#This wasn’t quite as fluffy as I wanted but I also don’t really know the state of Wars and Impa’s relationship at this point in the story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-leclerc · 4 months ago

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we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him.

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often."

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?”

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters.

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t.

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones.

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body.

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver.

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower.

He’s just becoming— too real.

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his.

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush.

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble.

The start of the season is always tough.

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn.

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world.

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing.

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention.

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand.

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough.

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles.

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend?

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words.

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing.

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.”

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement.

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry.

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room.

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help.

Woah, are you feeling alright?

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.”

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright.

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you.

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter.

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek.

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little.

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration.

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you.

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground.

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open.

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver.

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace.

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.”

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “��.”

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat.

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.”

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose.

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering.

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it.

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers.

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers.

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs.

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess.

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon.

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando.

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.”

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands.

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.”

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.”

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him.

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again.

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan.

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing.

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.”

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief.

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.”

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision.

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk.

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing.

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off.

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop.

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you?

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning.

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other.

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry.

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath.

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer.

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning.

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome.

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando.

You what?

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers.

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream.

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean.

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.”

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts.

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice.

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare he have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to.

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has.

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might.

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, round eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.”

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct.

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now.

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once.

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it.

It was never going to be you.

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues.

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt?

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend.

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing.

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you.

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded.

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you?

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks just as tired as you. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab.

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough.

Only then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.”

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring.

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle.

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.”

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed m—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a shy laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes.

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly.

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes.

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock.

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it will for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place.

“What about me?”

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

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little-jana · 2 months ago

Text

"Behind Closed Doors" (18+)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: smut!!, 18+ only, fluff

Warnings: smut, p in v, kissing, unprotected sex, fluffy smut, it's cute :)

Words: long, idk, sorry

Summary: The man who walked out of that prison was not the same man who had gone in. And there is a need in this different man...

It had been months since Spencer Reid was released from prison. The guilt of his wrongful conviction still lingered, but now, with his freedom restored, there was a whole new weight in the air between us. The Spencer Reid I knew had always been distant, reserved, and so wrapped up in his own world that the idea of him noticing anything—let alone me—seemed impossible. But somehow, through all the chaos, the letters and visits, I could see something shift in him.

The man who walked out of that prison was not the same man who had gone in. He was a version of Spencer I could hardly recognize—more hardened, more aware of his own power. But when he looked at me, there was something in those eyes, something that drew me in like nothing before.

I had been waiting for this moment—the moment when I could finally have him, really have him. And now, here he was, standing in the doorway of my apartment, shifting uneasily on his feet, looking both lost and conflicted.

“Spencer…” I said, my voice soft as I closed the space between us. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t decide whether I was nervous or exhilarated. Maybe both. “It’s good to see you.”

He looked at me for a beat, his gaze dark and intense, then glanced away briefly, as if the weight of my words was too much. “I don’t know if ‘good’ is the word for it,” he muttered, his voice rougher than I remembered. There was still a certain vulnerability beneath that hardness, a part of him that hadn’t quite healed from what he’d been through. But it didn’t scare me. I wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” I said, standing closer to him now. My fingers itched to touch him, but I wasn’t sure if I should. I’d never seen him so conflicted, so unsure of himself, and I didn’t want to make it worse. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

There was a long silence as his eyes flickered back to me. I saw the tension in his posture—the way he clenched his jaw, his fists barely hanging at his sides as if he were waiting for something, for some cue. We both stood there, just breathing, the room feeling too small for what was building between us.

“You’ve been on my mind,” Spencer finally said, his words slow and deliberate. “I know I’ve been distant, but after everything… I…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. It was rare for Spencer to lose his composure, but the weight of everything seemed to be crashing down on him now.

I took a step forward, my body betraying me as my hands found their way to his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to explain. I know.” I looked up at him, my heart pounding as his eyes softened, that familiar warmth beginning to creep into his gaze.

And then, something shifted.

Without a word, he leaned down slightly, his lips just brushing the edge of my ear. “I’ve wanted you,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. The words felt like a spark, igniting something deep within me. Everything in me screamed to pull him closer, to feel his lips against mine.

But before I could act on that instinct, he pulled back slightly, searching my face for a sign. “You’re sure about this?” His voice was hoarse, a trace of uncertainty still lingering in his tone. But there was also a hunger there—a need that matched mine.

I didn’t hesitate. I had never been more sure of anything in my life. “Yes. I’m sure,” I breathed, my eyes locked with his. “I’ve always been sure.”

Spencer let out a deep breath and closed the distance between us in an instant. His lips collided with mine, a fierce and desperate kiss that stole the air from my lungs. His hands came up to cup my face, and the urgency in his touch made my heart race even faster. I responded instantly, my own hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

The kiss was raw—needy, as if we had both been starved for this moment for too long. The way he kissed me was possessive, but not in a way that scared me. It was as if he was trying to reclaim a part of himself he thought he had lost, and in doing so, he was claiming me, too.

I could feel the tension in his body, the muscles under his shirt tight as he pulled me even closer, molding my body against his. Every part of me seemed to respond to him—my heart, my breath, my body—everything was reacting to the heat between us.

I let out a soft gasp as his hands moved down to the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head in one swift motion. The cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to dampen the fire that was building inside me. Spencer’s eyes scanned my body, taking me in with a hunger that left me breathless.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough. “God, I’ve thought about you like this.”

The sound of those words, the raw intensity in them, made my chest tighten. I didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if I could put into words how badly I wanted him, too. But before I could say anything, his lips were on mine again, more forceful this time, more demanding. His hands explored my body, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine, making me arch into him.

I moaned softly, and Spencer groaned in response. The sound sent a shockwave of desire through me, and I pulled him down with me onto the couch, never breaking the kiss. His body hovered over mine as I felt his weight press down on me, his hands now pulling at my jeans. I didn’t hesitate to help him, sliding them off with a sudden rush of urgency. I wanted him so badly, it felt like everything I had been holding back was finally coming to the surface.

His eyes met mine once more, the intensity in them so raw it took my breath away. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, his hand resting on my bare hip.

I nodded, my own body trembling in anticipation. “Yes,” I whispered again, my hands sliding down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

In one swift motion, Spencer kissed me again, and I melted under him. There was nothing gentle about it now. He was all-consuming, his lips capturing mine in a way that made everything else disappear. His body was a wall of heat against mine, and I could feel the tension, the pent-up need between us, breaking open.

I was lost in him—his kiss, his touch, the feel of his body pressing against mine as we both moved in perfect sync. Spencer Reid was no longer the broken man who had left prison; he was someone new, someone who needed this just as much as I did. And as I finally gave myself to him fully, I knew that this was the start of something much deeper.

He pulled away for a moment, his face inches from mine, both of us gasping for breath. “I’ve never wanted anyone more,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost growling the words.

I smiled, my fingers brushing against his jawline, the weight of everything between us settling into something undeniable. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” I whispered, and with that, his lips found mine once more, sealing the promise of everything to come.

The room felt like it was closing in on us, the air thick with the electricity between us. Spencer's lips were still on mine, but now there was a desperation to it, an urgency that hadn't been there before. His hands were everywhere, pulling at my clothes, as if he was afraid the moment might slip away. And maybe it would, but I didn’t care. I was done holding back, done pretending like I didn’t feel the pull, the need, the desire that had been simmering for so long.

“Spencer,” I gasped, tugging at his shirt. “I need you.”

His breath hitched against my lips, and for a second, he paused—just enough to let me breathe, enough to let the weight of the moment sink in. His eyes met mine, and there was something in them that I hadn’t seen before, a rawness that sent shivers down my spine.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he muttered, his voice rough, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He pulled back, just enough to look at me, his hand resting against my cheek. “God, I’ve been waiting for this, for you… for so long.”

His words cut through me, and I could feel the ache in my chest deepen. Spencer had always been so careful, so guarded with his feelings. But now, in the heat of the moment, he was letting it all spill out. The prison had taken so much from him, but now, in this space, with his fingers grazing over my skin, I could feel that he was giving himself back to me, piece by piece.

Before I could respond, Spencer kissed me again, harder this time, his lips moving against mine with a fierce need. I kissed him back with equal intensity, my hands roaming over his body, desperate to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. Every inch of him was real, was mine, and it felt like a dream.

I could feel the tension in his body, the way he fought to keep control, but there was no need for it anymore. I didn’t want him to hold back, didn’t want him to second-guess himself. So, I gave him no choice but to surrender to the moment. I tugged at his belt, my fingers trembling with the need to touch him fully, to feel every part of him. Spencer gasped as I worked at the fabric of his jeans, finally pushing them down along with his boxers.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice a low growl against my neck, his hands cupping my face. But this time, there was no uncertainty in his tone. Only need.

“Yes,” I whispered, the word barely leaving my lips, leaving me with nothing but the heat of the moment.

The air was thick with anticipation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was the kind of pressure that built between us, something powerful and unrelenting, until nothing existed but Spencer and I. He took a breath, steadying himself for a moment, before he looked down at me, his eyes clouded with both desire and something else, something deeper.

“I don’t know how to do this without… without feeling like I’m losing myself,” he murmured, his voice thick, like he was working through every word. “But I want you. I need you.”

