#MY BOY FAST ASF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

macheriee · 9 months ago

Text

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

#hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon

1K notes · View notes

lilystyles · 2 months ago

Text

you are in love.

written by @lilystyles

my masterlist xx & style masterlist

authors note PART FOUR!!! sorry it took so long to update, i think i'll have to do a fifth chapter to wrap up how i want!! please forgive me by enjoying all this filthy smut and hopefully more from me soon. i'd love some feedback or suggestions for part five so drop them in the asks angels. XX

brief description y/n is living her teenage dream, and despite the snow harry has never felt so warm.

warnings! slight age gap, smut (f! receiving, sex, daddy kink, slight choking, m! receiving, all the usual! romantic asf thoooo) kissing, mentions of drugs and alcohol abuse. (wordcount: 13k!!)

fratboy!older!bffsbrother!harry x younger!innocent!reader

* * * * *

It was late on a Thursday night, and the evening sky was a dark blanket over the world. Everyone was asleep, including the sun.

Y/n’s street was silent. The suburban area was normally loud due to the streets of houses full of loud University students, but tonight, they had left it like a ghost town, and the evening air was eerily silent. Outside the large brick home, the stars twinkled above the streets and clean-cut yards. Tonight’s half-crescent moon shone down through Y/n’s big window as she slept peacefully in bed.

Her face was soft like a cherub, lips tugged in a pout, long lashes kissing at her cheeks. She looked beautiful, even now in the middle of a deep slumber as soft snores escaped her. Tonight, she had fallen asleep early at eight PM like a little kid, so worn out from the past few weeks, she’d had exam after exam, assignments due, and so many lectures to attend. She had one class tomorrow, her Psych class, and was mentally preparing to deal with the lunatic lecturer by having an early night. He was seriously unhinged, and a really harsh-grader.

Y/n had been dreaming of hazy roses and swirls of flannelette shirts, and oddly the smell of vanilla, mint, and tobacco overtook her senses despite being fast asleep, just moments before she woke up with a gasp.

A chill ran up her spine, god it was freezing in here. Startled and still confused as to whether or not she was dreaming she opened her eyes. A loud bang on her window had been what woke her.

Oh god! Is this like horror movies where the hot young university student gets murdered by a masked man?

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest at the possibility. She sat up knuckling her eyes messily, and peering down from her window. On her knees, she was just tall enough to see what had made the noise, which was probably stupid of her to do. Because if it really was some axe murderer with a thing for sleeping girls they’d see her.

With a confused, tired smile, she realised it wasn’t a murderer. No, it was her boyfriend, Harry.

Looking over at her alarm clock it read 1:47 AM. She scratched her head looking down at him. He was standing down by the front yard, a red flannel shirt over his form, under a big football jacket from the Uni team, and considering it was freezing Y/n wondered how he wasn’t shivering in just those few layers.

She thought for a moment that this would be a fond memory of him, one she might tell her children about her first proper boyfriend, her first love. The boy next door. She opened the window, leaning out, and instantly felt cold howling wind pelt her skin.

“Styles! What are doing?!” She whisper-shouted. Not wanting to wake her roommates who were all probably awake studying for final exams anyway.

She must be dreaming, because when he saw her this smile overtook his face, dimples popping and pink landing on his cheeks as he lifted his hand to show a bundle of red roses. A big pink bow wrapped around them and his tattooed hand gripped them tightly.

He looked like something of her dreams, she’d wished for a romance like this, spending nights cooped up reading about boys like Harry who made romantic gestures in the middle of the night. Wishing for a life all as magical as those fairytales. One full of excitement and passion, but also one that was real. She always felt real around Harry.

“Trouble, get some shoes on!” He whispered back lifting his arms dramatically, the jacket straining against his muscles.

She furrowed her brows. “Do you realise what time it is, Crazy?”

Harry smiled up at her, god he’d be the death of her, that smile. It made her stomach curl dangerously, butterflies rippling inside her. “Just get some shoes on, and something warm. C’mon, Baby, thought y’were a bad girl now.” He teased, thinking back to that night in the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes at him shutting the window, as she tried to quietly potter around her room. Finding her pale pink tracksuit pants on her floor, and a thick matching crewneck, she left her thin white singlet on underneath, putting on a random long-sleeve from the floor over it, and the knickers she’d gone to sleep in. Before digging around to find the Ugg boot that paired with the one in her hand.

When she was ready she snuck downstairs and outside. Harry perked up at the sound of gravel crunching.

Y/n, god she was pretty. His heart thumped heart, heat creeping up his neck at the sight of her.

Hair in a long plait at the back of her head, skin all soft from her skincare, and a puddle of pink covering her, and despite the faux-frown on her face he knew she was excited to see him as he was to see her. He rushed over pulling her into a hug close to his chest. She smelled good, like the lavender spray she used on her bed for a good night’s sleep, and he planted a kiss on her head.

Picking her up in the hug and spinning her around. “Hi, Trouble.”

Feet off the ground she squealed quietly in surprise. He was so warm, and he smelt so good.

She looked up at him as he slowly placed her back onto her feet, arms still around his neck. Grabbing the flowers he offered to her as a pink rushed up her neck, “You are crazy, Styles, what are you even doing here?”

“I missed you, what was I supposed to do?” He said leaning down close, and Y/n brushed their noses together, before standing on the tips of her toes as she connected their lips. His firm grip on her waist fell to the curve of her plump ass. Squeezing her closer into his firm chest and warmth.

It was a chaste, gentle kiss, she hadn’t seen him since the weekend of that party. They’d called every day since though.

When she pulled away, a big grin overtook her face, one of his hands fell into hers as he pulled her down to where his car was. Opening the door for her, he made sure she was tucked inside before gently shutting it and walking around the other door. Y/n noticed in his little cup holder her pink scrunchie was there and a strawberry lip mask she’d lost was sitting beside it.

She placed her flowers on the backseat. They looked like he’d stolen them from someone’s garden, in true Harry fashion, he had from their snooty neighbour.

Harry slid inside the driver’s seat and started the engine. It was freezing, the middle of winter, and if not for him she would never have stepped foot out into the bleak winter night. The car was warm already from him driving over.

“Are you some sort of pervert creep stalker or summat? What you got all this for, Styles? A shrine for me.” She said pointing to her little spot of things in the cupholder.

He rolled his eyes looking at her with a sassy expression. “Just returning them to my girlfriend, thanks,”

She was still getting used to those words slipping from his filthy rotten mouth. Harry noticed her flustered face and laughed.

“What? Since I can’t tell everyone yet, I’m gonna boast as much as I can even if it’s just with you.”

She slid her hand into his as he drove down the street heading to, well, Y/n didn’t know where. With this boy? She’d never know what he had planned. “I can’t believe I have a boyfriend now,”

He giggled and stared ahead, but his hand squeezed hers. “Can’t believe I’m the lucky bastard. Was certain I’d never have a chance with you.”

Y/n let out a scoff. “You’re joking, you knew how much I fancied you growing up, Styles.”

He looked over at her. “Well, everyone fancied me.”

She slapped his arm, and he laughed. “Sorry, Trouble, but it’s true…anyway Em made it very clear I wasn’t allowed to engage with you. No matter how much I wanted to.”

She looked over him, in disbelief at what these past few weeks held for them. Harry Styles, her boyfriend was sharing his feelings with her, and it wasn’t even that weird to be with him. Actually, it felt pretty fucking perfect.

“So you chose to act like a foul-mouthed, prick?” She fired back raising her brows argumentatively.

He nodded, biting his lip and smirking, before looking at her for a second to see her face. “At least I got t’talk to you, and admit it Baby, y’pretty fucking sexy when you’re pissed with me.”

She scoffed at him. “And you’re dumb.”

He looked over for a second longer than he should’ve considering he was behind the wheel. “Don’t they say loves make you dumb, Trouble?”

Y/n felt her tummy curl. Love? Surely he hadn’t meant it like that. The car fell silent a soft eighties love song playing on the car speakers as Y/n melted into the leather passenger seat. She was tired, but the excitement of whatever Harry had planned had her too restless to nap. Anyway, it only took around 30 or so minutes of Harry cruising through windy back roads before the surprise was revealed.

She looked over at him, to find him already peering over at her. As she gasped out breathily.

“...The beach?”

She looked out at the dark scene. The waves were deep, crashing, and wild. The reflection of the moon was a sombre scene across the almost black-looking ocean, and the chilly air made it seem all the more beautiful of a landscape. She’d been here before, many times. During most Summer holidays she would be invited to stay with the Styles at their beach house that was not far from here, maybe another two-minute drive or so. This beach held memories of countless afternoons sunbaking and reading, sunrises with Em, and a handful of beach bonfires mostly ending with Harry and Y/n taking care of Emma together.

She’d never been here during winter before, having never been here without the Styles to accompany her. It felt different now, and exciting to be here with just Harry. It was one of her fantasies. She’d had many nights where she laid awake in the twin bed of the beach house next to a snoring Emma dreaming of a romantic moment with Harry. Clinging to the crumbs of affection he gave her…a hand graze hers, a tug on her hair, a pat on the shoulder. She spun her own story of them being something but never imagined it would actually happen.

She turned to Harry, and once again she had to fight off the urge to pinch herself out of this unbelievably magical dream.

“What are we doing here?”

Harry smiled his hand landing on her knee, a welcome warmth during the cold of the night. “I was looking through m’camera roll and I found this photo of you and Em sunbaking right before I dumped a bucket of water all over y’both. Remember?”

She placed her hand on his admiring how large, veiny, and muscular it was. She’d always loved his hands. Tonight he had only his signet ring which was a family heirloom, on his pinky. She stroked it with her finger.

“Of course I do. Remember when we got our revenge?”

He rolled his eyes. “Was you’re idea wasn’t it, Trouble?

She grinned thinking back to the memory. It was a hazy blur of vibrant colours and laughs. That summer they were fourteen and Harry was sixteen, they’d all gotten up to lots of mischief that summer.

The whole time he had been obsessing over this girl who worked at the local cinema. When he’d finally managed to land a date, the girls had wreaked absolute havoc as revenge. He’d spent all afternoon picking out his outfit, fixing his hair to be perfect, and even shaved his slight stubble. The whole family teased him about how excited he was.

They’d been swimming in the pool when he came out to ask Emma if he could borrow her bike to ride to meet Cinema Girl at the ice cream shop. They’d been taking a break to sunbathe on the concrete in the sun when he came over to them.

Emma stood up and so did Y/n, they’d already devised their plan and were ready to take action. Y/n likes to pretend her interest in the ruining of his date had been all revenge-orientated but she knew deep down she was jealous of the curvy blonde surfer girl who was older than her who Harry had been drooling over. When Emma was the first to dive at him pushing him dangerously close to the pool, Y/n knew she needed to join her to knock his suddenly strong body into the water.

She remembers the way his hands clawed at her bare back, in hopes of pulling himself back up, but it was too late. He fell in with a big splash and an angry shout at the pair of them. Laughing so hard they clutched their stomachs when he resubmerged and the way the water fell over his head pathetically. The perfect curls on his head had been ruined, his white shirt soaked, shoes and all.

It was when he lifted himself out of the water absolute murder in his eyes that they finally fled the crime scene. Sprinting through the house and when his loud running was close by, they screamed heading through the front door. Y/n remembers running down the street in just a bikini, all wet, feet bare and as she squealed forgetting how fast Harry was when he wanted to be. Emma who was all legs and spindly back then was off miles ahead and was far from the pair of them. He’d caught Y/n with ease, arms coming around her waist and yanking her back.

“You are so dead, Trouble,”

It ended with him carrying her over his shoulder, hands dangerously close to her bum, and chucking her into the deep end of the pool. But she didn’t care, because after all that he cancelled the date and stayed in to watch Dirty Dancing with all of the girls. Anne, Gem, Em, and her. She noticed the way he smiled at the ending, and she dreamily contemplated if they’d ever have a movie-like dance scene.

She just smirked at him coming back to the present. “I was always the brains behind the operation.”

He eyed her, eyes hooded, “Y’think I didn’t know that?”

She felt herself blush. God, she had such a crush on her boyfriend.

“...Wanna go for a walk?” He asked, turning the engine off, and pulling her back to reality.

She nodded. “Of course. Do you have any other clothes to rug up?”

He looked in his backseat and grabbed a woollen blanket. “I came prepared for you.”

She smiled unbuckling her seatbelt as they stepped outside, the wind was freezing. Harry locked the car and walked around to her it was deserted here. Middle of the night, in the middle of English winter, so that wasn’t surprising.

He handed her the blanket and she wrapped it over her shoulders grabbing his arm and gripping his bicep. He leaned close to her as they walked down the beach. Sand slowed them down, as they walked slowly, listening to the waves crash.

Then she felt a cold speckle hit her face, and she looked up. “Styles, it’s snowing,”

“Oh, wow, it is.” He replied looking up at the snow, then down at her. Flecks caught in her lashes, and he leaned down to wipe them away. Cupping her face in his warm hands.

“You look so beautiful right now, Y/n.”

Y/n blushed, lifting her hand to cover her face. “No, I don’t I look all…sleepy,”

“You always look perfect, Trouble.” He replied, softly, his voice all gravelly. “Don’t hide from me.”

She moved her hands and he leaned down to kiss her. Hugging her close to him, and pulling her up to his lips, they kissed.

Snow fell softly onto them, as they cuddled closely to keep warm. Y/n wrapped them up in the blanket, and they fell into a deeper, more loving kiss. His tongue played with hers, and one of his hands moved to her hair and they melted together until all the air left their lungs. Forcing them to pull back and softly peck each other’s lips a few more times before Y/n rested her cheek near his beating heart.

They walked down to the rocks and back running and chasing each other through the sand, and snow, and god it was freezing, but being with Harry warmed her up more than any other mittens or jackets or fires could.

Jumping on his back and messing around dancing on the snowy beach for an hour, it felt like time slipped by in a wink. When it was around two thirty Harry decided to take them to the beach house for the night. He drove steadily only a street down the road and stopped out the front of this grand big old Victorian-style house painted a soft periwinkle colour, and Y/n felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her as she grabbed Harry’s hand and they stepped out of the car.

The street was silent, she could hear crickets and howling wind, as the snow speckled down onto them.

When they got inside the house it was cold — freezing, and the clothes hanging off their bodies were damp from the snow which made it even worse. As they stepped inside the cosy home it was dark, almost pitch-black but Y/n wasn’t scared because she could feel the heat of Harry’s body behind her following her inside, whispering softly in her ear.

He grabbed her hand, and without turning on any lights he guided her upstairs to the upstairs lounge room. Even in the dark Y/n knew where they were going. It was like a library full of books floor to ceiling, and old antique possessions of Styles family, but it still had these comfy couches and a window seat to stare out at the ocean view. There was a golden-plated fireplace. Y/n remembers hiding away in here a few times when she couldn’t sleep, and sometimes Anne would bring her tea and blanket and kiss her head if she saw her inside.

She had fond memories here, in this house, in this room. Some even with Harry, before he’d turned into a proper brooding teenage boy, they’d read Harry Potter and other fantasy novels stowed away in this room for hours during the summers. Emma wasn’t too fond of reading until she was older and could read erotica, which Y/n felt matched Emma’s taste quite well.

Y/n’s hand reached for the doorframe and Harry stepped inside first. It felt incredibly weird being here during the winter. But Harry’s warmth left it feeling like it was a romantic summer night.

He leaned down and began starting up a fire. Y/n admired the way he stacked the logs, his strong arms flexing as he did so, and he turned her. “Trouble, can y’get me some firelighters, please?” His tone was low like they had company asleep down the hall, even though they didn’t.

The firelighters were downstairs, she nodded at him walked downstairs with his phone for a flashlight and hunted around for a few matches and firelighters. She found them easily, the layout of this home memorised in her mind, like every inch of the boy to whom it belonged.

Pottering around, she made them each a warm tea to warm up. The kettled only took a moment to boil and she filled the mugs up to the bring. Some herbal thing Anne liked. The smell reminded Y/n of those late nights in the library room.

She carefully walked back upstairs her sock-covered feet so quiet on the hardwood floors. She found Harry scrunching up some newspaper and lighting it with a golden zippo from his pocket. She handed him the firelighters silently, and he smiled in thanks, noticing the two mugs of steam in her hands and motioned for her to sit down. She listened and sat down on the plush brown cushioned couch, and she watched him get the fire going and stood, grabbing some candlesticks from the mantle and lighting them.

It would be a while until it warmed up the room, Y/n shivered placing the mugs down on a little coffee table, before grabbing the folded woollen blanket from behind her head and wrapped herself up in it.

Harry joined her side and pulled her under his arm gently. He was so warm, and she melted into his side idly. Trying to shake the feeling this whole night was a dream and she’d wake up, fourteen in her twin bed, and none of this would have ever happened. But it was real.

He leaned down to capture her lips in his, his tender plush lips tasted of mint chewing gum and her lip mask, were real. The warmth spreading up her spine, the nervous race of her heart, and his chilled hands sliding up her back, were so real.Her feelings were the most real they’d ever been.

She kissed him back, with a rawness that was beginning to become familiar between them. The empty house filled with the noises of their soft gasps and sighs, and the gentle crackle of the logs burning away. Harry pressed closer to her, arms encircling her waist tightly. Holding her so close to him, as if he worried this was all a dream too and she’d slip away if he let go of her.

His chest was flush against hers, and Y/n’s hands tangled up in his messy hair to ensure he stayed right where she wanted him. Right here, forever if he’d let her. He was a welcomed warmth and the blanket slipped off their shoulders as the kiss grew more intense.

Their tongues clashed messily, and mouths parted like they were a source of oxygen for each other, soaking each other in. One of Harry’s hands moved to her hip tracing a familiar scar she’d got falling off a trampoline in his backyard. He remembers being the one to wait with her in the hospital while they stitched it.

His knee moved between both of hers, bumping them apart and pushing up closer as she began to fall back onto the couch arms still around his neck and hands in his hair. Moving down to lay on top of her she wrapped her legs around him. Hugging every inch of him closer to her. Her head was tucked up against one of the pillows on the couch, hips rocking against his as he hugged her tighter his hands sliding under peachy bum, squeezing the plump flesh there and sighing contently.

“You are perfect,” Harry uttered, pulling back, kissing cheek and then her jaw. Pulling back again to admire her flushed face. His eyes burned into hers, as a tender look washed over him. “So fucking perfect, god, I could die happy knowing you’re all mine.”

And maybe it wasn’t I love you, but they both knew that’s what he meant. She smiled up at him, a grin, dazzling and toothy. The orange glow of the fire was just enough for him to see that beautiful smile and he melted at the sight. Was it too soon to marry this bloody girl?

He knew that whatever this girl wanted, needed, or asked, he’d do for her in a heartbeat. He was done for. That smile made him want to fall to his knees and kiss the floor she walked on. Her name was carved into his heart, in her soft handwriting, this was it. This was what he’d been waiting for. For her.

“Stay, Styles.” Was all she could muster, flustered and drunk on the taste of him. Her soft voice ran up his spine and he shivered, squeezing her tight.

“I’m not going anywhere, Baby,” He replied leaning down to nose at her neck shyly. Her hands slid under his shirt feeling his soft firm back to hold him here. Anchoring herself to him, she left her mark all over him and he felt his cock twitch. This girl had him wrapped around her little finger, and he didn’t even mind.

“Better not.” She replied breathily, as he kissed along her neck down to her breast nosing at his initial on her neck before moving to kiss along her collar bones.

“Take it off,” She muttered. His hands in no rush lifted off her first layer. Throwing the jumper down as he gazed at the dark long sleeve, tugging that off quickly too, and laughing when there was still another layer. It was the final one, a gauzy flimsy white singlet she was wearing. He could see her nipples pebbling at the cold air and the outline of her perfect body. “This too,” She said nodding.

His hands softly tugged it up off her and threw it along with the rest. Her hands tugged the hem of his many layers and he sat back on his bum to pull them off in one go, revealing his rippling muscles and perfect tattoos. The glow of the flames flickering against his body had a heat creeping between her thighs.

He was a total fucking sex god. She couldn’t get enough of him.

“Harry, you really are beautiful.” She said, all besotten, and the rotten-mouthed Harry Styles actually blushed red at her words. Blushed! A red rosy flush crept up his neck and cheeks, and he smiled shyly, mouth slightly parted.

He tried to find a teasing quip and for once fell flat because Y/n was already telling him to kiss her again, and that was enough to make him come back down, pressing their skin together. The feeling brought them both a comfort they hadn’t expected. Skin to skin, it felt like the closest thing to magic.

Both of them were still dressed in pants Y/n reached for his belt undoing it eagerly, as she never took her lips off his. Eventually, his pants were loose and Harry pulled back for a moment to tug them off messily. Y/n decided to do the same, leaving her in just a pair of silly knickers with cartoon fish on them.

Harry giggled thumbing at the pattern with his big hands. “You are so adorable, sweet girl.”

She smiled shyly blushing. “Shut up and kiss me again, Styles.”

So he did, and things began to heat up as Y/n rucked up against his hips more desperately. A throbbing heat, aching for some form of relief, seeking out his stiffening cock. She rubbed herself softly on his thigh whimpering into his mouth. Positioning herself to rub against him, and what was poking hard into her leg.

And he laughed softly at her neediness, moving his lips to kiss her neck again, resting his face in the crook there pressing even firmer against her. Not realising until now how much he craved to fill her sweet little pussy up. His cock stiffened at the feel of warm wet slick dripping from her cute goofy knickers onto him, and began to push against her. Moaning into her skin, smelling her, and letting himself be completely captivated by her.

She whined at the feel of him. “Harry,” She sighed, all breathy. God, he loved when she said his name, but he did like when she said pretty much anything in that breathy sort of way she got when she was being taken care of underneath him.

He moved back to place a peck on her lips, before travelling down her body, first capturing a nipple in his mouth. Sucking, biting, and teasing her. Loving the sounds that she made from his supple mouth. Whiny gasps of pleasure and wet kisses filled the air.

He kissed further down to her navel and along her hips, a teasing bite against her flesh that made her squeal and laugh, jolting up slightly. “Styles!”

He peppered kissings over the bite in apology, licking a long stripe across it. “Mmm.”

He travelled further down, near the hem of her knickers, at eye level with the gorgeous slick stain begging to be lapped up by him. He looked up to find her already staring down at him, and his hands moved to hips as he nosed at her warmth, watching her squirm from the soft touch. The heady and delicious scent of her perfect pussy filled his senses as he gripped the hem of her knickers desperately.

“G’na be a good girl and let m’take care of you?” He asked her, one of his hands moving up to stroke her cheek gently. Dragging back down her body slowly waiting for her answer, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against his palm.

She nodded eagerly grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Please, please, need you, Daddy,” She whispered sultrily.

“Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna take care of you, Angel.” He replied, moving his hand back down and tugging them down languidly, throwing them to the floor. Welcoming her with the sight of her pretty, wet, pussy. Lips splayed out like a flower in bloom. A pearly sheen coated all over her legs and Harry licked his lips at the sight of her.

He was so hungry to taste her and lick into that pretty hole of hers. The low light of the fire cast a gentle light over her beautiful soft flesh and silky skin. Slowly inching his face closer and he guided her legs over his shoulders, heels landing on his back and thighs pressing to his cheeks, as his hot breath hit her pussy causing her to squeeze her eyes tight and her hands to clench the couch cushion, shivering. His nose bumped into her puffy clit, as he pressed a gentle kiss into her lips.

She breathed out softly, hands moving to his messy hair to hold him there. He began to suck on her clit, causing her hips to jolt up in surprise. His big strong hands came up to push her thighs back toward her, folding her in half, and keep her still while he ate her like she was his last meal.

“Fuck,” She uttered, bringing one of her hands up to her mouth. Harry started by licking up all the mess she’d made between her pretty little thighs getting worked up from their kissing. Normally one to tease her a lot more, but in this moment, he just wanted her to feel the best she ever had.

He noticed the noises she was making were muffled, and not as loud as he wanted, and pulled back to find her hand over her mouth.

“Y/n, Baby, don’t keep me from hearing those filthy little sounds, please.” He said one of his hands grabbing at her wrist, and the begging tone had her dropping them to her sides and squeezing the plush couch.

She blushed bashfully, “Sorry, used to needing t’be quiet, H,”

He smiled at her. “Don’t worry. It’s just us…you and me.” Before moving back down, and tonguing her fluttering hole, his thumb came up to toy with her clit. When she moaned for him, back arching up, and heels pressing further into his muscled back he smirked against her. Pulling back for a moment to praise her gently. “Much better, sucha’ good girl f’ me, love hearing your lil’ noises.”

She whined when his mouth moved up to suck on her clit, and one of his long fingers made its way to stretch her out. It slid in easily, until he was knuckle deep, “Fuck, Daddy,”

He started to curl inside her and move, fucking her, and the noises that escaped her pussy and swollen lips had him fucking his hips against the couch, cock painfully hard. When he added another finger, he could feel the tightness as she squeezed around him. He had started to hit that spot inside her, and the way he was licking at her clit, and suckling on it, her toes were curling and her hands had fallen into his already messy hair. Nails scratching at his scalp and tugging on his hair when he did something made her body twitch involuntarily.

“Oh, yes, there,” She whined when his fingers curled and grazed that spot. “G’na make me cum, Daddy? Can I?” She begged.

He pulled back, fingers still going. “Cum for Daddy, Princess.” Before going back to lick into her again.

She did, one that snuck up her. Causing a surprised gasp to escape her lips.

A white-hot wave flooded over her whole body, causing her to shake, pussy pulsating against him, and toes curling. Sparks snapping down her spine, as a mewl left her throat. Her hips stuttered, and one of her hands moved to claw at his shoulder. He hissed against her but he didn’t stop, and Y/n felt her legs tremble, and she was going to tell him to stop but he felt so good. Despite her feeling sensitive from her previous orgasm, his tongue had her closing her eyes, a heat growing once again, as she rocked her hips chasing that familiar feeling.

He was an expert at it, and it had taken him barely any time to become a master of her body, and knew exactly how to make her finish over and over.

He licked into her cunt, lapping up the tangy sweet flavour of her. Moaning loudly as he tongued her clit, he couldn’t get enough. If he could sustain from just eating Y/n’s sweet little cunt, he’d eat her for all his meals.

Only a few minutes later she was falling apart again, a mess, but this time she squirted all over him. Unexpectedly, she felt a different feeling crash through her, and she screamed out clenching her eyes shut and her legs came to clamp around his head uncontrollably. Harry’s eyes peered up at her one of his hands playing with her nipple and squeezing her soft fleshy breast. A wetness coating his chin and throat, god, she thought for a moment there she stopped seeing and hearing for a second, when she came back to Harry pulled off her with a popping sound and her legs fell limp on either side of him.

His fingers slide out leaving her empty, he lifted them to his mouth and sucked off the last of her. Sitting back on his knees and watching her, hands still wrapped around her legs caressing them as they trembled.

