosatoru · 2 days ago

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all to myself - mechanic!toji nsfw oneshot

cw: nsfw!!!, size kink, head(giving and receiving), switch!toji, dilftoji, coworker trope ig, unprotected p in v, he cleans you up ;), not proofread;-;

wc: 2k (yeahhhh it gets pretty steamy, buckle up buttercup)

the summer heat was starting to get to you, the ac in the shop had been broken for a while now and it's not like your boss was making a point to get it fixed. you finish putting a new battery in a car as a bead of sweat crept down your face, preemptively turning around as you see toji's reflection in the silver of the hood, "are you sure you've got that? i wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, doll." he asks, poking fun at the fact you were too small to be working on cars in the first place. you laugh dryly, "seems easy enough if you can do it, does it not?" you reply, causing toji to take a step back. "hey my fault being concerned. boss wants ya though." toji says, his tone had shifted, and you couldn't help but worry that you hurt his feelings, "oh, alright. i'll head over there when in a minute." you reply. toji nods, walking away briskly.

toji was a confusing man, flirting with you one day and completely ignoring you the next. it should've turned you away from him, but if anything, it just made you more interested in the older man.

it's only here do you realize just how good the dark haired man looks in his uniform, his grease-stained coveralls tied around his waist, revealing the black tank underneath, which hugged his pecs and exposed his large arms. your mind began to wander, and toji could feel eyes on him, "it's not nice to stare, y/n!" he yells across the garage with a sly smirk. having been called out, you start to blush and turn around, unable to find something to say back to him. usually, the two of you would have kept going, but something had changed. you say your end of service spiel to the customer, lead them back to their vehicle and make your way into the bosses' office.

you reach the end of your shift, and now it's just you and toji closing up shop. after mopping the floor and counting the register, it's time for you to get changed out of your coveralls and head home. you open the door and start to get undressed when you hear the door open behind you, "oh! sorry i can wait." you exclaim, aware that toji needs to pick megumi up from daycare. he licks his lips, "nah, it's okay, doll. ladies first." he says, backing out of the room. you turn to lock the door, but you decide to leave it open just a crack, hopeful toji would come back or better yet, take you home with him.

you shimmy out of your uniform, and toji watches from the inviting crack in the door. unable to take his eyes away from your beautifully greasy and sweaty body, the way your panties hugged your hips made his throat dry. his mind wandering and leading him to his thick, long, cock making your stomach puff up. he decided then and there that he wanted, no, needed to be inside of you. you turn around, noticing toji,"fuhisguro! what are you doing?" you exclaim sarcastically, opening the door. "oh you don't know what you do to me, y/n." toji practically whispers, closing and finally locking the door behind him, his cock was already twitching at just the thought of finally having you to himself. despite the two of you being alone, you got excited at the potential of getting caught.

toji towered over you, his eyes now darkened with lust. you reach for his bulge and he lets out a moan so small, you swear you misheard him, "oh i think i do." you say, untying his coveralls. your fingers graze his waistband and he flinches. "is this okay?" you ask, slightly concerned you did something wrong. toji looks down at you, "you never have to ask, doll. 's just been a while." you nod, taking the tip of his member into your mouth, swirling your tongue around as he whimpers.

"fuck, y/n." he mumbles, thrusting his cock deeper into your throat, causing you to grip his muscular thighs for stability as you gag a little bit. you dig your nails in, sending chills down his spine; he grabs your hair with one hand and uses the other to wipe the sweat from his forehead. toji can barely handle it, and he lets out a moan as he finishes in your throat.

"shit, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to." he stutters out as he takes his semi-hard member out of your mouth. you smile and swallow his load, making him blush, "it's okay, toji. but what do you want to do now?" you ask with a slight smile as you stand up.

"well, doll. i gotta pick up the kid, so [...]" he trails off, grabbing a shop rag to wipe himself clean. you both put on your normal clothes and head out to your cars so you can go back to your respective homes.

toji could not stop thinking about you whatsoever, and while the blowjob was mind-blowing, he was stuck up on the fact that he never returned the favor. so, after dropping off gumi at his friends house, he decided to go to your place. hoping you decided to stay in for the day. toji arrives and you open the door for him, surprised to see him, "oh? what are you doing here?" you ask playfully. stepping aside to let him in, you finally get the chance to see him the way you've always iamagined.

today toji had on basketball shorts, which didn't leave much left to imagine, not that the burning image of his cock shoved into your mouth wasn't bright as day, but still. you had just gotten out of the shower when he answered, so you had on nothing but a thin robe, causing toji's mouth to water as he imagined the beautiful body underneath. "y/n, i can't stop thinking about that night." he admits to you sheepishly as you lead him to your couch.

"if you sit down, i can do it again," you reply with a smirk, patting the couch next to you. toji shakes his head, "no, doll. i wanted to taste you." he says, now standing in front of you, nudging your legs open with his knee.

"mmm, please?" he urges, taking your hand in his, getting onto his knees. you take a second to think about it, and open your legs to let him in, but not before taking a second to actually look at him. he's rugged. his black hair tousled into a sexily messy pile as his dark eyes looked into yours. you can tell he hasn't shaved in a while, his stubble starting to come back, but you decided that wouldn't be an issue. you needed this.

toji reaches his and towards your now throbbing clit, "oh you're so wet for me, doll," he smirks, finally touching you as you moan in respose. his large digits slide into you as he runs his tongue along your folds, he smiles to himself when he feels you tightening around his fingers. seeing how you moved your hips to have more of him was causing a tent to form in his shorts and he groans against you as he gently takes your clit into his mouth, and you can feel your legs tremble already. you can feel yourself about to finish, and toji can too. your wanton moans filled the room as he kept eating you out.

and then he stops, taking his fingers out of you and putting them into his mouth to suck them clean. "tojiiii," you whine in response, "i wasn't done yet." he smirks at you, any part of his personailty now taken over by lust. he leans forward to kiss you, "im sorry, but i need to be inside of you, doll." he says. as he takes his shorts off to reveal his member, you see the precum leaking from the tip.

he places his fingers on your lips, "open up, pretty girl, i want you to tatse youself too." he commands, and as you suck on his digits, he lets out a loud moan, "mmm, that's a good girl."

toji takes his fingers out of your mouth and uses your spit to lubricate himself, the tip of his dick now positioned at your entrance, begging to be let in. you nod at him, "go ahead, i can take it."

toji is big, much bigger than you've ever had, your face twists in a slight discomfort as you feel yourself stretch around him, "oh you poor thing, not used to having a real man eh?" toji remarks, starting his routine of gentle, short strokes into you. if we're being honest, you weren't 'used to' anything toji did, his deceiving demeanor constantly surprising you.

you wrap your legs around toji as he starts to speed up his thrusts, his long cock poking at your g-spot as you dig your nails into his back.

toji felt the knot in the pit of this stomach tighten as his thrusts got rougher, the rhythm he once had being taken away by how intoxicating your pussy was to him. he buries his face in your neck and leaves bite marks trailing down to your shoulder, "y/n," he warned, "i'm close." maybe he didn't mind having another kid he thought to himself as he saw your face contorting to reflect the intense pleasure his body brought you, "mmmh, too." you mumble, his cock causing you to lose all sense of self as your legs push yourself away from him in a futile attempt to move.

"nuh-uh, doll. no running away this time," toji whispers as he pulls you back to him. now, he's bottomed out, the tip of his member making a clear bump towards the bottom of your stomach. you look down at the symphony of squelching the two of you are making and you cum around toji, gripping his shoulders to stop yourself from ascending to the heavens as your vision turns white. toji grips your hips and proceeds to use you to finish himself off, and you can't say you hated being his toy.

"oh holy shit, y/n. you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, look at you, taking it like a good girl." toji says with a whimper as he finishes inside of you. he doesn't pull out right away, in fact, he never wants this moment to end. with your face contorted in pleasure as your sweet pussy was still gripping him, he thinks to himself maybe i don't mind having another kid.

the puzzle the two of you were entangled in dissipated as the grip you had on toji got exceedingly weaker. your legs fall, letting him pull out. the mixture of your fluids soon started to fall from your legs and as you reach for something to clean yourself up with, he stops you. "i want to do it," he says eagerly, your brain unable to decipher what he meant after toji had you reach your limit just now. "okay, but you have to be gentle," you reply sheepishly, willing to take yourself as far as toji would help you along the way. he grins, excited that you're willing to be his toy.

toji gets back into his well-earned spot in-between your legs, your pussy slightly red from the fun he had just had with you. he blows a cold breath onto you, causing you to flinch in excitement. he kisses your entrance before sticking his tongue inside of you, swirling it in circles just how you did when you started this whole thing. you throw your head back against the couch you honestly forgot you were on and scream, "oh god toji, p-please don't stop." your eyes meet as he starts to rub your clit with his thumb.