And in that moment, something shifted. There was no more hesitation, no more uncertainty. I pulled him down toward me again, wrapping my arms around his neck as I kissed him, slow at first, savoring the feel of him beneath me. I could feel his heart hammering against mine, the warmth of his body pressing down on me, his breath ragged against my lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” I said softly, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “I’m right here.”

His eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw the walls fall away. The Spencer Reid I had known for so long—the brilliant, reserved, sometimes awkward man who could solve any puzzle but never seemed to understand his own heart—was finally, fully here. And I wanted him, all of him.

Spencer’s hand slid down to my thigh, his fingers just brushing the edge of my skin, sending sparks of heat through me. His mouth found mine again, and this time, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was more—it was an affirmation of everything we had both been holding back, everything we had been afraid to say, to feel. We were breaking the silence, breaking the distance between us, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.

As he pulled away, his gaze locked on mine, and the intensity in it made my breath catch. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice barely a whisper, the words laced with something I couldn’t quite put into words.

I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips. “I’m more than sure. I want you, Spencer. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed me again, and this time, it was wild, unrestrained. Spencer’s body pressed against mine, his hands everywhere, pulling at the rest of the clothes that separated us. I could feel his need in the way he kissed me, the way his hands shook as they touched me, and I couldn’t help but respond in kind. I wasn’t going to let this moment slip away, not now that we were finally here.

I moved beneath him, my hands sliding down his back, feeling the muscles flex as I pulled him closer, wanting more. His lips trailed down my neck, and I gasped as his tongue found the sensitive spot just beneath my ear. It sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my lips.

“Spencer,” I breathed, my voice trembling with need. “Please…”

His eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. There was only us. And then, without another word, Spencer moved between my legs, his body pressing against me as his hands slid to my hips. His lips captured mine once more, his kiss deep and possessive, as if he were claiming me in a way that was both thrilling and comforting.

With a single, slow motion, he entered me, and the sensation was overwhelming. I gasped, my body arching beneath him as he filled me, his name falling from my lips in a breathless whisper. Spencer’s pace was slow at first, as if he were savoring the moment, but the tension was unbearable, and soon he was moving faster, more urgently. My hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him deeper as I met him thrust for thrust.

The world outside this room didn’t exist anymore. There was only Spencer, only this moment, and the way we were connecting in ways neither of us had expected. His name left my lips in a breathless cry, and he groaned in response, his body pushing against mine as if he was trying to lose himself in me.

I could feel the build-up, the tension coiling in my body, and I knew we were both getting closer, both on the edge of something we couldn’t control. Spencer’s lips were on mine again, his kiss tender but frantic as he whispered, “I want you. So much.”

With one final thrust, I shattered, my body bucking beneath him as the release coursed through me. Spencer followed shortly after, his breath ragged, his body trembling as he buried his face against my neck, his own release shaking him to his core.

We lay there together, our bodies entwined, the world outside fading into the background. My heart was racing, but in the aftermath, there was only peace. Spencer’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my skin, and his lips brushed softly against my ear.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” I whispered again, this time with complete certainty. "I’m here. With you."

He kissed the top of my head, his voice softer than before, but filled with something I had never expected to hear from him. "I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go."

In that moment, I realized that, in this space between us, neither of us had to be perfect. We didn’t need to fix the broken pieces of the past because, right here, right now, we were whole. And it was enough.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #mgg #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut

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sunshineandspencer · 6 months ago

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Jogging

A/N: I’ve discovered that I, actually, despise angst. I hate reading it and I hate writing it, unless specifically asked for, my brain thinks only happy thoughts. On an unrelated note, I’m also a very emotional person and perhaps angst sets off my severe second-hand embarrassment and I’ve never finished an angst fic. So, from that unrelated note, have a finished fluffy fic :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Aaron is incredibly attractive at the best of times, but put him in sports gear and it’s like flies to honey. Which is an excellent cultivator of jealousy for his jogging partner, until she overhears him talking to another woman.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: fluff, kind of established relationship (you’ll see)

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

Going for a morning run with her more-than-a-friend-but-not-quite-labelled man, was fun. Aaron taught her some proper techniques, and she got a kiss whenever they completed a lap.

There is an issue, unfortunately, and it’s one she’s desperately trying not to blow out of proportion.

Aaron is attractive, devastatingly so, and because he occasionally runs ahead to finish a lap and wait for her to arrive so that he can greet her with a kiss, people don’t always know that they’re out together. Added with him in those damn workout clothes - that she would burn if she weren’t mentally stable - it’s no surprise to her anymore to see women jogging up to him.

They’re almost always gone by the time she makes it over to Aaron, who kisses her and immediately moves on to their next lap. She tries hard not to let the clawing jealousy show.

Due to JAck, and both of them agreeing not to move too quickly so that they don’t confuse him, they’d just decided on not labelling anything yet. So she isn’t really anything official to him, and can’t do all the things her jealous mind screams at her to do.

Like today, for example, Aaron had pressed a kiss to her cheek and sped up to get to the end of their lap.

The minute he’s not beside another woman, someone else runs up to him.

She hears the fading introduction of “hi, I’m Beth, I see you around here pretty often” and her stomach clenches.

Once again, her pretty, not-boyfriend is getting hit on by a woman who can actually keep his pace. She hates it, and hates the burning hole in her chest even more.

Deciding, this time, she would actually speed up and join the conversation. Which will ultimately be worth the burst lungs and exertion-flushed face. Until she turns the corner and sees them still talking, any semblance of confidence withers.

When she hears her name on his lips, however, she dives behind the nearest tree. Realising he just gestured to where she should be coming from, and hoping neither of them had seen her practically rush for cover to avoid being seen. Pressing her back to the bark of the tree and listening closely to the conversation.

“-out with my girlfriend, actually, we run together.”

If she weren’t hiding behind a tree, from a random woman and the man that just called her his girlfriend, she’d be doing a happy dance by now. Choosing to press her hands to her chest as the burning hole closed up, victoriously grinning as ‘Beth’ jogged on feeling pretty dejected.

Once sure that Beth was gone, she turned to place her hands on the tree, bracing herself to look around it to try and spot Aaron, that daft smile still on her face. But he wasn’t there, and that observation came with a pair of hands landing on her hips and making her jump and spin around. Meeting Aaron’s smug grin as he gently pinned her to the tree by her hips.

“Are you spying on me now?”

Refusing to meet his gaze, she started looking all around them - as if searching for someone, and that only made his stupid grin wider.

“Should be careful Hotchner, wouldn’t want that girlfriend you mentioned to catch you pinning a girl to a tree.”

“Oh?” Knowing she’d heard, he now has no plans to try and keep up the facade that he hasn’t wanted her, officially, for weeks now. “And do you think she’d be upset if I kissed the woman I pinned to a tree?”

Giving a dramatic gasp, she used it to breathe in fully to answer, realising that her lungs aren’t really cooperating with her right now. And he used that as his chance to lean down to kiss her, loving the sparky feeling he gets from her every time. Siling against her lips as she melted against him.

Pulling back with a soft nip to her lips that had her chasing after him. Before realising what she was doing and resting back against the tree, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting what he wanted.

“I think she’d definitely hate the thought of you doing that to anyone else.”

“Ah, so she gets jealous?”

As if she were caught out, her eyes darted away from his as she pouted - from a profiling perspective, she really does have cute tells when she’s been caught - tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“She pleads the fifth.”

Thankfully, as she knows he actually loves any jokes that relate to his time as a lawyer, he laughs, leaning down to kiss her again, hand trailing away from her hip to lace their fingers together. Pulling back with a soft hum and another soft peck.

Swiping his thumb across her knuckles as he waited for her to open her eyes again, loving the little flush speckled across her features that obscured her freckles.

“Will she forgive me if I take her to get ice cream?”

“Definitely.”

Tugging her away from the tree, he brushes the flakes of bark from her hair and clothes, spending a little too much time ‘brushing off’ whatever was on her ass, until she smacks his hand away with a laugh. Leading the two of them back towards the car, deliberating what kind of ice cream ‘his girlfriend’ would like the most.

But as they get in, he gives her another smile and laces their hands over the centre console.

“You do know I’m calling you my girlfriend, right?”

Shaking her head, she leant in to kiss him again, pulling away to pat his cheek lightly.

“Didn’t need to be a profiler for that one, love.”

“Oh, so you’re a profiler now?”

“Best watch it, I’m coming for your job next.

Laughing, he lets go of her hand to start up the car, already knowing exactly which ice cream place they were going to - and exactly what she would order. Not that she’s predictable in the slightest, but she always orders the exact same thing.

“First my heart, now my job? At this rate you’ll have my house by the end of the week.”

“That’s the plan!”

He’s going to marry this goddamn woman.

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peliides ║ @peachsodameg ║ @angelinajolie0213 ║ @jiggly-puff-12 ║ @khxna ║ @kennedy2156 ║ @trulycayla ║ @none-of-your-bullshit ║ @alexxavicry ║ @meg-black ║ @princess76179 ║ @chicken-fifi ║ @averyhotchner ║ @punkyghoulz ║ @anotherpassiongirl ║ @princessjax ║ @gghostwriter ║ @pear-1206 ║ @justyourusualash (if your tag is here and not working check out this reblog to see if any of it could hopefully help!!)