She felt herself clench around nothing, thinking about empty she felt now, and how badly she wanted his perfect dick inside her. He leaned forward again, nose brushing her tummy, as he thumbed over swollen wet petals. Her cross necklace and chain with her initial tickled her skin as he got closer to her neck. “Fuck, it’s so easy to ruin this little pussy, Baby,”

He smirked at her shiver. “Haven’t even fucked you with m’cock yet, and you’re already a mess f’me, my sweet girl.” One of his hands came up to brush some of her stray hairs away from her face. “Hmm, so beautiful.”

She melted into his touch and took a few shaky breaths as he continued to play with her sensitive pussy and hair. “Daddy…” She shut her eyes. “Need you, please,”

He looked down at her tauntingly, hand stroking her cheek. As he hovered over her naked body. He looked edible. His lips were red and probably tasted of her, a devilish smirk crept over his face. And his body, ugh, she wanted to swallow him whole.

“Need me, huh? What d’ya mean?” He teased her, and she pouted up at him. Using her foot to kick his bum in faux annoyance.

“Harryyyy!” She really had missed him, and she really did love this boy. Messy hair, rotten mouth, tattoos, long past of other girls, his habit of teasing her for everything. She loved all of him, and shes certain she always will.

“Babyyyy.” He said back, leaning down to kiss her neck some more, leaving a mark on her collarbone. Laying on her, boxer-covered cock pressing against her warm pussy.

She pouted some more. “Pleaseee.” Her long nails came up to her arms and scratched his biceps, they were so fleshy and strong, she felt so safe wrapped up in them. He smelt delicious, and she nosed at his neck. He smelt like normal — tobacco and vanilla but had a hint of something just Harry, a heady smell that coated his skin. She wished she could stay in this moment forever. Her thighs and legs came up to wrap around him and squeeze him closer if that was even possible.

He stopped his kisses and pressed his nose to hers, brushing them together. “Please what? Can’t help if you won’t be a good girl and tell Daddy what you want…” His thumb came up to rub along her bottom lip. “Hmm? Princess?”

She blushed, staring right into his green eyes, and melted into his palm. “Can you please, please, put that pretty cock inside me, Daddy? I need it. Haven’t seen you in a week. I missed you.” Pouting her lips, she lifted her nails to his sides, scratching along his muscles and tattoos. “Please. Wanna feel you. All of you.”

He shivered at her touch, he couldn’t believe his bloody luck, pretty little Y/n from next door was begging for his cock and she was all his. His pretty girl.

He kissed her, a long one, tongues dancing together playfully, “Such a good girl f’me, Trouble.” He said against her lips and kissed her some more. His hips rutted against hers, and she rubbed against him moaning and kissing him back lazily. He could feel his boxers getting damp from her slick.

He kissed her like that until she was squeezing him so tightly, and whining loud enough that he knew it was evil to make her wait any longer. He pulled back pecking her nose and then forehead, “Y’want me inside, Baby?” His veiny tattooed hand came up to rub her tummy absentmindedly thinking of how full she’d be of him, how he’d be in her tummy hitting all those spots.

She nodded biting her lip. “God yes. You want that too, right, Styles?” She said breathlessly canting her hips against his throbbing cock.

“Yeah, I really fucking missed you, Trouble.” He said, and he sat back on his knees again tugging his boxers off. His cock sprung up, bobbing against his belly, all swollen and hard for her. As big as always, she would never get used to the sight of him. Dripping in pearls of precum, and probably a bit of her slick. His prick was all veiny, big, and hers. Her mouth watered, and she was tempted to slip him inside her throat for a taste.

She hadn’t realised her mouth was hanging open, but when Harry laughed she came back to, “What?”

“You’d think I’d never fucked you before,” He teased, licking his lips.

She sat up, eyes still trained on his stiff prick, unable to look away. “Not my fault you’re abnormally large, Styles, it’s what gives you the right to walk around like you’re gods gift,” She paused hand coming out to give him a few lazy strokes, he hissed when her thumb ran over his leaking slit. “This perfectly crafted fucking dick. Made just f’me. Right?”

His head fell back, and his eyes squeezed shut, how could feel so close to coming just from her hand tugging him a few times? Christ. His hips started fucking into her hand desperately against his mind’s better judgement, this woman had him under a spell. “Yes, Princess, all of me is made for you.”

She pressed their foreheads together and guided the tip to touch her. Gently pressing into her wetness.

He whined. “Y/n, mm fuck, Angel,” And slowly entered her, feeling her squirm at the size of him. Stopping when he was all the way inside her. He nosed at her throat and felt her arms and legs wrap around him tightly. “You okay?”

She nodded and kissed his cheek, “Yeah, Styles, I’m good. Move f’me.”

As he started to pump inside her at a slow pace, he could feel how wet, tight, and hot she was inside. He had to fight not to finish quickly. Moaning loudly, as her hands scratched into his skin.

“Mm, shit,” She whispered squeezing hers shut, despite the fact he was moving slowly his thrusts were still deep and hitting her g-spot hard, her body was relaxed from two orgasms, and she didn’t know if she’d last long.

“Feel good, Petal?” He asked.

She nodded bumping their noses together. “Kiss me, please.”

So he did, a deep kiss, and his thrusts unconsciously went faster. Hitting that spot rapidly, and she was moaning loudly against his lips, she pulled apart to let her fall down as she panted.

“I think you’re gonna make me cum, fuck,” She mewled, and the way her pussy clenched on his cock he knew she was telling the truth, one of his hands snuck between them and while still keeping the same pace he rubbed her puffy little clit and felt it throb at his touch.

“Cum, Baby.” He ordered.

Her legs tightened around his hips and she hugged him, shaking fiercely, and cried out soft calls of his name. And he felt a dampness shoot over his thighs and cock. She’d squirted again, and he kissed her at that.

“Good girl, so good,” He cooed, pumping her through it, as he felt his own orgasm not far off.

She kissed his neck. “Will you cum in my pussy, Daddy, please? Wanna be full of you.”

And the unexpected words that spilled from his mouth made his cock twitch, and heat pool in his stomach. “Yes, Princess, m’ close.”

His head fell into the crook of her neck and shoulder and he grunted, hips speeding up and becoming more sloppy all at once.

“Yes, Daddy, cum f’me. Mmm.” She moaned, and her pussy clenched on him. And he whined, hips stuttering at her words.

“Fuck, Baby,”

It was only a few more seconds of him pounding into her and he came, hard, a guttural groan left his lips and he fucked her until all of his cum was stuffed inside her. She whimpered at the feeling, and he fell on top of her tiredly, and she hugged him close.

He lifted his head up to kiss her, cock still buried deep in her. “I- you are so perfect, I wish we could stay like this forever, Trouble.” He almost said it — those three words, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong impression. He wanted to say I love you without her thinking it had anything to do with sex.

“Me too, Styles.” She replied smiling.

They kissed a long, unhurried kiss.

When they pulled back Harry shifted them into a different position leaving his softened prick inside her for a few more minutes. Not quite ready to pull out of her.

Her back pressed into his chest, and he wrapped his big arms around her waist, squeezing her nice and close to him. Stroking her head and peppering kisses all over her, she sighed softly into his touch and in a few minutes she was asleep.

Deep heavy breaths rose and fell in his arms, letting her rest like that for a few more minutes. When he felt his eyes start to droop too, he kissed her head and woke her up to make sure they wouldn’t be all sticky. She moved over and Harry walked to the bathroom. He came back with a warm flannelette and wiped her bits and legs, kissing the tender areas as he did. She whimpered at the feeling, and Harry made sure to peck her lips and whisper sweet nothings to her.

They got back onto the couch, deciding to sleep nice and close to the fire, Harry threw the blanket over them tucking Y/n into his chest, his back against the sofa, and hers against him. Hugging her so tight she wouldn’t be able to escape, even when he lulled off he held her like the most precious thing in the world.

The fire raged for a good few hours, and when they woke up a bit later to the alarm they set to make sure Y/n got back for her class in time. Harry helped her get dressed and fixed her hair, guiding her sleepy form to the car and letting her sleep during the drive back home. Making sure to take care of her, one of his hands resting on his thigh for most of the drive.

As they drove home the sun was rising and Y/n’s soft sleepy snores filled the car, Harry watched her sleeping with the utmost admiration.

“I love you.” He whispered to himself looking at her through tired eyes.

It was around seven thirty when they pulled up to Y/n’s house. She sleepily knuckled her eyes, and they both looked ruined, having got only four or so hours of rest.

Harry woke her gently rubbing her shoulder. “Home, Baby,”

She groaned wiping her eyes and stirring. Before leaning over to him, “I don’t wanna goooo…”

He smiled at her and moved his hand to caress her head. “Want me to pick you up after your lecture? I’ll make you some food, and we can nap. Hmm?”

She nodded. “Sounds good, Baby,”

He leaned over to peck her lips and then unbuckled his belt to open her door for her and walk her inside.

Hand in hers he walked her to the door, Y/n threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him deeply as Harry’s hands travelled down to her peachy bum and squeezed it. Harry placed one final peck on her puffy lips and tucked his head into her neck spinning her around in a tight hug before plopping her back on her feet and kissing her hand that was joined to his before waving goodbye and heading back to his car.

What the two hadn’t seemed to notice was Emma’s peering gaze from behind one of the many big oaks. For once she’d gotten up early, made it to her six o’clock pilates class, and was actually on her way to walk with Y/n to their Pysch class, two large seasonal coffee cups in her hands and a cute little teal workout set on ready to triumph the day. This was probably the second time in the semester Emma hadn’t been hungover or slept in and was actually here to attend the lecture with Y/n.

So of course Y/n hadn’t expected to see her best friend, and Emma of course had not expected to see any of that.

She had been whistling happily, chirpily walking two warm delicious smelling coffees and a hop in her step. The sun was shining despite the winter air, and she only had one more exam and she was done for the Uni semester! What was there to be annoyed about? And even though this Pysch lecturer was insane, at least she’d be with lovely Y/n who would definitely tell her all the answers to the quiz that was going to take place.

She’d been so excited to surprise Y/n with a coffee and a muffin and plan the many many many parties over their coming winter break on the walk to campus. But she’d immediately stopped in her tracks when she saw her brother’s car. What the fuck was Harry doing there? Maybe shagging one of Y/n’s roomies?

But when she saw Y/n step out of the car in her pyjamas, and all close to him, Emma knew.

She watched them kiss and giggle and had to fight the urge not to throw up, scream, or cry. Instead of doing any of those things she froze and ducked down behind the tree hiding from Harry’s car as it drove off.

Devising silently what to do with this situation, she sat down on the grass and waited for a couple of minutes. Catching her breath and calming down from the shock.

Before soon heading to knock on the door and pretend she hadn’t seen a thing, she decided it would be best to mull things over, despite the rage thrumming through her, she plastered the biggest smile she could and waited for Y/n.

Y/n answered, now changed into a fresh set of warm comfy clothes for the lecture. A cosy big knit and a skirt with thick tights under, and these tall boots. She had a brush in her hand and was raking it through her messy hair.

“Oh! Em! What’re you doing here?” Y/n said, peering up owlishly, and smiling. Not having expected to see Emma of all people, especially so early. She only joined the class because Y/n was taking it and then never came to a single lesson this semester.

Emma raised the two coffee cups. “We still have Psych this morning right? I bought those new cinnamon roll syrup coffees, Babe. You said you wanted to try them.”

Y/n smiled, pulling her in for a hug, “Oh you’re the best come up, I still need to do my makeup and then we can start walking, yeah?”

Emma nodded a tight-lipped smile and followed Y/n up to her room.

Now that Emma thought about it, Y/n had been happier than normal, and Harry had been more relaxed. Less of a grumpy old oaf, and much calmer. She hadn’t seen a string of people leaving in the morning and Harry coming down hungover. She hadn’t heard drunken stumbling inside, she hadn’t smelt the familiar potent smell of Harry smoking upstairs, and she hadn’t noticed his lack of appearance at most events where Y/n wasn’t. Not until right now.

God, how could she be so stupid!!! Was she blind? She didn’t know how she hadn’t realised. She knew Y/n had fancied him when they were younger, and Harry had their whole friendship, but she’d made it clear to both of them that she didn’t approve.

How had this whole thing slipped past her? Why were they keeping it from her? Obviously, she didn’t approve! How could she? Her brother fucked anything that moved since he was fourteen, a party boy, drugs and sex a part of his daily ritual. Parties every night, and a thirst for people that could not be quenched.

Though she loved him he had many great qualities, he was and always would be the boy who came in wrecking all her friendships by shagging the girls and ditching them.

And Y/n was hers, her best friend, and she had warned him many times that he could not go there with Y/n. Y/n was untouchable, off-limits, and innocent. Y/n wasn’t a party girl, she stayed home reading or studying, watching cheesy old shows and calling her grandma every Tuesday during her break between lectures. Y/n was perfect and sweet. She had such little experience with boys and life.

The handful of interactions Y/n had with boys had been due to Emma’s involvement, having only been with two boys her whole life. Jeremiah from sixth form who she’d lost her virginity to, Keiran an Irish lad they’d met on their holiday to Greece during a Uni summer who Y/n had spent a few weeks with. They’d met up in a few different countries that summer and shared a short romance that ended when he went back to Dublin and Y/n to London. They’d mainly just kissed, but Emma managed to find out from Y/n that Keiran was particularly good with his mouth and had a thing for eating girls out, he preferred it to sex.

Emma had also hooked up with both of them. She had given Jeremiah a blowie a year before he took an interest in Y/n at a house party. In Greece, Emma had been the one to kiss Keiran on the dancefloor before moving on to his friend Jordon who was a rugby player for the Cork team when she realised Keiran was not a famous rugby player, only a builder.

Emma never liked the idea of anyone taking advantage of Y/n, she was sweet, and she knew her brother had to be using her for a shag. Y/n would be of no use to him otherwise. Just another notch in his belt.

Harry would never be a boyfriend guy, and Emma knew Y/n wasn’t fuck buddy material she would get attached to a pigeon in the park if it ate enough of her crumbs.

Emma refused to believe Y/n could be as naive as to fall for it. Harry was masterful with his charm, and so was she. The two siblings chewed people and spat them back out. Y/n had always noticed the restlessness about them. So, Emma could recognise what they were, and accept that settling down just wasn’t in their nature.

As Emma watched Y/n place some blush on her cheeks in the ensuite, she walked over to where Y/n’s phone was charging. A few messages popped up on the screen.

Harry Styles🍒

You are so cute, show me your outfit for today.

Call me when you are done, Baby. Em should be at Zayns we can just chill. XX

Emma gritted her teeth and placed the phone down.

She had to think of a way to stop this and prove what Harry’s true intentions were. He couldn’t possibly love her or care, there was no way.

The walk to campus was nice, the cold had turned to a crisp clear day, and as they walked through the main bustling part of campus they saw Niall and a bunch of his frat friends chatting by Lily’s Cafe, which was the best spot on campus. It had cheap coffee that tasted good and food that didn’t look like it’s gonna run away from you.

Y/n worked there in her first year, Zayn was a barista there so they had been heading there for free donuts before their lecture. Niall spotted them, he was in a backward cap and a cosy-looking oversized crewneck and sweats, he jogged over.

“Sexy ladies, what are we up to?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “What does it look like, we are here to get a jet to Dubai, we are obviously getting coffee.”

Y/n giggled. “Don’t worry, Ni, Em is not a morning person.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “What’s got you moody Em, Zayn ain’t as good in the sack as rumours say?”

“Shut up, Niall.”

Emma and Niall never really got along, they butted heads a lot, and Niall was one of the only people to stand up to her. He thinks the reason Emma hates him is because back in first year they’d come to a frat party and of course, he’d spotted them instantly.

Y/n had been in his pink flowy dress, her hair styled up in a sleek look, big gold hoops on her ears and she looked beautiful. Niall remembers working his way over to flirt with her and being rudely interrupted by Emma. She was fit too, with a black dress and an attitude, but she wasn’t Y/n.

He hadn’t known Emma was Harry’s sister, he should’ve known from the attitude and brooding good looks, but he hadn’t put two and two together until Harry walked over to tell the girls off for coming when he’d told them not to.

Emma walked into Lily’s as Y/n stood next to Niall.

“How are you, mate?”

Niall lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulder and pull her into his side. “I’ll be better tonight. Please tell me you are coming?”

Y/n sighed. “Oh god, what’s tonight?”

“Cops, robbers, and sluts party at Sigma Pi Gamma.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Peter’s frat. I fucking hate that prick.”

Niall laughed. “No one likes him, Babe,”

“I don’t know if I’ll go…” Y/n said absently, thinking about curling up with Harry watching Murder She Wrote and eating Chinese takeaway.

“You have to come, if you don’t I’ll have to deal with Paddy and his mates alone. I need you..bring Styles, I need my emotional support friends.”

Y/n smiled at him. Now that she thinks about it Niall was probably one of her closest friends other than Emma. Even though Emma always tried to talk down on him. “I’ll talk to him, Em probably already planned on dragging me there tonight. What are you going as a cop or a robber?”

Niall smirked cheekily. “I’m going as a slut obviously.”

“We’ll see if I can find a costume in time. I don’t think I have anything.”

Niall shrugged and they both watched Emma through the glass window as she curled up in Zayn’s arms. “I’m sure Emma will. She’s pretty much been to every party on campus since you two arrived. Even when she was sick last month I still saw her at Seth’s place, she’s sure to have a costume for you.”

“Why don’t you two get along?” Y/n asked after a moment of silence as they soaked in the rays of the sun that today provided, the snow had stopped.

Niall laughed. “Other than the fact she’s creepily obsessed with you? She’s never liked me. I think it’s ‘cause of that one time.”

Y/n frowned. Since when was Emma obsessed with her? Emma only really cared about herself, and Y/n felt guilty as the thought crossed her mind, but Emma really did only ever focus on herself. Her outfit, her hair, her looks, her current boy of the week. Her frown deepened, what one time?

“What time? Did you two hook up or summat?” Y/n asked curiously.

Niall burst out in a cackle. “Her? And me? Puh-lease kid. She’s so not my type.”

It was true, Niall liked softness…everyone he’d dated had been like gentle teddy bears.

“What then? Flirt with a guy she fancied?” Y/n questioned. Emma got pretty territorial.

“My flirting seems to be rather forgettable, Babe.”

“Huh?”

“Do you remember your first freshers party?” Niall asked.

Y/n thought back to her first party. She wore a flowy pink dress that Harry said made her look like fairy floss, and he’d been pissed that she even came out he didn’t like them drinking.

“Sure, summer theme right?”

He nodded. “I flirted with you all night.”

Y/n laughed in disbelief. “You did?!”

Niall smirked. “Yeah, then both your guard dogs barked at me for it. You didn’t seem to notice though.”

Y/n giggled. As if Harry cared.

“Y/n that boy has been obsessed with you since forever.”

She rolled her eyes. “No way.”

Niall then in an instant pulled up a photo of the four of them on his phone. Niall, Emma, Harry, and Y/n at a party in the girls first year, they were all dressed up for Pride in rainbows and celebrating. Harry was mooning down at her staring as Y/n grinned under Niall’s shoulder.

“Look at the way he looks at you.”

Y/n smiled, blushing. “God, he’s so annoying.”

“He’s in love,” Niall replied, certain, and Y/n leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“You are a romantic aren't you, Horan?”

To that, the boy ruffled her hair. “Maybe I actually believe in it now. Are you gonna help me with Paddy?”

She nodded, “Of course, mate,”

This warm fuzzy feeling stayed with Y/n all the way to the Styles place. The day had turned beautiful so she’d decided to walk there.

Emma had left to be with Zayn but they promised to see each other at that party that night. Apparently, it was impreative that Y/n come, and now that Niall had begged her she had no choice.

When Y/n arrived at the flat she found Harry half asleep in his boxers on the couch doing a Uni assignment. Laptop on his lap and a blanket wrapped around him. He looked up at the sound of someone using the key in the door.

She stepped inside smiling at him. God, wasn’t her boyfriend yummy?

“Hey Baby, you walked?” He said happily and was going to get up to greet her but Y/n practically flew on the couch, dumping her bag on the floor and landing in his arms.

She nuzzled into his side and kissed his neck in a warm greeting.

“Stylessss,” She mewed out, the weight of their practically sleepless night hitting her now as she melted into his side.

“Baby,” He sighed back, a hint of arousal melted down his spine at the way her lips kissed his neck ready to give her anything she asked. Jesus, this girl. His girl. She’d be the death of him. He’d spent half the night making love to her, and now she was doing this, and he was almost ready to go again and she’d hardly touched him.

Harry had to admit to himself that having a girlfriend, especially when it was Y/n was actually rather lovely. If you asked him a few months ago about his thoughts of relationships he’d say he dreaded the idea of being stuck with one person. The idea of being tied to only one, and feeling stuck, but now that he had his Y/n he didn’t feel that at all. He’d gladly stick to her for the rest of his life.

He was completely and utterly besotted with her, so when she looked up at him in her cute little way he knew he’d soon be agreeing to whatever she asked of him.

“Can you do me a favour?” She practically purred, fluttering her lashes and looking up at him. She knew he’d give in, he was a sucker for her eyes. He always talked about how much he loved them, her pretty bedroom eyes.

“What is it, Trouble?” He asked, his pupils already dilating at the way she pressed her hand into his thigh rubbing him with her soft hand. She really was trouble.

She fluttered her eyes at him once more. “I’ll give you anything you want if…” She paused licking her lips and leaning in closer.

“If I what, Trouble?” He asked, biting his lip and lifting his hand to push the hair that had fallen in front of her face away. “Hmm? What is it, Baby?”

She dropped the act, bringing her hands together in a begging motion, “If you pretty please come to this ridiculous party tonight to help Niall with Paddy’s mates? Plus Em was gonna drag me anyway, I need you with me. Pleaseeee!”

Harry groaned throwing his head back against the top of the couch, showing off his neck that was covered in marks from last night. He really had not wanted to anything but sleep and hopefully hangout with his girlfriend in peace.

“Babyyy, we were gonna have a nice night innnn, I’m so tireddd.” Harry whined out his hands covering his face, he’dalready planned a night of binging that silly show Y/n liked and kissing her, a lot.

She nods, pouting, and putting her hands on his shoulders rubbing them softly with her palms. “I know, Baby, I know, but if you do I promise you won’t regret it.”

He looks up, a devilish smirk crossing onto his face. “What will you give me if I do, hmm?”

She smirks back at him and leans forward to plant a kiss on his lips, they taste like toothpaste and strawberries. He must have been eating them before she got here. She lets out a soft little moan against his lips as his hands creep up under her shirt. God, she really can’t get enough of this boy. He’s just..ugh. Her need for him is insatiable.

His hands grip her tighter and he pulls onto his lap urgently. She giggles against his kiss and lets her hands mess with his gorgeous hair, her nails scratching the nape of his neck causing him to sigh out. She pulls back and begins to pepper kisses down his neck and shoulders, over his swallows tattoos and further down.

“Please?” She asks, pouting her lips and fluttering her beautiful eyes at him.

He looks at her, “Y/n, don’t do the face.” He’s almost begging because he wants to give this girl the whole world and more, for nothing in return.

She moves off his lap sinking to her knees onto the floor of the plush shag carpet, and she places her hands on his thighs, sitting between his muscular legs. She begins to caress his legs gently, her small delicate hands slowly travelling further and further up his bare legs. “What face?”

He throws his head back for what feels like the thousandth time. “God, Baby,”

She sits up a bit, tucking her feet under her bum, kneeling right before him as her hands travel to his waistband playing with it teasingly. He shivers under her touch arching into it subconsciously. “Should I stop, Styles?”

He shakes his head looking back down at her and biting his lip. “No.” Harry slowly moves one of his down to her face, he rubs warm skin, a big hand cupping her cheek like he’s done many times before. “Such a good girl, aren’t you?”

She kisses the palm of his hand in response and then moves forward to kiss his tiger tattoo on his muscular thigh. He lets go of her face moving his hand into her hair and pushing it back from her eyes. “So pretty, Baby,”

She blushes and then moves her kisses up along his other thigh and nipping at the milky flesh of the inner part of his muscle, leaving a little pink love bite that causes his breath to hitch and dick to rise in his boxers even more. Fuck. She was fucking made for him. No one had ever understood him and his body so well. Not like his Y/n.

He lets go of her face grabs her small hand in his brings it up to his waistband and puts it inside his boxers and she feels him. She slowly pulls his hard throbbing dick out with the help of his hand guiding her. As she lets go it springs up against his tummy and she shuffles closer and looks up at him.

“What do you want, Daddy?” She whispers. “My mouth or my hands?”

Harry smirks bringing his hand yet again to her face dragging a thumb across her glossy lips.

“Mouth baby.” He drawls, as his hand slides down her throat gently stroking the side of her neck before drifting to her shoulder and pulling her even closer to him.

She leans down, her warm breath fanning against him, as her glossy lips graze his pretty pink tip. Then, one little kitten licks teasing against his glistening cock, and his hands instantly come flying down to her hair. Without much thought, he tugs it back out of her face so she can get to work on him just how he likes.

She purses her lips a trail of spit landing on his hard cock, dripping down all the way to his balls. She opens her mouth and then slowly takes the head of him in her mouth, sucking gently, causing Harry to moan. His thighs flex as he fights not to push up into the back of her tight hot throat.

As Y/n expertly starts to move up and down on him, he clenches his jaw letting out a deep grunt. The part of him Y/n can’t fit in her mouth she grabs with her hand that is already covered in slick from his messy tip. This causes Harry’s thighs to shake a little bit as his hips stutter into her mouth. She makes a choked noise bringing him out of the haze of pure bliss she’d given him. He doesn’t want to be too rough with her, but she’s making it hard.

“Sorry, Petal,” He says, a pinched expression covering his features as he looks down at her. “You just make me feel s’good.”

She has tears in her eyes as she takes him ever deeper, the sight in front of him is downright filthy. His pretty girl takinghis big cock in her little lips, choking and crying over it, all desperate to make him. He watches her, as her throat chokes around him. Y/n fights the urge to stop — her lungs begging for her to take a breath. Harry’s eyes practically roll back in his skull and he moans.

“Oh, fuck, Trouble.”

She pulls up for a gasp of air, her hand still stroking him at the pace he likes, the trail of spit a mess on him and her hand. His tip is leaking pearls of precum, and his prick twitches in her grasp. Despite her only just starting he feels close, so close. Dangerously, so.

“You can be rougher if you want, Daddy,” She says breathily. “I won’t mind.”

He brings his hand to her face, “C’mere.”

She pouts. “But I promised to take care of you.” She says not moving from her kneeling position.

“I know Baby, and I’m so close to cumming. Pretty fucking mouth. All mine.” He praises gently caressing her head. “But I want you. Need to fuck you.” He asks pleadingly. “Will you let me, Angel?”