"oh don't worry, doll. you're my new favorite toy," he says without taking his mouth off of you. you're barely holding on and you know you should've been done a long time ago, but who would've known toji had this much in him? who could've thought he'd have so much of himself in you?

notes: sorry if it's rough! but wow oh wow has this been something ive thought of a lot. i hope you enjoyed xoxo - jib

#based on that time i worked at a quickservice shop #those men were FOINE #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x reader #choso x reader #nanami x reader

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wqlfstqr · 3 days ago

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◟𖥻 cabin confessions : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

y/n loves gushing about Percy to her siblings, Percy accidentally finds out about this and he's absolutely obsessed with it.

author: i'll never get tired of cabin ten reader x percy, probs will write more abt them because ugh i just love them, also mentions of marriage!!

She sits on her bed, a brush in her hand as she gently runs it through the little girl's hair, her touch tender and soothing, pouring care into each stroke through the knots.

Her siblings sit in a circle around her on the floor, listening to her and hanging onto her every word as she recalls the time she was just friends with Percy.

"How come you two started dating?" Lacy asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

They already know how the story goes, they have heard about it at least twice now, but every time they look as interested on it as if it was their first time hearing about it.

"We were friends for a long time. I always thought that's all we would ever be." She starts, settling down the brush. "Percy was just... you know, Percy. All charming and brave and, well— completely clueless about my crush on him."

One of them giggles. "You had a crush on him first? wasn't he the one that asked you out?"

"Yes, he was, but it took him long enough to do it." she replies, smiling fondly at the memory as she starts to braid her sister's hair. "We kissed first, can you believe it? and even after that, Percy was still a nervous wreck when he asked me out. It was like he had forgotten how to talk and kept stumbling over his words, I honestly thought he was choking at some point."

The group erupts into laughter.

"And did you say yes right away?" Another sister pipes up, leaning forward with anticipation.

"I don't think he would've survived if I didn’t." She grins, her fingers working on the braid. "He was so sweet, he took me out for a picnic by the lake and he was honestly... just so perfect. I couldn't say no to him."

One of her brothers smirks, leaning back. "I would've made him work harder for it."

"He's worth it. He's always worth it." a chorus of 'awws' fill the room just as she's finished with her Lily's braid. "Okay, who's next?"

Lily grins at her and goes to sit down with the rest of the siblings, happy with her new braid, and the next sister in line takes her place on the bed while y/n grabs the brush again.

She knows they're not done with their questions. "And how did you two kiss for the first time?"

Beaming at the question, she tells the whole story again and again, going through the details while keeping everyone's hair knotless and braided.

Percy has always been amused by y/n's relationship with her siblings. Besides Tyson, he doesn't have anyone else to share a cabin with, so he doesn’t really get too many bonding opportunities as she does. She always tells him about the endless afternoons of talking, the movie nights, the blanket forts, and he can't help but feel just the tiniest bit of envy as he listens.

Right now, Tyson isn't even around because he's too busy to come back to camp this summer. So even if Percy's trying hard to respect his girlfriend's quality time with her siblings this afternoon, he ends up missing her too much.

Which leads him here, finally giving up on spending time by himself, he heads towards cabin 10, hoping y/n will let him crash her sleepover because he just needs to see her.

However, just when he's about to knock on the wooden door, he notices it's slightly cracked open. Laughter spills out, and he can even pick up her laugh among the others.

He doesn’t mean to pry, really, but it's not his fault that just when he's about to announce himself, he hears one of her little sisters asking. "And do you think you'll marry him?"

Percy stops right on his track, something just tells him they're talking about him. His suspicions only get confirmed when y/n is the one replying to the question. "Well, we're still young. But I can't picture myself marrying anyone else, you know?"

Gasps and excited chatter fill the room. Some of them beg for her to be flower girls at the wedding, while she tries, and fails, to get them to quiet down.

Percy's frozen in his spot. His heart skips a beat or two at her words. He leans against the doorframe, unable to stop the smile creeping across his face.

"Do you think he wants to marry you, too?" another one asks when the room finally falls silent again.

He does. Percy wants to make his presence known just to answer the question himself.

y/n chuckles softly "Well that's something that you'd have to ask him. But I sure hope so."

"You should propose to him instead." one suggests, they all break into a fit of giggles.

"Maybe I should. Do you reckon he'd like that?" She asks playfully.

Another sibling chimes in "He'd probably faint right on the spot."

Percy can't help himself anymore. Before he can think it through, his knuckles softly knock on the door. Everyone immediately falls silent, turning to look at the doorway, where he's shyly standing.

y/n's smile grows bigger once she looks up and finds him there. "Percy!"

"hope i'm not interrupting anything." he steps in, trying to keep his cool even though his heart is racing.

The Aphrodite kids exchange mischievous looks, some covering their mouths to hide their giggles. Lacy's the one to pipe up. "We were just talking about you!"

"Oh, really?" Percy has to act as if he didn’t know that already, raising his eyebrows as he glances at y/n, her cheeks are already tinted a pretty shade of pink. "Good things, I hope?"

"Of course" she recovers quickly, making some space for him to sit beside her on the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Percy carefully steps around the circle of Aphrodite kids on the floor and plops down beside her. "Just missed you." He replies simply, already reaching for her hand.

Her siblings immediately protest. "Don't distract her! it's her turn to braid."

She laughs, setting the brush down and instead taking Percy's hand, her delicate fingers lacing with his. "Don't worry, I'll still braid everyone's hair. Percy's just here to join the fun."

He chuckles, playfully shrugging. "I've always wanted to learn how to braid, I guess"

Her siblings break into laughter, and y/n rolls her eyes affectionately. That's how Percy ends up being instructed by a bunch of Aphrodite children on how to make a perfect braid while he listens to their chatter, laughing as they share stories with him.

Every now and then, y/n sneaks a glance at him, her eyes soft with affection and he remembers what he overheard. He will never forget it. But everytime she looks at him, he knows she wasn't lying just by the love he's able to see in her eyes.

Later, when everyone is happy with their braids and every story they could think about has been told, they start to drift away to their different sides of the cabin and Percy finds his perfect opportunity to mention what he overheard. He can't keep it to himself any longer.

"For the record." He starts, tugging her closer to him. "I can't picture myself marrying anyone else either."

Her breath catches and her face turns crimson. She immediately hides her face against his chest. "You weren't supposed to hear that!"

Percy laughs, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "Just let me take care of the proposal, yeah?"

She's utterly embarrased, but she finally laughs, swatting his chest lightly as she mumbles. "Deal"

They settle back into each other’s arms, the warmth of the moment lingering between them as they think about how lucky they are to have each other. Next time, when her siblings gather around her bed asking questions, she’ll have some news to share with them.

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fluff #fluff #pjo series #pjo #imagine #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson oneshot #one shot #percy jackson blurb #blurb #cabin ten

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lorec-x · 6 hours ago

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I'm consuming this content[/porn], I think it's super hot and it's great that it exists, and I applaud the aesthetic good sense and the heart and the guts of the people involved in making it.

But even though I get great vibes from this particular production in terms of the makers having the best of intentions wrt working conditions, I can't shake the feeling - with respect to this video in particular - that I'm consuming something that was factory-farmed, or made in a sweatshop. Like too much suffering has to have gone into this. Like maybe the people making this weren't exploiting each other, but they had to have, to some extent, been exploiting themselves.

Because the obesity[/overweight] epidemic just keeps getting worse every year, right. Spreading to more and more geographic areas, higher and higher percentages of the populace.

But somehow the weight-fashion pendulum has swung back around to where it was in the late '90s and '00s - which happens to be more to my taste! - and suddenly once again everyone is having to find actresses with BMIs of, like, 16, to make haute content. And there just aren't very many of those people any more, and they aren't as skinny, and it's harder for them to be skinny than it used to be. And the entertainment industry was a crucible for starlets in the '90s.

I'm not saying there aren't people who can be skinny without "self-exploitative" effort. And I'm not saying that "self-exploitation", itself, must inherently be a problem that warrants outside intervention to interrupt the "self-exploitation" at the expense of whatever else the person valued. I've been falsely involuntarily committed for anorexia [as a minor] myself. I'm not trying to strangle people's pursuit of self-actualization by pretending to "look after their mental health". I know that's unjust.