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fic

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oldsoul007 · 18 days ago

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not a lot, just forever

joel miller x reader

summary: joel keeps grieving about what could’ve been of you two had kids…

a/n: angsty but also fluffy

joel miller masterlist

Joel leaned against the weathered railing of the porch, the cool evening breeze ruffling his shirt as he watched y/n through the open door. She was inside the house, cradling Tommy and Maria’s baby in her arms, her soft laughter mingling with the gentle cooing of the infant.

The sight hit him harder than he expected.

He had seen y/n with children before—she was great with them, always patient, always so gentle. But seeing her hold that tiny, perfect little thing, with a look on her face that could only be described as tender longing, made something shift deep in Joel’s chest. It was a quiet ache, one that had been there for years but had never been so sharp before.

He knew that look. He had seen it in the way she held Sarah when she was younger, the way she’d always cared for the people around her. But now, watching her with Tommy and Maria’s baby, he realized something he’d never allowed himself to think too deeply about: the family she might’ve wanted—the life they could’ve had—was a dream that had been stolen from both of them by the outbreak.

Joel clenched his jaw, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.

It wasn’t fair.

Not to y/n. Not to anyone, really. They had lost so much, so much that words couldn’t even begin to explain. But when he saw her, holding that baby, a different kind of loss settled over him, one that felt heavier than the weight of everything else.

He could never give her that. He could never be the man who could offer her the kind of future she deserved. He had tried, in the early days, to imagine a life beyond survival. But he knew better now. Every time he let his guard down, every time he allowed himself to hope for something, the world seemed to take it all away again. And this… this was one thing he could never give her—something simple, something pure: a family. A child of their own.

He pushed himself off the railing and took a deep breath. The ache in his chest was still there, gnawing at him, but he wouldn’t let it show. Not now. Not when y/n was happy, not when she was in a moment that brought her peace. She didn’t need him to carry that weight for her.

Stepping inside, he paused in the doorway, watching her with the baby in her arms. She was smiling down at the infant, her eyes soft with a mixture of affection and something Joel couldn’t quite name. She looked up and caught his gaze, her smile widening in that way that always made his chest tighten, even in moments like this.

“Hey,” I said softly, my voice warm and inviting. “Come on in. Maria said we could keep her for a little while longer.”

Joel nodded, his throat tight. He didn’t trust himself to say much, not with the lump still lodged there. Instead, he stepped closer, his footsteps quiet on the wooden floor.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from my face. I tilted my head slightly, my smile turning into something softer, understanding.

“I know,” I said quietly, reading him in a way only I could. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Joel gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I didn’t push, just offered him a look that was equal parts sadness and understanding. “It’s okay, Joel,” I murmured, my hand reaching out to rest on his. “I’m okay. We’re okay. It’s just… a moment.”

He swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it over hers. “I should’ve been able to give you that,” he said before he could stop himself, the words spilling out before he could rein them in.

I was silent for a moment, my gaze flicking to the baby in my arms before meeting his eyes again. “You gave me so much more than that,” I replied, my voice steady but full of emotion. “You gave me your trust. Your love. And you gave me the chance to live again, to be here. That’s all I’ve ever needed, Joel.”

The words settled over him like a balm, soothing the raw ache that had been gnawing at him. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the heaviness lifted, even if just a little.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the woman who had stayed by his side through the worst of it all. And in that moment, he realized that he didn’t need to give her the things he’d lost. What mattered was the life they had now, the one they were building together, despite everything that had come before.

He took the baby from my arms, his hands steady as he held the tiny life against his chest. She smiled softly at him, the love in her eyes undeniable.

And for once, Joel allowed himself to believe that maybe this—just this—was enough.

I sit on the couch, staring out the window at the setting sun, trying to settle the mix of emotions swirling in my chest. I know Joel’s been brooding; I could feel it even before he walked into the room. His footsteps are soft but heavy, his presence unmistakable as he steps inside

He doesn’t say anything right away, just stands there in the doorway. I can feel his eyes on me, on the empty bassinet where the baby had been sleeping earlier.

I don’t look at him. Instead, I say, “You’ve been quiet all day.”

He lets out a low sigh, stepping further into the room. “Just been thinkin’.”

I nod, knowing what’s coming but not sure I want to hear it.

“She is… somethin’ else, wasn’t she?” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “You looked good with her, y/n. Real good.”

I finally turn to look at him, leaning back into the couch. “She’s a sweet baby. But you know it’s not about her, Joel. Just say what you’re thinking.”

He hesitates, his eyes drifting back to the bassinet. “I can’t help it,” he finally says, his voice thick with emotion. “Holdin’ her, watchin’ you with her… I keep thinkin’ about what could’ve been. If the world hadn’t fallen apart. If we’d had a chance to…” He trails off, his voice catching. “To have a family of our own.”

My stomach twists, and I take a steadying breath. “Joel…”

He shakes his head, looking down at the floor. “I think about Sarah, about how things might’ve been different. I think about Ellie. And then I see you with that baby, and all I can think is… we never got the chance.”

I sit up, folding my hands in my lap. I know this pain. I feel it too, but I’ve had years to reckon with it, to make peace with what life took from us. “What do you want me to say, Joel?” I ask softly. “That I wish we could’ve had kids together? Of course I do. There was a time when I wanted that more than anything.”

He looks at me then, his face a mix of regret and longing, his hands still shoved deep into his pockets.

“But that’s not how life worked out,” I continue, my voice steady even as my heart aches. “And it’s okay to feel the loss of what could’ve been. But Joel, you’re all I need. You always have been.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tight, his eyes searching mine. “You mean that?”

I nod, giving him a small, sad smile. “I do. We’ve been through hell and back, Joel. And I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything. I just need you. That’s enough for me.”

Joel exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he says quietly. “For not seein’ it sooner. For… not bein’ enough.”

I reach out, taking his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. We’re here now, Joel. That’s what matters.”

The room falls quiet again, but the tension has eased. Joel sits down beside me on the couch, his shoulder brushing against mine. He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do I.

The bassinet is empty, but the space between us feels full—of love, of pain, of all the things we’ve lost and found together. And as the sun dips below the horizon, I lean into him, letting the silence say everything that words can’t.

“She’s lucky to have you watchin’ over her,” he says, his voice lighter now.

“And she’s lucky to have you around too,” I reply, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Uncle Joel has a nice ring to it.”

He chuckles, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Guess it does.”

We stand there for a moment, the weight of the past still there but just a little easier to carry. For now, that’s enough.

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itoshiexx · 6 months ago

Text

blossoming love

synopsis: sae is not good with words, so he communicates with flowers instead. / or, every time itoshi sae gave you a bouquet in significant moments.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 2.9k | warnings: fluffy fluff, tiny bit of angst if u squint, rin and sae’s relationship isn’t fucked up, kinda proofread, ooc sae maybe? i love him tho, its really just three thousand words of him talking about love

notes: this idea has been on my mind for a while since i adore the language of flowers, and even tho sae is probably ooc, i really liked the final result ♥ also i'm trying a new layout so lmk if y'all like it~ and finally thank u so much for 2.5k followers, i love you all sm!!

masterlist

i. sunflowers for a confession

never has itoshi sae been so painfully aware of his flaws and limitations quite like the day he realized he liked you as more than a friend. because, even though he wasn’t the type of guy to wait for the universe to give him everything he wished for, anyone within three miles could see how absolutely awful he was at communicating.

so that was the dilemma: how could he express his feelings to you if the words just didn’t come out?

“flowers.”

“huh?”

rin was sitting at the couch in their parent’s home, a paused horror movie on the tv. sae didn’t even notice he started mumbling and spilling his secret crush to the younger itoshi, and the tips of his ears went red at that. he was supposed to be the smooth, suave, aloof kind of guy that gave his little brother some love advice, and not the other way around.

(not as if any of them had some kind of experience. emotional intelligence didn’t really run in the bloodline.)

“just give them flowers, nii-chan. did you know each of them has meanings? it could help you express yourself.”

“you mean like… the language of flowers or some shit?”

rin rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“just try not to use ‘some shit’. i don’t think they’re into that,” he joked, and sae could only grimace and send him the middle finger.

but as much as he didn’t want to admit, his brother was right. you were special, and you deserved the best he could give — even if it wasn’t much. he was going to learn how to be better for you, but meanwhile, the language of flowers should suffice.

the first time you receive a bouquet from itoshi sae, they are beautiful blooms of sunflowers, expressing his adoration towards you. the small card that comes with it has a simple question:

go out with me?

ii. white gardenias and the start of something new

your first date with the pro-footballer is something simple yet sophisticated, a dinner at a famous restaurant he rented just for you two. the dim lights make everything more romantic, and your heart is beating so loud you’re afraid sae might hear it from the other side of the table. despite the euphoria that leaves you nearly breathless, you manage to talk during the night while he mostly just listens.

itoshi sae is not familiar with dates — not actual ones, at least —, so to say he was nervous was an understatement. however, he hid it well behind his nonchalant persona, even if meant avoid talking just so he didn’t fuck things up.

sae was never a talker, anyway. and it was long ago he figured he’d rather listen to the sound of your voice and drown in the image of your sparkly eyes every time you were excited about something.

when dinner is over and sae drives to drop you home, you’re a little shocked to see him take another flower arrangement from the floor of the backseat, just hidden enough so you didn’t notice during your ride. the petals are a pure white color with beautiful twirls, and you can’t help but gape.