Y/n agrees at that and climbs messily onto his lap. He kisses her, with a deep passion that makes her tummy curl deliciously with want. Harry tugs the layers of her clothes off in a mess with rough hands. He’s wild, untamable, not stopping until she’s just in her cute icy blue bra and that skirt with the little tights that drive him wild. He’d always been a sucker for Y/n’s short skirts.

“Are you particularly attached to these tights, Trouble?” He says softly as he peppers kisses down her neck It is making it awfully hard for her to think straight let alone form a coherent sentence.

“Hmm, no, why?” She says breathily, eyes fluttering shut in his firm gentle hold.

His answer is one of his strong hands travelling over the curve of her body to her rounded ass, and clawing at the flimsy fabric until he has access to the pale-coloured knickers she was wearing and better access to her silky supple skin. She tugs his hair and kisses his lips hastily, too horny to care about her tights as he begins to toy with her already-dampened knickers.

She whines into his mouth pulling back as she drags her hips along his exposed, sensitive length. “Mm, fuck, Daddy.”

This causes Harry to falter letting out a deep groan. “You’re s’fucking beautiful. You know tha’?”

Y/n giggles in reply. Slowly moving her hand from his chest down to in between them, she grabs her knickers pulling them to the side. She knows what she wants, and she’s going to get it. With her slick-covered fingers, she grasps his aching cock. It throbs with want against her palm, and she guides the leaking head to her entrance. She winces at the sting of him, and Harry watches her with hooded eyes as his hands massage her bum. He watches as Y/n slowly takes him inside of her.

The head of him nudging past her folds, her sweet pussy slowly enveloping the rest of him. When Y/n finally sinks all the way down she lets out a straggled cry, Harry groans into her ear trying to keep his pleasure at bay. “Oh fuck, right there.” She whispers into his neck, giving herself a second before she moves.

“You okay, Trouble?” He asks quietly brushing some hair from her face and kissing her hairline.

She looks up into his eyes and nods at him. “I’m good Styles. You?” She whispers back as the burning sensation melts into something of toe-curling pleasure.

He nods as a heart-stopping grin splits across his face and he leans close to place a few kisses on her lips. “I wish I could be inside this pussy, all day, every day. You know that?”

She whines and starts to move a little, grinding forward causing him to graze that spot that makes her eyes roll back, she gasps a little and Harry didn’t know he could be this fucking turned on. She repeats that motion a few times before finally getting her knees in the right position to start bouncing up and down on him. He watches her with those green eyes as Y/n starts to move up and down.

Her hands fly to his hair tugging it, as her lips clash against his messily. Feeling his lips on hers grounds her, her body shakes in pleasure as he grunts from her rough tugs on his hair which only sends shots of pleasure to her tummy. Why hadn’t she tried this position with him sooner? It felt so fucking good she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to last long. He’s so deep like this.

Harry’s hands move from her ass, travelling up her spine, ring-covered fingers gently dragging up her soft skin causing her to shiver, as they eventually fall back to her plush hips and help guide her.

As if he could read her mind, one of his big hands comes between them, right where they connect and he grazes her puffy clit. Pulling back from the kiss to tell her sweet nothings.

“Keep going, Baby,” He encourages as she keeps up the pace. Making sure each bounce she gets him inside her deeper and deeper. His fingers are still persistent on her causing shockwaves of pleasure to wash over her.

Her hands move to his muscular shoulders and she wraps herself up in his embrace, her face right in his neck as she listens to the moans and sounds he makes. She squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on the rhythm until eventually she feels him pounding against that spongy spot inside her and she cries out involuntarily.

“Fuck, Daddy,” She says breathlessly as he brings her face up to meet his in a kiss. His big hand pawing at her warm cheek. His lips captured all the filthy noises from her mouth but did little to prevent the sounds that filled the room from quietening. Her wet pussy swallowed up his prick greedily, all wet tight and hot on him, as his balls slap against her ass, and their lips smack in a messy kiss.

He wants to stay in this moment forever. The perfect rhythm, like their bodies were always meant to be connected like. Asone. She pulls back with a gasp, her legs beginning to shake from pleasure and strain. “Atta girl,” He says. “Doing so good for Daddy, Baby.”

His hand slides to her throat gently caressing her neck, and she claws at his arm desperately. “I’m close,”

And just like that all the control and slight dominance she’d had is gone out the window as she begs him to help her through it. Her hips stutter and her bouncing lessens. “Please, Daddy, can I?”

He nods kissing her nose. “Need some help, Trouble?”

She nods desperately and his hand moves from her throat to around her waist and he holds her still hovering over him, he plunges inside her again but this time he’s the one in control. With no warning he begins to pound into her hitting the sweet spot inside her over and over, but harder than ever. She feels an overwhelming feeling in her tummy as her hole flutters around him.

“Daddy,” She whispers. “M’ guna’ cum. Please, don’t stop.”

Harry has the nerve to chuckle, despite how close he is too, that devilish grin covering his face as he watches her falling apart for him. “Come on Angel, cum for me. Be Daddy’s good girl and cum.”

As his words melt down her spine she cums, just like that. Her eyes squeeze shut and she sees a golden haze of warmth behind her eyelids, the feel of her release is like a crack of thunder as his merciless thrusts inside her do not cease when the peak of her orgasms snaps. She throws her head back and shivers uncontrollably, thighs shaking as she takes him.

Harry continues, and when she finally manages to pry her eyes open and meet his gaze she feels his thrusts go sloppy. She leans in to kiss him, an overwhelming sense of safety and comfort in this bubble fills her mind, and when she pulls back she smiles.

“Cum, Daddy,” She says. “Wanna feel full of you.”

He moans, his eyes pinching shut, and that's when she feels him shoot inside her. She sighs contently letting him ride the high of his orgasm before they slowly melt into the couch. She didn't dare move yet, even though he’d gone soft. When he opens his eyes she brushes some of his mused hair back. “Kiss me, Styles,”

He leans in, a smirk cast over his face, before pecking her lips.

She smiles at him. “So…what are we wearing at the party tonight?”

He sighs throwing his head back in defeat. He knows he’ll be going, those damn puppy dogs and her little pouty face. He begins leaning in and nudging his nose along her neck. She giggles at the feeling.

“What's the theme?” He drawls.

“Umm..cops robbers and sluts?” Y/n says softly.

Harry looks up at her. “You should go as a robber, Trouble.”

Y/n smiles, puzzled at that comment. “Why?”

He smirks placing one of his hands on his chest. “You’ve stolen my heart,”

She leans in and kisses him. “Good luck getting that one back, sap.”

THANKS FOR READING!!!! XXX

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triplefrontierbabe · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii, I would love some lando!smau with imagine inspired by 2hands by tate mcrae, oc could be the singer?

2 hands Lando Norris smau

imagine linked here

summary: you’re a world famous singer dating Lando Norris

pairing: f! singer reader x Lando Norris

warning: slightly suggestive content

disclaimer: all photos are from Instagram and/or Pinterest I take no credit for them

a/n: I’ve seen so many people do their takes on 2 hands so hopefully you babes enjoy!!!

yourusername

liked by lando, oliviarodrigo and 1, 793, 903 others

yourusername tour has sped by so fast 💫💓

view 1, 702 comments

yourdancer1 I don’t want it to endddd😩

↳ yourusername will the divas survive the end of tour😨

charli_xcx baby’s first world tour

addisonraee mommy

yourfan01 gonna need this tour imprinted in my brain asap

fanofyours0404 what are we supposed to do when this ends

internettroll65 who tf is buying tickets to listen to this mediocre music. she doesn’t even sing

↳ yndefender11 are you ill? she sings hella good and dances better than half of singers these days do

lando

liked by mclaren, yourdancer2 and 2, 893, 193 others

lando summer break around the world 🌍

view 1, 903 comments

mclaren out here doing side quests

maxfewtrell hmm what you taking a pic of there?

↳ lando the world may never know

danielricciardo lan wear a shirt correctly challenge, level impossible

↳ carlossainz55 🤣🤣🤣🤣

↳ lando damn 🥲

papayababyyy fuck he knows he’s hot

yourusername

liked by 01ynfan, ynhq and 1, 737 others

yourusername let em all know or whatever

view 992 comments

oliviarodrigo 🤤🤤🤤

larsenthompson so obsessed w you

ynhq let her cook🗣️

ryantedder or whatever 🤣

mclaren cute car

↳ papayagirlie04 help what does this mean

↳ princessofthepaddock what do they know that we don’t

ynfan09 mother back in the studioooo

ynluvr22 whose hands are those

↳ motorsportfan44 I’m starting to think Lando’s esp now that mclaren commented

lando

liked by yourusername, cota_official and 2, 703, 903 others

lando just having a look around

view 821 comments

texaslonghorns reppin bevo 🤘

mclaren switchin things up for the weekend!!

maxfewtrell man finally put a shirt on

lnfour btw the varsity jacket is on sale, this weekend only!👀

ln4babe he looks like such a frat boy but I fear it’s working 😩

l4ndofan4 is this not basically the same car in yn’s post??

↳ formulagirlie omg wait I think you’re right

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter, lnfour and 1, 789, 993 others

yourusername buckle up, new music out next month ✨

view 2,883 comments

lando nice car

↳ yourusername thanks

↳ landoloverrr bro was early asf

ynhq I don’t think you guys are ready for this!!!

mclaren hmm fourth pic looks oddly familiar 🤔

ynfan001 my worlds are colliding eeeek

francisca.cgomes suddenly I’m free that day

↳ yourusername as you should be 🤭

yourdancer2 I’m satttt

sabrinacarpenter finalllllyyyyy

formulawagtea i swear if she’s dating Lando I’ll be so pissed

↳ pitstopbaby actually go touch some grass

lando

liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 2, 780, 223 others

lando buckled up and ready to go

view 1, 999 comments

oscarpiastri 🤜🤛

mclaren our guys🧡

quadrant wishing for a win this wknd

martingarrix quick ab flex there

↳ lando thought i was slick

lnfour helmet design 🔛🔝

landobabeee okay are we all thinking it’s yn in that pic?

↳ waggossipf1 she’s been pretty quiet on social media lately… 👀

mclrnfan81 lando in his soft launch era

norrisfan01 can he fight????

↳ ynlover56 I was thinking the same 😭

yourusername

liked by ynhq, lilymhe and 2, 993, 783 others

yourusername 2 hands out now!!!!🧡💛 thx @/lando for the inspiration

view 2, 774 comments

ynhq available on all platforms!!!!!!!

lando happy to be of service

↳ yourusername 😽😽😽

heidiberger_ absolutely in awe of your talent

mclaren catch us listening to this on repeat

addisonraee actually ate and left no crumbs

ynfan11 asdfghjkl is this their hard launch?!!????

papayafan04810 the caption?????? omg?????

pietra.pilao hottest song ever 🔥

↳ yourusername yk it ;)

yourusername on Twitter

lando

liked by maxverstappen1, quadrant and 3, 783,221

lando hey siri play 2 hands 🎧

view 3, 803 comments

yourusername meant every word of the song btw

↳ landodiva04 oh I know she gets it every night

↳ papayaluvr idk who’s luckier, her or him

mclaren our champ❤️‍🔥

justaninchident16 so obsessed w this couple

oscarpiastri he’s had this song on repeat all day, no joke

lnfourfan if I were her I too would write a song just about his hands 🤤

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

600 followers celebration!!

taglist: @bernelflo @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you @r0nnsblog

#triplefrontierbabef1 #triplefrontierbaberequest #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris smau #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #mclaren

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gloxk · 1 year ago

Note

just sitting here high asf thinking about getting the sloppiest head from aot guyzzz…*HEAVY ASS SIGH* let me wish upon a star hoping someone could write about this for me…*LONG HEAVY EXTREME SIGH.*

⁺ 　 . ✦ Favorite eaters ⁺ 　 . ✦

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: ugh yes girl ik the feeling … im to sitting here wondering how nasty eren would eat the kitty…BUT ANYWAYS TYSM FOR 600!!! NEXT STOP 700!!! AHHH!

Synopsis: Aot men as your favorite eater.

━━━━━━━⚥━━━━━━━

♡ Eren ♡

Ughh omg..Eren giving you nasty head after he pissed you off…The type of head that makes you run away in shame!!!

“Givin me an attitude ain’t gonna get you anywhere, you know better den that.” Eren scoffed, while tossing a blunt over to you.

Oh boy how he was so undeniably wrong.

You could tell Eren was unamused with your bullshit. He wasn’t taking you ignoring lightly at all.

“You gon fix it or am I, figure it out.” he whispered in your ear. You stood on what you dished out, you weren’t fixing shit.

You chuckled at him in response, how stupid he was to think you were going to pipe down.

That was until he found his way between your thighs..

One hand tangled in his brown locs and the other one holding a blunt. Best combo..

You lazily rutted against his tongue while his piercing twirled against your puffy clit.

It was so hard to look him in the eyes after he made you cum on his tongue 3 times.

“Still got an attitude baby?”

Let’s just say..you ain’t had one after that.

�� Armin ♡

Oh..lawd. I said this once i’ll say it A FUCKING AGAIN. Armin is a pussy eater expert. He’s VERY talented in that ‘field’..

This man has no problem eating it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he will wake up and decide he’s hungry and start going crazy.

That’s how your morning starts..with Armin stuck between your thighs eating it so you can wake up.

Eyes barely opened and you’re already on the verge of cumming..his way of saying ‘goodmorning’.

He so eager to do it too. Sometimes yall could just be watching netflix and he will insist on eating you out.

“Well, I mean, the show is kind of boring. Just come on, it will be quick.” He’ll beg and beg, “Please, I know you’re tired, I can help you go to sleep faster!”

His contact name is NyQuil in yo phone! (If you know. you know .)

When he say fast..oh baby he mean fast. That tongue can move at speeds you didn’t even know existed.

But his favorite time to get to munching is before you go to work.

“We got 10 minutes Armin.” He don’t need even need 10 he will make you cum in 5.

♡ Connie ♡

Ex! Connie getting fucking wasted and coming back home and eating you till your cummin everywhere…

I just know he eats it with his grillz on..I just know.

You want nasty head? Connie is your man for it. He gonna make it SLOPPY SLOPPY.

“Baby whatchu mean, we supposed to be in love..” his words slightly slur, he had a fuck boy grin plastered over his face. “stop acting like you ain’t happy to see me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially when he was telling you how much he missed you. “Cmere baby i’ve been missin you..” & “I know you mad at me lemme change that.”

if ‘Let my face be yo chair’ was a person…

Sitting on his face is a pleasure to you and him. He gets to see his (ex) girlfriend and you get some head.

A win win in your books!

You grinding against his golden grills while his hands rub your waist up and down. “You got such pretty moans, lemme hear em baby.” & “Uh-huh, let it out mama.”

He’s looking you dead in your eyes while doing it too…

“You made such a mess baby. Don’t worry go to sleep, ima clean it up.” UGH THIS MAN….

best ex ever!

━━━━━━━⚥━━━━━━━

going absolute feral for these men it don’t even make any sense.

#eyena writes♡#eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren yeager #aot smut #armin smut #armin x black reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #plug connie #connie x black reader #connie smut

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vaamins · 1 year ago

Text

RICHBOY GOJO! meets you at one of the annual parties he throws near the end of the year. the ones where everyone is invited. literally everyone. some from other ends of town, and some, satoru doesn’t even know. even the neighbours cat comes to his parties.

RICHBOY GOJO! who is known for his money. his parents in fact, but no one cares. it’s him who’s rich asf, and he makes it known to everyone. pulling up in a lambo just for school. or wearing the newest designer clothes from Valentino. there’s nothing he doesn’t have.

RICHBOY GOJO! who sees you in the crowd and thinks he’s seen you somewhere before but can’t place when. who, multiple times during the day finds his eyes wandering to you somehow. watching as you talk to your friends laughing about something.

RICHBOY GOJO! who starts small talk with you, commenting on your dress and how good you look. all his friends say he’s tryna get into your pants but that’s not true ( well partly )

RICHBOY GOJO! who ever since meeting you, suddenly wants to know everything about you. before he couldn’t have cared less about anything else, but now? he wants to know every single bit of you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who stays up thinking about you. who tells suguru the new girl he’s met. suguru immediately tells him to shut up but it doesn’t stop him from yapping on bout you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who suddenly has a heart of change ( somehow overnight ) when he finds out you don’t like boys who are publicly arrogant and show off.

RICHBOY GOJO! who suddenly, doesn’t come to school in his usual lambo or wearing louise.

RICHBOY GOJO! who somehow becomes so down to earth. never flaunts his money in peoples faces. hell. even his parties have died down to basically once every 6 months.

RICHBOY GOJO! who everyone thinks his family has gone broke from his drastic change but it’s not that.

RICHBOY GOJO! who’s parents even comment on his weird behaviour. but they don’t question much. their just glad their son isn’t a partyboy anymore.

RICHBOY GOJO! who finally realises he’s inlove when shoko brings his change io to him. laughing on how only a lovesick fool could change that fast. yeah. he silently agrees.

RICHBOY GOJO! who treasures every hand made gift you’ve given him. even the phone chain you made out of some beads you found. it dangles off his phone, pink with a hello Kitty attached to it but he couldn’t care less how girly it is. he can’t bring himself to remove it.

RICHBOY GOJO! who finally tells you he likes you on one of his most recent parties. one he hasn’t done in a long time, and he finds he’s lost taste for them. finding the moving crowds of so many people annoying. it’s only then that he realises the effect you have on him. that you’ve unknowingly spurred him onto a new and good path.

RICHBOY GOJO! who wants to grow better because of you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who finally tells you he loves you while your sitting outside on the front lawn. taking a breather. and that’s where he confesses. out of the blue but confident. he wants you to know how much e loves you.

RICHBOY GOJO! who is shocked when you kiss him in return. leaving him a blushing mess. so unlike the ‘richboy gojo’ you comment. and he laughs, content with where he is now, with you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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m1ckeyb3rry · 1 year ago

Note

hi mira can i pls req a sae x reader and it’s like falling in love with someone. like you know that feeling when you’re really getting to know someone and it sounds like a soft song

i love uu take care x

Synopsis: Thanks to a chance encounter on the beach, you spend your vacation trying to apologize to the famous soccer player you inadvertently offended. Unfortunately, Sae Itoshi has other plans.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Sae x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 11.6k

Content Warnings: love at first sight, fluff, humor, teasing as a love language, sae does not understand emotions or relationships but he’s rich asf, reader has a little brother and loves eating, meet-cutes, summer romance, SEAGULLS

A/N: although sae is a difficult character for me to get a hold of, i ended up having fun with this LMAO as i’m sure you can tell by the massive word count 😭 i hope he’s not horribly ooc or anything and that this is kind of what you were looking for anon!! tysm for requesting and ily too <3

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

You tried to evaluate the series of choices you had made which had led to you lying atop a boy with green eyes and sand smeared across his cheeks, a blank expression on his face despite the way you were literally sprawled over him.

First: your family had decided to spend your summer vacation in Spain. This was innocuous and broad enough, considering how large the country was, so you concluded that your brother’s desire to practice his rudimentary Spanish in a more realistic setting than his high school classroom could not be blamed for your plight.

Second: your father had gotten a great deal on rooms in a luxury beachfront hotel. He was like a bloodhound when it came to haggling and discounts, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were staying in such a nice place for a relatively cheap price — and with a complimentary breakfast every morning, too! Anyways, the hotel had its own private pool that you could’ve been lounging around beside, so that probably wasn’t the cause, either.

Third: your mother had told you that the beach within walking distance of the hotel was famous for its smooth waters and pale sand. You had to visit at least once, according to her and every other travel guide written about the region, but since no one had wanted to go with you, you had decided to go alone, bringing a book, a bottle of sunscreen, and a blanket with you, throwing a dress on over your swimsuit and preparing yourself to spend the entire day soaking in the sun’s rays. This was definitely a contributor to your current predicament, although considering the miles of beach that stretched out in both directions as far as the eye could see where you could’ve been instead of right there, it wasn’t the sole factor.

Fourth: you had thought you would get hungry at some point and had had the foresight to bring a sandwich with you. That was definitely the reason. If only you hadn’t been so concerned with your stomach! If only you had just sucked it up and made the trek back to the hotel upon feeling peckish instead of being so lazy and planning ahead, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Can you get off of me?” the boy groaned.

“I am so sorry!” you said, scrambling to your feet and offering him your hand. He did not take it, standing on his own and doing his best to wipe the sand from his face. Then he shook his head like a dog, shaking out the grittiness from his soft hair. “I’m really sorry. I was just running so fast, and I was so worried about my sandwich that I didn’t notice you were there until it was too late!”

“Sandwich?” he said. A few paces away, a seagull landed, the remnants of your lunch held in its beak. You and the boy watched as it tilted its head back, swallowing the last few bites before cawing at you in satisfaction.

“You pig!” you shouted, pointing at it, the boy beside you temporarily forgotten as you fumed over the loss. It cocked its head at you. “That was mine!”

“Ah,” the boy said. “Your sandwich.”

The seagull hopped towards you, like it was teasing you or something, and you screeched before diving at it. Satisfied with the mischief it had caused and the food it had stolen, as well as with making a fool out of you, the seagull took wing, flying well out of reach and leaving you facedown on the ground, your stomach grumbling sadly and emptily.

A foot nudged against your rib cage. “Hey. Sandwich girl. You’re not concussed, are you?”

Being referred to as sandwich girl was so humiliating that you were instantly pushing yourself into a sitting position, folding your arms across your chest as you gazed up at the boy, who still wore that same unimpressed expression from when you had barreled into him.

“No,” you said.

“That’s great,” he said, though he did not sound particularly concerned nor relieved. “Mind elaborating a bit more on why you ran me over? You could’ve seriously injured me, and then you would’ve been in a bunch of trouble.”

“You would’ve been in a bunch of trouble,” you mocked, making your voice high and smarmy. “Jeez, what are you, some kind of celebrity or something? I ran you over because I was taking a break from reading my book, and I realized that I was hungry. Well, luckily, I had brought a sandwich along with me, so it wasn’t a huge deal. I was just about ready to dig in, when that fat pig of a bird swooped down and stole it right out of my hands! The gall! The shamelessness! It was definitely laughing at me, and I can’t stand anyone who laughs at me, so naturally I took off in pursuit, and, uh, that’s how I ended up crashing into you. Though you really should’ve been paying more attention, too. What’s so fascinating about the horizon that you just blocked out the rest of the world for it?”

“I like looking at the ocean,” he said. “But, wait. What do you mean, some kind of celebrity? Don’t you know who I am?”

You gave him a once-over. He was tall, though not impressively so, and definitely well-muscled. His hair was a warm shade, and his green eyes were framed with long eyelashes that fluttered every time he blinked. A pair of sunglasses was perched atop the crown of his head, and the top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, lending him a breezy appearance.

“You’re not handsome enough to be an actor, so that can’t be it,” you said, chewing on your lower lip in thought. “Plus, I’ve seen a bunch of movies, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t been in any of them, so if you were in the film industry, you’d be a D-lister at best, and there’s no way you’d want to flex that kind of status.”

He furrowed his brow, the first hint of a different expression than the one he had kept for the entirety of your very brief acquaintance. “What?”

“What else are people famous for?” you said. “Oh! Are you a singer or something? Were you in that one boy band from a few years ago? I’m sorry, I was too busy having a ‘not-like-other-girls’ phase when they were popular, so I never got into them. I’m over the phase now, if you were wondering, but that would be why I didn’t recognize you.”

“You are amazingly off the mark,” he said.

“I am? I’m kind of out of ideas at this point, though. Can I have a hint or something?” you said.

“Do you watch soccer?” he said. You made a face.

“Hell no,” you said. His eye twitched, so you hurried to elaborate. “My little brother is obsessed with it, so by law, I’m required to hate everything related to the sport. Do you have any siblings? You’d get it if you did.”

“Ask your brother about Sae Itoshi,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, drafting a text to your brother and sending it when you had deemed it to be a perfect blend of uninterested and cool while also underscoring the urgency of the request. “So, your name’s Sae Itoshi? I’m Y/N L/N! I’m not a celebrity, though. If you text anyone and ask them about me, they’ll probably be pretty confused.”

“Yeah, I got that impression,” he said. Your phone vibrated in your hand, and when you looked at the notification, you saw that it was from your brother.

uglier sibling: no shit i know about sae itoshi. he’s that one super talented midfielder on re al. he’s dad and i’s fav player atm.

You gulped, glancing up at Sae before returning to your phone.

me: lol wtf is re al.

uglier sibling: it’s madrid’s team lmfaooo dumbass how do you not know that

uglier sibling: actually wait why are u even asking lol

uglier sibling: did u meet him or something

me: funny story actually!

uglier sibling: WHAT

uglier sibling: y/n are u with sae itoshi rn.

uglier sibling: y/n answer pls

uglier sibling: can you at least get his autograph for me or smth???

Pretending like you were still texting your brother, you typed the name Sae Itoshi into your phone’s search engine. The photos that came up matched the boy in front of you, and the news articles made your heart pound. He actually was a celebrity, and furthermore, his earlier arrogance was deserved. If you had somehow injured such a famous player and put him out of commission for the season, then you really would’ve been done for. It hadn’t been an exaggerated sense of self-importance but an honest evaluation of himself.

“Ahem,” you said, feigning a cough to appear dignified and mature. “It seems like you are a pretty well-known soccer player, Mr. Itoshi.”

“It seems like I am,” he said.

“My brother and dad are big fans, apparently,” you said.

“Good thing you didn’t take me out permanently, then, or I’m sure they would’ve been pretty disappointed,” he said.

You cringed. “I’m sorry again.”

“Whatever. I won’t hold it against you; all’s well that ends well, after all,” he said.

“I feel really bad, though,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“You didn’t do anything, so there’s nothing to make up for,” he said.

“Not true! I knocked you over and said you’re not handsome!” you said. “I’d say that warrants some kind of recompense.”

“It’ll warrant more recompense if you keep saying it,” he said.

“You agree that you deserve payment, then? Great! Um…how about I…buy you lunch?” you said, the insistent pangs of your stomach reminding you that you still hadn’t eaten.

“Is food the only thing you can think about?” he said.

“For your information, it is not, but I haven’t eaten since the morning, so I’m hungry,” you said.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m not interested, and just so you know, I’ve been asked out by plenty of girls, but by far, this has been the lamest attempt.”

You supposed, looking back, that it did seem like that was your end goal. But, of course, it had been nothing of the sort; you were just planning on going to eat yourself and thought that you might as well kill two birds with one stone. It was just your luck that he had twisted your words into such a request, though! How were you supposed to maneuver yourself out of this position? If you denied it furiously, then it would seem like you were just ashamed at getting caught, but if you didn’t say anything, then it would be akin to agreeing with his accusation.

There was only one way out of it, and even though you were usually opposed to lying, and even more opposed to bullying others, it was the only thing you could think of. So, bowing your head, you clasped your hands together in front of your heart.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not my type, Mr. Itoshi,” you said. “Like I said, you’re really not that handsome. Also, I’m into tall guys.”