I'm saying my heart is breaking for the new generation of earnest aspiring artists - who were taught that, if they have to torture themselves to be beautiful and beloved, that's the natural order, and if they fail or fall short of perfection, it's their fault - when, in reality, most of them have crippling lipostat dysfunction that they have been given zero actually appropriate medical tools for dealing with, because the concept of "crippling lipostat dysfunction" has been heterodox to the prevailing medical order since the time of the modernists/Rationalists/Behaviorists, in the 1920s and '30s.

It's rare that kinks get advertised, but the companies that pull it off make some art.

Anoeses in Ukraine put this ad together for their Spring line.

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lanf1an · 2 days ago

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SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 8 - april 15 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 wordcount: 1501

Of course, you felt bad. Dylan’s most important boarding competition of the year fell during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, but you couldn’t not go. To Monaco. It wasn’t just the race—it was everything. Your whole life. Racing was in your blood, the paddock your second home, the people in it your family. Missing a race weekend wasn’t just unthinkable; it was impossible.

“It’s not this competition, I don’t care about that, it’s everything, not going to Japan, …”

”Dyl, I’m sorry, you know racing is my life, it has always been part of my life, I can’t give that up.”

“I should be part of your life now too” you looked at him a bit confused.

‘’You are’’

“I’m so sorry.. I love you and I really thought I could do this, that I didn’t care, not going to Japan, my competitions, all the time apart, but I’m tired of not caring”

“Dyl..” your voice trembled, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t want to lose you, I liked that you had your own life and I had mine, but I want to share the same life as well, like you and your racing friends. I want that, someone to be at all my competitions and know everyone, I’m sorry, I thought I didn’t…” Dylan continued. And he wasn’t wrong to want to share a life with you—one that didn’t revolve around track schedules, podium celebrations, and flights halfway across the world. You were so happy you had found someone that could deal with that, it wasn’t easy. Turns out, it really isn't, not even for the coolest professional snowboarder.

At first you didn’t cry. Not because you thought it made you weak, not because the overwhelming emotion wasn’t sadness. You were frustrated—at the situation, at yourself, at the inevitable clash between the life you live and the life Dylan and most other people wanted, this always having been a subject in your life. - Max showed up later that afternoon, letting himself in with the spare key you’d given him. You were still on the couch, staring blankly at the wall when he flopped down beside you.

“I heard,” he interrupted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Dylan texted me. He knows I’d come to check on you whether you wanted me to or not. Are you okay?”

You blinked at him. “Dylan texted you?” your voice breaking.

Max held up his hands. “Just to say you’d broken up. Don’t worry, he didn’t give me a play-by-play. But I figured you might need your twin brother to cheer you up.”

“I’m fine,” you said while crying, the words feeling hollow even as you said them.

“You don’t look fine,” Max said, his tone softer now. “You look like you’re trying to figure out how to not feel guilty about something that wasn’t your fault.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, trying to wipe some tears away. “It’s just...I don’t blame him. He wasn’t wrong. Racing is my life, and I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t give it up. Not for him, not for anyone. But maybe that makes me selfish.”

Max tilted his head, studying you. “You’re not selfish. You’re honest. And honestly? If he couldn’t handle this part of your life, it’s better it ended now than years down the line.”

“It’s not about handling it,” you muttered. “He wanted a life I couldn’t give him. A normal life. And I wanted him to want this one.” It was a deeper problem that had been a problem in previous relationships and friendships, for Max and you the same.

Max gave you a wry smile, as if reading your mind. “Not everyone’s built for the chaos of our world. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong for living it.”

You stared at him, the only person who understood exactly what you meant being there for you, a lump forming in your throat. “It still sucks.” You hugged him, tears falling from your eyes.

“Of course it does.” he said, holding you. - Two days later, you were curled up on the couch in your London apartment, watching a mindless rom-com when there was loud thumping on your door. Max had texted you earlier in the day asking how you were holding up, but you hadn’t expected him to organize a rescue mission.

“You’re coming out with us,” Max declared the moment you opened your apartment door, his tone leaving no room for argument. Lando stood behind him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I’m really not in the mood,” you protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

“Too bad. You’ve been moping for days, and we’re not letting you wallow.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lando. “Back me up here.”

Lando’s smile widened. “He’s right. You need a distraction. And we’re excellent distractions.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invasion

You really weren’t in the mood, but you couldn’t say no if Lando had flown over from Monaco for this. - The bar was crowded and lively, a blur of neon lights and pulsing music. Lando stuck close to your side, his presence steadying amidst the chaos. Max, on the other hand, had already disappeared into the crowd, likely chatting up someone at the bar.

“Drink this,” Lando said, handing you a cocktail with a lopsided grin.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you teased, taking a sip.

“Obviously,” he stated, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music. “It’s called distraction therapy.”

Max reappeared with shots, dragging you both to the dance floor. The alcohol had loosened your nerves, and you found yourself laughing as Max attempted to teach Lando some ridiculous dance moves. Lando’s face lit up with his usual playful grin, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

The bar Max had picked was exactly what you needed—loud, lively, and far removed from anything that reminded you of Dylan.

As the night wore on, the three of you found a rhythm—dancing, drinking, laughing. Max eventually got distracted by a group of girls, leaving you and Lando alone near the edge of the dance floor.

“You’re having fun,” Lando observed, his smile warm as he watched you sway to the music.

“I am,” you admitted, surprised by how true it felt.

“Good.” He stepped closer, his voice low. “And good riddance by the way, we dont like Red Bull anyway” you laughed, rolling your eyes. - By the time you stumbled back into your apartment, you were drunk, feeling happy, and unsteady.

You had put Max in an uber to his apartment, too drunk to stay. Classic, having to rescue him during his rescue mission for you. Leaving Lando to stay with you ‘’He snores too much when he’s drunk and I don’t want to take care of him’’.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, kicking off your shoes and sinking onto the couch.

“Anytime,” Lando replied, dropping onto the seat beside you. His knee brushed against yours, and neither of you moved away.

The silence stretched, charged with something unspoken. You turned to him, your breath catching at the way his gaze lingered on you.

“What?” you asked softly.

He hesitated, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he leaned closer. “You know what.”

You could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched as his eyes flicked to your lips.

“Lando…”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

But you didn’t.

When his lips met yours, it was like everything you’d been holding back finally broke free. The kiss was hungry, desperate, months of tension unraveling in a heartbeat.

You barely made it to the bedroom, your clothes scattered in a trail behind you. It was messy and impulsive and everything it shouldn’t have been.

WN: Im so sorry guys, took way longer, I was sick :(((((

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden @ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback

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sxcretricciardo · 1 day ago

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I’m back… pt.3

social media au

part two here

•

f1 BREAKING: Norris and Y/L/N are out of the race ⚠️

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username1 omg they’re gonna end up killing each other

username2 damn, but it was clearly Lando’s fault

-> username3 right?? Why didn’t he leave enough space???

username4 the fact that Y/N got out of the car and almost threw hands at Lando she’s a BADASS

-> username5 she isn’t taking shit from him, go girl 🤭

-> username6 as she SHOULD

username7 Oscar asking on the radio if she was okay before asking about his OWN teammate 👀

•

real life

The post-race chaos was a blur as you stormed into the McLaren garage, your pulse hammering in your ears. Every muscle in your body was tense, your mind replaying the sickening crunch of metal and the stomach-lurching spin off the track. The collision with Lando had been entirely avoidable, and you knew it.

Lando was sitting on a workbench, still in his race suit, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. When he looked up and saw you, his jaw clenched. He set his water bottle down, clearly bracing himself for what was coming.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Lando?” you spat, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He stood, matching your intensity. “Don’t start with me, Y/N. You were just as much at fault.”

“Don’t you dare try to put this on me!” you snapped, stepping closer. “I gave you enough room! You turned in on me like you wanted to take us both out!”

His eyes flared with anger, but he didn’t respond right away, and that silence was all the confirmation you needed.

“This wasn’t just a racing incident,” you pressed, your voice shaking with fury. “That was personal. What were you thinking, huh? That you’d knock some sense into me? Scare me? Or were you just trying to hurt me because you still can’t stand the fact that I walked away from you?”

“Stop,” he said, his voice low but warning.

“No, I won’t stop!” you shouted. “You’ve been acting like this ever since I left you—since I finally decided I deserved better than someone who cheats!”