“is that… is that for me?”

sae wants to scream, because of course they are for you — who else could they be for? as if he’d ever look at anyone when you’re the brightest light shining on his life.

inevitably, you’re all itoshi sae can see.

“they are gardenias,” he simply says, fighting the heat that climbs through his neck. he pushes the bouquet a little more towards you. “they made me think of you.”

your chest swells with affection, and the sweet aroma of the blooms mixed with sae’s perfume makes you a little dizzy. you only realize how close he is when his nose touches yours, hands grazing your left cheek as if you’re something fragile that he’s scared to break.

but he kisses you anyway. his mouth is delicate against yours, trying to convey his longing as a complement to the flowers on your hold.

when your lips part and you finally say goodbye, you’re certain that sae has blossomed an entire garden in your heart. starting with the white gardenias that mean new beginnings, affection and a revelation of a secret love.

iii. blue hyacinths for an apology

sae knows how much of an asshole he can be. contrary to popular belief, he knows how sharp his words can feel and how mean his voice can sound. even if he wasn’t exactly self aware, his brother rin would sure be able to spit it to his face every time they argued.

it wasn’t like he always meant it. sure, he didn’t care about his behavior towards the media or people he found particularly annoying (pretty much everyone), but there were people in his life that he cherished; people he didn’t want to hurt. the thing is, itoshi sae was just really, really awkward when it came to his own emotions, and he was the worst at saying how he felt.

it’s a few months into your relationship that sae learns he would rather never play football again than make you cry. it’s a silly argument, really — he doesn’t even remember what he gets so worked up for. maybe it’s jet lag that makes him lash out on you, but it doesn’t really matter when he sees your eyes glisten and a little sniffle comes out of your lips.

“i’m s-sorry,” you say, uneasy in a way that makes his stomach churn. he wants to wipe that expression off your face, and beat himself up for being the one who put it there.

him and his stupid ass mouth, as rin would say.

“what? why are you saying that?” his tone is more exasperated than he intends to, and god, why can’t he just shut the fuck up?

“i didn’t mean to annoy you or make things harder… i know you’re tired from your game and i… i’m sorry, sae.”

he should be the one apologizing for being an idiot, he knows; but the words are so foreign to his system that sae doesn’t even know how to put the letters together. it’s only when you pick up your stuff and leave his apartment without another word that the pro-player is shaken out of his stupor.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath. “fucking hell, sae.”

he hates that he hurt you, hates that he doesn’t know how to fix it and hates it even more that his little brother lectures him on the phone later that day, when he calls to vent.

“you already were a shitty brother, so don’t be a shitty boyfriend too,” are rin’s exact words.

okay, ouch. kinda stings, but he figures he deserves it.

it’s almost 9pm when sae goes to your house, two bags of your favorite treats resting on his forearm while he holds the carefully chosen bouquet. the surprise on your face when you open the door makes his heart reel, though the glimmer of happiness is what makes it all worth it.

“i messed up”, is what he says as soon as he can before you decide to kick him out. “i didn’t mean to snap at you like that and… i’m sorry. i never want to hurt you.”

you take the blue hyacinths from his grasp and look at them fondly before smiling, and sae thinks the sun is shining again. he’s eternally grateful you understand the sincerity and the regret that comes from those tiny petals.

iv. red roses and the epiphanic awareness of love

journalists from all around the world are well aware of how much itoshi sae hates interviews. it is always pretty clear with the bored — if not extremely annoyed — expression on his face and the rude answers that make anyone break a cold sweat. he doesn’t like stupid questions (all of them) and much less when the press tries to meddle in his personal business.

it wasn’t new to be asked about his romantic relationships, and this particular topic was something that made sae scowl and diss whatever nosy, lukewarm journalist decided to pry to earn a penny. by now, everyone knows that inquiring if the midfielder is dating anyone is forbidden territory.

still, the media keeps trying to find small loopholes in what they really want to know, questions safe enough to not enrage the itoshi. it’s one of those that makes sae’s world come to a halt in the middle of a press conference in italy.

“itoshi, can you tell us about the things you love most in life?”

his brain instantly shuts down, and suddenly, sae is no longer in a room with hundreds of microphones and cameras shoved on his face, but instead in a cozy little picnic at the beach with you by his side.

if he was being honest, sae never really thought about things like love for most of his life; and not just the romantic one, but love as a whole. sure, he knew he loved his parents and his little brother, but they were parts of his life he didn’t choose, almost as if those feelings were meant to be there ever since he was born.

thinking about his life growing up, he could never really tell if what he felt was ‘love’ or just ‘like’. did he love soccer? did he love salted kombucha tea? did he love the beach? or were all these things temporary fulfillments that could end at any minute? this feeling was such a difficult concept for sae that he never bothered to actually search for answers.

but you’ve been dating for seven months now — and sae simply knows, as a universal truth written down his bones, that the feelings he has for you are too otherworldly to fit inside the mere perception of ‘like’. liking you doesn’t do justice to the way his heart leaps and his chest is filled with happiness and peace and anxiousness and euphoria all at once whenever he thinks of you.

it’s the strangest epiphany of the century, he thinks, but that is the exact moment itoshi sae is sure you are the sole definition of love.

he loves you. he loves you the most in life.

and even if life is hard, because the world always is, loving you amongst this chaos is the easiest thing sae has ever done.

so when he comes back from his trip and you stay over at his penthouse, he tries to demonstrate this overflowing feeling when he touches you and kisses you and makes you fall apart just to put you back together. and when the morning comes and you paddle to the kitchen for breakfast, he is there holding the prettiest bunch of classical red roses with the faintest blush on his face.

you’re beautiful even with your unruly hair and bleary eyes, and sae is certain he will never get tired of seeing you smile for him.

with his throat clogged with emotion, the words don’t come out. but you take the flowers in your gentle embrace and kiss him with such fondness and infatuation that he can’t help but wish you understand the deep, unconditional love he feels for you.

“i love you too, baby.”

and thankfully, you always do.

v. pink camellias for longing

longing wasn’t a feeling sae was particularly used to.

when he left japan at the ripe age of 14, the first few months were especially harsh, since he was in a foreign country with a totally different language and culture. sae found himself missing the place he grew up, not so much for the place itself, but for the comfort its familiarity could bring. he missed rin, too.

but as time passed and itoshi sae transformed, he stopped viewing japan and everything it had as his home, solely becoming a wandering soul in the big, cruel world. the athlete, then, longed for nothing but to be the best.

however, he realized that life as he knew would never be the same after falling in love with you, for those feelings were strong as tidal waves, all-consuming and capable of changing everything in its course.

everytime he was away, sae really fucking missed you.

“how long will you be gone for?”

even before he left.

“…a month.”

his voice is low and slightly hesitant. you’re together on the living room couch, watching a shitty rom-com movie that sae hates but always watches because it’s your favorite. his arms are around you while your back rests against his chest, and he feels a little dizzy — whether it’s from your sweet perfume or the fear inside of him, he doesn’t quite know.

though he will never admit it, the midfielder is always scared whenever he has to leave for longer periods of time. because what if you get tired of him? what if you start feeling so alone and neglected you end up hating him? the thought alone is enough to make him want to throw up.

you turn around to face him, and the little pout of your lips suddenly has him feeling sick.

“so long? you really have to?”

he sighs, because yeah, unfortunately, he does have to stay that long to follow the team along the season. even if he’d rather stay with you and just fly near game days.

“yeah. i’m sorry, mi amor.”

sae lets you turn around fully and adjust yourself on his lap, each leg sitting comfortably around his hips. both of his hands are immediately holding on your waist, as if afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t.

“don’t apologize, handsome. i know it’s your job. i’m just gonna miss you a lot.”

he has the urge to kiss your sullen look away, and it’s exactly what he does. his lips touch yours with the same tenderness they always do, but there’s a certain urgency in the way his mouth moves and his tongue carefully glides with yours, as if he’s trying to convey just how much more he will miss you.

because although no one would ever believe him, he always misses you more.

“i wish i could stay here with you,” he says when you part, and the little bashful smile you give him makes his heart soar.