That was how you found yourself sitting across from Sae Itoshi in a private booth at a fancy restaurant, your hands trembling as you read over the menu items and their associated prices.

“I’m in the mood for steak,” Sae said, stroking his chin and setting down his menu, interlacing his fingers and raising his eyebrows at you. “What about you?”

“Steak is a dinner item, don’t you think?” you said, your head spinning at the fact that he had picked the most expensive thing that was served at the entire establishment. “It’s lunchtime.”

“I’m an athlete,” he said seriously. “I need a lot of protein in all of my meals. Especially because I’m so short. It’s important for me to build muscle, don’t you agree? How else will I manage to compete with the taller, better-looking players?”

“Steak it is,” you said with a faux smile. “As for me, I’ll just get crackers.”

“Crackers? What kind of lunch is that?” he said.

“An affordable one,” you muttered under your breath.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing!” you said. “It’s nothing. I just really like crackers.”

He gave you an odd look. “Alright.”

You waved the waiter over. He had been hovering around your table for the past few minutes, and as soon as he saw you beckoning him, he sprinted to your side, fumbling with his pen and notepad before reaching you and bowing.

“Sae Itoshi, sir! I’m sorry to interrupt your date, but I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan of yours. If — if it’s not too much trouble, could I have your autograph?” he said.

Sae sighed, a long-suffering and irritable sigh. “Just take our order first. I’ll give it to you after we’ve eaten.”

“Oh, my apologies,” the waiter said. “What would you like?”

“I’ll have the steak, and I also want this sandwich, but omit the tomatoes, please,” he said, pointing at the menu items he wanted.

“Got it,” the waiter said. “What about you, miss?”

“Just the crackers,” you said. The waiter paused, but when you did not say anything more, he giggled nervously.

“Would you, uh, like some cheese with those?” he said.

“Nope,” you said. “I’m really the biggest fan of plain crackers. That’s all I want.”

“Sure, miss, if that’s what you’d like,” he said. “So, one steak, one sandwich, and a plate of crackers?”

“That’s right,” Sae said, hardly looking up from his phone when he did so. It was only once the waiter had run off to place your orders that he put the device away, resting his elbows against the table, setting his chin in his hands and giving you a bored look. “Why are you glaring at me?”

“Steak and a sandwich, really?” you said.

“A conversation with you was more than enough to increase my appetite,” he said. “Forget about that. This is the part where you ask me questions about myself and I pretend like I am interested enough to answer them.”

“Why would I do that?” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure your answer to that question will be something that makes me even more annoyed than I already am, so don’t bother. What’s your favorite movie?”

“You’re not going to ask me about soccer?” he said. “It’s Taxi Driver, by the way.”

“I don’t know that much about soccer, so what would I even ask? Based on what I’ve seen from the matches my brother and dad watch, it’s just a bunch of sweaty guys kicking around a ball and pretending like they’re dying whenever another player happens to look at them the wrong way,” you said. “Oh, actually, I am curious about that. How many of those injuries are real? Have you ever faked getting hurt?”

“Almost none of them,” he said. “Generally, players will overreact for the sake of entertainment and the possibility of the opposition receiving yellow cards. I’ve never needed to do anything like that, and I never want to, because it looks stupid. Also, soccer is more than that mediocre description you just gave me.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you said. “Man kick ball. Ball go in net. Man happy. That’s the extent of it.”

“Women play soccer, too,” he said.

“It’s the same concept there, but with women instead of men. Not the argument you thought it was,” you said.

“I can’t believe you actually dislike soccer,” he said.

There was definitely some irony in the fact that you couldn’t care less about his chosen sport, and yet you were the one who had somehow finagled your way into eating with him — even if you were the one who was paying. There were so many people who’d do anything to be in your place, but to you, it was a begrudging chore that you were only performing because you felt obligated to. Mentally, you had already marked the entire encounter down as something that you’d laugh about to your friends later; a fun story you’d tell at parties, but little else.

“Like I told you earlier, I’m the older sister. If I didn’t rag on my brother’s interests, then I couldn’t claim that title in any way that mattered,” you said. Sae’s eyes flicked down to the ground.

“You should be nice to your brother when you can,” he said.

“Are you some kind of an only child or saint, then? There’s no way you’re saying that if you have a normal relationship with any possible siblings,” you said.

“I have a little brother,” he said. “Our relationship is okay. I haven’t seen him in a while, though.”

“Long distance?” you said, reaching over to pat him on the hand sympathetically. “That’s the worst. I miss my friends and my pets already, and I’m only here for vacation.”

He snatched his hand away. “You make it sound like we’re dating or something. It’s alright. I’m sure it’ll be the same as it was whenever I go back.”

“True, it’s not like he can dump you and find a new brother who’s both better and more conveniently located than you are. He’s kind of stuck with you forever,” you said.

“Enough about my brother,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay,” you said. “What TV shows do you watch when you’re bored?”

The two of you continued on in that mindless manner until your food arrived. Your mood, which had steadily been rising as Sae proved himself to be, if nothing else, a willing conversationalist, rapidly plummeted as the waiter set the steak and sandwich in front of Sae and the crackers in front of you.

“Enjoy your meal,” the waiter said.

“I’m sure one of us will,” you said, picking up a cracker and biting into it rebelliously. Sae began to cut his steak into small pieces, using his fork to demurely place the meat on his tongue, doing nothing to disguise the indulgence of eating such a wonderfully prepared meal while you were stuck with crackers.

“What a shame,” Sae said when he was about halfway through his steak. You hadn’t spoken since the food had come, mostly because you were too busy fervently hoping that he would choke and you would somehow be awarded a free meal as an apology on the restaurant’s part, so you jumped at the sound of his voice cutting through the silence. “My eyes were bigger than my stomach. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat that sandwich after all.”

“We should send it back, then,” you said.

“What sort of place do you think this is?” he said. “It’s already been ordered, so it’s ours now.”

“Are you serious?” you said. “What now? I’ll have to pay for something that you didn’t even eat!”

“You’ll just have to have it,” he said.

“Me?” you said, already salivating at the delectable sandwich, the bread which was taunting you. Come, it seemed to be calling out to you. Eat me. You know you want to. “I guess that’s a sensible prospect. Someone’s going to have to take it.”

“Someone will,” he agreed, sliding the plate across the table and stealing a cracker for his troubles. “It might as well be you. My coach will be pretty upset if I get stomach cramps next season because I overate too much on my off time. I’d have to tell him that it was your fault, and then you’d have all of Re Al after you, and you don’t want that. They’re relentless.”

Your fingers inched towards the sandwich. “I definitely don’t. That sounds scary.”

“It would be amusing,” he said. “A waste of resources, though. They might cut my salary to make up for it. ”

“Then the only solution is for me to eat this sandwich,” you said.

“Essentially,” he said. You gave in, taking an enormous bite of the tantalizing sandwich and exhaling in delight. It really was as good as the exorbitant price tag claimed it would be, and although you would never buy such a thing for yourself, you found that you were a little more grateful for the series of events that had led you to be in this position now that your stomach was finally being greeted with something substantial.

“It’s good,” you said, your words muffled by the napkin you held in front of your mouth as you finished chewing. “I can kind of get why they charge so much now. It’s still way more than any sandwich should ever cost, ever, but…I kinda get it. Is your food good, too?”

“It is,” he said.

“Alright!” you said, giving him a double thumbs up. “Then you can consider this a worthy apology! Let’s finish eating and be done with the entire mess.”

“Hm? But how can it be a worthy apology when I’m the one who paid for everything? To me, that doesn’t sound like an apology at all,” he said. You froze, your mouth wide open, the sandwich still halfway to your mouth and drooping in your hands. Sae looked at you, still expressionless, though if you really focused, you would’ve noticed something like mirth dancing in his irises.

“What do you mean?” you said. He unlocked his phone and showed you his screen.

“You can pay by app here,” he said. “I did it as soon as we were done ordering. I was going to tell you after you ordered what you wanted for yourself, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so frugal that you’d really only order crackers!”

“But — but I was supposed to pay! To apologize for—”

“You don’t have to say it,” Sae said sourly, cutting you off. “Believe me, I remember exactly what you have to apologize for, and I’m not going to forget. I just paid this time because I was feeling generous, but you still owe me.”

It was a little suspicious, but you didn’t have any reason to accuse him of anything, so you only narrowed your eyes at him. Taking another bite of your sandwich, you mulled over the latest reveal. He was paying for the entire lunch? You still owed him? You could manipulate that in your favor, then.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll pay for your breakfast,” you said. “The hotel I’m staying at has complimentary breakfast for guests, but outsiders can eat for a certain fee. I’ll pay for your entrance, and then we can be even.”

“Sure,” he said. “I eat breakfast early, though.”

“How early?” you said.

“I have a snack at 7:00 a.m., before I go for my morning run, and then I eat a proper meal afterwards,” he said.

“Oh!” you said. “Any chance you could not do that?”

“It’s part of my training regimen,” he said. “How about you pay for my food and come on my run with me?”

“I hate running,” you said.

“You’re apologizing. It’s supposed to be an agonizing process,” he said. “You’ve called me short and ugly at least three separate times already, not to mention the entire slamming into me ordeal. It’s really the least you can do.”

“7:00 it is,” you said, though you were fighting back tears at the mere thought of getting up so early while on vacation. “Give me your phone.”

“No way,” he said, holding the phone away from you while you tried to swipe at it. “What are you going to do, post something embarrassing on my social media accounts?”

“Why would I do that?” you said. “I was going to text myself so I had your number and could send you my location for tomorrow.”

“Or you could tell me which hotel you’re staying at now, and then my phone is entirely removed from the equation,” he suggested.

“Do you think I remember the name?” you said. “That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. I don’t.”

He handed you his phone with an aggravated huff. “Fine. Don’t abuse the privilege. I only give important people my contact information.”

“Woah, you really are stingy,” you said, scrolling through his contacts list. All of them either had the designation of work attached to their profiles, or they were clearly members of Sae’s family.

Clicking on the plus sign in the corner, you created a new contact for yourself, typing in your number and giving yourself the name Y/N L/N — sandwich. It fit the naming conventions he had going on, and if it weren’t for the reminder that you were the so-called ‘sandwich girl’, you doubted he would remember who you were in the first place.

“Of course I am. Imagine I gave every crazy fan I met my number. I’d have a million stalkers before you could say Re Al,”he said.

“I’m not a crazy fan. To clarify, I’m not a fan in the first place,” you said, texting yourself from his number before taking out your own phone and responding to the message with a thumbs up.

“Correct, which is why you get my number,” he said.

“I feel so honored,” you said dryly. “Actually, you know what? I would feel honored, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re only giving it to me because you want to wake me up at an unholy hour and make me run with you before paying for your breakfast.”

“Would you rather pay for this meal?” he said, showing you the receipt he had been emailed. Your eyes widened, and then you shook your head rapidly.

“Nope! See you tomorrow!”

The next morning, you tiptoed around the hotel room as you got ready, trying your best not to wake your mother up. She, and the rest of your family, had been up late last night, going out for dinner and dessert well past your bedtime. Far too embarrassed to tell them the realreason you were going to sleep early, you had said you were sick and went to bed as soon as the sun set.

Angrily gnawing on a granola bar from your mother’s emergency stash, you stomped down the spiraling hotel staircase, your eyes still bleary as you texted your family group chat that you were going out for a morning walk but would be back for breakfast.

Sae Itoshi was waiting for you in the lobby, doing some weird stretching routine that involved pressing his foot against the wall and leaning over it. You watched him, bemused, wondering which muscles he was trying to stretch before giving up and deciding it was probably one of those pro moves that you were too uninterested and unathletic for.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you said, giving him another one of the granola bars you had taken from your mother’s backpack. “Sorry, it’s sort of smushed. It’s been in a backpack for the last few days.”

He pinched the wrapper between his forefinger and thumb, looking at the granola bar with a disgusted expression. You didn’t think it was thategregious, but according to Sae, it must have been all but an offense against humanity, as he tossed it into the trash can within seconds of having it within his grasp.

“I already ate my snack,” he said.

“Why did you throw that away? I could’ve eaten it!” you said.

“That thing had probably melted and reformed at least twice. It was most definitely radioactive. I did you a favor, so you should say thank you,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Itoshi, for protecting me from the horrors of a slightly misshapen granola bar. I’m sure that, by throwing away that still edible brick of deliciousness, you have done me a great service. Possibly, you have even saved my life. I am eternally grateful,” you said.

He snorted. “You’re terrible at groveling. No wonder you have to do all of this ridiculous stuff to apologize to me instead of just saying sorry and moving on like a normal person.”

“Look, it’s a product of my upbringing,” you said. He finished stretching and headed out of the door; you followed after him with a smile at the hotel concierge, who seemed surprised to watch you go — whether it was the hour or your company, you weren’t sure. “Whenever my parents did something to upset me, they never apologized. They just came to my room with a bowl of fruit they had cut for me.”

“At least you got fruit,” he said. “My parents just told me to go practice soccer until I had cooled off.”

“Wow, really? That’s hardcore,” you said. Sae began to jog, and you did the same, though it was closer to a run for you than anything. “Did you just kick around the ball until you were less mad?”

“Pretty much,” he said.

“How horrible,” you said.

“Eh, it’s fine. It was a good way to get my anger out, and it had the added benefit of making me better at the sport, so it was pretty constructive overall,” he said.

“I still can’t imagine it,” you said, shaking your head. “What’s it like, being a professional athlete? Your entire life revolves around a game. What about when you can’t play anymore? When you’re too old, or if you get injured?”

His upper lip curled. “Do you want that to happen or something? Why are you speaking it into existence?”

“Not the injury part, but everyone grows old. You can’t stop that,” you said.

“I’ll play for as long as I can, and then I’ll coach for longer,” he said. “After that, I’ll retire and make sure my kids follow in my footsteps. Athletes make a lot of money, so I luckily won’t ever have to worry much about my finances.”

“What if your kids don’t want to play soccer?” you said. He actually sneered this time, the expression at home on his cold face.

“What else would they do with themselves? If they don’t want to play soccer, or if they have no talent at it, then they’re definitely not my children in the first place,” he said.

“Hm, maybe cooking? What if they want to be a chef?” you said.

“Then I’d wonder how your kids snuck into my house,” he said. You gasped, though it was as much for breath as it was out of offense.

“Stop it! You just happened to catch me at a hungry time!” you said.

“Sure,” he said.

“Just entertain the hypothetical that you really did somehow father children that were into cooking instead of soccer. How would you react?” you said.

“I would put them up for adoption,” he said.

“Seriously?” you said.

“No, obviously not,” he said. “What kind of person do you think I am? Why did you actually find that to be within the realm of possibility?”

“I think you’re some kind of soccer fiend. Who knows how dedicated you are to the cause?” you said.

“Not that dedicated,” he said. “I’d be disappointed if my kids can’t play soccer, and our relationship would probably be a bit distant, as I don’t know much about anything else, but I wouldn’t disown them.”

“You don’t know much about anything besides soccer? That’s a little sad,” you said.

“Kind of,” he said.

“Do you wish you knew about other things?” you said.

“Everyone has something they specialize in. It’s not uncommon for someone to know a lot about one thing and only a little about others,” he said. “My ‘thing’ is soccer. If it wasn’t that, then it’d be something else, so if I was in the business of wishing, I’d always be unsatisfied.”

You were already panting for breath when Sae picked up the pace, though he had not so much as broken a sweat yet. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, taking in your obvious struggles, and then he made the decision to not slow down at all.

“I get it,” you said. “You’ll face no judgment from me.”

“Like I would care if you did judge me,” he said. “You’re already dying, and we haven’t even started running yet.”

“This isn’t running?” you said. “What the hell? How much faster can you even go?”

“If you think that this is anywhere near the pace of an average soccer match, then I don’t even know where to begin with you,” he said.

“You look slower on TV!”

“What, so you think I’m slow, too?”

You and Sae returned to the hotel in markedly different conditions. He wasn’t even warm, still appearing to be perfectly put together and entirely perspiration-free, smelling faintly like body soap and cologne. On the other hand, you were still trying to regain your wits about you, leaning on his shoulder so that you did not fall over from exhaustion.

“This is embarrassing for you,” he informed you as you walked towards the breakfast area.

“You’re a professional athlete and I’m a normal girl! It would be embarrassing for you if I could keep up!” you argued weakly.

“That would be true, if I wasn’t going easy on you,” he said, pulling out a chair for you and helping you into it, brushing his arm off when he was sure you were seated. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

“Have fun,” you said, resting your head in your hands, already knowing what you wanted to get. “We can walk through the buffet together. I’ll take the time to recover.”

“You do that,” he said.

While he was gone, you opened your phone, catching up on all of the texts in the family group chat that you hadn’t been able to read while you were attempting to run with Sae.

me: going for a morning walk but i’ll be back for breakfast

me: just wanted to let you all know so you weren’t worried!

uglier sibling: yeah nobody was worried LMFAO

mom: Hope you’re feeling better, honey!

dad: Make sure you’re back before 10. That’s when the complimentary breakfast ends, and we’re not paying for overpriced toast with jam.

uglier sibling: i still can’t believe u went for a morning walk

uglier sibling: like

uglier sibling: since when do u voluntarily wake up in the mornings at all let alone leave ur bed LET ALONE TAKE A WALK

uglier sibling: bitches will meet sae itoshi one time and suddenly they’re fitness influencers or wtvr

uglier sibling: btw i’m still mad that u didn’t get his autograph or a photo with him or anything

uglier sibling: i bet u made it up

uglier sibling: LIAR. FRAUD. HACK.

mom: Honey, leave your sister alone. Why would she make something like that up?

dad: Your mother is right. Y/N doesn’t even know who Sae Itoshi is.

So it was a typical conversation, then. You hadn’t missed much; just your brother being salty and your parents showing some care for your well-being, as well as your father worrying for his wallet like he was prone to do. You didn’t even bother responding, just liking your father’s two messages and then putting your phone away.

“Y/N, you’re back already? What good timing!” your father called out to you from the entrance to the hotel restaurant. The world slowed as you turned to see the rest of your family walking into the restaurant, dressed in their typical touristy outfits. Your mother waved at you, and your brother faked gagging.

“Wow, you look like shit,” he said. “The fuck kinda morning walk were you on?”

“Gross, it’s you,” you said. “Go away! I’m busy.”

“You don’t even have any food with you,” he pointed out. “Can I sit with you? The parents are way too chipper in the mornings.”

“No!” you said.

“But there’s an empty seat at your table. Are you saving it for someone?” he said.

“Yes,” you said, wishing that for once they would’ve all slept in instead of getting here at the exact time that you and Sae had.

“No, you’re not,” he said.

“Come on, you two, let’s sit together and have a family breakfast!” your father said, motioning you and your brother over from where he and your mother had settled at a four-person table. Your brother gave you a pleading look.

“I’ll owe you forever,” he said. “I’ll grind on all of your video games for you the entire plane ride home!”

“I’m not lying, dude, I actually am sitting with someone. Now fuck off and leave me alone!” you hissed.

“Who?” he said, crossing his arms. “Your imaginary friend? Or your imaginary boyfriend!”

“Excuse me? Sorry, I was sitting there. Do you mind—?”

The most comical expression you had ever seen flashed over your brother’s face just then. It was horror mixed with incredulity mixed with extreme confusion. He turned slowly, his jaw dropping as he made eye contact with Sae Itoshi, whose dry countenance and perfect posture were as off-putting as ever.

“What?” your brother said. “What is going on?”

Sae sat opposite you. “This hotel has the most confusing first floor layout I’ve ever encountered. It took me ages just to find the bathroom.”

“There’s signs. Can you not read?” you said. He stared at you dully.

“I can read. I just happened not to look up at them,” he said.

“If I didn’t want to pay for even more food, I’d make another short joke, but I shall refrain,” you said.

“That was cutting it close,” he said.

“Y/N. My beautiful, amazing, wonderful older sister,” your brother said.

“Yes?” you said, preparing yourself for the incoming explosion. “Also, that’s not what you were calling me in the group chat earlier, was it?”

“Is that Sae Itoshi?” he said.

“Liar, fraud, hack, was that what it was?” you said. “Run along, loser. Maybe if you were nicer to me, I’d let you sit with us.”

Your brother opened his mouth to argue, but then, like he had remembered he was standing in front of his idol, he hung his head and trudged off, scuffing his toes against the floor as he did and giving you a betrayed look over his shoulder.

“That’s your little brother?” Sae said.

“Yup,” you said. “Your self-proclaimed biggest fan.”

“And you made him go sit with your parents instead of talking to me? You’re super mean, big sister,” Sae said.

“He wouldn’t shut up if I let him stay here, and considering the goal of this is for you to eat and then leave me alone for the rest of my vacation, that would not be conducive,” you said.

“I see,” he said. “I didn’t realize that was the goal.”

“Isn’t it yours, as well? I’m sure you’d like to enjoy yourself on your time off from soccer,” you said.

“Who says I’m not enjoying myself?” he said. You furrowed your brow at him.

“You’ve had the same expression on your face every time we’ve spoken,” you pointed out, lowering your eyelids and pursing your lips in an imitation of his resting mien. “Like this. It’s totally amphibious.”

“Amphibious?” he repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“You don’t know what amphibious means? Man, when you said you only focused on soccer, I didn’t think it was this bad!” you said.

“I know what amphibious means! I just don’t see how the word applies,” he said.

“Oh, right. Well, you kind of look like the frog emoji,” you said. “Sorry, I could’ve been clearer. That’s my bad.”

“Were you dropped on the head as a baby? I’m asking this from a place of concern, not anger,” Sae said. “It’s because you say so many nonsensical things. After all, I look nothing like the frog emoji.”

“Sure, and people tell me I look like a famous actress,” you said.

“Really?” he said.

“No, I thought we were both saying things that aren’t true,” you said.

“I think you look like a famous actress,” he said. “There. Now we’re both saying things that are true.”

“Well done, Mr. Itoshi! That was clever,” you said, knowing when to concede.

“Thank you,” he said. “Let’s go get our food now. If you die of starvation on my watch, it’ll be a major scandal for Re Al.”

“Your manager must love you,” you said. “So conscientious of your public image.”

“Nope, he’s usually pretty pissed at me,” he said as the two of you got in the buffet line.

“What for?” you said.

“Contrary to what you think, I’m pretty unconcerned with my public image. I’m a soccer player, not some kind of philanthropist or actor or whatever,” he said. “What does it matter if I offend people? My value is in playing well, not being friendly or kind.”

“No one ever accused you of being either of those two,” you said, spreading butter and jam over your toast. “You’re not that bad, though.”

“You’re not that bad, either,” he said. “At least, you’re better company than my manager.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you said. He scoffed.

“You have low standards,” he said.

“Yours are lower,” you said.

“Very mature response.”

“Thanks!”

Sae was a pretty agreeable breakfast partner. He wasn’t as impossibly cheerful as your parents, who generally drove you crazy with their talkativeness so early in the day, but he also wasn’t as silent and closed off as your brother, who was prone to snapping at others until he had finished at least half of his meal. As with lunch yesterday, it was almost an enjoyable experience, right up until you remembered whose card he was eating on.

“Where are you going?” he said when your plates had been cleared and you had pushed yourself to your feet. He followed after you as you made your way to the hostess’s station, ignoring the whispers that echoed behind the two of you.

“To pay for you to be here, duh,” you said, fishing around in your purse for your wallet. “I know you’re famous and all, but that doesn’t mean you get to eat for free. In fact, that was kind of the point of the meal.”

“I already paid for myself, so you can go and sit back down with your family if you’d like,” he said.

“What? When?” you said.

“I wouldn’t spend that long in a bathroom,” he said. “Not a public one.”

“You little—! Now what?” you said.

“Now you have to see me tomorrow,” he said. “Bye. I’ll pick you up for dinner, so make sure to wear something nice, and bring your credit card. It’s your treat.”

He walked off with a jaunty wave, leaving you standing there, confounded by the development. He had paid for himself again? What was the point of making you take him places if he was just going to cough up the cash himself anyways?

“Psst. Y/N,” your brother said. You weren’t sure when or where he had appeared, but it remained that he was suddenly tapping you on the shoulder and whispering in your ear. “Does Sae Itoshi have a crush on you? If so, please ask if he can get tickets for dad and I to attend his next game.”

“What?” you said, a shockwave running through your entire body at the mere thought of Sae having a crush on you. It was so juvenile and cliched as to be out of Sae’s character entirely. “No! I just owe him.”

“For what?” your brother said.

“I ran into him, called him ugly, and said that he was short,” you said. “Indirectly, of course, but it still happened. I was supposed to buy him lunch yesterday as an apology, but then he ended up paying for us both, and then today, I went on a run with him, and I was going to pay for him to have breakfast here, but guess what?”

“He paid for himself?” your brother said.

“He paid for — yeah, how did you know?” you said.

“There weren’t that many ways the story could’ve gone. Also, I overheard you guys talking,” he said.

“Creep,” you said.

“Weirdo,” he said.

“Freak,” you said.

“Stupid,” he said. “I bet he has a crush on you.”

“Why would he? We have zero common interests, and I’ve mostly only insulted him in our very short time knowing one another,” you said.

“Maybe he’s into that. Some guys are. My one friend is — actually, I’m not exposing him like that,” he said.

“Thank you, because I really didn’t want to know,” you said.

“Anyways, where I was going with that is some guys like girls who humble them a bit. Especially someone like Sae Itoshi; he’s probably so used to people falling all over themselves to get his attention that it’s nice for him to hang out with someone who’s too oblivious to care about that kind of stuff,” he said.

“People like you?” you said. “I told him you were his biggest fan, just so you know.”

“Why would you do that?” your brother said, his eyes bugging out and his mouth forming a pained grimace. “He probably thinks I’m a nerd now!”

“You do it to yourself, buddy,” you said. “Let’s go. It looks like the parents want us to go sit with them. Think you can handle it?”

“After learning that my hero has a crush on my sister and, furthermore, probably thinks of me as some kind of dweeb, I can handle anything,” he said.

The entire day, you pondered your brother’s words. Did Sae have a crush on you? Running through his actions and every conversation you both had ever had led you to think that he did not. It didn’t seem like he liked you very much in even a platonic sense, so how could anyone begin to think he liked you romantically? It was just tolerance for the sake of his pride, that was all.

And you definitely didn’t like him. He was emotionless and conceited and teased you far too often. What did it matter that he was somewhat attractive? He had a terrible personality, and you bet that if more of his fans knew what he was like, he wouldn’t have any to begin with.

No wonder Sae’s manager hated him. He was probably a jerk to his poor employees, too.

“We’re thinking of going here for dinner tonight,” your father said the next day. “Look, their reviews are pretty high, and their prices aren’t crazy. What does everyone think?”

“I’m fine with anything,” your mother said.

“Same here,” your brother said.