The words hung in the air between you like a live wire, and you saw the flicker of guilt cross his face before he masked it with anger.

“Don’t bring that up again,” he said tightly, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” you shot back. “You ruined us, Lando. You did. And now you’re trying to ruin me on the track, too?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that out there.”

“Then what was it like?” you demanded, your voice shaking. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you were trying to prove a point.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he muttered.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you said bitterly.

Lando looked up at you, his expression cracking just enough for you to see the regret underneath. “I lost my head, okay? Seeing you… seeing you so happy, like none of it even mattered—it got to me.”

You stared at him, disbelief flooding through you. “So you risked my safety—our safety—because you’re jealous? Because you can’t stand the fact that I’ve moved on?”

“Maybe I can’t,” he admitted, his voice quiet but raw. “Maybe I hate seeing you with them—watching you smile at other guys like you used to smile at me. Do you know how hard it is to see that and know it’s my fault? That I’m the one who screwed it up?”

Your breath caught, his confession hitting you like a punch to the gut. But it didn’t soften your anger. If anything, it made it worse.

“You don’t get to play the victim here, Lando,” you said coldly. “You made your choice. You cheated. And I walked away because I deserve better than someone who couldn’t even respect me.”

His shoulders sagged, the weight of your words clearly hitting him, but you weren’t done.

“And now? Now you’re letting your jealousy and regret turn into something dangerous. You could’ve ended my career out there today. Or worse.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” you replied, stepping back. “I’ve moved on, Lando. Maybe it’s time you try to do the same.”

He didn’t say anything as you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the quiet of the garage. But as you stepped out into the paddock, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over—that whatever unresolved emotions still lingered between you would find a way to surface again.

•

yourusername not the result I wanted for this weekend… but I’ll keep pushing to get back those lost points! See you next weekend 💪🏻🫶🏻

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username1 clearly not your fault! That penalty was well given to Lando!

fernandoalo_oficial you got this chica 💪🏻

alex_albon let’s go! glad you’re not hurt

username2 get it girl!! 😍

oscarpiastri 💪🏻

username3 the next dts season is gonna be INSANE I can’t wait 🤭

•

real life

The day had been long and emotionally exhausting. After your fight with Lando, you had barely made it through the mandatory media debriefs without snapping at someone. Now, standing in the paddock under the setting sun, you were relieved that the weekend was finally over.

“Rough day, huh?” Fernando’s familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned to find your teammate leaning casually against the wall, his helmet bag slung over one shoulder. Despite the chaos of the day, Fernando always seemed composed, a stark contrast to your current state.

“That’s putting it mildly,” you replied, managing a weak smile.

He nodded knowingly, then tilted his head slightly. “I heard you’re heading to the Aston Martin headquarters tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Have to go over some data with the engineers.”

“Same here,” he said, his tone casual. “Why don’t you skip the hassle of a commercial flight and ride with me? My jet’s leaving in an hour.”

The offer caught you off guard, but it also sounded like the perfect way to escape the mess of today. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Fernando said with a small smile. “It’ll be nice to have some company.”

An hour later, you were seated across from Fernando on his private jet, a glass of wine in hand. The plush interior and quiet hum of the engines felt like a world away from the chaos of the paddock.

“To surviving another race weekend,” Fernando said, raising his glass with a smirk.

You chuckled, clinking your glass against his. “Barely.”

As the jet cruised through the night sky, the wine kept flowing, and so did the conversation. Fernando was surprisingly easy to talk to, his sharp wit and dry humor making you laugh more than you had all weekend. You found yourself relaxing in his company, the tension from earlier slowly melting away.

But somewhere between the second and third glass, the atmosphere began to shift. His gaze lingered a little too long, and your laughs turned into soft smiles. You couldn’t ignore the way his voice dipped when he said your name, or the way his hand brushed yours when he reached for the bottle.

It was reckless, you knew that, but when he leaned closer, his dark eyes searching yours for permission, you didn’t stop him. His lips were on yours before you could think, the kiss slow and deliberate, leaving no room for doubt about what he wanted.

One thing led to another, and soon you found yourself tangled in the sheets of the jet’s private cabin. It was a blur of heated whispers, soft gasps, and the kind of passion you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Afterward, as you lay beside him, reality began to sink in. You sat up, pulling the blanket around you, your mind racing.

“This can’t happen again,” you said, your voice firm despite the lingering warmth of his touch.

Fernando propped himself up on one elbow, his expression unreadable. “I know,” he said simply.

“I mean it, Fernando,” you pressed, turning to face him. “We’re teammates. This… this could complicate everything. It was a mistake.”

He studied you for a moment, then nodded. “I get it. One time, no strings.”

His calm response surprised you. You had expected more pushback, maybe even an argument, but his easy acceptance only reinforced why you had always respected him.

“Nothing changes between us,” he added, his voice steady. “We’re still teammates. Still focused on the team. This doesn’t leave this jet.”

You exhaled in relief, appreciating his maturity. “Thank you.”

Fernando gave you a small smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly. “Get some rest. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

As you settled back into the seat, your thoughts swirled. You told yourself it was a one-time lapse in judgment, a fleeting moment of weakness.

•

yourusername alexa play “kill bill” by SZA 🔪

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oscarpiastri I hope you liked the cake

-> yourusername you spoil me too much, pastry🥐

-> georgerussel63 you’ve never sent me cake, I’m jealous oscarpiastri

-> yourusername come get your man carmenmmundt 😴

username1 omg Oscar sent her the cake?? What am I missing???

-> username2 RIGHT?? her dating her ex’s teammate would be an amazing revenge 😭

username3 the caption 💀

•

thatf1podcast here’s a sneak peek of our episode with the one and only Y/N Y/L/N 👀

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username1 I need all the teaaaaa 😏

yourusername it was a pleasure 🤭

username2 I NEED THIS EPISODE NOW

username3 I’m loving it 😌

•

tag list: @samantharaytanner @stressed-cherry @anamiad00msday @book-obsesseds-world @hurtblossom @tagteamedbitch @hoeforsirius @jxnellat @tillyt04 @danielshoe @tvdtw4ever @raynetargaryan2 @sadiemack9 @henna006 @wordesthatics @whosluce @mikaalvesreal @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @littlegrapejuice @bakingpiastries @ietss

- part 4 coming soon

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris #max verstappen #charles leclerc #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #lando norris insta au #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you

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amxritt · 2 days ago

Text

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

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gangstalkerbarbie · 3 days ago

Text

i wish i could internalise this but you see the problem is that the fandoms are all american and so is much of the source material and there are just things that... don't translate across cultural contexts that would be essential to doing this? when I try to write my little guys being like me, people think they're overbearing and intimidating because there is a completely, completely different script for how to be a woman in the west, especially among non-jewish people

and that doesn't go away just because everyone wants it to, it's a subconsciously irk that i have to actively mitigate by playing so nice, the most nicest, nicest in the world. i hate playing nice so much it's hardly conceivable

having ocs is about community to share them with and if the community doesn't really want to bother to think about that there are un-American realities where people think and are motivated very differently, then where you end up is that can only play true representations of yourself when they are literal aliens :") literal grey aliens in my case

Anyway this likely sounds like I'm mad at you which I'm not, so below the cut here's some actionable ways to support your friends when they want to introduce you to ocs dealing with their cultural identity:

1. Be normal about it, we're all just blokes here, treat them the same way you'd treat any other person's little player character

2. Ask questions and engage with all their silly little fanon that explains how they're like that in a world where xyz is not textually real

3. When you're close enough people fucking love it when you want to play their ocs family, they don't care about the cultural distance, people marry people from different cultures all the time, they will coach you about how to do this, you will learn so much

4. Thru interaction with them you will gradually realize we're all just blokes and your friend can explain any difference in mentality that could matter

5. There will be such differences and they will be narratively significant but it's possible to be normal and encouraging about it and engage like a normal human with the challenging themes that can come from foreign upbringings

6. There will almost definitely be challenging themes because American imperialism has a very wide reach, and beyond that other imperialism exists. The night is dark and full of terrors out there past the core. Things you can brush aside as too political with your American friends are just part of life in some places, and that's not your fault but it feels pretty surreal to have to elide it for your comfort

This is just like a fact and the sooner you stop being guilty about it as if its your fault the sooner you'll be able to appreciate the poignancy of your friend's oc, the world's dumbest coyote

7. You're allowed to check your foreign friends for getting heavy on you out of nowhere, they're not made of porcelain. You're also allowed to joke.