“but you love what you do, though.”

yeah, but i love you more. the thought is something that has been plaguing his mind during the nearly two years you’ve been together, because sae never expected to have something — or rather someone — who would become his entire world quite like how you do. it’s frightening and dreadful and not what he wished for himself, but sae can’t say that he hates it. there’s nothing about you or the gentleness of your love that he can hate.

that’s why when the time of his trip comes, a beautiful bouquet of pink camellias is placed on your kitchen island, and you know it’s his way of showing his longing for you.

vi. amaranthus and the promise of forever

even if many people disagree, sae knows he is always right. it’s how he knew you were the one even before he had you, and more so even before he realized he wanted you. somehow, it’s always been a truth his mind couldn’t ignore.

it’s on a lazy sunday morning at your shared apartment that itoshi sae is taken by a sudden urge of asking you to marry him.

there’s nothing extraordinary about the scenery; just you making him a snack after waking up from your — now shared — 3pm nap, hair tied in a bun, swaying your hips while stirring the food on the frying pan. he hugs you from behind and rests his head on your shoulder, nosing at the crook of your neck in an attempt to absorb all that you are. you giggle with the ticklish feeling, and the warmth that spreads through his chest somehow doesn’t feel weird anymore.

somehow, it’s now something he deeply cherishes. sae can only describe being with you as pure bliss.

and he’s always been selfish, a true egoist to its core. it’s why he’s faced with his deepest desire to have the honor of spending a lifetime by your side, if only you’ll have him.

he’s had the ring for a while now, hidden behind several socks in his drawer. it might as well be the time, he thinks; a lazy sunday afternoon that has nothing grandiose. sae was never one for big gestures anyway.

so when you both finish eating, sae tells you he’ll be out for a jog, and you just hum with your pretty smile. his heart is beating abnormally fast when he goes to the flower shop, and by the time he’s back home, he thinks it might just explode.

but this… you are it for him, he’s certain. the same way he was certain four years ago, when your love started to blossom until it became the prettiest garden.

and when sae is down on one knee asking the most important question of his life, ring box in one hand and the bouquet of amaranthus on the other, the teary smile and whispered “yes” you give makes him certain that, no matter what, your love will be eternal.

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1d1195 · 28 days ago

Text

The Lottery V

Read The Lottery here | ~8.7k words

From me: the idea of making this two shorter parts or one long part was a very difficult decision. Hopefully you'll enjoy 💕 I think you'll see Peach and Harry again soon 🥰 you get to find out why I named it The Lottery too

Warnings: you get to find out why Harry is so grumpy so it's angsty and sad af I think. There is def some fluffy and love parts for sure!

Summary: Harry loves peaches. And Peach. She is quite possibly the most important person Harry has ever met.

*I highly recommend listening to Home Run by The Man The Myth The Meatslab*

After work, Harry ran errands. He went to the grocery store for his own house and planned on ordering take out because after working and all the errands, making a whole meal sounded horrible. As he approached the door with arms full of grocery bags, he swore he heard music playing loudly from inside.

He had to be imagining it.

But he tried the handle and was surprised (but also unsurprised) that it was unlocked. The second the door was out of the way she was in front of him. “Hi!” She cheered excitedly, grabbing two bags from his arms and turning quickly to the kitchen to bring them to the table. He stared at her, nearly unblinking as she continued stirring something on the stove. “I found this recipe that I wanted to try,” she explained. Was he dreaming? Most of his dreams involving the pretty bookstore owner and town princess were similar to this moment. Nothing really out of the ordinary except she was in his house, maybe he called it their house in his sleep. But the groceries were heavy on his arm, and he didn’t usually feel pain in the dreams.

“So y’broke into m’house?”

“You break into my house all the time.”

“Because y’leave the door unlocked. You had t’use m’key.”

She huffed. “Look.”

But there was nothing to look at. She kept watching her food cooking. Harry ignored it and put his groceries away. “Do y’need help?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I thought you were going to be home sooner. It’s almost done. I hope you didn’t have plans.”

Any plans Harry would have had would be canceled the moment he saw her. “No plans,” he assured her. “M’jus’... gonna put this stuff away,” he mumbled referring to the bathroom and cleaning items. Harry returned to her putting a plate together and setting it on the table before putting her own plate together. Then they sat and ate at his small dinner table in the middle of his kitchen. It was quiet, they didn’t speak, and she scrolled on her phone as she nibbled on her food. “Peach?” He said quietly. “Something wrong?” He asked.

“What could possibly be wrong?” But whether she realized it or not, she was holding the little moon charm between her fingers, rubbing her thumb along it like it would fix everything.

“Peach. Shouldn’t y’be... I don’t know... out with Malcolm?”

She paused very briefly and put her phone aside before she cut into the delicious-looking fish she prepared. It was covered in a layer of crunchy breadcrumbs and spices. It was beside roasted broccoli with a sprinkle of the same breadcrumbs and spices. Along with cheesy yet somehow creamy scallop potatoes. It smelled incredible and Harry didn’t think he deserved such a nice welcome home. Especially when she was seeing someone else. “No,” she whispered quietly.

Harry wasn’t going to harp on it if she wasn’t. Especially when she looked so upset about it. “Alright,” he said simply and dug into his own delicious food. They ate silently, her scrolling on her phone, reading emails and work orders. She had her to do list notebook beside her as well and she scribbled some thoughts onto the paper. Harry grabbed his book when he got up to grab them drinks. He put more potatoes on his plate and returned to sit across from her reading silently while they ate.

Harry cleaned up while she found a TV show to watch. Something silly and easy to watch. She was snug in the corner of his sofa and Harry sat at the other end. Once he was seated, she stretched out putting her feet in his lap and throwing the blanket along the back of the couch across them. Harry dropped his hand onto her legs and mindlessly rubbed over her blanket covered body. They silently watched TV like they silently ate dinner.

She was used to long periods of silence with Harry. This time was no different. But it was. Because Harry was her very best friend and she was in love with him but couldn’t have him.

“Peach?” He asked. “You’re crying,” he murmured, concern laced in his voice.

“Fuck,” she whispered and turned her head the other way swiping at her cheeks. His grip tightened on her leg.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just... don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he assured her quickly, squeezing his hold on her shin. “What happened?” He asked.

“It’s not like we were in love or anything,” she mumbled. “I just... I feel so underestimated all the time and so...” she swallowed. “No one in my life seems to believe in me... and not like the people in town. Everyone is so lovely for accepting me. I don’t even know why I need approval from people who I hardly see anymore or new people who hardly care about this place... but I do. I need it more than I realize, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why they don’t believe in me,” her voice was so quiet and soft.

“Then fuck them,” he squeezed her leg again. It was the only thing he could do.

She laughed, tears leaking from her eyes again, but it was an honest to God laugh. Harry hated seeing her vulnerable like that. She was amazing in every possible way. It was a tragedy that she could ever see anything but perfection. He smiled. Not quite those rare, genuine smiles that she saw in his eyes that only really appeared around Gemma or Louis. But it was gentle, warm, and made her feel like she would really be okay. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, Peach. Of course. Thank you for dinner. Y’didn’t need to do that.”

“Well, I figured if I only ever made food for you when you were sick, you would think we weren’t really friends,” she smiled.

He chuckled quietly, a huff of laughter that he covered with a shake of his head. He turned back to their show and kept his hand moving along the blanket.

“Peach?”

“Hmm?”

“Think you’re m’best friend.”

“Me too, Harry.”

If Harry wasn’t working, he would find himself at her bookshop, sitting between shelves on the floor, reading and watching her at work. Watching her during reading-hour was one of his favorite things. Watching her tutor was also a delight. But watching her read while waiting for customers behind the checkout counter was by far the best. The quiet of the moment, the beautiful, peaceful expression on her perfect face.

“You’re staring at me,” she nearly sang while flipping to the next page.

He looked back at his book.

“Now you’re blushing,” she giggled.

He put his book in front of his face to hide from her.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“It’s cathartic,” he mumbled.

She grinned. She loved it when Harry read his books in front of her while she worked. There weren’t many ways he could reciprocate the way she sat at his counter and watched him cook breakfast and serve lunch. He was handsome and sweet. Her very best friend.

She came home to find Harry on her sofa laying across it with the clicker in hand. “Hi,” she blinked in surprise.

“I ordered pizza, s’in the kitchen,” he told her.

She nodded. “Sure,” she glanced at him curiously and walked to her bedroom to change into something cozier. The entire time she heard the TV going, which meant Harry was still there. She didn’t mind his presence. Not in the slightest. But she wasn’t used to seeing him laying on her couch like he lived there. He was usually fixing something or making dinner. This was peaceful and gentle. She went to the kitchen next, grabbed the pizza and headed to the living room again. She curled in the chair turned toward the sofa and TV for conversation and Harry merely continued watching TV as if this wasn’t a crazy moment.

“Everything alright?” She asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed.

“So, it’s okay when you break into my house?”

His lips twitched in his signature smirk, and he shrugged one shoulder. She nodded, biting into her pizza and turned her attention to her TV.

They traded off randomly appearing in each other’s homes. But it didn’t take a genius to recognize she wasn’t in his house when she was seeing another guy. Harry still visited her at work but when she talked about the guy she was seeing, he tried to keep his distance at her home to a minimum. It wasn’t fair to her to make that choice and if she was going to be in love she deserved to be in love with someone that wasn’t so grumpy and irritated with the town she loved so much.

But she still came to the diner and even introduced a few of the men in her life to Harry. She convinced Harry to help each Christmas and had him make hot dogs and hamburgers for cookouts in the summer. During the fall he provided hot apple cider per her request and helped her decorate the outside of the bookstore. In the winter he checked on her pipes and after her washing machine broke, he went with her to purchase a new one to make sure they didn’t try to swindle her of more money just because she was sweet and pretty. He even installed it himself.

But one day she came home to get ready for her date with Bodie. She liked him a lot. He was kind, funny, and intelligent. He worked hard and appreciated her love for the small town.

However, instead of heading to her bedroom to change and do her hair and makeup, she found Harry on her sofa. Which was weird as she had noticed the pattern of him staying away from her house when she was in a relationship. “Hey,” she frowned. “You okay, Harry?” She asked.