“Y/N?” your father said. You were about to respond when your own phone buzzed. You knew exactly who it was texting you, and you sighed as you opened it.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): I will be there in one hour.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): You better not have forgotten about our plans for tonight.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): I made a reservation, so I’ll really be mad if you stand me up.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): Especially because you’re paying.

me: I WILL BE THERE OMFG STOP TEXTING ME

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): Okay.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Why not? Are you on some new diet or something? They should have vegetarian options, so that won’t be a problem,” your father said. “We can look at their menu beforehand if you prefer, and if you really don’t like anything, then we can find somewhere else.”

“I already have plans,” you said, your lower lip jutting out childishly. “Not that I want to! But I made a promise.”

“You already have plans? What’s that supposed to mean?” your mother said.

“I’m having dinner with someone,” you said.

“Ooh, how exciting! With who?” she said.

“I bet I can guess!” your brother sang.

“Enough out of you!” you said, kicking him in the back of the leg. He doubled over, though that did not stop him from smirking at you.

“Y/N and Sae, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” he said.

“You’re going out with Sae Itoshi?” your father said. “You should’ve just said so! That’s perfectly alright, honey. Actually, he’s the one man I’m not upset about you dating!”

“We are not dating!” you said. “It’s a more transactional relationship than that. No feelings involved. It’s just me apologizing to him.”

“Are you close enough to him to get an autograph for your brother and I?” your dad said.

“Um.” You thought about it. Would Sae give you an autograph for them? You weren’t sure. There was a chance he would, but there was also a high chance he would not. “I dunno. I can ask.”

“You’ll ask for dad, but not for me? Wow, I see how it is,” your brother said.

“Yeah, because you’re annoying!” you said. “Ugh. I have to get ready now. He’ll be here to get me in an hour. Have fun at dinner, all of you. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers.”

“You have fun as well,” your mother said. “Make sure not to bring any money with you. Gentlemen should always pay on the first date.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that,” you said, giving up on explaining things to your family for the sake of your sanity.

Sae was aggressively punctual. Exactly an hour after he had texted you, a shiny black car was pulling up in the valet lane, and a tall, bald man in a suit was opening the door for you. You climbed in awkwardly, finding Sae to be sitting on the other side, gazing out of the window pensively.

“Hello,” you said, smoothing your dress and buckling your seatbelt. “You have a driver?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “I usually walk places when I’m on vacation, but this restaurant is kind of far, so I thought it’d be more prudent to have the driver take us.”

“I see,” you said. “Thank you, driver, sir.”

The driver hummed in acknowledgement but did not say anything else. You supposed he probably wasn’t used to talking with his passengers; you doubted Sae ever spoke to him much.

“It’s been so hot out recently,” Sae said stiffly.

“That’s what happens during the summer, yes,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said.

“You’re right, though,” you said. “It has been hot.”

“Super hot,” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “Super hot.”

That must’ve been why there was a slight redness to his cheeks. There was definitely no other reason. And there wasn’t any other reason for why you felt uncomfortably warm, shifting in your seat to dissipate the feeling in your stomach. It was the temperature. That was all.

Given the trend, you really should have anticipated it when Sae paid for your dinner while you were freshening up in the bathroom, but you really had not seen it coming in the slightest. He scrunched up his face when you argued, simply telling you that he would see you tomorrow before dropping you back off at your hotel, the receipt in your hand, his flourishing signature scrawled across the back.

“For your brother,” he had said, handing it to you before you could even ask him for his autograph. “You said he was a fan, right? I’ll get him a better one later, but for now, this should do.”

You spent every day of the rest of that vacation with Sae Itoshi. Some days, you would accompany him on a morning walk — he had softened to slowing his pace, so that he was only barely jogging instead of the full on run that he had forced you into that first time — and on others, the two of you would have some meal or another together. The common theme was that, if there was money involved, he would take care of it. Without question, without hesitation, he always slapped your hand back and pulled out his own credit card, telling you that now you both had to meet again, and the next time you really would be the one paying, or else he’d never be able to forgive you for your terrible behavior.

Your parents and brother complained about it at first, as your new friendship with Sae — could it be considered a friendship, or was it something else? — meant you did not see them much on what was supposed to be a family vacation.

You brought it up with Sae, and he responded with something about how it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if you weren’t such a freeloader and actually paid for him, like you were supposed to. This resulted in a lighthearted squabble between you both, which in turn made you forget your family’s whining, and as well you should have. You could take a million more vacations with them, but you’d likely never get a chance to hang out with Sae Itoshi again, so why wouldn’t you take advantage of it when you could?

Sae didn’t forget, though. He sent you back from dinner the next evening with a soccer ball he had won in one of his games, his signature and a note of gratitude scribbled on it in black marker.

Thank you for letting me borrow your daughter and sister from you while you’re on your trip. I really appreciate it, even if she doesn’t know anything about soccer. — Sae Itoshi

They stopped complaining after that. The ball became your brother’s most prized possession, and every day, your father would tell you how happy he was that you had made such a considerate friend.

“And you know, if you ever want to date him,” he’d say, elbowing you in the side with an obnoxious wink. “We wouldn’t be opposed!”

Your mother was in the same boat. “He really cares about you, I think. Enough that he gave your family something so precious just because he thought we didn’t like him. You could do a lot worse than that.”

“Plus, he’s rich and famous!” your brother would chime in without fail. “Double win!”

“You guys are all nuts,” you’d tell them, shaking your head to disguise how pleased the thought of dating Sae made you.

It could never happen. Like your brother was so happy to remind you, he was rich and famous, an athlete that was adored worldwide and played for the best soccer club in history. He could have any girl he wanted, so why would he ever choose you? You and he were from two different planes of existence. Maybe you could pretend for a little bit that you weren’t, but the date for your eventual departure from Spain was drawing closer and closer, and that day meant the certain end of the fever dream that was your closeness with Sae.

You had been prepared from the start for it to finish in this way. You would go home and tell all of your friends about your trip, how you had spent almost every day with the famous soccer player Sae Itoshi, how he had given you his phone number and made you go on runs with him, how together, you and him had eaten lunch and dinner and breakfast and several meals that you were convinced he had just made up to have an excuse to buy food for the two of you — brunch, linner, midnight snacks and third desserts.

There were other things that you wouldn’t tell them, too, things that Sae had not necessarily said to you in confidence but which you sensed were held close to his heart and which you would therefore hold close to yours. His little brother was named Rin, and they had the same eyes, though Rin’s were quicker to water and perpetually had hair falling into them. He still watched the same shows he used to when he was very small, because they reminded him of his parents’ home. He thought that a person’s athletic potential could be determined by the shape of their butt, but he tended to avoid looking as a form of respect for others.

“That’s a pretty cool skill, Sae! What do you think my athletic potential is?” you had asked when he had revealed that last fact.

“If it’s possible for a person to have negative potential, then that’s about what yours is. If it’s not, then you’re definitely at a zero,” he had responded.

“You didn’t even look,” you had said, shoving a French fry into his mouth as punishment. He hated French fries for how unhealthy they were, and you had half-expected him to lecture you about fats and oils and salts, but instead, he had dutifully chewed and swallowed without any theatrics.

“Don’t need to, and don’t plan to,” he had said, and that was that. “I’ve already seen you run, and that told me all I needed to know about your athletic skills. Or, in this case, your lack thereof.”

If you took his words at face value, then you would’ve thought he truly hated you. He never missed a chance to make fun of you, and you were the same way — certainly, anyone who overheard your conversations would’ve been convinced that you and he were bitter enemies. But that was because they didn’t see the way he always positioned himself on the sidewalk so that he was between you and the oncoming traffic. They didn’t see the way he’d pull out your chair and only pretend to frown when you’d thank him for it. They didn’t see the way his ears would turn pink if you dared to smile in his direction or, heaven forbid, agreed with what he was saying instead of arguing, as was your go-to.

No, you were pretty confident that Sae Itoshi did not hate you. It was just that soccer was his thing and all other areas were beyond him, areas which included such fields as emotional awareness and sensitivity.

Maybe you might tell the friends you were particularly close to about that. Sae Itoshi treated me pretty well, you’d say, with grand, sweeping hand motions to emphasize the point. As well as he knew how to, which was well enough for me. If I ever get a boyfriend, they’ll have a lot to live up to. Seems kind of unfair to whatever poor schmuck gets stuck with the task, don’t you think? Considering the two of us never even dated…

“I'm going home tomorrow morning,” you said. The sun was setting, and the two of you were walking along the same stretch of beach that you had first met at. “I finished packing all of my things before dinner. It’s surreal, almost. I feel like an entirely different person now, compared to when I came here.”

“Is that so?” he said, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. “I wonder why.”

“Did you just smile?” you said. Immediately, he scowled.

“No way,” he said. “I’d never smile because of something you said.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, you definitely smiled. I made you smile! I made you smile! I made you smile!” you said, poking him in the cheek repeatedly. Sae’s expressions were so subtle that it was easy to overlook them before they had vanished, but there was no overlooking what you had just seen. He had definitely smiled at you, or at least he had been about to.

“Stop poking me,” he grumbled.

“No,” you said, poking him again. “Only if you smile again.”

“Hell no,” he said. You poked his cheek again. “Y/N. Stop it.”

“Will you miss me?” you said.

“Not if you don’t quit that!” he said, grabbing your wrist when you prepared to poke him again. Heat rose to your cheeks at the way his thumb rested against your pulse, and when he realized he was holding your hand so familiarly, his own cheeks flushed. “No. I won’t.”

“I’ll miss you,” you said, digging your feet into the sand, turning out to the sea because you couldn’t stand to look at him when you were being so vulnerable. “I’ll tell everyone I know about you, of course, but it won’t be the same. Something funny will happen, and I’ll think to myself, oh, Sae would’ve snorted at that — but not laughed, because you don’t laugh. Or I’ll order shitty French fries, and it’ll remind me of how much you’d scold me for eating them. You’d say something like, those are basically heart attacks in a box, and then you’d pour a bottle of salted kombucha down my throat to cleanse my system.”

Somewhere in the distance, a seagull squawked, reminding you of the fateful encounter from so long ago. You wished you could go back and get to know Sae all over again. You wished you could ask him the same questions and not know the answers, so that you were surprised when he told them to you. You wished you could argue with him for a little bit longer. You wished that, one more time, you could imply he was short and ugly and slow and a thousand other rude adjectives, even if he was really none of those things, none of them at all.

“I’m going to ask you one last question, okay?” you said. “Please think over your answer carefully. It’s important.”

“Okay,” he said, uncharacteristically gently. “I’ll really consider it well.”

“What’s your favorite animal?” you said.

“Seagulls,” he said immediately, directly contradicting his solemn oath. You laughed at this, burying your face in your hands to hide the hitch in your throat.

“You traitor,” you said. “You know all about the feud between seagulls and I, and yet you’re still claiming they’re your favorites?”

“They always have been,” he said. “I like migratory birds, how they don’t stay in one place but are always moving around. It must be such a blissful life.”

“But it’s probably pretty lonely, too,” you said. “They don’t have anywhere to call home.”

“I like lonely things,” he said. “That’s why the end of the summer is my favorite season.”

“Hm,” you said. “Then, if I tell you that I’ll be lonely once I leave here, will you like me, too?”

He looked at you, but you stared resolutely ahead, your gaze trained on the horizon, the way his had been on the day you had run into him. It was such a kiddish question, and internally, you were beating yourself up for asking it, but deep down, you wanted to know, so you did not move to retract it.

“Well, I like seagulls for a different reason now,” he said.

So that was your answer, then. The waves crashed against the shore, and a balmy wind blew through your hair and clothes, carrying the light scent of Sae’s cologne to your nose, the same one he had worn for as long as you could remember.

“I understand,” you said.

“These days, it’s a specific seagull I’m fond of, actually,” he said.

“Huh? Like a breed or something?” you said.

“No, just one bird in particular,” he said. “It did me a really huge favor recently.”

“What are you talking about? You always say that you suspect I was dropped on the head as a baby, but between the two of us, I think the one that was dropped was you,” you said, the fraying ends of your rejected feelings driving you to irascibility.

“A while ago, I was standing on the beach, feeling pretty annoyed with the world — as usual,” he said. “I had had to run from the paparazzi in order to go on this vacation without being bothered, you know, and I honestly was starting to question if I’d ever be seen as a normal person. I get that the only thing I’m good at is soccer, but it’s pretty tiring to be thought of as a guy who kicks balls around and nothing more.”

Unbidden, you inhaled sharply, because the story was starting to sound familiar. Spinning on your heel, you were met with the sight of Sae smiling shyly, peering down at you through his unfairly long eyelashes.

“That seagull must’ve known how I was feeling. There’s no other explanation for it all. It must’ve known how I was feeling, and somehow, it managed to find the one person in the entire world that saw me as something other than that. Do you know what it did next? It stole that person’s sandwich, and it led her right to me,” he said.

“Are you talking about me?” you said.

“How many people do you think have called me a short, ugly, D-list celebrity instead of asking for my autograph upon meeting me?” he said.

“Probably not very many,” you said. He chuckled.

“Probably not any,” he said. You rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“Probably not,” you said. He stroked your hair, though his motions were like a marionette’s — he was not very used to this type of relationship, after all. But he was trying his best, and you found that to be far more endearing than any suave gestures might’ve been.

“I know you have to go soon, so I was planning on not saying anything,” he said. “What would be the point? I figured this was just a summer fling for you. But then you had to go and be all sentimental, and I had to say something.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It would’ve been worse if I had returned home without knowing at all. Where do we go from here, though?”

“Where do we go from here? Let me think. Well, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend,” he said. “And you’ll say yes, because who would ever reject me? Then we’ll talk on the phone every day, and you can send me photos of things you find funny, and I’ll have a sixth sense for when you’re eating French fries and I’ll send you strongly worded texts in reprimand. You’ll fly over to watch my matches whenever possible, and when I’m on my next break, I’ll come visit you and meet your family and friends properly.”

“Getting a little presumptuous, aren’t we? What if I say no?” you said.

“Will you?” he said.

“Not sure. How about you ask and find out?” you said.

“If you’re going to say no, then I don’t want to,” he said. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I can’t be with a man who’s afraid of rejection. It was nice knowing you, Sae,” you said. “See you around. Hope you lose the Champions League.”

“Wait! I’m not afraid of rejection,” he said. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend? Officially, I mean.”

“Yes, of course,” you said. “But you’re going to have to buy my plane tickets if you want me to watch you. Even with frequent flier miles, I doubt I can afford coming to see you that often.”

“Consider it done,” he said. You grinned at him.

“You know, if you’re my boyfriend, then you’re going to have to keep paying for our dates, as well. My mother said that’s the gentlemanly thing for you to do,” you said.

“Right, I was expecting that,” he said. “Don’t you think there’s a reason why I haven’t let you buy anything yet?”

“Then how am I ever supposed to apologize to you for the circumstances of our first meeting? I mean, I was pretty harsh,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said. “Let me think.”

“Mhm,” you said. “I know that that’s out of your comfort zone, so I’ll give you a minute.”

“I have an idea,” he said, though it was accompanied by a slight glare at your jab.

“What is it?” you said.

“Close your eyes,” he said. You obliged, squeezing them shut, though not without widening your feet into the defensive stance he had demonstrated to you on the day he had attempted to teach you basic soccer skills.

“What are you going to do, tackle me or something? I’m using the position you taught me, but please be gentle, you’re way more muscular than—!”

You were cut off by him pressing his lips to yours. It was a soft kiss, gentle and light, like feathers in the air or water against the sand, and he pulled away before you could really react or reciprocate. He had left you wanting, and you knew he knew that, because there was a smugness to his voice when he spoke next.

“Apology accepted,” he said as you blinked at him in shock, your mind still lagging well behind your body. “Now we’re even.”

“Hold on,” you said. “I’m suddenly feeling very repentant and remorseful. Are you quite sure you forgive me with just that?”

He laughed. It was such a lovely sound, his laugh, and you would’ve told him so if you weren’t afraid that he’d stop when you pointed it out.

“Maybe not,” he said. “You might have to apologize a bit more.”

“That sounds doable,” you said. “Yeah, I might be able to work that in. It’ll be agonizing, but a wise man once told me that that’s just the nature of apologizing, so it’s the least I can do, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” he said, holding your face in his hands and leaning in. You did the same, your eyes closing all on their own as you sought out the connection he had deprived you of earlier.

As the sun set over the horizon and the seagulls settled in for the night, he kissed you again.

#sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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inkmonster21 · 4 months ago

Text

The Willing One

Carry On - The Traveler x Fem!Reader

Words: 14,686 (Long asf so I’m sorry)

Warnings: (manipulation, ptsd, stockholm syndrome, SMUT)

You wake up groggily as your alarm blares in your ears. You check the time, frowning at 4 am. Your bed sheets shift off of you as you sit up, stretching out your limbs.

A sigh escapes you before you get out of bed, your feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. You remain steadfast to the routine you've set for yourself. After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you stroll into your living room, doing yoga while a piping hot cup of coffee goes cold on the coffee table.

Your living room is adorned with festive Christmas decorations. Brightly colored lights and decorations hang from the wall. Gifts are scattered under the tree, awaiting your parents' arrival later today.

It was your final attempt to prove to them that you were doing fine. Despite living in LA and struggling to make ends meet, you were determined to pursue your dream of becoming an actress. Your parents of course thought that your aspiration was foolish. They would always push you to return home and take the desk job waiting for you at the office. But no, you stayed determined. You could achieve it. You would attain it!

Even if it meant working a shitty TSA job, especially on the busiest travel day of the year, you were persistent.

You finish your yoga routine, and the sun's first light starts to peek over the horizon. You head into the bathroom for a shower. As you rinse the shampoo from your hair, a nagging feeling overcomes you that you're being watched. You pause for a moment, turning slowly to look around the room.

You're met with no signs of an intruder. There's no one inside the bathroom with you. Though the initial wave of unease passes, a sense of lingering discomfort remains.

You prepare for work, applying makeup, styling your hair up in your hair claw, and donning your uniform. Gathering your belongings, you place them into a bag. You exit your apartment and make your way to the bus stop. After climbing aboard, you make your way toward the airport.

As you enter the airport, you plaster a cheerful smile onto your face. "Good morning!" you cheerfully exclaim to the people around you. You stride to the meeting room, taking a cup with you. Approaching the coffee pot, you begin to fill your cup. As you fish out the lid from your bag, a piece of paper catches your attention. "See you soon," the words on the small yellow note read.

You furrow your brows in confusion; it was definitely a note from your kitchen. Yet, you couldn't recall writing it or being given it. Dismissing the thought, you decided it probably meant nothing. You twist the lid on your cup and walk away, placing your belongings in your employee locker before making your way to your work area, ready to start your shift.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking down. As you settle into your seat, Ethan bursts through the door with a look of urgency. You roll your eyes affectionately and shake your head, "You're getting closer each time." Jason, a friend of yours, chuckles as he slides into a seat with a remark, "That's a record."

Ethan takes a seat next to you, joined by Jason. You smile at him as you speak, congratulating him on his new addition to their family. Ethan's mouth drops slowly open with surprise. "How did you find out?" he asks, dumbfounded.

You laugh heartily, "Good news spreads fast.” Jason smiles at his friend, “I'm happy for you," he says encouragingly. Ethan turns to Jason, puzzled. "I thought you and Rochelle were taking the boys to Murrieta?" he questions. Jason nodded in affirmation. "We are. Rochelle is heading up early today. I'll join them after my shift." You playfully pout and express your wish. "I want to go on a vacation," you say wistfully.

Mr. Sarkowski calls the group together, "Listen up, everybody. It is that time of year again. We have Contraband Bingo running. Five bucks per card. No cash, no card, no exceptions. The list includes gummies, dildos, vibrators, knives, and bullets. Everything gets its square."

You shake your head as you pick up a card. "This should be fun," you say with a touch of sarcasm. You stand up and bid farewell to the guys. "See you out there, fellas." You exit the room, making your way to your position at the metal detector.

The energy in the air changed as people began to flood into the airport and gather in clusters. You turn to Lionel and grimace. "Are you ready to face the most difficult people in the world?" you ask, bracing yourself.

Lionel chuckles heartily, "Darling, no one can have a bad day with a smile like yours." You stand there, taking in Lionel's kind and encouraging words. The stress of the day slowly begins to melt away.

You watch as Ethan approaches from behind and takes a seat at the scanner. You raise your eyebrows skeptically. "So, I guess the boss is letting you test out being in charge today, huh? On Christmas Eve?" you respond, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. Ethan chuckles sheepishly, "Well, someone has to oversee the checkpoint, right?" he replies with a hint of amusement.

You respond, "Good luck to you," a slight smile on your face, as you pat his back reassuringly.

The day started normally, with the usual bag inspections happening here and there. Yet, the mood among the travelers was tense, they were all on edge. You put forth extra effort to spread some holiday cheer, brightening up their day with your infectious smile and friendly banter. You shared a few jokes with some individuals, attempting to ease the tension in the air.

You overhear Mr. Sarkowski mentioning your cheerful demeanor on a bingo card. "Looks like '(y/n) being overly cheerful' is the next item to be checked off," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ethan allows a bag through without issue, and you pass through the metal detector effortlessly. You compliment her. "I love your hairstyle," you say, particularly fond of her blue streaks. "Thanks," she replies with a smile, retrieving her belongings from the security scanner. She glances down into the scanner's sorting bin and furrows her brow. She pushes the bowl towards you, apologetically. "Um, sorry, this isn't mine," she says, with a hint of concern.

You peer inside and notice a pair of earpieces lying at the bottom of the container. It seems like someone else left them behind. You nod at her and respond, "Thanks for letting me know. Happy holidays!"

You lift the earpieces and present them to Ethan. "Lost and found?" you ask, holding up the items in question. Ethan looks at the earpieces and nods. "Yeah, lost and found," he replies.

As you prepare to place the earpieces in the designated drawer, Ethan steps in and halts you, "Hold up." He stops you in your tracks. You regard him with a puzzled expression as you watch him glance at his phone. Almost instantly, your phone vibrates deep within your back pocket. The words "left ear. now." appear on your screen, emanating from an unknown number.

You turn to Ethan, a puzzled expression on your face, as he holds out his hand and demands, "Give me the right one." You hand Ethan the right earpiece before placing the left one in your ear.

“Okay you two, today is a day that you’re going to remember for a very long time,” a voice speaks through the earpiece to you. A voice suddenly speaks through the earpiece, filling the air with a cryptic message. You glance around anxiously, searching for the origin, while Ethan appears just as lost. "But if you handle it right, you’ll have a chance to forget it," the voice continues, leaving you both baffled.

You voice a tentative greeting through the earpiece, "Hello?"

The voice echoes once more, "One bag, that’s all.” Ethan gazes at you, a puzzled expression on his face. "Excuse me?" he repeats, perplexed.

The voice asserts, "One bag. You’re going to let it through. That's the deal. That's what's gonna happen." Ethan snickers softly, "Nice try, Eddie. I hope you rap better than you prank or (y/n) and I am out two bucks each." His tone is laced with humor, and you both chuckle at the suggestion.

You observe that Eddie appears not to be the culprit. Turning to Ethan, your eyes widen with fear as you murmur, "It's not Eddie." Once more, the voice continues, "A smart one you are, (y/n). Eddie is currently in lane one, driving his inaugural Maybach.”

A wave of unease washes over you as you become increasingly aware of the gravity of the situation. "Just relax, (y/n), okay?" The traveler's voice assures you, adding, "You're too pretty to have a breakdown before noon."

The voice directly addresses Ethan, explaining the situation: "Soon, one of my associates will step into your line with a boarding pass for Northwind Flight 1850, a nonstop flight to JFK. It's your job to ensure that his bag gets through the scanner without any issues." Ethan reacts to the request with skepticism, asking, "This is a joke, right?"

The traveler's voice returns with a calm tone, asking, "Is anything I've said funny?" "No," you reply quietly, knowing that the situation is far from a joke. The voice continues, conveying a hint of frustration, "You weren't my first choice, Ethan. You're not supposed to be where you are today."

As the voice speaks your name, the words that follow send a chill down your spine. "However, (y/n), you were exactly my first choice." "Why's that?" you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation. The voice responds, "I’m a good judge of character." The gentle, reassuring tone of his words sticks in your ears, evoking a strange sense of comfort.

The thought of being observed by this mysterious individual brings forth a question: how long had he been watching you?

You gather your courage and ask the question on your mind, "What's in the bag?" The answer to your question comes from the traveler, "Diamonds out of Papua New Guinea."

Ethan's skepticism is evident as he declares, "Bullshit." The voice responds with a matter-of-fact tone, "Okay." Ethan's observation reveals his skepticism, as he remarks, "You answered too quickly."

The traveler's words strike a nerve, causing you to tense up. "Yeah, maybe that's because knowing won't change anything," the voice continues, "and I hope I don't have to execute someone close to either of you to prove it." The traveler then makes a chilling observation, speaking your name in a matter-of-fact tone, "Your family's coming in on the one p.m. flight, isn't that right, (y/n)?"

The mention of your family's arrival, coupled with the stranger's knowledge of this information, has left you frozen in your tracks. You gather the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind, "Who are you?"

The man's voice maintains a nonchalantly casual tone as he continues, "I'm just a traveler headed home for the holidays, like everyone else. If we met at the grocery store, I bet we'd be having dinner with each other tonight, but we're meeting like this, and I'm telling you how this goes, sweetheart. Now, keep your voice down and do exactly as I say." Ethan interjects, seeking confirmation, "And you're watching us right now?"

The response comes through crystal clear, "Yes I am." Ethan discreetly pulls out his phone, his fingers dialing the number "9-1-1." "What am I doing?" he mutters to himself, his tension escalating. Your hopes for a quick resolution are dashed as the stranger continues their unsettling revelation, "Nora Parisi. Twenty-seven, recently promoted to manager of Northwind Operations."

You exchange a horrified glance with Ethan, both of you shaken by the stranger's comprehensive knowledge of your lives.

"Hang up now, or Nora dies," the traveler calmly states, his threat hanging heavily in the air. Ethan's shock turns to disbelief as he exclaims, "What did you say?"

The traveler calmly repeats his threat, "My people have a Barrett M82 sniper rifle pointed at her head. Hang up the call..."

Fear for your friend grips you as you rush toward Ethan's phone and hastily cancel the call, your own heart racing with anxiety. The tone of the traveler's voice is almost patronizing as he praises, "Good. See? Good judge of character. Now, take Ethan's phone and yours and lock them in the lost and found."

As you secure the phones in the lost and found bin, Ethan responds in a composed manner, "I accept. Just be cool, okay?" The traveler continues calmly listing the consequences, "Today won't be easy, but it'll be simple. When the plane departs at five forty, you are free to live your life.

If the bag gets flagged, Nora dies. If you pull my associate, your mother dies. If you talk to the police, I skin your cat. If anyone opens the bag..."

You release a sigh, acknowledging the threat with a nod. "Okay, we understand," you reply, your voice tinged with trepidation. The hint of genuine concern laces your voice as you implore, "Just please, don't hurt anyone." The line goes dead, and you can’t help but shiver a little in the aftermath of this disturbing situation. You look at each other with a mix of astonishment and anxiety.