8. Try to take this as an opportunity to read more widely. Read media from that country and reference it even — your foreign friends have to do it to fit in with you, why not make your ocs aware of the sources of their jokes and cultural memes? One of the most charming irl interactions I've had recently was with a random Michigan guy who knew who Verka Serduchka was

9. All of this applies to intercultural competence in general, armed with the ability to understand how to not make people feel weird and lesser for not being American you will do numbers on Xiaohongshu

Hey. You. If you're a second language English speaker. You should make more of your ocs your own nationality. They don't all need to have inexplicably English names. They don't all need to somehow conform to American cultural conventions. They should speak your first language also. Holds your shoulders and looks you deeply in the eyes. Okay? Okay.

#barbie malding #sorry everyone #actually im not sorry im just saying my piece this is like #meta commentary about my point about having to be fluffy and nice

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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 3 days ago

Text

working late - spencer reid x gn!reader

spencer really doesn't want reader to work late tonight

continuation of 'that me espresso' thanks to @multipleheartbreakhotels!!!

genre: fluff wc: 523 warnings: clingy spencer?

Spence: When can I see you? I’m off tonight. No case.

He really did want to see you. He isn’t sure what it is about you or what you’ve done to him, but he knows he’ll never get enough.

You like him. A lot. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, sweet, he doesn’t talk to you the way other guys always do. You really do want to see him tonight. The only issue is that you have to work tonight.

You: sorry!!! i’m working late tonight

The response comes far quicker than you anticipate.

Spence: Could I visit?

Technically, yes. You aren’t super fond of the idea of him coming into your work but you do want to see him.

You: how about you pick me up after?

Spence: What time?

You smile to yourself and pick out your outfit in your head.

You: 9pm

Spence: See you then.

Work takes longer than usual and you think it’s his fault. While it’s never a thrill, you don’t regularly check the time as much as you have been today. Every customer interaction is bland, each worse than the last. Leave it to Spencer Reid to affect your productivity at work. You find yourself counting down the minutes until you get to see him.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was to be sent a picture of him. You’re certainly not upset about it. Okay, maybe the photo isn’t directly of him but you can see him in it. It’s of the counter in his bathroom. A few of your things sit on top of it. Some things you must’ve left from your night together. His silhouette is visible in the mirror, telling you that he’s wearing a pale blue shirt with a navy cardigan over it. He’s wearing a matching navy tie.

Spence: Want me to bring these?

You could use that stuff but you’d like more to have an excuse to go back over to his place.

You: no, i’ll grab them next time i’m over

Spencer was not expecting that. Of course, he wants you to come to his apartment again. He just wasn’t anticipating you wanting to.

Spence: On my way now.

For some reason, every red light felt like it took ten times longer than they generally do. He knew, statistically, at this time of night, that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t deny the feeling. When he got to your workplace, he couldn’t be happier. Especially now that you’re walking towards a park together, heads covered in snow. He looks over at you.

“What do you think about coffee? It’s late but we could have decaf or, if you’d rather, tea. We could also get something to eat if you’re hungry!” Spencer rambles, his mouth moving quicker than his brain at this point.

“Mmm, coffee,” you chime in joy.

He nods. His hair falls in front of his face as he watches his steps.The idea of coffee seemed simple enough until you actually sat together. His eyes lingered on every syllable your lips formed. It was even worse when you took a sip from the to-go cup. Clearly, he’s obsessed with you, blown-out pupils tracking every last movement made by your perfect anything.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut

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doodle-pops · 2 days ago

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When You Flirt With Them For Fun

Headcanons: Maedhros, Celegorm, Finrod, Glorfindel, Elrond

Request: [Mixed Selection] May I request headcanons for a flirty human reader with Celegorm, Finrod, Glorfindel, Maedhros and Elrond? Reader is flirting with them but she actually has no romantic interest in them. Genre and being sfw/nsfw don't matter for me - dealer's choice. Thank you in advance!!

A/N: I went with the SFW route that was slightly suggestive, it felt more befitting given the ‘non-romantic interest’ and I was in the mood for a good laugh. This was just a lovely request, anon. Thank you for the request!

Synopsis: When you decide to flirt with them despite being romantically uninterested in them, all for the sake of fun.

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Maedhros

𑁍 You had no idea how you ended up befriending Maedhros, but once you did, you realised something very important: the Eldar were woefully unprepared for human audacity, and Maedhros, in particular, had absolutely no idea what to do with you.

𑁍 “You should smile more,” you told him once, watching as he adjusted his vambrace with that usual, distant intensity. “I bet it’d make all the ladies swoon.”

𑁍 He blinked at you, unimpressed. “I am a Prince of the Noldor. My concerns are not—”

𑁍 “Oh, so you already have them swooning? I should’ve known.” You smirked, tapping a finger against your chin in mock contemplation. “Is it the brooding thing? Or the battle scars? Or maybe it’s the hair—tell me, Maedhros, how many maidens have tried to braid flowers into it?”

𑁍 The strangled noise he made was priceless. It became a game after that. You, being utterly shameless, and Maedhros, being utterly unprepared for someone who flirted without actually meaning it.

𑁍 “Would you catch me if I fell?” you asked once, lounging across a bench like some ancient philosopher contemplating the meaning of life. And Maedhros, ever pragmatic, glanced at you and said, “You are sitting down.”

𑁍 “Hypothetically.”

𑁍 “...I suppose, yes.”

𑁍 “Would you cradle me in your arms and whisper soft reassurances?”

𑁍 “No.”

𑁍 “What if I cried a little?”

𑁍 He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose like he was summoning every ounce of patience left in his soul. You were his worst nightmare.

𑁍 Once, after a particularly ridiculous exchange, Maglor (who found you endlessly entertaining) finally asked, “Are you actually trying to court my brother?”

𑁍 “Oh, absolutely not,” you replied without hesitation. “I just like to see if I can make him malfunction.” The absolute horror on Maedhros’ face was a thing of beauty.

𑁍 “You are malfunctioning,” Maglor pointed out.

𑁍 “I am not—”

𑁍 “Name one time you’ve reacted normally to them.”

𑁍 Maedhros opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then just glared at you. “This is entirely your fault.”

𑁍 You gave him a dazzling smile and fluttered your lashes. “And yet, you keep me around. Hmm. Almost like you enjoy my presence.”

𑁍 “I do not,” he lied blatantly.

𑁍 Eventually, Maedhros stopped protesting, but the sighs of long-suffering continued. You were convinced that, despite his protests, he secretly enjoyed your antics. After all, he never once told you to stop.

Celegorm

𑁍 Celegorm first mistook you for a genuine suitor, which was honestly on him. You had flirted outrageously, batting your lashes and trailing your fingers along his arm while calling him ‘my mighty hunter.’ He had puffed up like a peacock, utterly convinced that you had fallen for his rugged charm.

𑁍 “I understand,” he had said gravely one evening, after you had draped yourself over the back of his chair and whispered something about strong hands and archery skill. “It is difficult to resist me.”

𑁍 You nearly choked on your wine. “Oh, you sweet summer child,” you laughed, patting his shoulder. “I just like watching you squirm.”

𑁍 Celegorm sat there, utterly frozen, like a man who had just been hit by a metaphorical wagon. He stared at you, at the sheer audacity, before narrowing his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, human.”

𑁍 “Oh, but you’re so fun to mess with,” you grinned, winking.

𑁍 After that, Celegorm dedicated himself to turning the tables. He flirted back with wild intensity, cornering you in halls with smirks and murmured threats of “revenge.” It became a game, a constant back-and-forth of smouldering looks and ridiculous one-liners. The moment you actually backed off, he huffed in disappointment. “What, giving up already?”

𑁍 “Of course not,” you grinned, sauntering past. “I just like keeping you on edge.”

𑁍 One day, he finally called your bluff, leaning down so close his breath brushed your ear. “You talk big, but I don’t think you could handle me.”

𑁍 You burst into laughter so hard you had to clutch your ribs. “Oh, Tyelko, if I wanted to handle you, I’d have done it already.”

𑁍 He stared. You sauntered away, leaving the great hunter standing there, looking more hunted than ever.

Finrod

𑁍 Finrod had your number from the start. The very first time you tried to lean into him and sigh about how ‘utterly entrancing’ his eyes were, he simply raised a golden brow and smirked. “Oh, is that so?”

𑁍 You pouted. “Must you ruin my fun?”