“Yeah,” his voice was quiet. He was turned toward the back of the couch. “Are y’busy tonight?”

She frowned. “Um... not till later. What’s wrong?”

“Jus’... wanted t’see you,” he mumbled. “Feel like I haven’t seen y’much.”

Did he sniffle? Her heart was going to break. She set her stuff in the middle of the floor and approached him like he was a wild animal. Not because she worried about her safety or that he would attack her. But because Harry was grumpy and angry. He was short and hardly smiled.

Harry was never vulnerable and that terrified her. If he cried, she was done for. Quietly, she sat on the coffee table facing him and watching for signs of trouble or something worse. “Yeah... sorry about that. I’ve been a bit busier than usual lately.” He didn’t respond, just stared at the back of the couch. She reached out. “Harry—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly, his voice shook, and it felt like a knife to her heart. Quickly, she dropped her hand to her lap. After a moment, she nodded, and he turned to lie on his back. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “I shouldn’t have come over,” he said. “I don’t mean t’bother you,” he pulled his hand away and she noted how red his eyes looked. Like he had been crying and so that knife in her heart turned into an entire sword.

“Course you should have, Harry. That’s what friends are for,” she promised.

“Y’have plans,” he mumbled.

She shook her head. “My only plan right now is to be here for you, Harry,” she assured him. “Move your head.” He sat up. She quickly got herself situated at the end of the sofa and then pulled him gently by the shoulder to lay his head in her lap. Her hand immediately dove into his hair. This was the closest they had ever been, and she knew it wasn’t a good move for her heart or her head, but her best friend was sad. So, she couldn’t care about that.

Instead, she watched the show he put on, combed her fingers through his hair, and ignored when the tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

At some point she must have lost track of time, her leg was numb, her fingers were still curled around his soft locks. The TV show had caught her attention more than she thought. Harry was asleep, peaceful and she wished she could have pressed more. It killed her to not help him more, but he was quiet as always. Never letting her in deeper than need be. Sure, she read between the lines, but it hurt a little that he didn’t feel he could open himself up to her. But she understood. Harry was closed off for a reason and that was very okay.

The only reason she ignored the way her leg was losing circulation, and she wasn’t lost in the way his hair felt between her fingers was because of the knock at her door.

Fuck. She mouthed to herself. Slowly she untangled herself from Harry. She carefully lifted his head and placed it gently on the sofa. He turned, settling into sleep and she limped to the door with her leg nearly asleep.

“Hey, love,” Bodie smiled leaning in to peck her cheek. “You ready to go?”

She smiled softly. “I’m so sorry, I should have canceled,” she whispered. “Something’s wrong with Harry and he’s—”

The smile on his face immediately disappeared. “Oh, for the love of God,” he rolled his eyes.

The frown on her face settled and she tilted her head. “What?”

“It’s just... you talk about Harry all the time. He’s your best friend, I get it. But don’t you understand how difficult it is to think about you with another man?”

She bit her lip and looked at her feet. “We’re just friends.”

“I understand, but are you going to put him first forever? Everything you do revolves around this place, the diner, your bookstore. Don’t you want to live?”

She frowned. “I think you should go,” she whispered without looking up.

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing,” he sighed and headed back to his car. She watched him leave, her heart aching, but it wasn’t hard to notice that it didn’t ache nearly as much as Harry’s sadness made her feel.

When she closed the door, she found Harry sitting on the sofa. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey,” he murmured. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

She shrugged, sat on the chair. But she missed the way his head felt on her leg and how his hair felt between her fingers. “It’s okay.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are y’doing here, Peach?” He asked.

“I live here,” she laughed.

“Peach,” he sighed. “Here. In this town. Y’could be running a company, or... mayor of an actual town. Y’would probably be making more money in a city with a bigger house that didn’t have bad pipes even after y’replaced them.”

“Well... that’s not—”

“He was right,” Harry interrupted making her chest hurt again. The sword turned into a harpoon. “Don’t y’want t’live, Peach? There’s no living here. S’nearly the same thing all the time.”

She swallowed. “Harry,” she frowned.

“I’ve been here m’whole life and s’not...” he rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re too good for this place.” She felt tears prick her eyes. The heartache about Harry’s sadness, Bodie’s uncalled for breakup (even if she wasn’t upset about the breakup), and now... “Stop, I didn’t mean t’make y’cry,” he said hurriedly. “Fuck. Don’t listen t’me. M’jus’...” he shook his head. “M’fucking sad and m’taking it out on you. After y’were so nice t’me and I ruined your date and—”

She smiled, her heart aching a little less. “I’m glad you did,” she sniffled. “I guess—”

“Peach.”

“—I guess I just never liked the city, and I just wanted the feel of being known and not—”

“Peach.”

“—and not just some random person that no one would ever really know because it’s too big out there. There is so much and I’m not—”

“Peach,” Harry’s voice was soft, and he pulled her toward him and cupped the back of her head as he pulled her into his chest. His chin resting on top of her head and he sighed. “M’sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want you t’go anywhere,” he promised.

She clung to him and nodded. There was nothing else to say.

For all the guys she brought around, Harry never brought a single girl around and she could never figure out why. But she never asked. She assumed if he didn’t want to tell her, then he didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, she asked him for pancakes that he didn’t want to make. Ordered pizza and only went over to his house when she wasn’t in a relationship.

He smacked her hand when she reached for sugar and cream. He rolled his eyes when she left her stuff on the counter for hours at a time. When she needed help stocking the shelves he was there. When she shoveled the driveways of everyone in town so did he. He hung up her Christmas lights and made sure she had hot chocolate on cold days.

She made him soup when he didn’t feel well. Made sure she stocked books that were cathartic. Helped serve at the diner when it was busy. And most importantly didn’t tell anyone he was dressed as Santa each year.

“Can I have a white chocolate chip pancake and a peach pancake?”

“No.”

“Please, please, please, please!”

“No.”

“Did you see the moon?”

“Yes, Peach, s’very pretty today.”

“Do you know how to change a lighting fixture?”

“I’ll come over later.”

Whenever he returned from the kitchen with pancakes, there was always a peach pancake hiding the one white chocolate chip below it.

“Muffin today?”

“Please.”

“Did you rotate your tires?”

“Every time I drive.”

“I need some new shirts, could y’go with me?”

“Is this so you can take my car to the shop?”

“Yes.”

“I would love to.”

And so, it went on.

Then there was Alex.

No one liked him. They tolerated him for her benefit. There was honestly nothing wrong with him. He was a lot like Bodie. Smart, funny, kind. He had his own business in the city. He supported her. Appreciated her kindness for the small town and like her business. He was also handsome if you were into that sort of thing (which Harry begrudgingly accepted). He didn’t feel threatened by Harry and thought that the idea of settling in a small town was going to be great for family life.

Which was probably why they had been dating for a year. There was sincerely nothing wrong with him.

Except he was not Harry, and everyone in town noticed that for sure.

Alice had no trouble telling Harry that.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Alice,” Ed sighed.

“Harry, we’ve been coming in here for ages and you have never looked at anyone the way you look at her.”

His lips twitched but he hid it because she was still his best friend, and he wanted her to be happy. Harry wasn’t a happy person. Perhaps he never would be. So, if she was in love with Alex, then she was in love with Alex.

And if she stopped coming to his house unannounced then he was fine with that.

Totally, completely fine with it (and he definitely didn’t need to buy a new refrigerator for opening the door so hard it broke at the hinge).

“Did you see the moon!?” There was so much delight in her eyes. Harry had heard her say it so many times, it instinctively brought a smile to his face (internally). He had never met anyone so excited about the moon even when it was out seven days a week.

Harry discreetly glanced out the picture window of the diner and caught a glimpse of it. Alex was looking at his phone while she nearly snapped her neck to get a better view of it.

“Honey, seriously! It’s so pretty today, and you can see Venus next to it and it’s just so lovely,” she sighed and got up grabbing his arm. But he nearly paid no mind to her.

“Alex, look—”

“Oh my god. I don’t want to look at the moon! It’s the same moon I’ve seen for years. I don’t care.”

She swallowed the words in her throat. She took a deep breath and returned to her seat. Not at the counter. Quietly, she poked at her food and sipped her tea. Harry thought her eyes looked shiny. The whole diner heard it. Harry felt the smile (internally) fall off his face.

How could he hurt her like that? He wanted to kill him. It was much too quiet and uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, she started with small talk. Things she was going to do that day, errands she needed to run.

The entire time, her fingers danced along the charm around her neck.

Hey

Hi...

Everything alright?

Yeah, why?

You don’t usually text me. Unless you want to tell me I’m not allowed to leave my stuff at the counter even though I’m coming back later.

He sent an eye roll emoji. It was hard to be nice to her when she was annoying. But not really.

Yeah... fine. Just...

I was taking the trash out behind the diner... and...

The moon looks really pretty tonight. Have you seen it?

Her heart softened reading the message. She knew what he was doing even if he was trying to be sly about it. But she loved the moon. She stretched in her hammock to look between branches of the trees she was sitting below. Yeah, she had seen the moon already. It was all she could look at tonight. But when Harry said it, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him she already saw it. Not ever.

Oh! Yes, I hadn’t seen it yet. Look at that :)

Hope you’re relaxing. You deserve it. Night, Peach.