The traveler's voice returns with a gentler tone, attempting reassurance, "I'm not going to, sweetheart. Not if you just listen to me." You nod obediently, forcing yourself to continue with your duties despite the tremors of fear that course through your body. "I'm listening," you reply, your voice quivering slightly. The traveler's voice responds, a note of satisfaction in his tone, "Good because I'm watching."

The traveler's voice interrupts, but to your surprise, he seems to be addressing you directly. "So, you were a volleyball player in college. Majored in hospitality. Now you're... a failed actress?" A mix of defensiveness and determination laces your words as you reply, "Not failed. I'm still trying."

The traveler's tone takes on a hint of condescension as he comments, "Right, right. That's cute. I could see you in some rom-com, kinda like this. Don’t you think?" You bristle at the traveler's sardonic tone, but deep down, his description hits a sore spot. He seems to be aware of your ambitions and insecurities all too well. Your response comes out more forcefully than you intended. "No. Not like this," you insist, emphasizing the fact that your hopes and dreams are not something to be mocked so lightly.

The traveler's tone becomes almost mocking as he points out details from your life, "Oh come on, your bookcase says different. So many suspenseful romances, you're practically in one right now." The realization that this man has been inside your home sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to murmur, "So you've been in my home."

“I have,” The traveler confirms your realization with a flat, matter-of-fact tone, his intrusion into your personal space adding an extra layer of discomfort to the already tense situation.

The thought of the stranger's presence in your home, potentially while you were unaware, fills you with a sense of violated space. You venture a question, your voice barely above a whisper, "Were you there this morning?" A moment of uneasy silence follows your question as the traveler contemplates his response. Finally, he speaks, his tone measured and calculated, "Did you see me?"

A chill runs down your spine as you hesitantly reveal your unease, "No, but... I felt…" Your voice trails off, unable to articulate the strange sensation of being watched. The traveler's words hit you like a slap, revealing that not only had he been in your home, but he had observed you in your most intimate moments. "You look good doing your morning yoga," he says.

The traveler's blunt comment elicits a mix of embarrassment and irritation, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks. "Shut up," you mutter, your cheeks burning with a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment.

The realization that this stranger has invaded your privacy in such a profound way is unsettling, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You can't help but feel a sense of violation as you struggle to come to terms with the knowledge that you have been watched, not only in your home but also in your most vulnerable moments.

You find yourself grappling with a torrent of emotions as the traveler's words ring in your ears. This situation, this entire scenario, is wrong and dangerous. But despite your best efforts, an image begins to form in your mind - the face to match the voice that is commanding you with such authority. In your mind, you imagine a handsome visage, strong and capable, its features framed by a determined, almost arrogant expression.

The sudden snap of a man’s fingers snaps you back to reality, causing you to jolt slightly. Shaking away the thoughts and images that had momentarily consumed you, you focus your attention on the man before you, his urgent tone snapping you back to the present moment. "Hey, come on! I’ve got somewhere to be!" he exclaims impatiently.

The traveler, as if sensing your agitation, speaks to you in a gentler tone, "You seem tense." The change in his voice is almost comforting, providing a slight respite from the mounting tension. Your response comes out as a scoff, the frustration and fear building inside you evident in your voice. "Wonder why," you reply with biting sarcasm, your tone laced with disbelief at the traveler's apparent obliviousness.

The traveler lets out a low hum of approval upon hearing your sarcastic retort. "I like women with a sense of humor," he tells you, a hint of amusement in his voice. Your frustration continues to show in the way you address the traveler, your voice laden with annoyance. "Not helping," you mutter. The traveler's attempts at humor and nonchalant banter only serve to grate on your already frayed nerves.

The traveler transitions the conversation abruptly, his tone becoming slightly more relaxed. "Then let's talk about something else. Tell me about your holiday plans," he prompts, seemingly eager to change the subject. The traveler's earlier statement about knowing everything about you comes into focus, his claim serving as a reminder of the extent of his knowledge about your life. "I thought you knew everything about me," you respond dryly, the sarcasm evident in your tone.

The traveler nonchalantly confirms your suspicion about his knowledge, revealing that he has indeed been paying close attention. "I do, but I like to hear you talk," he says, his tone dripping with subtle smugness.

You release a weary sigh, resigning yourself to the knowledge that resistance is futile. "My family is flying in for the holidays," you continue, your words tinged with a mix of resignation and anticipation. The mention of your family elicits a curious response from the traveler, his interest piqued by the casual revelation. "Are you excited?" he asks, his tone betraying a hint of intrigue.

Despite the traveler's evident interest, your response is blunt and non-committal. "Not really," you respond, your lack of enthusiasm evident in your voice. The traveler seems momentarily surprised by your response, a hint of disappointment creeping into his tone. "Why not?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by your nonchalant attitude towards the upcoming holiday.

Your honest response reflects the strain between you and your family, the traveler sensing the disappointment and hurt hidden beneath your words. "Because they just think I’m wasting my time," you admit, your voice tinged with resignation and a hint of bitterness.

The traveler, now aware of the strained relationship with your family, lets out a soft hum of understanding, his tone sympathetic. "That can’t be easy," he remarks, his words laced with unexpected empathy.

The traveler's question takes you by surprise, his interest in your career ambitions evident in his words. "So tell me, what's your plan? Name in the big lights?" he inquires, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and... admiration.

The words flow easily from your lips, the passion and determination evident in your voice as you share your earliest dreams and ambitions. "I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was little. Nothing else has ever really caught my attention," you explain, your words filled with a mixture of determination and nostalgia.

You glance over at Ethan, noting the way he subtly speaks into his Apple Watch. A flicker of curiosity mingled with a hint of intrigue passes over your features as you attempt to piece together the situation. Ethan continues speaking, his voice steady and controlled. "They got dogs and..." he murmurs, his words trailing off meaningfully.

The realization hits you like a wave, causing a surge of fear and uncertainty to wash over you. Not only are you worried for your safety, but now you also feel a strange sense of attachment to the unknown traveler on the other line, and the thought of potentially losing this connection with him is strangely unsettling.

Confusion and conflict wage a silent battle within you, your mind a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. The traveler's voice breaks through the chaos in your mind, his words both surprising and oddly reassuring. "Let's cancel the text," he suggests calmly, a hint of authority in his voice.

You release a heavy sigh of mixed relief and regret as you watch Ethan cancel the text. Despite the uncertainty that gnaws at your insides, you can't help but feel a strange sense of reassurance in the traveler's words and tone.

The traveler's voice carries a hint of urgency and authority as he addresses Ethan, his words demanding immediate compliance. "Attaboy. Now, stand up walk over to the drawer, and put the watch in there next to your phone. We're off to a real bad start here," he dictates, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

The traveler's voice turns to Ethan again as he questions his trustworthiness. "This won't work if I can't trust you. Understand?"

Ethan, ever the realist, nods in response, his words carrying a sense of grim determination. "You can trust me," he assures.

The traveler's question lingers in the air, his attention now solely focused on you. "What about you, honey? Can I trust you?" he repeats, his voice almost gentle, as if seeking a glimpse into your soul.

The words leave your lips with such ease and honesty that it almost surprises you. "Yes. You can trust me," you assure him confidently, your voice conveying a mix of sincerity and a sense of loyalty. You can't explain why, but you genuinely believe that you and the traveler are on the same side.

The traveler's voice carries an undercurrent of warning as he continues to address both you and Ethan, his words a stern reminder. "Now, I've given you two warnings, and the next time, there's gonna be consequences. Do you understand me?"

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a sense of finality and seriousness seeping through. Despite the fear that lingers, you can feel a sense of commitment to following his instructions and living up to your promise of trust.

The traveler's words, addressed directly to you, hold a hint of condescension mixed with genuine concern. "You're smart (y/n). Yet, you still seem unhappy. You can steal what happiness you can when you can. Or just stay on autopilot for the rest of your life. I can help you with that."

His words cut straight to the core of your struggles and insecurities, a sharp reminder of the dissatisfaction that gnaws at you daily. Yet, there's a subtle glimmer of understanding and a hint of a challenge in his voice, as if he sees something in you that you haven't fully recognized yourself.

Your mind works diligently to piece together the puzzle of the traveler's surroundings, using the subtle background sounds as your guide. As the sounds coalesce into a coherent picture, your gaze scans the bar, searching for a familiar face.

Then, your eyes come to rest on a man sitting at the bar, wearing a black jacket and a black baseball cap. It could be a coincidence, but something about him catches your attention. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his solitary form, the subtle details of his attire matching your mental image of the traveler.

The question leaves your lips, with curiosity, and a hint of suspicion in your tone. "What are you trying to say?" you ask, your gaze unwavering as you try to gauge the traveler's intentions and the significance of the man at the bar.

The moment hangs in the air, the tension palpable as you await his response and the revelation of his hidden motives.

The stranger's words echo in your mind, a mix of flattery and pragmatism in his tone. "You're smart. You know, the smart ones find a job that pays the most money for the least amount of work. And they spend the rest of their time doing whatever makes them happy."

You can't help but think that he knows you even better than you know yourself. His observation feels uncanny as if he's peering into your innermost thoughts and desires. You find yourself considering his words, the truth of his statement resonating with your own yearning for a better work-life balance.

The question slips from your lips, an attempt to gain insight into the traveler's own philosophy and lifestyle. "Is that what you do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued by the idea that this stranger has it all figured out.

You await his response with anticipation, eager to hear if his advice is based on personal experience and whether his words hold any truth or hypocrisy. The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of confidence and a touch of invitation, leave you momentarily speechless. "I think you'd be surprised with how well I live. I could show you," he says.

For a moment, you are captivated by the possibility of glimpsing into this mysterious stranger's world, a world that seems so different from your own mundane reality. Curiosity and a hint of intrigue battle within you.

Ethan's sudden intervention snaps you out of your reverie, his actions stopping the moving belt and prompting your confused question. "What are you doing?" you ask, frustration creeping into your tone as you try to make sense of his actions.

Your furrowed brows betray your confusion, your attention now fully directed towards Ethan and his unexpected interference. The frustrated passenger's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, his impatience evident in every word. "Does it take a doctorate to read a computer screen? Let's go," he repeats, his tone tinged with irritation.

Ethan, seemingly unfazed by the passenger's impatience, calmly slides the man's bag down to you. "Bag check," he mutters, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your hand reaches for the bag, the weight of the responsibility evident in your movements, but they are slow. You wanted to avoid opening the bag.

Ethan addresses the man with a professional tone, requesting to see his boarding pass. "Sir, could I see your boarding pass, please?" he asks.

The man in front of you nods, pulling out his boarding pass and passing it over to Ethan without any hesitation. The tension in the air grows as you await the outcome of the interaction.

Ethan speaks with a professional tone, addressing the man by name. "Mr. Herter, I need to conduct a quick inspection. If you prefer, we can use a private room."

Ethan's decision to inspect a public area puts the entire situation at risk, the potential consequences hanging heavily in the air. The traveler's urgency and impatience only exacerbate the predicament, adding another layer of tension to the already tense scenario.

Ethan's gaze falls upon you, as he watches your actions, waiting for you to open the man's bag. However, you stand frozen, paralyzed by fear and disappointment at the traveler's silent reproach. Your hand hovers over the bag's zipper, but your heart races, and your mind races with conflicting thoughts.

Your voice trembles with anxiety and uncertainty as you express your doubts about the necessity of the inspection. "I really don't think it's necessary," you murmur, your words tinged with fear and a trace of defiance. Ethan's eyes don't leave you, his gaze locked onto your face.

Ethan pushes the bag down further, his tone firm but professional. "In that case, I'll have a law enforcement officer run your boarding pass while I search. It'll save time," he states.

As you observe the scene unfold, you notice Lionel using a black light to scan the boarding pass. You watch with growing curiosity as the words appear, invisible to the naked eye until illuminated by the black light. "Sneaky sneaky," you think to yourself, the cleverness of the hidden message sinking in.

Your mind is conflicting with itself, torn between the fear of the traveler being caught and the strange feeling of wanting to protect him. "He's a criminal," you remind yourself, "He should be caught." Yet, despite that, there's a part of you that strangely doesn't want that to happen. Your emotions are a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

Your frustration bursts forth in a forceful question directed at Ethan, your emotions running high. "What the fuck, Ethan?" you demand, your voice betraying a mix of irritation and worry. You're still trying to process the events that unfolded, the conflicting emotions and thoughts swirling inside you.

Ethan's casual shrug only adds fuel to your frustration, his nonchalant attitude seemingly at odds with the seriousness of the situation. "You're acting like this isn't a big deal," you point out, your voice tinged with annoyance.

You attempt to justify your perspective, "I just know how to follow the rules. You're going to get someone hurt," you argue, your concern evident in your words. Ethan's lax attitude towards protocol and the potential consequences of his actions is infuriating and alarming.

The traveler's voice filters through, his words carrying a mix of intrigue and allegory. "There's a story I once heard about a tribe in the Serengeti…" he begins, drawing your attention to the story he's recounting.

As you listen, you also notice the sound of movement in the background, as if the stranger is walking around the crowded area, apologizing to people as he passes by. "Excuse me," he casually says, his voice almost lost amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport.

The traveler's voice continues, painting a vivid and unsettling picture. "So, when night fell, they crept into the man's hut and slit the throats of all three children." His words hang heavily in the air, the story's violent turn chilling you to the core.

Suddenly, a woman's scream pierces the air, causing a ripple of panic to spread throughout the area. Lionel collapses to the ground, and the scene devolves into chaos, with people calling for a doctor. Amongst it all, you catch a glimpse of a man in a black jacket and hat, the realization hitting you like a shot.

The man stands up, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment, his smirk sending a shiver down your spine. “We need a doctor!” He calls out in false panic. It was him, the man you had been talking to all this time. He slowly begins to walk away from the chaos, leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. You watch him leave, the confusion and shock evident on your face, his smirk lingering in your mind like a haunting memory.

The urge to follow the man, to go with him, is stronger than you expected, his presence having created a strange connection in your mind. His fearlessness, his way with words, and his commanding demeanor make him seem almost unreal, like a character straight out of a book you've read. You debate with yourself, torn between the instinct to run and the inexplicable desire to be with him.

The airport staff swiftly removes you from your station in the wake of the commotion. Sarkowski, your supervisor, instructs you to take a break, suggesting you grab a coffee or take a walk. You comply, still feeling shaken and shocked by the event, and the thought of taking a break to clear your head seems like a good idea.

As you follow Sarkowski's instructions, you can't help but think about Lionel, and the fact that he was such a kind man, always looking out for everyone, even you. You feel a mix of sadness and disbelief as the weight of what happened starts to sink in.

You're walking towards the break room to try and gather your thoughts when suddenly, you find yourself pulled into a nearby storage room. The door closes and locks behind you, your back pressed against the hard surface of a body, their hand covering your mouth, muffling any sound.

Fear and panic well up within you as you're unable to move or speak, your heart racing with the realization that you're trapped in a vulnerable position.

The voice of the traveler, now identified as the man who had pulled you into the storage room, speaks softly into your ear, his tone calm and almost soothing.

"Relax," he whispers, his words carrying a hint of reassurance. You feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and despite the circumstances, a strange sense of comfort washes over you, the panic within fading slightly.

The traveler, his hand still firmly covering your mouth, asks you calmly, "I'm going to remove my hand. Are you going to scream?"

You feel the pressure slightly lessen, yet his hand remains in place, waiting for your response. The urge to call out for help lingers in the back of your mind, but a strange sense of trust in him holds you back.

You manage to shake your head slightly, the movement barely perceptible, but still conveying your intention to stay compliant. Your heart continues to pound in your chest as you await his next move, a mix of anticipation and tension coursing through you.

The traveler seems satisfied with your response, his hand slowly lifting away from your mouth, though you can feel his body remaining close to your back.

The traveler's voice breaks the silence, a tone of concern evident in his words, "You alright?"

You can sense the sincerity in his question, and a moment of realization washes over you. This man, who had just pulled you into a storage room, was asking if you were alright. Your mind grapples with the conflicting emotions coursing through you.

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, a mix of accusation, anger, and confusion present in your tone. "You... killed him."

The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air, the atmosphere in the small storage room practically suffocating. The tension rises as you await his response, your emotions conflicting with the strange bond you've established with this stranger.

You manage to turn around to face him, creating a small distance between the two of you. The storage room suddenly feels even more cramped, the air thick with tension. Your eyes meet his, a mixture of confusion, fear, and curiosity swirling in your gaze.

The stranger regards you with a cool, almost casual demeanor, his eyes studying you intently as if trying to gauge your reactions.

The stranger's words, spoken with a hint of nonchalance, leave you stunned and confused. "I don't know about that," he says, his tone matter-of-fact, "Ethan knew the simple rules."

You struggle to comprehend the words he's saying, the nonchalance in his delivery not matching the gravity of his actions.

The stranger's response, a simple admission of his normalcy, catches you off guard. "I'm not some cartoon villain. I'm just a regular guy," he reiterates, his words tinged with a hint of vulnerability and almost... honesty.

His statement, so different from the image of a cold-blooded killer, leaves you bewildered. You struggle to reconcile this seemingly ordinary man with the events that have unfolded.

His features, now so close to you, appear more defined and complex. His sharp, blue eyes, framed by a straight nose and slightly disheveled hair creeping past the edges of the black cap, create a captivating visage.

You can't help but stare at him, your gaze taking in every detail, trying to discern the depths beneath the surface.

The corners of the man's lips curl upward, forming a subtle smirk. He can see you studying his features, and the smirk in his eyes suggests that he doesn't mind the attention.

You break eye contact, realizing you've spent too long studying his features. With a glance away, you attempt to recover your composure, trying to hide the fact that you find him intriguing.

The man's fingers, gentle yet firm, guide your face back towards him, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. As your eyes meet his, a strange mix of feelings washes over you - fear, curiosity, and a strange sense of connection, as if his gaze holds some sort of power over you.

He stares deeply into your eyes as if searching for something, the silence in the storage room almost deafening. The soft question escapes your lips, the single word hanging in the air with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. "What?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger doesn't answer immediately, his gaze holding onto yours as if he's carefully considering his next words or actions. His fingers remain on your chin, his touch feeling both soothing and electrifying at the same time. There's a strange intimacy in this moment, a connection that defies logic and reason.

His words, spoken with a hint of tenderness and concern, make your heart flutter slightly. "Just making sure it’s okay," he repeats, his tone filled with a subtle s incerity.

As you look into his blue eyes, you can't help but feel a mix of unease and attraction. Part of you wants to pull away, to free yourself from his grip, but another part of you craves the intimacy of his gentle touch.

Before you can even react, the stranger's lips are on yours in a sudden rush of emotion, capturing your lips in a surprisingly gentle yet fervent kiss. The kiss is intense, filled with a mix of urgency and a strange tenderness.

Your eyes widen in surprise as the kiss sends a jolt of electricity through your body, the sensation both unexpected and exhilarating.

For a moment, the world around you fades away, replaced by the feeling of his lips against yours, his hand still cradling the side of your face. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, and your entire world seems to narrow down to this one brief connection, as if time and space have ceased to exist.

The soft moan that escapes your lips, a sound of both surrender and pleasure, seems to fuel the passion in the kiss. You allow yourself to lean into him, the contact between your bodies both comforting and intoxicating.

The stranger responds by deepening the kiss, his hand on your face moving to the back of your head, pulling you closer to his strong frame.

The intensity of the kiss grows as he pulls you closer, his hand now woven through your hair, holding you securely against him. The stranger's body presses against yours, the closeness and the heat between you both sending a wave of electricity coursing through you.

Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions, a mixture of confusion, confusion, and a strange sense of surrender. You feel both out of control and strangely secure in his embrace.

The stranger's words, spoken against your lips in a low, rough whisper, break the spell of the kiss. Even amidst the intensity of the moment, you can sense a hint of reluctance in his voice as he speaks to someone you can't see.

"Alright, alright," he murmurs, his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation. You feel his lips linger against yours for a moment longer before he slowly pulls back, leaving you feeling both bewildered and wanting more.

The stranger's words ring through the air, a mix of encouragement and a hint of endearment. "Stay sharp. Days almost over, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice slightly softer than before.

Despite the casualness in his tone, the nickname "sweetheart" resonates within you, adding another layer of confusion to the mix of emotions swirling inside you. You can't help but feel a mix of disappointment and curiosity as he prepares to leave, the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips.

He disappears as quickly as he has arrived, leaving you standing in the small storage room, your mind reeling from the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. The memory of his kiss, the touch of his body, and the sound of his voice linger in your mind, the events of the past minutes playing over and over again in your head.

You're left with a swirling mix of confusion, arousal, and an inexplicable desire to see him again, the mysterious stranger leaving you with more questions than answers.

The coffee in your hand feels strangely comforting, a small reminder of normalcy amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

You try to rationalize his actions, convincing yourself that it must have been nothing more than a distraction. The kiss was likely a means to take your mind off the situation, to throw you off balance. But despite your attempts to dismiss it, the feel of his lips against yours, and the memory of his touch, refuse to fade from your mind.

You return to your place at the bag check, outwardly appearing composed and focused, but inwardly, your mind is preoccupied.

Jason approaches, taking a seat at the scanner nearby, and you can't help but furrow your brow, something about his presence makes you feel on edge. You question him about Ethan's absence, curiosity piqued.

"Isn't Ethan scanning?" you ask, your voice filled with a mix of confusion and suspicion. Jason replies with a matter-of-fact tone, explaining that Sarkowski instructed him to take over for Ethan. His words hang in the air, yet the sense of unease doesn't fade.

The thought crosses your mind, a sense of uncertainty creeping in. If Ethan isn't on the scanner, how is the bag going to go through without issue?

Your eyes dart around, searching for the traveler, and you spot him a noticeable distance from Ethan. The suspicion grows, and you speak into your earpiece, a sense of urgency in your voice.

"We've got a problem," you murmur, your words barely carrying through the earpiece.

The traveler halts in his tracks, turning to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. Then, he responds with a hint of amusement, a mixture of humor and sarcasm in his voice. "Are we fighting already?" he asks, his words carrying a subtle challenge.

Your words hang in the air, “Ethan’s been kicked off the scanner.” The stranger's gaze remains on you, his eyes flicking to the scanner where Jason sits and back, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

“Then I guess Ethan’s got a problem to fix,” The stranger's words hang in the air with a touch of sarcasm, yet there's a hint of concern in the undertone. His gaze lingers on you, as if waiting for your next move or any other piece of information you may have to offer. The clock seems to tick slower as the tension builds, the weight of the situation pressing on your shoulders.

Ethan returns to the area, having received the instruction to return to the scanner. You shake your head, your words a firm reminder. "You have to get back on the scanner," you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument.

The low, smooth voice of the stranger reaches your ears, his words causing a strange flutter in your chest. "That's my girl," he murmurs, the praise and endearment in his tone sending a wave of conflicting emotions through you. Your cheeks warm slightly, and you try to hide your response, though he seems to have noticed your reaction, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

The stranger's words, addressed to both you and Ethan, carry a hint of warning and a subtle threat. "She's right, you know?" he says, his tone a mix of amusement and a hint of concern. "If you're not on that machine by the time our man gets there, you're in breach. Then maybe I don't start with Nora," he continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone, the mention of Nora adding a note of weight to his words.

Ethan's response to the stranger's words is immediate, his voice filled with defiance. "I don't care what you do to me," he declares, a stubborn determination evident in his tone. The stranger's gaze lingers on Ethan, his expression unreadable, his reaction masked by a neutral façade.

The stranger's words carry a hint of threat, yet they're also tinged with a strange sense of compassion. "Who said anything about you?" he retorts, his eyes locked on Ethan, the tension between them palpable. "Your friend there is coming off the machine. You can decide if it happens your way or mine," he repeats, emphasizing Ethan's choice in the matter, a subtle way of manipulating the situation and Ethan's actions.

Ethan, quick to react, swiftly devises a plan, framing Jason for drinking on the job. The wheels in his mind spin, and he effectively places himself back on the scanner, his quick thinking and manipulation skills coming into play. Despite the strange situation, you can't help but be impressed by his ability to adapt and think on his feet.

The stranger's voice filters through your earpiece, his instructions clear and concise. "Red baseball cap, three o'clock, by the bins. That's our guy," he murmurs, his tone serious and focused. Your eyes dart to the specified location, your gaze falling on the man with the red baseball cap by the bins, the subject of the stranger's words.

Ethan's question, "There are 250 people on that flight. You gonna kill 250 people?" is met with the stranger's chilling response, a simple and matter-of-fact "Mmm-hmm." The words hang heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in. You can't help but feel a chill run down your spine, the reality of the threat setting in and the weight of the stranger's words leaving a foreboding feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Ethan's question, "Why are you doing this?" echoes in the air, seeking an answer from the stranger. The stranger looks at Ethan, his gaze unflinching, his expression unreadable.

Your voice interjects, defending the stranger against Ethan's accusation. "He's not the doer, Ethan," you say with conviction, your words carrying a note of certainty. You can feel the stranger's gaze on you, his eyes studying your reaction.

As the stranger's words linger in the air, a question forms in your mind: What is this payment the stranger is talking about? You can't help but wonder what could be his purpose behind it, and more intriguingly, his interest in you. Is he working for someone, and if so, who? The idea that your involvement might be a part of his plan sends a chill down your spine, but at the same time, there's a strange sense of anticipation that gnaws at you, an unexplainable curiosity about your role in all this.

Your mind churns with questions, your thoughts attempting to make sense of the stranger's actions. Were you simply there to ensure the bag didn't get searched, or was there a deeper purpose to his presence and connection to you? You can't help but wonder if there's more to his actions, his interest in you, and his involvement with this entire situation.

The uncertainty and the unknown fuel your curiosity, yet also stirs a sense of unease within you.

The man with the red baseball cap passes through, his bag rolling smoothly onto the conveyor belt. Ethan, his gaze fixed on the screen, seems uneasy.

You allow the bag to pass with a polite smile, wishing him a pleasant day, but underneath it all, your thoughts are consumed by the tension in the air. Your actions seem normal on the surface, but inside, you're grappling with the knowledge of what's hidden within the bag and the implications of letting it through unchecked.

"I have something stronger if you need it," A quiet, gentle voice breaks the silence, offering a solution to your headache. You look up, finding the stranger standing a short distance away, his eyes watching you intently.

Your voice carries a hint of exhaustion mixed with curiosity, your tone slightly defensive as you question him. "What do you want now?" you ask, your words carrying a mixture of weariness and intrigue.

The stranger's lips curve into a subtle smirk, his eyes seemingly studying your every reaction. He takes a step closer, his gaze unflinching, as if he can see straight through you.

The stranger's response is casual yet tinged with a subtle hint of intimacy. "Well, I was going to keep you company on your lunch," he says, his tone almost indifferent yet also carrying a touch of tenderness.