𑁍 “I would never, but I am curious—do you say this to all elves, or am I special?” he purred, clearly amused.

𑁍 “Oh, you’re special, all right,” you grinned, tapping his chest. “Most elves just blush and stammer. You, however, are proving to be a challenge.”

𑁍 Finrod delighted in the game. He indulged you with little flourishes—offering his hand with an elegant bow, leaning in when you whispered something ridiculous, murmuring things in Quenya just to watch you shiver dramatically and sigh, “Oh, if only I knew what that meant!”

𑁍 “It means, ‘You’re absolutely shameless, and I adore it.’”

𑁍 You gasped, pressing a hand to your heart. “Finrod! And here I thought you were an honourable prince.”

𑁍 “Ah, but honour and amusement are not mutually exclusive,” he grinned.

𑁍 He was insufferable. Worse, he was better at this than you were. One night at a feast, he casually kissed the back of your hand and murmured, “My dear, if you keep looking at me like that, I may start to believe you.”

𑁍 “Oh, don’t do that,” you laughed, squeezing his hand. “I’d hate to break your heart.”

𑁍 “You overestimate your power, my dear,” he chuckled, though his eyes shone with a twinkle.

𑁍 “Oh, do I?” you purred, trailing a finger up his arm. “You wouldn’t be the first elf I’ve made weak in the knees.”

𑁍 “And yet, I am still standing,” he mused. “A mystery indeed.”

𑁍 “Well,” you smirked, “there’s still time.”

Glorfindel

𑁍 Glorfindel was used to admiration. Being a golden-haired, heroic Balrog-slayer tended to make one rather popular. He was not, however, used to your particular brand of shameless flirting.

𑁍 The first time you called him ‘the most devastatingly handsome warrior this side of the sea,’ he nearly choked on his drink. “I beg your pardon?”

𑁍 “Oh, don’t be shy,” you teased, elbowing him. “You know you’re devastatingly handsome. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

𑁍 He recovered quickly. Too quickly. “Oh? And are you thinking about me often, then?”

𑁍 You grinned. “Only in my most sinful dreams.”

𑁍 Glorfindel coughed. You watched, delighted, as a flush rose high on his cheeks. “You are scandalous,” he muttered, shaking his head.

𑁍 “And you like it,” you sing-songed, linking your arm through his.

𑁍 From that moment on, he was both wary and intrigued. You kept him on his toes, throwing winks and suggestive remarks his way whenever the opportunity arose. One time, after he returned from a sparring match, you fanned yourself dramatically. “By the stars, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

𑁍 He stared at you, sweat still glistening on his brow. “Do you ever stop?”

𑁍 “Why would I?” you asked, propping your chin on your hand. “You’re such an easy target.”

𑁍 “I am not an easy target,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

𑁍 “Oh, Glorfindel,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You poor, oblivious thing.”

𑁍 One day, he turned the tables on you, cornering you in a hallway and leaning in just close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Tell me, my sweet tormentor,” he murmured, “what would you do if I took your teasing seriously?”

𑁍 You blinked up at him, your brain stalling for a moment before you grinned and placed a finger on his chest. “I’d be very flattered,” you said, trailing your hand down his tunic before giving him a light shove. “But I’d still be messing with you.”

𑁍 Glorfindel groaned, his face forming a grimace. “You are intolerable.”

𑁍 “And yet, you keep coming back,” you sing-songed, winking as you strolled away.

𑁍 He watched you go, muttering something about humans and their wicked ways. But later, when you caught him smiling to himself, you knew he secretly loved every second of it.

Elrond

𑁍 “Lord Elrond,” you greeted with a smile that was all teeth. “I just want to say that you have the most magnificent bone structure I have ever seen. Have you ever considered the impact of your jawline on the mortal population?”

𑁍 Elrond, to his credit, barely reacted. “No, I have not.”

𑁍 “Tragic. I fear you underestimate its power.” He did not dignify that with a response.

𑁍 It became a sport after that. You flirted. He ignored you. You got more ridiculous. He remained completely, frustratingly composed.

𑁍 “Do you ever get tired of being the most attractive person in the room?” you asked one day, chin in hand, watching him review some diplomatic scrolls.

𑁍 “No,” he replied absently, eyes still scanning the parchment. “It is a burden I have learned to bear.”

𑁍 You choked on your drink. “Oh—so you do have a sense of humour!”

𑁍 His lips twitched, and you swore, just for a second, you saw a glimmer of amusement in those grey eyes.

𑁍 He got his revenge once. You had leaned in far too close, examining his ever-stoic features like some fine work of art, when he turned his head abruptly and murmured, “You are staring, my friend. Do you wish to kiss me?”

𑁍 You jerked back so fast you nearly fell out of your chair. “No!”

𑁍 “Ah,” he said, entirely unbothered, turning back to his scrolls. “How unexpected.”

𑁍 Sometimes, the elves who served him gave you looks of sheer disbelief. You were speaking to Elrond Peredhel, leaning casually against his desk and saying things like, “What if I wrote you a love poem?”

𑁍 “Please do not.”

𑁍 “Too late, I’ve already started. ‘O Elrond, fairest of the fair, with hair like—’ ”

𑁍 “No.” You could almost see him regretting ever acknowledging your presence.

𑁍 Glorfindel, who had been watching the entire ordeal with great amusement, leaned over and whispered, “I have never seen him so consistently harassed before. You are a marvel.”

𑁍 “Thank you,” you said, preening.

𑁍 And yet, despite all his sighs and why must you do this looks, Elrond never once dismissed you. If anything, you sometimes caught him glancing at you with that small, knowing smile of his, like he found you far more entertaining than he’d ever admit.

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needabetternamelater · 4 hours ago

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"'yet another dodge'? have we ever interacted before? i can't find any indication we have. why would you walk up to a complete stranger and say that unless you wanted to start a fight?" Yet another dodge that a prison abolitionist made. You're not the first prison abolitionist I asked.

"if you're so unwilling to read pro-abolition posts in good faith that you resort to misreading standard english grammar just to pretend the only possible interpretation of what i wrote is something counterfactual, there is no point in me talking to you." I've read plenty of pro-abolition posts in good faith, thanks. And no, this is not misreading standard english grammar just to pretend that the only possible interpretation of what you wrote is something counterfactual. Don't pretend things are bad-faith just because you can't answer a question. "like. we already agree on the one single claim i made!" I don't think we do. " you could've opened with something like "while i agree that the vast majority of rapists go uncaught and unpunished under the current system, wouldn't it be better to work on increasing the number who end up behind bars rather than committing to a system in which none of them do?" " Why would I ask someone who already called for abolition that? Their answer is clearly "No." "and then we could've had a conversation about the plausibility of a carceral system gaining the ability to keep rapists off the streets in a useful way. or perhaps we could've talked about the damage of the carceral approach to victims relative to the assumed value of taking a very small percentage of rapists off the streets. or a whole bunch of things. " Also, you've clearly answered that we shouldn't do any of that already. I mean, I've tried that with various other prison abolition things. I don't want a conservation that never quite manages to answer the goddamn question. And statistically, 1% of rapists commit 50% of rapes so the raw numbers don't tell the whole story. And then there's the aging-out factor. "abolitionists aren't a monolith! " So? I'm asking about abolition. Not reduction, not better conditions in prison. That's the boring part I agree on already. "what are you going to do with the rapists and murderers" is a fairly specific policy question, so asking that is akin to asking a USian proponent of universal healthcare "how will you handle religious hospitals/elective plastic surgery/drug shortages/experimental treatments/assisted suicide/etc?" and expecting a pat, satisfying answer every medicare-for-all supporter agrees on off the top of their head." Oh, come off it. I'm not expecting that. Linking to any of the big-names with an actual answer will do for one. For two, the internet is asynchronous and doesn't mean I'm expecting you to have an answer off the top-of-your head, regardless of how many people agree with it. Now, I know you can't actually do that because none of the big-names have tried to actually answer the question - but that is neither my fault nor my problem. #and if you just want to talk#don't pretend you want to listen#i don't particularly want to talk to anybody who is just sitting there waiting for me to say something in an unclear or ambiguous way#so they can declare victory over a strawman#prison industrial complex#dove.txt#t7dtf What I want is an answer to the goddamn question. Not a dozen related questions but the actual question. And the thing is an actual answer would be clear and unambiguous so it wouldn't come up if the prison abolition movement would try to actually answer the question.

But actually, yes, someone should be able to answer the first three questions everyone is going to ask.