Night, Harry. Sleep well ❤️

There was something about looking at the same moon Harry was at that moment. Sharing something that they weren’t even in the same room for. But maybe, mostly because he had remembered how much it meant to her when no one else did.

Harry continued to message her about the moon every time he saw it over the next few months.

He took a screenshot of that sweet message she sent with the little heart emoji. He wanted to frame it and put it in the diner.

Maybe one day he would.

Harry entered his place, and it smelled like baked goods. But to his knowledge they hadn’t broken up. In fact, she hinted that wedding bells were in her future, (so Harry now needed a new stove because the oven door faced the same fate as his refrigerator).

He also wasn’t sick. So, she wasn’t making soup for him. There was no holiday or festival in sight, so she didn’t need help. It wasn’t winter so her pipes probably weren’t broken. So why was she there? Baking in his house? “Peach?” He called.

“Did you move the flour?”

“The cabinet on the right.”

“I’m making cookies for the kids—”

“Peach.”

“—they have their big exams coming up—”

“Peach.”

“I saw this recipe and thought I would give it a try.

“Peach.”

“I thought I had everything, but I always forget something.”

“Peach. Why aren’t y’with Alex?”

She stopped, gripping the side of the counter in front of the sink. She looked at the ceiling. “Because I need my best friend,” her voice cracked, and she sniffled before she wiped her arm across her nose. She shook her head and turned the sink on to wash her hands again.

Harry nodded to himself. Not knowing what was happening but couldn’t bring himself to care. He put his hand on her back briefly and she sniffled again as he grabbed the flour for her. He settled it on the counter and turned her toward him and cupped the back of her head the way he did when Bodie broke up with her. He rubbed his hand up and down her spine while she sobbed into his shirt. The ache he felt for her sadness made him want to cry himself.

He kissed the top of her head. “M’sorry, Peach,” he whispered.

She continued crying for a while. Her hands covering her face as she leaned into Harry’s embrace enjoying the feel of him cradling her like she was something precious. “Did y’see the moon, Peach?” He hummed quietly.

She shook her head. “It’s a new moon today,” she told him.

He snorted. “S’what I get for trying t’help.”

She laughed through her tears making him smile. Perhaps it was because they were in the privacy of his home, and he was heartbroken by her sadness.

But his smile was real and stretched across his face for anyone to see.

Even if it was just the sweet girl in his arms.

Harry didn’t ask any more questions about why she needed him. They baked cookies in silence and Harry made her dinner because it had been a long while since they had a dinner in his place. He made her favorite pasta dish and packaged it up so she could take it home when she ate no more than five bites of it.

Instead, they watched TV in silence. Seated on two different pieces of furniture and he glanced at her way too often assuring himself that she was okay when she didn’t seem to be at all. Eventually, he noted her eyes were shut, her neck awkwardly turned and slumped against the corner of the sofa.

Carefully, he took her shoes off. Brought her feet onto the couch turning her ever so gently because he didn’t want to wake her. He made sure the remote was within reach on the coffee table. Then he covered her with a blanket.

He would be up before her for the early morning breakfast, so he left her a note to come get her silly pancakes. Or her weird omelets if she wanted them. He would even throw in a muffin to go, and her coffee would be cold just the way she liked.

Then Harry went to bed with the sweet bookstore owner on his couch.

They didn’t talk about the night before. Harry didn’t smack her hand away from the cream and sugar but only because she didn’t reach. When she only ate two bites of her pancakes, he packaged them up for her to take home. They didn’t speak and Harry didn’t read her little to-do list.

“Have a good day, Harry,” she murmured getting up from her seat.

“Peach?” He asked.

She looked up at him, her fingers touching the moon charm once more. His eyes flicked to the movement and then back to her eyes. Saddened, exhausted. God, was that what Harry looked like? No wonder she was constantly trying to make him better.

But she couldn’t look that way. No. She was perfect. Pretty and lovely. Intelligent and kind. She couldn’t get grumpy the way Harry had. “New moons symbolize new beginnings.”

She smiled, it hardly reached her eyes, but it was better than the flat expression across her face. Her cheeks glowed a little brighter, her eyes a little less sad. “Yeah,” she nodded. “They do.”

“So... every twenty-nine and a half days... y’can start over if y’have to. If y’need to.”

She nodded again and smirked. “Twenty-nine and a half? Did you do some research?” She laughed from the doorway.

“Something like that.”

What Harry hadn’t anticipated was her coming back for dinner. He assumed with all the leftovers she would be happy at home. Her dose of her grumpy friend no longer necessary. Perhaps she would call Bailey, who was arguably a much better person to assist her in relationship troubles. Or even Louis would have been a better call. At least that may have ended in some laughs at Harry’s expense.

But instead, she was back at the diner. Sitting at the counter as if it were the morning.

Harry headed back to the grill to get plates of food and returned to find Alex sitting beside her. She faced forward. No food in front of her, just her eyes focusing on the pots of coffee that were empty—waiting to be refilled for the morning.

“I didn't mean for it to happen. But when I look at her, my bones ache, love. I want you to have that. I want you to have a love like that. But you won't have it with me,” he told her.

She continued staring at the back wall behind the counter. Swallowing hard. Trying to ignore him. He pleaded with her. Only to make himself feel better for breaking her heart, Harry was sure. For stringing her along. How could she love so hard and not have someone love her back? She won’t ever forgive him. She can’t do it anymore. It’s not fair.

“Alex, just go,” She closed her eyes, and her voice felt weak. She was exhausted. It was plain on her face. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Especially not to Alex.

“Honey...”

“No.” Her voice was just a hair stronger than it was a moment before.

“Please just let me—"

“I really need you to leave,” her words were shaky. Cracking on every other syllable. She squeezed her eyes closed tighter. Like she could make the image of him breaking up with her in front of everybody go away. This was a dream. She was going to wake up any minute. But the pain was a lot. It felt like someone had ripped her tired, broken heart out of her chest.

“I don’t want you to think—"

Without warning, she slammed her fist on the counter gathering the attention of everyone in the diner. “I need you to leave,” her voice was so quiet. So different than the shake she just gave the counter, let alone the entire diner. Harry felt horrible. So completely horrible.

With a long look, Alex stared at her before leaving without so much as another word of apology.

Without truly realizing, Harry had followed him outside after the unending silence.

"Hey!” Harry had never confronted one of her boyfriends before. Not the one that told her she ate too many pancakes. Not the one that told her that her bookstore wouldn’t survive in a small place like this. Not the guy that told her she looked better when she styled her hair on special occasions. Or even Bodie who thought she was more than this town and even if that was true, he could have supported her anyway.

But this one... this one that just stopped loving her. Because of someone else. As if someone else could possibly compare to the most beautiful, kindest, most intelligent person he had ever met.

Alex turned around and sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. "Harry, I didn't mean to—"

"You jus’ lost the lottery,” he interrupted. His heart was pounding, and it felt separate from his brain. Like he is all too aware that his heart shouldn’t beat that fast nor be beating so hard for the girl that was heartbroken at the counter. But he couldn’t figure out why he chose today to confront Alex... and even his own feelings.

There was a deafening silence as he processed Harry’s words. "One in a billion. No. One in eight billion." Harry didn't move, just stared at him. "And you're throwing her away," he shook his head slowly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed, defeat falling over his posture.

"I'm sorry,” Alex said. “But I couldn’t... we all deserve happiness,” he promised. “Even idiots like me.”

Harry had nothing else to say to him, so he returned inside. People were staring at her silently as they pecked at their plates of food. Individually, Harry headed to each table and quietly requested that every one of them leave.

Food’s on the house.

I think she needs a minute alone.

Please, just go quietly.

Once everyone was outside, he left a crate in front of the door for empty dishes for people to finish and return once they left. Harry flipped the open sign to close. He headed to the kitchen and whipped up the fastest batch of pancakes he had ever made: one peach and one white chocolate chip.

“I wish someone loved me that much,” she whispered to no one.

Harry came from the back and set the two pancakes in front of her. He met her teary gaze with his.

“Eat your pancakes.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Peach,” his voice was gentle but still very firm. “Eat them, please,” he repeated.

She picked up her fork and drowned the plate in syrup. Harry wondered why she didn’t just drink it straight from the bottle. Mum was insistent that food would cure anything. A cold. a broken leg.

A broken heart.

She had tears rolling down her cheeks as she ate but Harry ignored it. “Never had a peach and white chocolate chip pancake before.”

She sniffled. “Yeah?”

He smirked. “Been making them for you for so many years. But no... Never.”

She smirked through her tears. “Figured you were eating them back there to keep your ratios on par,” she cut a piece of each one off and held her fork out to him. He took the bite enjoying the little piece of her that existed in her favorite breakfast. It was delicious. He could see why she would want one of each.

He chuckled around the bite. “Gave up on worrying ‘bout the ratios,” he shrugged.

“How come?”

“Y’eat them enough t’save the ratio in spades.” Harry felt like he won the lottery just by hearing her laugh; especially when she probably didn’t want to. “Do y’want t’watch a film?”