His words catch you off guard. Keeping you company is unexpected, but there's a part of you that doesn't dislike the idea. You can't deny the strange connection you feel towards him, a connection that seems to defy rationality and reason.

You question him, your words tinged with a touch of sarcasm but also tinged with a hint of challenge, "Do I have a choice?"

The stranger chuckles softly, his gaze fixed on you. He leans against the lockers, his body language casual but his eyes sharp and observant, as if he's carefully studying your response. The stranger's tone is firm and matter-of-fact as he responds with a single word. "No."

His definitive answer lingers in the air, the lack of ambiguity in his tone making it clear that he has no intention of giving you a choice in the matter. Despite his sternness, however, there's a subtle glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as if he's enjoying the subtle power dynamic at play.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of determination and a subtle challenge as you state, "You're buying."

The stranger looks at you, his smirk growing slightly as he nods in agreement. "Fair enough," he says, his tone holding a hint of amusement. It seems like he's accepting your demand, a small concession to your assertiveness.

You both sit across from each other in silent anticipation, your lunch in front of you untouched. The air between you is filled with a strange blend of curiosity and anticipation.

The stranger's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes scanning your face, studying your expression. He seems to be waiting for you to break the silence, to make the first move in this unusual lunch encounter.

You hum softly, your head tilting in a nod of acknowledgment. There's a moment of silence that follows as if both of you are gathering your thoughts. The stranger's eyes are fixed on you, his expression calm yet somewhat unreadable, as if he's trying to gauge your reaction to his cryptic statement about his occupation.

He regards you thoughtfully, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "You can ask, you know?" he repeats, his tone a mix of curiosity and a subtle challenge.

Your eyes meet his in a silent exchange. It's as if he's inviting you to question him, to dig deeper. You can feel a strange sense of anticipation, a mix of curiosity and doubt filling your mind as you consider whether or not to press him further.

You hesitate, your words carrying a mix of uncertainty and a hint of intrigue. "I don't know if I want to," you admit, your tone tinged with a touch of wariness. The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, a subtle amusement in his eyes.

“If you don’t know, then I can’t do it again, and if you don’t ask, I can’t tell you.” The stranger's words hang in the air, the simplicity of them yet hinting at a deeper layer. He leaves the decision in your hands, allowing you to choose whether to pursue this deeper connection or not.

His challenge lingers, a quiet demand for you to make a choice. You're left wondering if you want to take the next step, to learn more about this mysterious stranger and his cryptic job, or if you'd rather keep the distance between you.

You admit, "I am curious, anyone would be," your words carrying a sense of vulnerability.

The stranger's eyes are on yours, his expression tinged with a hint of pride as if he's pleased with your admission. He leans forward slightly, his gaze unwavering, waiting for your next question.

The remainder of the unexpected kiss sends a shiver down your spine, the memory of his lips flooding your mind. You speak softly, your words tinged with a mix of confusion and intrigue. "You... kissed me."

The stranger doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and anticipation. In the quiet, he waits for your next move, eager to see where this conversation leads.

Your comment hangs in the air, the weight of the moment evident in the silence that follows. The stranger's eyes hold yours, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that he's waiting for your next words, or possibly your next action.

It's almost as if the entire world has stopped, the only sound being the beating of your heart in your chest.

The stranger's lips curve into a slight smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, I did, and you liked it," he says, his tone almost challenging, as if daring you to deny the truth in his words.

The warmth of embarrassment creeps up your cheeks, his words hitting their mark, leaving you feeling flustered. The stranger's smirk widens as he watches you, a chuckle escaping him, amused by your reaction.

He leans back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the effect his words have had on you. For now, he enjoys the silent moment, giving you time to recompose yourself.

The question hangs in the air like a cloud of curiosity, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a genuine desire to understand. "Why did you?" you ask, your words holding a touch of vulnerability.

The stranger's smirk softens into a subtle smile, his eyes studying yours intently as if considering his next words. He leans forward slightly, his voice carrying a subtle edge of sincerity. "It was a moment of impulse," he admits, a hint of vulnerability peeking out from beneath his usual demeanor.

“How long have you been watching me?”

The stranger's eyes flicker with a mix of emotions, his gaze holding yours with a depth and intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. He considers your question for a moment as if assessing whether or not to be completely transparent with you.

"A while," he finally answers, his tone a mixture of honesty and mystery. He holds your gaze, waiting to see how you'll respond to this revelation.

Your question, "What's your plan here?" hangs in the air, your curiosity and uncertainty evident in your tone, “besides getting a bag in a plane.” The stranger leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look in his eyes as if pondering how much to reveal.

His response comes a moment later, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and a strange sincerity. "I'm still figuring that out," he admits, his words leaving you to wonder about his intentions and goals. “It really depends on you.”

Your question, "Me? What do I have to do with this?" echoes in the air, your curiosity and confusion evident in your voice. The stranger's expression softens, his gaze locking onto yours as if seeking understanding and cooperation.

The stranger's words, "Your answer. When this is all over I'd like to know if you'd get that dinner with me I mentioned earlier," hang lightly in the air. His tone is nonchalant as if he's simply curious about your response.

His words, though seemingly casual, carry a depth of sincerity that can't be ignored. He watches you, his eyes fixed on your face, as if waiting for an answer, or a sign that you'll accept his proposal.

“You’re going to murder 300 people and you’re asking me to dinner?” The stranger chuckles dryly at your statement, the sound a mix of amusement and acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. "Yes," he responds, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and a hint of dry humor.

He seems unfazed by the contradiction as if he's fully aware of the dark nature of his actions and the paradoxical nature of his proposal. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for your response, the tension in the air palpable.

“Why me?”

The stranger studies you for a moment, his gaze unwavering. He seems to be searching for the right words, his expression hinting at a mix of intrigue and sincerity.

"Why not you?" he finally responds, his tone carrying a subtle mix of admiration and mystery.

The stranger's words echo in the air, the admission of knowledge about your home and personal details taking you by surprise. It's unsettling to realize that he knows so much about you, yet his expression remains calm and his tone remains casual.

The stranger's presence and the knowledge he has of you are strangely disquieting, the familiarity he shows is both intriguing and unnerving at the same same time. He seems to share some similarities with you, the revelation leaving you feeling a mixture of curiosity and caution.

“I’m going to assume you have my number.” The stranger's eyes follow you as you stand up, his gaze unwavering. Despite the mysterious aura surrounding him, his expression holds a hint of disappointment, as if he had hoped for a different response. He seems to take a moment to process your words, a mix of curiosity and contemplation evident in his eyes.

He nods slightly, acknowledging your statement, his lips curving into a slight, almost enigmatic smirk. "I do have your number," he affirms, his tone calm and almost nonchalant, hiding any deeper feelings he may have.

“Well when you get done here, see if it works. Might surprise you.”

The stranger watches you with a mix of amusement and a subtle challenge in his eyes.

Despite his confidence and power, he seems to appreciate your assertiveness and the way you hold your own.

He responds with a nod, his smirk growing slightly, his tone carrying just a hint of amusement and anticipation. "I will," he says, his words holding a subtle promise of future contact.

You walk away with a smirk, feeling the weight of the stranger's gaze on your back. The mixture of curiosity, uncertainty, and anticipation lingers in the air, leaving you with questions and a tingle down your spine.

As you leave, his eyes follow you, his gaze lingering on you, as if committing your form and your subtle smirk to memory. He seems to find your assertiveness and confidence intriguing, and a subtle smirk plays upon his lips, a mixture of respect and fascination in his gaze.

You return to your position at the checkpoint, only to find several LAPD officers filing in, their presence unexpected. Your gaze flicks to Ethan, confusion etched on your face. You ask him, "Did you say anything?" your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

Ethan shakes his head in response, his eyes fixed on the officers. He seems puzzled by their arrival as much as you are, and his confusion is evident in his expression.

The announcement rings out through the checkpoint, the TSA's words echoing in the air, their message clear and firm.

The words "random bag checks" hang in the air, adding a new layer of uncertainty and anxiety to the already tense atmosphere. You watch as people react with apprehension and confusion, their eyes glancing around them in frustration, wondering if they'll be selected for a check.

Sarkowski, the supervisor, swiftly becomes flustered by the turn of events, his voice carrying a tone of urgency. "Everyone meet in the office. Right now!" he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The employees scramble into action, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry. They know the importance of following Sarkowski's instructions, and they quickly gather in the office, their gazes fixed on him as they wait for further explanation.

The stranger's voice comes through your earpiece, his words carrying a tone of anticipation and a hint of tenderness. "Walk slowly, honey. I need my eyes," he murmurs, his voice a quiet but noticeable contrast to the tense atmosphere in the office. You feel a shiver run down your spine, the combination of his words and the strange tenderness in his voice causing a mix of confusion and anticipation to swirl within you.

You follow the stranger's instruction, your eyes seeking out the room on the left. Your gaze lands on a room tucked away, seemingly out of sight from the main activity.

"Alright, see that room on the left?"

You nod as you walk ensuring that you understand which room he means. Your body is tensed, your voice full of anticipation and a touch of excitement, despite the circumstances.

“Go inside,” the stranger's words a quiet command that you follow without hesitation. With a glance around to ensure no one is watching, you quietly make your way toward the room on the left. Your heart beats a little faster, a mix of anticipation and caution coursing through your veins as you approach the room.

You enter the room and close the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place filling the room with a sense of privacy. As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, you see the stranger standing there, his presence dominating the space. The room feels claustrophobic and intimate, the air between you charged with tension and anticipation.

The stranger studies you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation, his eyes flicking over your face as if taking in every detail. There's a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and his gaze lingers on you for a moment, almost as if he's enjoying this moment of anticipation. The silence in the room is heavy, the only sound being the steady beating of your heart in your chest.

He leans closer, his body pressed close to yours. The warmth of his breath tickles your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His words, "You're a brave woman, defying the rules just for me. I like that," send a wave of anticipation through you, and his lips brush against your ear, causing a surge of pleasure to surge through your body.

You feel trapped, the weight of his body and the closeness of his presence stirring something within you.

Your heart raced as his hand slid up your waist, his touch sending waves of heat through your body. You wanted to resist, to ask more questions, but all you could do was gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his mouth claiming yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting of sin and temptation. You felt his hand slip into your pants, his fingers skillfully working your wetness. You moaned into his mouth, unable to resist the pleasure he was offering.

His fingers teased your clit, circling and rubbing, driving you wild. You squirmed in your seat, desperate for more. He broke the kiss, his breath hot on your neck. "I want you, right here, right now," he growled, his voice filled with desire.

You couldn't deny the raw hunger in his words. With trembling hands, you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing your lace bra. He pulled it down, exposing your breasts. His mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking and teasing, while his fingers continued their magic between your legs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your body arching as an intense orgasm ripped through you. He didn't let up, his fingers working you relentlessly, milking every last drop of pleasure. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

"That's just a taste of what I can give you," he whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "But you have to be quiet." You leaned back, your body trembling. You wanted more, but you also feared the consequences. "Who are you?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

He smiled, his eyes full of mystery. "I told you, I’m just a regular guy." You couldn't shake the feeling that you had just embarked on a dangerous and exhilarating path. The man's touch, his words, and the thrill of the forbidden had awakened something primal within you. You wanted to know more, to uncover his secrets, even if it meant dancing with danger.

He presses his lips to yours, the kiss slow and sensual, leaving you with a flutter in your stomach. Then, with a subtle smirk, he buttons up your shirt, his nimble fingers working efficiently to correct your indiscretion. Once done, he unlocks the door and pushes you out.

His lips curve into a slight smile, his eyes holding a mix of amusement and affection as he watches you go. He knows he has left you with a mix of confusion, anticipation, and a lingering sense of pleasure.

You re-enter the meeting room, finding it nearly empty as the meeting appears to be over. Ethan's eyes narrow at you, his gaze intense and filled with suspicion, as if he can sense that something is off about you.

You feel the weight of his gaze on you, the suspicion in his eyes making you slightly uneasy. Despite your attempt to maintain a cool exterior, you can't help but feel slightly exposed, as if he can see right through you and detect the effects of the stranger's touch still lingering on you.

You grab your MDT and log in, your fingers moving swiftly over the keys as you access the list of people with flagged bags. As the list appears on the screen, your eyes scan the names, and you see that 50 people are marked for bag checks.

Your mind immediately switches into professional mode, the task at hand demanding your focus. You begin to navigate through the list, planning and prioritizing the checks based on your training and protocol. All bags besides the one you would make sure would board.

The woman's voice over the PA system announces the random bag checks, listing off the names of the selected passengers. Carrie Pierce, Cameron Figgs, Mateo Flores, and Alison Mallory are among those called to have their bags checked. You can't help but notice the list, the one particular names of passengers echoing in your mind. It was the associate.

You turn to Ethan, your tone tinged with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "Ethan, what did you do?" you ask, your eyes narrowed slightly as you study his face for any signs of guilt.

He shakes his head, his response firm and defiant. "Nothing," he insists, his eyes locking onto yours as he denies any involvement. "I didn't move." He stares at you with suspicion, his gaze searching for any indication of your involvement.

"Why'd they pull my guy?" the traveler asks, a touch of impatience in his tone.

Ethan responds calmly, "It's a lottery system." His words are confident, but you can sense a hint of tension beneath the surface.

You call him out, your gaze fixed on him with a mix of suspicion. "You're lying," you assert, your voice filled with conviction.

Ethan looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of defiance and a subtle challenge. He doesn't deny your accusation, his silence speaking louder than words.

Ethan leaves his position, his movements rushed and determined. You notice his departure, your instincts telling you that something is off. You follow him, your steps hurried and deliberate.

As you chase after him, you try to catch his attention, trying to stop him from ruining whatever plan may be in motion. You can feel the tension building, your thoughts racing as you try to anticipate his actions.

As you rush after Ethan, you feel a strong grip on your arm, a firm tug pulling you back. You turn, finding yourself pulled against the traveler's chest, his hand gently holding onto your wrist.

"Stop, stop," he whispers, his voice a gentle command that sends a shiver down your spine. His tone is both soothing and assertive, a mixture of insistence and concern.

The traveler speaks, his tone is soft but firm, his words a mix of reassurance and a request. He holds your wrist gently, his eyes searching yours, a silent plea for cooperation in his gaze.

His words, "I'll handle him, but I need you, to just go back and do your job. Can you do that for me, honey?" hang in the air, a mixture of trust and a subtle command. You can feel the weight of his request, and the implications of his words sink in.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your head as he whispers, "That's my girl. Days almost done." The words linger in the air, a mix of encouragement and something else that you can't quite place. As he pulls away, his fingers delicately removing your earpiece, you feel a strange mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

The weight of the moment lingers, his actions leaving you with a mix of anticipation and a subtle flutter in your chest.

Your thoughts, consumed by the stranger, make it increasingly challenging to maintain your professional demeanor. The anticipation of seeing him again, the concern for his safety, and the strange sense of connection you feel all swirl within you.

You can feel the effect he has on you, how he has taken over your thoughts and consumed your mind. The need to see him again grows stronger, an almost primal desire to be near him again.

A quiet, but insistent, voice breaks the silence, capturing your attention. A detective from the LAPD stands beside Sarkowski, their tone is urgent and professional. The words, "I need a line to LAX Security Tower and I need to talk to Ethan Kopek," fill the air, their gravity clear.

Sarkowski turns to you, his gaze inquisitive and expectant. "Where's Ethan?" he asks, his tone tinged with impatience and concern. You can feel the weight of their stares, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your response.

Your mouth opens, but for a moment, no words come out. The silence stretches, as your mind struggles to find an answer, your thoughts racing to process the situation. The detective's gaze seems to intensify, her suspicion growing with each passing moment of your hesitation.

Another employee, hearing the conversation, intervenes, their tone casual and informative. "Yeah, you looking for E? He's on his way to sorting." Their words add a touch of normalcy to the tense atmosphere, though their casual tone seems mildly out of place.

The detective's gaze flicks from you to the new speaker, her suspicion shifting momentarily before returning to you. Sarkowski voices his concern, "What is he doing down there? The guy's been acting wiggly all day." The words hang in the air, a mix of confusion and suspicion.

The detective takes charge, her tone firm and authoritative. "Shut this checkpoint down now. And you," she points to you, her gaze fixed on you, "I need you to speak with you first." You feel the weight of her words, the intensity of the situation suddenly escalating. The room seems to close in, the tension palpable.

The nerves take hold, your voice a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. "O-okay," you reply, a subtle tremble in your words. Your hands are slightly clammy, and your heart beating a little faster. Despite your attempt to remain composed, the weight of the situation and the intensity of the detective's gaze make it clear that this is far from a routine inquiry.

As you make your way down the hallway with the device, you pass the sorting area, your mind becomes consumed with a mix of worry and determination. The thought of the stranger, his face, his voice, his presence, all swirling in your mind as you desperately try to figure out a way to prevent him from getting caught.

The weight of the situation presses on you, the knowledge that something important, something significant, is at stake. It's a strange mix of emotions, the fear for his safety, the desire to keep him from harm, and the uncertainty of what you can do to help.

Your words, "Can I just make sure-" are cut off mid-sentence by the officer's firm response. "No," she says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ethan suddenly appears, his movements swift and frantic. His eyes meet yours, a mix of desperation and urgency in them. He quickly speaks, his words tumbling out, "He still has it, he still has it!" The message hangs between the two of you, a mixture of panic and a sense of understanding passing between you.

The detective, standing nearby, watches the exchange intently. Her gaze narrows as she asks Ethan, "Are you Kopek?" Her tone is sharp, her words carrying a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She's trying to piece together the puzzle before her, her focus fixed on Ethan, waiting for his response.

Ethan's desperate plea echoes through the air, his words a mix of desperation and urgency, "I know this looks bad, but you have to let us go, I have to get to my girlfriend!" His tone is pleading, a mix of fear and anxiety lacing his voice. The detective watches as Ethan tugs at you, her expression a mixture of skepticism and anticipation, her eyes analyzing Ethan's behavior and words, trying to assess the situation.

Ethan tugs at you, his movements urgent and determined, pulling you down the hall. As he speaks, his words carry a sense of urgency, his tone conveying the gravity of the situation. "He's trying to take out Northwind 1850. All passengers," he informs you, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and urgency.

The thought of the stranger's safety, his fate hanging in the balance, and the potential consequences of your actions feel immense. It's a moment of deep contemplation, and the choice you make could have far-reaching consequences.

Ethan instructs you to stay with Nora, his voice carrying a tone of urgency and importance. "Stay with Nora," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. The responsibility of protecting her, of ensuring her safety, adds another layer of weight to your already stressful situation. You nod in agreement, your mind now divided between protecting Nora and ensuring the stranger's safety.

Ethan quickly boards the plane, his eyes scanning the bags, a mixture of urgency and determination in his gaze. He searches through the bags, his movements efficient and focused, until he finally finds the bomb amongst the other bags. The discovery solidifies the gravity of the situation, the threat of the bomb now out in the open, its presence a grim reality.

As Ethan tries to disarm the bomb, another man, a stranger in a black cap, suddenly calls out, "So you're Ethan!"

The unexpected voice, the man in the black cap, catches Ethan off guard. The sudden appearance and the question add an element of confusion to the already tense situation, the stranger's identity and intentions still unknown. The man in the black cap, though different from the stranger you encountered earlier, seems just as determined to ensure the bomb's mission is carried out. He appears ready to sacrifice himself if necessary, a grim resolve in his eyes. The knowledge of this adds a new layer of urgency and danger to the situation, as you realize the extent to which the attackers are willing to go.

Ethan, with a mix of determination and resourcefulness, manages to fight for his life and save the entire plane. He seals the bomb and the associate in a vacuum chamber, a desperate act that ultimately results in the death of the associate and the neutralization of the threat.

The danger is averted, the bomb's threat contained, but the price for Ethan's victory is steep, leaving the weight of the situation and its consequences hanging heavily in the air.

You tell the police your story, sharing the events of the day and the manipulation you faced. You're cooperative, sharing all they wanted to know, the words flowing out of you.

Even as you speak, a sense of loss weighs on you, the realization that you may never see the stranger again settling in your chest. Despite the danger and uncertainty of the situation, a part of you feels strangely drawn to the stranger, his presence and words lingering in your mind.

A part of you entertains the idea that the stranger was right, that if you truly wanted to, you could forget him, erasing his presence from your thoughts and memory.

Your life's trajectory has shifted, moving in a direction that you never anticipated, but that you've worked hard for. Your family visits for the holidays, their gratitude and appreciation for you leaving a warmth in your soul that you'll never forget.

The local news station reaching out to invite you for an exclusive interview is the spark that ignites a fire within you, leading to a string of phone calls and auditions. Finally, your father secures you a genuine agent, and you land your first major role in a movie, a dream that you've been chasing for years.

As each day passes, you find yourself constantly glancing around corners, half-expecting to see the stranger lurking there. The anticipation lingers, a subtle undercurrent in your daily routine, but the stranger never appears, the corner remaining empty.

Weeks turn into months, and the memory of his presence, his words, and his actions begin to gradually fade, the intensity of your expectation slowly waning with each passing moment.

You return to your new house, a cozy home nestled in the picturesque hills of California. The house is a testament to your success, a symbol of all you have achieved since that fateful day at the airport. Yet, as you step into the quiet solitude of your home, a strange sense of loneliness lingers in the air.

A mix of shock and disbelief washes over you as you enter your bedroom and flip on the light, finding a man sitting in the chair across from your bed. But it's not just any stranger - it's the stranger you've been unable to forget.

Your heart skips a beat, the surprise making your breath catch in your throat. You stand there, frozen in place, your mind struggling to comprehend his sudden presence in your most private space.

His voice cuts through the stillness of the room, the words carrying a mixture of accusation and nostalgia. "You changed your number," he says, his tone a blend of disappointment and understanding.

The words make your heart skip a beat, the weight of his statement hanging in the air between the two of you. You feel exposed as if he's laid bare your attempts to move on, to forget him, and yet he doesn't seem overly upset by it.

You respond, your tone is defensive and slightly sheepish. "I had to," you say, the words carrying a hint of regret and a touch of guilt.

The truth is, you had changed your number for your own sanity, as a way to distance yourself from the memories and feelings that he brought up within you. Yet, now that he's here, you realize that a part of you never truly let go.

He stands from the chair, his movements are deliberate and measured as he closes the distance between you. Each step brings him closer, the anticipation growing with each passing moment, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As he approaches, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, his presence commanding your attention, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. His brown hair, shorter now, still slightly disheveled, framed his handsome face. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to devour you as if he was seeing you for the first time, yet with an intimate knowledge that made your cheeks flush.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely audible. You had changed your name, moved cities, and started a new life to escape him. But here he was, proving that his infatuation knew no bounds.

"I've been looking for you," he said, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, and you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. "Never got my answer on that dinner."

You took a cautious step back, your heart racing. The last time you were together, things had ended abruptly, leaving you with a mix of emotions. He had been possessive, and controlling, but there was an undeniable passion that kept you entangled in his web.

"I... I don't understand," you whispered, your eyes darting around, searching for an escape route. "How did you find me?"

He chuckled a deep, throaty sound that sent a pleasurable tingle down your body. "I've been keeping a close eye on you, waiting for the right time."

His words sent a chill down your spine. You remembered the countless nights you woke up to his intense gaze through your bedroom window. The flowers you'd find on your doorstep, with no note, but you knew they were from him. The feeling of being watched, and followed, had become a constant in your life.

"You can't just show up like this," you protested, though your voice lacked conviction. A part of you was intrigued, drawn to the intensity of his desire. "I have a life here, a career..."

"And I intend to be a part of it," he interrupted his voice firm yet laced with a hint of desperation. "I won't let you slip away again."

As he spoke, his eyes trailed down your body, taking in your curves, the soft swell of your breasts beneath your thin blouse. You felt exposed and vulnerable, yet a tingling warmth between your thighs betrayed your unease. His desire was palpable, and it awakened something primal within you.

"You know you want me too," he whispered, taking another step forward, closing the distance between you. "You've always had. From the first time, I whispered in your ear, you wanted me.”

His words were like a spell, breaking down your defenses.

"I..." You trailed off, your eyes searching his, trying to find the strength to resist. But his gaze held you captive, and you found yourself taking a step forward, closing the gap between you.

"That's it," he murmured, his hands reaching out to cup your face. His touch was electric, sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

His lips crashed down on yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your initial resistance fading as his tongue danced with yours. His hands traveled down your body, molding your curves, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for far too long.

He pushed you against the wall, his body pressing into yours, and you could feel his hardness through his pants. His kisses trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire, as his hands skillfully unbuttoned your blouse, exposing your heaving breasts.

"Oh, I've dreamed of this," he growled, his hot breath sending shivers across your sensitive skin. His mouth captured a taut nipple, sucking and teasing, while his hands worked their magic lower, sliding beneath your skirt.

Your breath caught as his fingers found the damp silk of your panties, stroking the sensitive folds of your pussy. You were already soaked, your body betraying your attempts at resistance. He knew how to touch you, how to drive you wild, and he took his time, building the anticipation.

"Please," you whispered, your head thrown back, as his fingers teased your clit, bringing you to the edge. "I need you..."

He chuckled against your skin, his breath hot and raspy. "Not yet, honey. I want to savor every moment."

His fingers delved deeper, sliding inside your wetness, stretching and filling you. You moaned, your hips thrusting involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. He added another finger, curling them, hitting that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

"That's it, let go," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire. "Come for me, my beautiful girl."

His thumb circled your clit, applying just the right pressure, and you shattered around his fingers, crying out his name. The orgasm ripped through you, leaving you trembling and boneless against the wall.

But he wasn't done with you yet. He lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his gaze burning with intensity as he stripped off his clothes.

"You're stunning," he whispered, his eyes raking over your naked body. "Every inch of you is perfection."

He joined you on the bed, his body covering yours, his lips claiming yours once more. His kisses were feverish, desperate as if he couldn't get enough. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of your body, reacquainting himself with your curves and valleys. "I need to be inside you, to feel you around me."

You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your hands tugging at his hair, urging him closer. He positioned himself at your entrance, his hardness pressing against your wetness, and slowly, he began to fill you.

The sensation was exquisite, his thick length stretching you, filling a void you didn't realize existed until that moment. He thrust slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to his size, but soon his movements became more urgent, driven by the heat between you.

"Yes, fuck, yes!" you cried out, meeting his thrusts, your nails digging into his back. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, as he hit all the right spots, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as he pounded into you, driving you higher. Your cries filled the room, a mixture of pleasure and surprise as he took you to heights you'd forgotten existed.

"I'm close," you gasped, your body tightening around him, seeking release. "Oh God, I'm so close..."

He increased his pace, his hips slamming into yours, his breath hot against your neck. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words were like a trigger, and you exploded around him, your pussy clenching and milking his shaft as you rode out your orgasm. He followed soon after, his body tensing, as he filled you with his hot release, groaning your name.

As your heart rate slowed, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close, his arms possessive around your waist. You lay there, breathless, your bodies glistening with sweat, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held now that he had found you again.