#prison abolition #y #jfc #still dodging the obvious question

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christussy · 3 days ago

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boyfriend award

fred weasley x reader

——— fred weasley is ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had ———

he wasn’t your first boyfriend but definitely your last, or at least it felt that way because of how in love you were with him.

laying on his hard chest as he tangled your hair, fred weasley was ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

you came to that conclusion quite early on.

he was the most lovable guy at hogwarts. sure he was irritating and annoying sometimes but his charms made people fall to their knees.

there was a rumor once that a third year was so in love with him they tried to spike his butterbeer, but fred caught on early enough and fed it to ron.

they then had to go to the hospital wing that day which was coincidentally where you and fred met.

madam pompey wasn’t as mad at them as she was at you that day though.

you had just beaten up marcus flint for “accidentally” spilling porridge all over you. the only reason he even did that was because a week prior to the porridge incident, you had left hair removal in his shampoo and now he looked like the mix of voldemort and big bird had a child.

can’t say he didn’t have it coming.

—

when fred heard of your prank, he knew he needed to meet you immediately. the one thing he knew how to do was prank people more horrid than pumpkin candy.

“the ever-popular y/n, tell me your secrets.” fred teased.

“what secrets?” you countered, folding your arms.

fred had you cornered outside the hospital wing but you swore you had never felt as comfortable as now.

maybe it was his looming presence or the warmth of your now bloody jacket, but everything in that moment felt comforting.

“how did your hands land on hair-removing shampoo? and how did it end up in flint’s bathroom? so many questions and none answered.” he said with a curious tone.

“well maybe if you let me talk first i could answer them.”

fred smirked, for some reason your witty response made his heart flip more times than it did during quidditch games.

“i got the bottle from my cousin in the americas, and i convinced one of flint’s friends to exchange the shampoos without marcus noticing. well of course i had to provide payment by agreeing to do his homework for potions but it was so worth it.” you explained, and fred could see the glint in your eyes.

“well done, if it was up to me i would’ve exchanged his body soap for rocks.”

“quite a sadist, aren’t you fred weasley?” you teased.

“not sure what you’re getting at y/n y/l/n. i only enjoy the occasional bloody prank, nothing sadistic about that.”

“Y/N Y/L/N! when I find you you’ll be sporting your own bruises!” marcus flint exclaimed from inside the hospital wing as his friends attempted to take the mirror out of his hands.

“guess he doesn’t like the look of purple and bald on him.” you shrugged with a smirk.

you assumed fred would’ve laughed along but he was looking quite grim.

it was then that you noticed his stiff body and arms fisted on his side.

“fred, what’s wrong?”

“he shouldn’t be talking to you like that. especially if he’s threatening you y/n.” fred said with anger in his eyes.

“calm down. nothing i’m not used to as an aftermath of another prank.” you tried to reason, “it is my fault that he’s in there looking like lord voldemort.”

fred cracked out a smile at that comment before letting his anger dissipate away.

“it’s still not okay. when he gets out of here another prank is coming his way.” fred muttered the last bit to himself but realized that you could hear him as he looked down at you with a smirk.

a smirk that made your knees weak.

a smirk that would stay in your mind for weeks to come.

—

after that conversation, fred weasley had appeared in your life more times than in the past.

the routes you had taken before were now included with a red headed jokester who always smiled brightly at you in passing.

the rumors you heard about all the pranks happening to marcus flint were created by none other than fred.

you found that out on a fateful day marcus flint almost ran into you with pink robes on. he had fred, george, and a bunch of first years tailing after him as they laughed.

fred threw you a wink when he noticed you were watching with shock on your face.

the way your body reacted to his wink made you realize you might just have a crush on fred weasley.

—

putting ur chin on his chest and making eye contact with him, you smiled up at fred.

“something on your mind, love?” fred asked as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“nothing much. just thinking about how we first met.”

“oh yeah, remind me again. was it with marcus flint’s bald head or when you obsessively started stalking me.” he teased you.

“i did not stalk you fred weasley!” you protested with a grin.

“easily could’ve. but there was no reason to, i was hooked from the moment i laid eyes on you outside of that hospital wing.”

when he said sweet things like that, it was hard for you not to fall in love with him all over again.

fred weasley was ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

-chrissy!!!

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #christussy

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ruewritesoccasionally · 22 hours ago

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The Reunion | Aaron Pierre

Pairings: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: none

Series summary: Aaron and YN’s friendship has stood the test of time, but when the chance for something more comes, will they risk everything for a love that feels impossible—or keep circling around the truth of their hearts?

Chapter summary: A night of nostalgia and reconnection at a high school reunion stirs old emotions, leaving two friends questioning the boundaries of their relationship and the possibilities they’ve always left unspoken.

Word Count: 2.5K

a/n: i wanted to try my hand something really cliche and fluffy like a friends to lovers trope - this will be a slow burn (my own fault lol) - writing a series has never been my strong suit so you'll have to bear with me

The smell of something warm and savoury hit YN the moment she stepped through the door of Marcus and Aisha’s townhouse. She could hear the faint murmur of voices and the clink of glasses before the hosts themselves emerged from the kitchen, their faces lighting up in unison.

“Finally! The last piece of the puzzle,” Marcus declared, spreading his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“YN, you look gorgeous, as always,” Aisha chimed in, giving her a quick but warm hug. “Come in, food’s almost ready, and we’re all starving.”

“Let me guess,” YN teased as she slipped off her coat. “Nobody wanted to wait for me, but Marcus said it’d be rude to start without the whole group.”

“She gets me,” Marcus said with a wink, ushering her into the dining area. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, every familiar face instantly making her feel at ease. There was Michelle, always animated, waving her wine glass like a conductor’s baton as she told some wild story. Isaiah, who leaned back in his chair with that quiet grin, nodding along. And Aaron, seated at the end of the table, his presence as steady as ever, offering her a small, knowing smile when their eyes met.

She settled into the open seat beside Aaron, her heart giving the faintest flutter. It wasn’t the kind of flutter that screamed attraction—not outwardly, anyway. It was more like the warm ache of familiarity; the gravitational pull she’d always felt toward him.

“Glad you made it,” Aaron said, his tone easy, like they hadn’t seen each other in a while even though it had only been a week.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, her voice light.

The evening unfolded effortlessly. Plates of food were passed around, stories from their university days resurfaced, and the wine flowed as freely as the laughter. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Marcus raised his glass dramatically.

“Alright, team,” he began. “Before we subject ourselves to the chaos of tonight’s reunion, I propose a toast. To surviving high school, thriving in adulthood—”

“… and for surviving the reunion without resorting to violence,” Michelle cut in, raising her glass higher.

“Exactly,” Marcus said with a grin. “Cheers!”

Glasses clinked, and someone muttered, “We’re gonna need more drinks if we run into Kevin Thompson. That man never learned how to shut up.”

“Amen to that,” Aisha added, and the group erupted into laughter.

By the time the limo arrived, everyone was buzzing—part excitement, part nervous energy. YN had just texted Trey to let him know where to meet them, and now she found herself fussing with the hem of her dress in the mirror by the door.

“You’re good,” Aaron said as he passed by, his tone so casual it almost sounded indifferent. But she caught the faintest softening in his expression, like he’d been paying closer attention than he let on.

“Thanks,” she replied, her smile shy. She adjusted her earrings and turned back to the group, who were gathering coats and handbags in a flurry of last-minute preparations.

“YN, you need to teach Trey our trick for changing the subject when Kevin inevitably tries to corner us,” Isaiah teased as they stepped into the limo, his tone light and teasing.

Aaron, seated across from her in the limo, greeted Trey with a handshake and a brief but polite smile. There was no tension, no lingering looks that might give anything away. Aaron played his part with impeccable grace, though YN knew him well enough to notice the way he carried himself—a quiet, measured restraint that only someone who knew him intimately would pick up on.

The reunion venue was alive with energy, laughter echoing through the halls as old friends reconnected. The music thrummed softly in the background of the high school reunion; a curated playlist of throwbacks meant to stir nostalgia. YN adjusted the strap of her dress and smoothed down the fabric for what felt like the fiftieth time since walking through the doors. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she made her way into the main hall, her date trailing slightly behind her, holding two glasses of champagne. But it wasn’t long before someone approached their group, drink in hand, eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Wow, YN,” they said, their tone light but laced with something else. “I always thought you and Aaron would’ve ended up together by now. Guess a lot’s changed, huh?”