"You're not getting rid of me this time," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You knew that this was just the beginning, and as you looked into his determined eyes, you realized that this time, you did not want to escape after all.

#jason bateman #carry on #Netflix carry on #carry-on #the traveler #Jason Bateman x reader #the traveler x reader

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yvesssssssss · 19 days ago

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Nagumo yoichi

A quiet moment

A family's embrace

Shadows of the past

A simple gesture

The language of his ink

Silence speaks louder

A day off.. sort of?

A job well done

Lies written in black

Love at first sight

Pregnancy shenanigans

A night of forgetting

Secrets don't stay hidden

Secrets don't stay hidden (2)

Secrets don't stay hidden(3)

Stillness and storms

Pink, knives, and chaos

Mad love

Mad love (2)

The pocky game

Fast and furious (and a little nauseous)

Nagumo yoichi and his nonchalant girli

Unraveling

The story of us

Remember me

Punching machine

Nagumo watches yellowjackets with you

Nagumo watches yellowjackets with you(2)

How to open a jar and annoy your wife at the same time

No longer lethal

Laid back until he's not

How he acts around his s/o

Deep notes of love

If their s/o died

S/o who hates physical touch

Art attack at 2.am

If theirs s/o died(2)

Soft spoken hearts

Fading walls: the journey back to you

Fractured memories (2)

Sweetest betrayal

Out of frame

The cut that stayed

Ex drama

Shin asakura

Lost time

Shin finding out his s/o is nagumo's younger sister

Love at first sight

I waited for you

Crush? What crush? ( Totally just coworkers)

moment of reckoning

Deep notes of love

S/o who hates physical touch

Art attack at 2.am

Gaku

Player two

Gaku vs his own kids ( and losing)

Natsuki seba

Dragging him back home

Blunt force loyalty

Sweet escapes

Precision and protection

Unlucky in love (thanks to mafuyu!)

If their s/o died

If their s/o died(2)

Uzuki kei

Never me

As natural as breathing

Something like kindness

Strictly professional (probably)

Stay with me tonight

Focus, uzuki

Painted in your colors

Shishiba

Calculating chaos

Small worries, big love

A small taste of happiness

Two sides of you

Fucked around and found out

Multi characters

Things you love about them

How they react to you being overly intoxicated aka drunk asf

The way he kisses you

When they love you

Not giving them kisses

Their acts of love

Their reaction to you being kidnapped

Them with a regular job

That was your first kiss..?

Too kind for your own good

"I'm gonna marry mommy!"

How they react to their girlfriend beiing grumpy after a bad day

Meeting their family

Natsuki, Shin, and Heisuke Seeing Their Cute Girlfriend Get Flirted On

False alarm, real heart attack

Falling inlove at first sight

How the sakamoto days boys confess their love

Sakamoto days boys React to you telling them you're pregnant

Sick Days with the Boys

Perfect date

Traitor s/o

Too pretty for your own good

How they'd propose

Calling them a good boy

How they'd propose (2) i didn't realize that i already made one😭💔

Sakadays as percy jackson cabin members

#Masterlistves˙ᵕ˙#sakadays #sakamoto days #sakamoto days x reader

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uchihaharlot · 1 year ago

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Master List

Uchiha Headcanons:

Which sex position to the boys bust fast (nsfw)

Sounds the Uchiha make during sex (nsfw)

Uchiha 3some feat. Shisui/Itachi/AFAB (nsfw)

Obito/Itachi Drabble to crush giving them a back rub (sfw)

Obito/Shisui reaction/with pregnant s/o (n/sfw — suggestive.)

Uchiha men fucking you raw for the first time (nsfw)

How Uchiha’s tolerate a tomboy girl (sfw/kinda cute, kinda lost my ability to write)

When you break an Uchiha’s heart (sfw but sad asf fuck)

Obito/Shisui when their s/o has a stripper pole (nsfw)

Uchiha with an artistic friend-s/o (sfw)

Obito/Itachi massage with happy endings (nsfw)

Shiita/ Itachi unfortunately falls victim to a lactation jutsu 🥴 (nsfw)

Uchiha’s against your killer breasts (nsfw)

Uchiha men and facial hair (sfw)

You watching Shisui plow Itachi (nsfw)

Baby trap Uchiha’s (nsfw)

Calling Obito/Itachi daddy (nsfw)

Holding their pp as they pee (nsfw)

Club night with the boys (sfw/mentions of cock)

Morning blowjobs 🥹🙏🏼 (nsfw)

Uchiha’s dealing with someone who self harms (nsfw)

What turns on an Uchiha? (nsfw)

Obito/Shisui with virgin (nsfw)

Madara:

Dirty things Madara does to you (nsfw)

Obsessive/jealous Madara (nsfw)

Madara getting pussy whipped by a young girl (nsfw)

If Madara's lover was captured hc (sfw)

Wearing lingerie for Madara (nsfw)

Obito/Tobi:

General headcanons for Obito/Tobi(sfw)

Obito/Zetsu relationship headcanon(sfw)

Obito with a clingy s/o (n/sfw suggestive)

Obito kinda being a dom (nsfw)

Shisui:

Bird feeding Shisui his own cum(nsfw)

Shisui asking a stranger to dance(nsfw?— suggestive)

Shisui chasing a girl down (sfw)

Can Shisui suck himself off? Yes, absolutely! (nsfw)

Shisui CEO au/attempt (nsfw)

Origins of Shisui sucking his cock (nsfw)

Shisui sucking you off in the bathroom (nsfw)

Shisui messing with a cross dressed Itachi (nsfw-ish)

Shisui topped by a girl with more stamina (nsfw)

Shisui finger banging you on a stationary bike (nsfw)

Uchiha men discovering their wives masturbating in the onsen (nsfw)

Shisui on ‘sloppy seconds’ (nsfw)

Shisui having triplets (n/sfw)

Shisui's son asking for a puppy (nsfw)

Shisui explaining why he deserves credit for baby making (nsfw)

Shisui leaving behind his pregnant girlfriend (n/sfw)

Itachi:

Light sex hc(nsfw)

S/o doing an erotic dance for Itachi (nsfw)

Squirting for the first time (nsfw)

Itachi returning home from a long mission (nsfw)

Sasuke:

Some random hc, mostly like a date night (n/sfw)

Falling for a friend of a friend of a friend (NSFW)

Personal drabbles:

Shisui fucking a civilian girl stupid (nsfw)

Shisui’s deplorable behavior with fem!cousin (nsfw)

Shisui lacing your drink with cum (nsfw)

Undesignated Shisui smut (nsfw)

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ll7esxs · 2 months ago

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꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

them as dads [requested!]

this has been like 2 months in my drafts💀

characters: Logan walker, David hesh walker, Keegan p. russ, Thomas A. merrick, Kick

notes: fluffy asf, you decide what is the gender of the baby, k/n refers to "kid name"

summary: They’ve survived war, impossible odds, and the weight of their pasts. But nothing could have prepared them for fatherhood.

They’ve faced life-or-death missions, impossible odds, and the weight of war. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared them for this moment, no this is not a new level this is a new life for them.

ok but before we start you gotta choose your baby a boy or a girl!😍

Logan walker:

Before the baby was born, he was nervous. Didn’t think he’d be a good dad. But the second he held them? Game over.

The first time he holds your newborn, he just stares for a long time, completely still. He’s never been one to show big emotions, but his eyes say everything—pure love, He was afraid to lift them up a bit to his lips and peck their forehead :(

He gets up for late-night feedings without a word. One night, you wake up and find him in the rocking chair, gently swaying with the baby on his chest, "You can put them back in the crib, babe." you said Resting your hand on his shoulder which he shrugged with a smile "They’re fine here." (Translation: I don’t want to move them.)

Whenever the baby grabs his finger in their tiny hands, he just stares at them in awe, as if he still can’t believe they’re real.

The baby loves the sound of his heartbeat. Anytime they’re fussy, he just lays them on his chest, and boom—instant calm.

He may not be the most expressive, but if he ever catches you and the baby sleeping together, he just watches for a moment, quietly smiling to himself, thinking how he got here.

His kid starts crying, and Logan, despite being tired, doesn't hesitate. He picks them up carefully, rocking them slowly back and forth.

“Hey, it’s okay. Dad’s here…”

There’s something about holding his baby that makes the world feel quieter. It's the kind of calm Logan has rarely experienced in his life.

Feeding Time: Logan’s the type to make sure everything is perfect when it’s time for a meal. He’s the dad who prepares the food and is very particular about making sure the spoon isn’t too hot.

Logan’s Thought “I’m not sure if I’m doing this right. Why does this seem so complicated?”

You’re both sitting on the couch, and Logan is holding the baby bottle with one hand, awkwardly trying to get your little one to latch on. He’s focused, quiet, but there’s a softness in his eyes.

Logan: “You’re safe. Everything’s good. Just eat, little one.”

You smile softly from the side, watching as Logan’s usual stoic expression softens when the baby starts drinking. His hands are careful, his movements slow and gentle.

Smilingsoftly to you “I never thought I’d be doing this.”

You laugh quietly. “You’re doing great.”

with a small smirk “Yeah, well, I’ve got a lot to learn.”

Teaching to Talk:

You and Logan are sitting on the floor with the baby in front of you both. They’re about six months old, staring at your lips as you encourage them to say their first words.

Logan has a faint smile on his face as he watches the baby’s little hands reach for your lips.

With patient “Say ‘mama.’ Can you say ‘mama’?”The baby coos and gurgles, but no words.

Logan watches, nodding in agreement.

Then the gentle tone of logan “Come on, kid. You can do it. Say ‘dada.’” The baby makes a tiny noise, which could almost be construed as ‘dada.’ Logan looks over at you, grinning.

“Dada. That’s my boy/girl.” him saying proudly.

“It’s hard to believe they’re growing up this fast.”

The baby is starting to take their first steps, and you and Logan are ready for it. He watches intently, waiting to catch them if they stumble.

You with excited tone “Come on, sweetie! You’ve got this.”

Logan gently sets the baby on their feet, keeping a steady hand just in case. The baby takes a shaky step, then another. Logan grins.

Logan encouraging his little one “Good job, kiddo. Keep going. Just like that.”

You’re both so proud, and Logan’s eyes soften with that familiar protectiveness.

He muttered quietly to you “They’re already making progress. It feels like just yesterday they were in my arms so small.”

He’s not a man of many words, but his actions speak louder than anything.

You catch him lying on the couch, your toddler sprawled across his chest, both of them fast asleep. He stirs a little when you take a picture but doesn’t wake up.

He loves watching you and your child interact. There’s a quiet fondness in his eyes whenever he sees you both laughing together.

Logan isn’t the loud, over-the-top dad—he’s the one who’s always there. Present, patient, protective in ways that don’t always need words.

When his toddler wakes up crying at night, Logan doesn’t rush—he just picks them up, rubs their back, and hums softly until they calm down.

Has a habit of resting his chin on top of his kid’s head when he hugs them. It’s a subtle, grounding thing for him.

His toddler steals his mask and waddles around in it, dragging his vest behind them.

“Look, Daddy! I’m you!”

Logan just smirks, ruffles their hair, and mutters, “Not yet, kid.”

The quiet but super protective dad.

Probably the "cool" parent who lets his kids stay up a little longer if they beg enough.

If his kid gets scared at night, he doesn’t say much—just picks them up and lets them sleep on his chest.

David "hesh" walker:

He was already excited. that's it.

The first time he holds the baby, he grins so hard it looks like his face might break. "hey Look at them!" He said with his warm, dripping tone looking at them PROUDLY, "Who ever thought..."

He insists on “introducing” the baby to everything in the house, Hesh, holding the baby up like Simba“And this... is the couch. You’re gonna spit up on it a lot.” You lost your heart already at this sight "Oh my god david not like this!!"

Hesh is the kind of dad who’ll talk to his baby like they’re already understanding him, often teasing them in a playful way.

That's why his baby start talking early and understanding cuz hesh is talking to them like normal human.

He talks to them as if they understand every word. “You’re a good kid. I promise, I’ll be here when you need me.”

Sometimes, when the baby cries and you’re exhausted, he gets in with his smile a proud one, acting like a hero who will solve problems—“Don’t worry, I got this.” while holding your shoulder, then proceeds to rock them while pacing around the room, yep. he needs your help.

Whenever the baby falls asleep in his arms, he refuses to move. “I don’t care if my arm falls off, I’m not waking them up!.”

He can't help but wondering if he do what elias used to do with him and logan from raising and taking care of.

Feeding Time: Hesh has absolutely no chill when it comes to feeding. He tries to get the baby to eat everything, like he was crushing the cookies and put them in a spoon like a cereal because why not.

You’re both in the kitchen, and Hesh is trying to feed the baby their first solid food. He’s a little nervous but tries to hide it.

“C’mon, little one, let’s get some food in you. You gotta grow big and strong like your old man.”

The baby makes a funny face, unsure of the new taste, but Hesh is laughing.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a bit weird at first, but you’ll get used to it.”

You stand beside him, holding the baby’s bib in place.

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

“Better than I expected, that’s for sure.”

Teaching to Talk: When the baby starts saying their first words, Hesh loves it. Every new word is a reason for a celebration.

You and Hesh are sitting on the floor, the baby in front of you both. Hesh is trying to get the baby to say their first word, clearly determined to be “dada.”

Hesh being the cheerleader “Say ‘dada,’ come on, you can do it.”

The baby babbles, but no word comes out. Hesh smiles, patient.

“It’ll come, don’t worry. First word’s gotta be ‘dada.’”

You chuckled at him “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Hesh with a faint smile “Alright, we’ll see who they say first.”

You and Hesh are in the living room, baby on the floor, trying to get them to walk. Hesh gently places his hands under the baby’s arms and lifts them to their feet.

The baby stumbles but starts taking a few shaky steps toward you. Hesh watches in awe.

And he was so damn proud about it“That’s my kid. You got it.”

“They’re definitely taking after you.”Hesh smiles and chuckles softly.

“Let’s hope they don’t end up as clumsy as me.” way to go hesh...

Hesh is the “fun dad”—the one who hypes up his kid like they’re a superstar.

Every little thing they do? He’s cheering for them so softly and warming it's like he showed the most deserved man to be a dad. "hey look at that throw! that's my kid!"

Discipline? Struggles with it because he hates seeing his kid upset, but he’s firm when needed.

If his kid ever has a bad day, he immediately finds a way to cheer them up—ice cream, movie night, or just roughhousing in the backyard.

Protective? Absolutely. If anyone messes with his kid? That Walker temper shows real fast.

He tries to teach his kid how to trash talk during a game.

“Okay, k/n, say this—‘Nice try, better luck next time!’”

Later, his toddler absolutely DESTROYS another kid in a game and yells, “YOU SUCK, GET BETTER!”

“NONONO—THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT.”

Then he keeps tricking the baby not to say any bad words in front of you

The fun and affectionate dad

He’s the dad who calls out, “Where’s my little champ?!” when he comes home, just to hear the sound of tiny feet running toward him.

Keegan p. russ:

u i a io ui ii io (srry just preparing)

The moment he holds the baby, he freezes. He’s seen combat, survived impossible missions—but this tiny, fragile little human? Terrifying.

How do I even do this? He’s more comfortable with missions, with strategy—but a tiny human?

He holds the baby awkwardly at first, but once they latch onto his finger, he feels an overwhelming rush of emotion.

He’s super careful with them, holding them like they’re made of glass. “Are you sure I’m doing this right?”

The first time they grab his finger, his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t say anything, but later, you find him staring at his hand, like he’s still processing it.

When he thinks no one’s watching, he talks to them in the softest voice. “You got your mom’s nose, huh? Lucky you.”

You catch him pacing the room at 3 AM, whispering to the baby while rocking them. “You really don’t need to cry this much, y’know?” In the most soothing way ever.

The first time your kid falls asleep on his lap, he doesn’t move for two hours. You find him just sitting there, hand resting gently on their back.

Feeding Time: Keegan is super chill about feeding, but he’s the first one to notice when the baby is definitely not eating, he once decided to let you asleep and takes the responsibility to feed the baby.

“Did you feed them yet?” you entering the kitchen to find keegan has already finished

Him sitting on a chait arms on his chest eyes closed“Yeah, but they just threw it on the floor. Like I said, it’s not my problem.” yep it is not his problem to clean the floor.

He’ll sit down, grab the baby’s hand gently, and show them how to hold the spoon properly, though he’s secretly a little proud of how fast they’re learning.

He grins at the baby “Yeah, you’re gonna be a pro at this in no time. Just don’t use the floor as your plate, alright?”

Teaching to Talk: Keegan doesn’t push the baby too hard, but he’s got his moments when he tries to teach them.

You and Keegan are sitting on the floor with the baby, encouraging them to say their first words. Keegan keeps repeating "dada," trying to get them to say it.

“C’mon, say ‘dada.’ You can do it.”

The baby coos, but no word yet. Keegan patiently tries again.

“Say ‘dada,’ kid. It’s easy.”

You watch him with a soft smile, noticing how calm he is with the baby.

The baby’s trying to stand, and Keegan’s holding their hands, guiding them. He’s firm but gentle, watching every little move.

“Alright, you got this. Just take a step.”

The baby stumbles, but Keegan catches them immediately. He grins, a little proud of the first attempt.

“Hey, no rush. You’ll get it. Just take your time.”

You catch him later in the corner of the room, quietly cheering them on as they take their first steps towards him. “That’s my kid.” lifting them up and giving them a soft kiss on the cheek

Keegan never thought he’d be a dad. The idea terrified him.

But the first time he holds his baby? That’s it. He’s gone. They’re his entire world.

Tries to be the “cool, quiet” dad, but his kid completely shatters that image. They tug on his sleeves, climb on him, and drag him into their little adventures.

Affection? He’s not the best with words, but he shows love through actions—fixing broken toys, remembering small details, being the first one awake to comfort them after a nightmare.

Yeah like this man won't sleep the minute the kis sleeps no, He will wait like 2 or 3 hours like in case they wake up or something.

Discipline? His kid rarely misbehaves because Keegan’s quiet disappointment is worse than any punishment.

Secretly loves it when his kid falls asleep on him. Won’t move for hours if it means they stay comfortable.

“Daddy, can you braid my hair?” (if the kid is a girl)

“I don’t know how.”

Cue Keegan watching hair-braiding tutorials at 2 AM.

When your kid is scared, he doesn’t baby them but reassures them calmly. “Nothing’s gonna get you. I’m right here.” It always works.

If his kid is climbing something? Keegan is already behind them, hands out, ready to catch them.

If they look sad? He just hands them their favorite snack or cookies that you told not to eat after dinner he just want the kid to pass this.

Teaches them how to be quiet but dangerous.“Dad, I snuck up on you!”

Keegan, who knew they were there the whole time watching TV “Yeah. Sure you did.”

Awkward with affection. But his kid doesn’t care—they just climb into his lap, hug him, and refuse to let go.He sighs like he’s annoyed, but he’s not. Not even a little.

If His kid is too much like him, like being quite and never says anything

"Talk to me, kid."

"I'm fine, dad."

"...Damn it." turn his head, thinking this is a curse for his kid to be so silent about his problems like him.

Thomas A. merrick:

The second he holds them, he just exhales slowly, and you can tell he’s completely smitten.

Quietly devoted, strong, and calm. Merrick is the kind of dad who can be serious and focused but always has a gentle, protective side when it comes to his baby.

He’s a man of action, but when the baby is placed in his arms, it’s the one thing that makes him stop and reflect.

the baby gets fussy, he hums—deep, soothing tones that somehow work like magic.He’s super patient with late-night wake-ups. If you’re exhausted, he tells you, “Go back to sleep. I got ‘em.” when he’s holding them, he just looks at you and shakes his head with a smile. “We made a good one.”

Loves doing skin-to-skin contact, just resting the baby on his chest while he leans back on the couch. They always fall asleep that way.

Merrick wakes up early, always making sure to prepare the baby’s things before he go to work. He’s very organized, almost too much at times. But he’ll never complain about the work—it’s just part of his commitment to his family.

Lowkey has a soft spot for baby giggles. The second they start laughing, he’s doing whatever it takes to keep them going.

Feeding Time: Merrick’s the dad who always has a backup plan for everything, and feeding is no different. He’ll get the baby to try new foods—anything to expand their palate.

“Come on, just one bite. You’re gonna love it.”

“I don’t think they’ll like that.”

“Watch me. They just don’t know it yet.”

The baby eats the food with minimal protest.

You impressed raising your both hands in kind of giving up: “Okay, maybe you were right.”

Smirking “I know what I’m doing baby.”

Teaching to Talk:

He might not be the most talkative when it comes to baby talk, but there’s something about him holding his baby that feels solid, reassuring. Merrick is very methodical when teaching the baby to speak. He’s patient and will repeat words several times.

Repeating “dada” in a quiet, patient voice. He’s not one for a lot of baby talk, but he’s genuinely trying to help the baby learn.

“Say ‘dada.’ You can do it.”

The baby responds with some babbling, but no words yet.

“That’s alright. You’ll get it.”

Merrick is super strong, so when he holds the baby, it’s like the safest place in the world. You’ll sometimes catch him gently swaying as if he’s thinking, even though the baby is happily asleep in his arms.

If your child gets hurt, he goes into full military medic mode. “It’s just a scratch, but we’re gonna clean it up properly. Hold still.”

The type to instinctively catch his kid if they trip—even if he’s across the room

“How did you do that?”

shrugs “Reflex.”

Merrick was born to be a dad. Calm, wise, Tough and just has his life together.

The most prepared father ever. Has the diaper bag fully stocked, extra blankets on hand, and somehow already knows how to swaddle perfectly.

Secretly super soft when it comes to you. He gives your child little forehead kisses, but when you tease him about it, he just grumbles, “Don’t start.”

The ultimate “dad mode” parent—commands respect but is also super caring.

Would absolutely destroy anyone who hurts his child, no hesitation.

His presence alone is comforting—his kid always runs to him.

Encouraging but firm. Pushes his kid to be their best, but never pressures them.

The type of dad who teaches them life skills early—how to tie knots, how to fix things, how to navigate. (ofc he won't force them)

Biggest cheerleader. If his kid ever doubts themselves, Merrick reminds them exactly what they’re capable of.

His kid tries to get away with swearing.

Merrick just stares at them not in a scary way or something“You wanna try that again kiddo?”

Instant regret. “Uh… fudge?”

“That’s what I thought.”

once when he tried to leave for his work when he gave the baby a kiss on his head then walking to the door, but that stopped when the baby start fussing about him slightly disappear behind the door.

merrick not wasting any time closing the door and getting back to the place "nevermind I will retire".

His kid is fascinated by his war stories, but he makes sure they know the difference between reality and fiction.

He lets them make mistakes, but he’s always there to guide them back.

Merrick is the dad that everyone wishes they had (yeah im running out of ideas).

Kick:

It happened before mirrage like 3 or 4 being lovely partners and no one even had the thought about it

but it happened XD

Acts like he’s totally cool about being a dad, but the second he holds the baby, he’s done for. You find him staring at them, just completely fascinated, You shrugged, find him staring at them, just completely Lost.“You okay?” he didn't even lift his head to look at you “They’re just... really small.”

When the baby gets a little older, Kick’s all in with the physical play. He’s the dad who will “pretend” to be a superhero and will throw them up in the air (safe and sound, of course!) just to hear them giggle.

"OH MY GOD KICK??" ofc you had heart attack.

“Don’t worry, they’re in safe hands. Daddy’s got them.” him smirking at you while the baby is almost done from giggling.

He’s so hands-on, so engaged, that you have to remind him to give the baby some space to crawl on their own.

Feeding Time: Kick acts like it’s no big deal, but he’s definitely the one to crack jokes to get the baby to eat.

You sighing but trying to keep the smile on your face for tricking the baby into eating “Come on, just eat your veggies.”

Kick holding up a spoon to them“Oh, you don’t like broccoli? Shocking kiddo.”

Baby looking at the broccoli turning his face away not wanting to eat

“Wait, how did I know that was coming?”

“Oh my god kick you're not helping!”

Teaching to Talk: Kick is so sarcastic about it. The first time the baby says a word, he acts like it’s the most monumental thing in the world.

Kick is trying to teach the baby to say “dada” first, but his approach is playful and silly.

“C’mon, kiddo, say ‘dada.’ I’m right here.”

The baby giggles at his antics, but no word just yet.

“You’ll be saying it in no time. You can’t resist this face.” Kick said as he point at his face with his two index fingers.

Baby saying “no” for the first time “No!”

Kick deadpan“Well, that’s just rude.”

When the baby’s old enough to squirm and wiggle, Kick just watches in amusement.

You looking at how your kiddo has grown up “I don’t think they want to sit still.”

Kick shaking his head with a chuckle“It’s a phase. But if I try to hold them still, they’ll just squirm out of my grip and think it’s hilarious.”

"yeah sounds like you" giving him a wink, which led him to give you a half gazed eyes

The chill but sarcastic dad.

Has an “if it ain’t life-threatening, you’ll be fine” parenting style.

The definition of unbothered but somehow always has things under control.

He has this natural Dad Reflex. One time, your kid spills something, and without looking up, he just reaches over and catches the cup mid-air.

you catch him adjusting your kid’s blanket at night, read stories and he gets into them so much. especially when he gets to a plot part "christ??" Him eyes widened at the kids stories

You and Kick argue playfully about who’s the favorite parent.

“They like me more.”

“No shot. I’m the fun one.”

Your child chooses the dog instead.

You find him napping on the couch, your kid curled up beside him, using his arm as a pillow.

He doesn’t even wake up—just shifts slightly to pull them closer.

Changes diapers with zero complaints, but absolutely roasts the baby while doing it.

“Man, how did something this tiny make this much of a mess?”

When the baby cries, he picks them up, holds them against his chest, and just walks around the house, murmuring “Shh, Daddy's got you.”

He acts chill about it, but if someone else in the family gathering or a party is holding the baby for too long, he’s suddenly right there. “Yeah, okay, hand ‘em back now.”

He loves laying the baby on his chest and pretending to be asleep just so they fall asleep too.

The laid-back dad who somehow always knows what’s going on.

His kid thinks they’re being sneaky? Nope. Kick already knows.

“Nice try, kid. I did the same thing when I was your age.” ahh dad type

Kick is unbothered. His kid is climbing the furniture? He waits to see if they’ll figure it out themselves before stepping in. (but ofc he will be some kind close to them).

The “cool” dad who lets his kid do fun stuff, but only if they do it right.

“Wanna learn how to fight? Cool. But you’re learning proper form first.”

His kid tries to trick him with a fake injury.

Kick just stares at them with a smile. "Nice acting. You want an Oscar for that?"

“Ugh, fine, I’m not hurt.”

“Yeah, thought so.”

His kid tries to trick him into letting them stay up late.

A lot of "Nice try" words

"Mom just told me I could!"

Kick, without looking up "Nice try she’s asleep."

Somehow always knows when they’re lying."Did you break this?"

"No?"