The comment hit like a stone skipping across water, rippling through the group. YN’s smile faltered for just a second, but it was long enough for Aaron to notice. He said nothing, his face a mask of calm as he took a sip of his drink. Trey’s hand rested lightly on her back, a gesture meant to steady her, though she wasn’t sure if he even caught the shift in atmosphere.

“Life’s full of surprises,” Aaron said smoothly, breaking the silence. His voice was even, his smile cordial, and yet there was a weight to his words that lingered even after the moment passed.

As the group moved on, the comment left a faint but undeniable tension in its wake. YN couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest, and Aaron noticed the slight change in her posture, the way her laugh felt a little more forced. He stayed quiet at first, letting the others fill the space. He’d always been good at observing, at reading the room. But he said nothing, keeping his thoughts locked away, as he always had.

The night seemed to stretch in an oddly suspended way, time moving both too fast and too slow as the reunion came to a close. Laughter still lingered in the air, the sound of glasses clinking faintly from other groups still enjoying their night. YN stood with her friends just outside the venue, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the party. Her fingers tugged at the straps of her clutch absentmindedly, her mind flitting between Trey’s steady presence beside her and the earlier comment that seemed to have shifted something imperceptible in the air.

One by one, the group made their way to the limo parked at the curb, the energy mellowing into a comfortable buzz. Aaron leaned against the vehicle, his frame effortlessly commanding as he exchanged a few light-hearted remarks with Marcus and Aisha. YN caught herself glancing his way—his smile, the casual ease in his posture. He looked entirely at peace, and yet, something about him tonight had her questioning if that was entirely true.

As they piled into the limo, conversation resumed, though quieter now. Marcus cracked a joke about one of their old classmates that earned a ripple of laughter, but the words barely registered for YN. Trey sat beside her, his arm draped loosely across the back of the seat, while Aaron settled in across from them. The confined space, while luxurious, felt heavy. Every glance, every movement seemed magnified.

YN found herself hyper-aware of Aaron’s presence—of the way his gaze flicked out the window, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. If he noticed the way Trey’s thumb brushed against her shoulder, he didn’t show it. Instead, he remained composed, even offering Trey a polite, “Good meeting you tonight.” Trey nodded in return, the exchange brief but cordial. It was Aaron’s restraint that struck her most—not a flicker of jealousy, not a hint of bitterness. Just that quiet, unreadable strength he carried so well.

The ride stretched on as the limo began its route of dropping everyone home. First was Marcus, who exited with a lingering grin and a playful, “Don’t forget, we survived high school, but some of these people definitely peaked.” Aisha rolled her eyes but laughed as she climbed out next, pausing to hug YN tightly. As she leaned in, her voice dropped to a whisper only YN could hear.

“Call me in the morning, okay? We’ll talk.”

YN tightened her hold just slightly in response, the gesture subtle but enough to convey her agreement. When Aisha finally pulled away, she offered YN a small, knowing smile before disappearing into the night.

Now, it was just the three of them—Aaron, YN, and Trey. The tension in the car shifted again, more noticeable in the absence of their friends. Trey filled the silence with a comment about the night’s playlist, oblivious to the glances YN kept stealing toward Aaron. When they finally reached Trey’s stop, he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and promised to text her when he got home.

The moment he left the car though, it felt as though the very air changed. YN and Aaron sat in silence as the limo pulled away, the city lights painting fleeting patterns across their faces. She could feel his eyes on her, though she couldn’t bring herself to look his way. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts too loud in the quiet.

“You okay?” His voice broke through, low and steady - his question layered with a deeper meaning, eluding to her happiness.

“Yeah.” She forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired.”

Aaron nodded, his expression unreadable. “It was a good night.”

“Yeah,” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The limo finally came to a stop outside her flat. Aaron moved to open the door for her, his movements deliberate and smooth. She stepped out, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Turning back, she met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them in the quiet.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, YN.” His voice was softer now, almost tender.

She walked to her door, feeling his eyes on her until she stepped inside. As the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her flat felt too quiet, too still compared to the night’s events. Kicking off her heels, she made her way to the bathroom, mechanically removing her makeup and letting the cool water centre her.

Yet, as she climbed into bed, her mind refused to settle. The reunion, the comment, the limo ride—it all played on a loop. And Aaron. Always Aaron.

Across town, Aaron sat in the back of the limo, his thoughts similarly restless. His elbow rested against the door; his fingers pressed to his temple as he replayed the night. The smile on YN’s face, the warmth in her laugh—he wanted her to have that happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. But the ache in his chest told him what he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Some truths, no matter how deeply buried, had a way of surfacing. And tonight felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite name yet.

The morning after the reunion was slow to rise, the early rays of sun filtering through YN’s curtains, casting gentle streaks of light across her bed. She lay still, her duvet tangled around her legs, as fragmented memories of last night played out in her mind like an unfinished film. The laughter, the faces she hadn’t seen in years, the subtle tension that had wrapped itself around her chest like a second skin.

And then, Aaron.

Her eyes fluttered shut again as her thoughts drifted back to the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his laugh. The way he’d greeted Trey with that effortless grace, as though it didn’t cost him a single thing to see her on another man’s arm. But it wasn’t just that moment—it was the echo of words she hadn’t even spoken aloud, the unshakeable ache of wanting something that felt impossible. Her chest stirred with a confusing mix of nerves, regret, longing, and compassion, each emotion vying for space in the quiet of her bedroom.

She sighed, her arm draping across her face as if she could block it all out. This was why she hated reunions. Too much digging up the past, too much pretending things were simpler than they were. Just as she turned over, trying to will herself back into the sanctuary of sleep, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The name flashing on the screen was a welcome distraction.

Aisha.

“Hey,” YN answered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“You sound like death,” Aisha teased, the warmth in her tone softening the jab. “Late night?”

“You were there, you know it was,” YN replied, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“True, but I wasn’t the one with a date,” Aisha countered lightly, her words skimming just close enough to the edge of teasing to make YN’s stomach twist.

“Trey’s not... it’s not serious,” YN said quickly, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. Her voice was quiet, but even she could hear the uncertainty laced in it.

“Hmm,” was all Aisha said in response, a non-committal hum that spoke volumes. “So... you’ve been thinking about last night, haven’t you?”

YN’s silence was answer enough. She stared at the wall, her mind already wandering back to the moment in the ballroom when someone’s offhand comment had shattered the fragile bubble of normalcy she’d tried to build.

“We always thought you and Aaron would’ve been together by now.”

The words had lingered like smoke, choking the air out of the room. YN hadn’t even looked at Aaron then; she couldn’t. Her heart had clenched too tightly at the thought of what could’ve been, what should’ve been—but wasn’t. Aisha’s voice brought her back to the present.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Aisha asked, her tone softer now, almost tentative.

“No,” YN lied, too quickly, and the weak conviction in her voice betrayed her.

“YN,” Aisha pressed gently, “we’re all rooting for you two, you know that, right? We stopped pushing the agenda a long time ago, hoping you’d find each other in your own time. But... we don’t want it to be too late. We don’t want to see you both settle for less when you could have each other.”

YN swallowed hard, her throat tight with unspoken emotion. “On paper we work, but we’re people, not paper,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. The words felt heavier than she expected, like they carried the weight of years of doubt, fear, and unacknowledged longing.

Aisha was silent for a moment, letting YN’s words settle. “You really believe that?”

YN didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was already drifting again, back to the countless moments over the years that had tethered her and Aaron together. The stolen glances, the inside jokes, the quiet understanding that didn’t need words. The way he could read her moods with a single look, how he’d always known what to say—or what not to say—when she needed it most.

Practically soulmates, she thought bitterly. Always orbiting, never colliding.

“You’re not answering me,” Aisha said, her voice pulling YN back to the present again. “You know, for someone who’s so good with words, you get awfully quiet when it comes to Aaron.”

“I’m just tired,” YN said, though even she didn’t believe it.

“Mhm,” Aisha replied, clearly unconvinced. “Well, get some rest. But we’re talking about this. Properly. Tomorrow.”

There was a pause before Aisha added, “And YN? Just... think about it. Really think about it. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?”

YN tightened her grip on the phone, her heart hammering in her chest. “Goodbye, Aisha.”

“Okay, babe,” Aisha said softly, and the call ended with a quiet click.

YN sat in the silence that followed, Aisha’s words echoing in her mind like a haunting melody. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?

She exhaled shakily, leaning back against the headboard and letting her head fall back. The weight of the question settled over her, heavy and unrelenting. Because deep down, she already knew the answer. She was just too afraid to admit it.

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