She nodded. Harry picked up her plate and let her lead down the hall. He flicked the lights off to the diner as they walked back to his little apartment home. She fit in the room so easily. Quickly, she made her spot on the sofa, Harry sat close beside her. Harry didn’t pay any mind to the movie he picked. In a matter of minutes, she was drowsy. The movie was nearly irrelevant because she was nearly asleep half a dozen times throughout the movie.

“Did y’fall asleep?” There was a smile in his voice when he asked the first time.

“No,” she mumbled.

“Peach... y’fall asleep?” She muttered a quiet no, again. She could still hear the movie. But the third time, she was simply too tired, physically and emotionally to respond. “Kitten, are y’awake?” She couldn’t speak to even register he called her something new. She was too tired. She simply continued listening to the movie playing and Harry asking her if she was asleep.

“My mum died out of nowhere,” he told her. It felt like someone punched her in the stomach. “It broke me. Broke me t’pieces,” his voice was nostalgic. “I was twenty almost twenty-one. She didn’t even see me graduate.” She should have told him she was awake. He didn’t want him to spill his secrets to her if she was awake. That much was clear in the way he asked the last two times. “Gemma had been stuck here t’see the aftermath of everything. I needed t’finish school even though I didn’t want to. She tried so hard t’keep this place afloat, but she didn’t like cooking, and she didn’t know how t’run a business. I didn’t want t’come home. It broke me all over again. Because I was already weary. Didn’t want t’relive the hometown heartbreak I suffered. This girl I dated from town. She wanted nothing t’do with this place, but I loved this town so much, Peach. I loved it like you do. So maybe s’on me. Because she said she wasn’t going t’stay and it broke m’heart. It broke m’entire plan t’stay here. I hated it here. I hated that it wasn’t enough for her. For us.”

This wasn’t right. Listening to him when he was sharing something personal that he clearly didn’t want to tell...but she was in too deep now. “M’plan turned t’helping Mum find people t’run the diner for her and then move away. Find m’own footing. That had been the plan since I started college. And then Mum...” he sighed and paused. She wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating. “I graduated. I cried. I drank.”

Her heart hurt. “I thought maybe I’ll jus’ burn the place down. If Mum’s not here, what’s the point?” His voice was so quiet. “Gemma was heartbroken. She was there when it happened, and she couldn’t stay. Didn’t want t’stay and how could I let her? She was holding everything together. She’s a superhero m’sister,” he whispered so quietly. “She didn’t know what t’do. But she knew she wasn’t any help. She told me it was okay t’sell it. T’move away. T’escape the heartache.”

She tried to think of this little town without the diner. Without Harry. It would be missing something. She was sure. But staying here, the ghost of a girl who was clearly just not good enough for his sweet heart and the ghost of his mother and the family that had to leave because it was too much, she understood. Of course he wanted to leave. How could anyone blame him? “I had a realtor. I had a buyer. A lawyer. I had it all. It was only days away from turning into something and I jus’ had this horrible breakdown before I opened,” he reminisced, his voice was far away. She heard him swallow audibly. His voice cracked. “I was sobbing on the floor over a dozen broken eggs.” The sound of the movie was gone. She couldn’t hear anything but Harry and his soft breathing. Her stomach hurt at the thought of his distress and wanted to make it go away retroactively. If only she had a time machine. If only she could have known him and done something. If only his mom was still there. “I begged Mum for a sign. I wanted her approval. Afraid I wasn’t doing the right thing. Afraid she would hate me for running.”

Of course she wouldn’t have. Harry was... Harry. No one could hate him. Especially not his mother. “I think everyone kinda knew it was coming. Even though I didn’t tell them. I was going t’tell them that day, actually. That I was selling and moving and... the diner would be no more. End of a chapter. End of a life. End of a story.”

She could hardly take how sad it all was. No wonder he was grumpy. She couldn’t figure out why he was telling her. She inhaled a little deeper, ready to tell him she was actually awake and that of course his mother wouldn’t hate him. Never. Not even from wherever her soul was out in—

“But then this insanely intelligent, beautiful girl sat at m’counter. Asked for one peach and one white chocolate chip pancake. Told me the ratios didn’t matter. That she would like t’open a tab.”

She swore her heart stopped. Time stopped. Everything stopped.

“Y’can’t have a tab if there was no diner,” he said simply, a shrug in his voice.

Like it was that simple. That in asking for a tab erased all that heartache. How different her life in this little place would have been without Harry through the years. She couldn’t imagine it. Her best friend just not there. Who would dress as Santa? Or help her rake leaves in the fall? How would she set off the fireworks?

“I didn’t think I would ever be happy again and y’jus’...” there was a quiet pause that seemed to last for hours. Harry’s voice sounded wistful. Like he was remembering every moment since she moved. “Y’were opening a bookshop and y’moved into a house with bad pipes. I didn’t want you t’be stuck in the dead of winter with no hot water,” he continued. “Y’jus’ wanted pancakes and cold coffee, and I didn’t want t’be the one t’stop y’from getting whatever you wanted. Peach, y’love this town like y’grew up here. Y’take care of everyone and everything. Y’are endlessly kind and wonderful and the most annoying person I’ve ever known. Y’love the moon when all anyone can talk about is how nice and warm the sun is. You are everything I wanted and all y’did was waltz into m’diner on one of the worst days of m’life.”

There was no way Harry couldn’t hear her heartrate flying. It felt like a hundred dragonflies were trapped in her ribcage begging to get out. “M’nearly certain I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you. The moment I met you and made you your ridiculous pancakes and all those omelets. M’never going t’stop loving you. No matter how many stupid men you date that don’t know that you’re the best thing that’s ever graced this town, this world, and especially my life.”

The sound of the movie seemed to come back as Harry stopped speaking for a bit of time. The movie filled the silence instead of his words and she felt like she might need to cry again. For several moments she kept quiet, trying to calm her heart. When she felt a sufficient amount of time had passed, she reached up to rub her eye with an exaggerated yawn. “Fell asleep again,” she sniffed turning to Harry. He was smiling at her with a little nod in the way he always did. A smile that didn’t spread across his face, but it was in his eyes.

“I know,” he whispered very softly.

“Sorry. Can we watch the movie another day?” He nodded again, still gazing at her. “Are you okay?” She asked.

“Should be asking you that.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I’m okay.”

“Y’sure?” He asked. “I... I wanted t’kill him. T’be honest.”

She shook her head. “He’s not worth it.”

“No? Thought y’wanted to marry him.”

“He...” she sighed. “He doesn’t like the smalltown life after all,” she shrugged then looked at Harry with a smile. “He doesn’t care about the moon.”

He grinned ever so gently at her. Not quite those secret smiles that he hid from everyone, but it was more than his signature twitch of the lips. “Yeah?”

“I can’t be with someone that doesn’t care about the moon.”

He felt his cheeks warm and was glad the room was dark aside from the glow of the TV. “I never really thought ‘bout the moon until y’rolled into town.”

“No?”

“M’more of a sunrise guy with the diner.”

She smiled. “I like the sun too.”

“The moon is better. Y’can stare at it without hurting y’eyes.”

She giggled. “That’s true.”

“I think ‘bout y’every time I see the moon,” he murmured.

She was closer to him than she ever had been even when he held her the night before and kissed the top of her head. She could feel his breath on her face, and she loved his eyes so much. They were so pretty. “What about when the moon is gone?”

“I think ‘bout the moon in the middle of the day, as soon as I wake up, and as the sun sets.”

She doesn’t know why it was then. Why she didn’t know...how she didn’t know. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. The way he looked at her. The way he always looked at her. Harry was her best friend, and she never thought he loved her beyond that. She thought he only barely tolerated her as a friend. But the look on his face...

“Oh,” she managed. Breathless, her heart pounded. Harry didn’t date. Harry didn’t... love... right? Harry didn’t really love her, did he?

But he did. He told her (albeit, what he thought was her sleeping body). So, she wasn’t supposed to know that. Not really. Maybe he was just saying it because he felt bad for her and how upset she was. But he shook his head and smiled—really, really smiled.

“Peach, y’have m’whole heart,” he shrugged one shoulder as if this wasn’t the biggest deal in the entire world. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said simply. “M’not going anywhere.”

She woke up and it was still pitch-black out. With a glance at the clock on her bedside table she found it was only four thirty and she was so awake. Even Harry wouldn’t be awake yet. She didn’t feel sad about Alex. Why was she crying about him yesterday anyway? He wasn’t Harry. He wasn’t someone who anticipated things she needed done and offered to do them before she knew it. Harry thought about her like she was an extension of him, which is exactly how she thought about him. He showed up when she least expected it but he was there.

Her fingers skimmed the moon charm on her necklace. Something she couldn’t stop wearing if her life depended on it. The thought of losing it made her nauseous. It was so comforting to have a piece of Harry with her all the time. How could she think she could marry someone that wasn't him?

Was it too soon? Maybe. But it was a long time coming. Had been for so many years. Harry was hers. Maybe whether he wanted to be or not. Because she loved him from the moment that she met him, and she couldn’t have imagined a more perfect person than him.

Hard pass. You need a nice bubbly guy like you.

Harry wasn’t bubbly. But he was nice, and he was more than perfect.

Suddenly, she was out the door running. Running through the quiet, sleeping town. Did she close her door? Maybe Edith or David would do it for her. She barely stopped when she got to the front of the diner. Harry wasn’t down yet—of course he wasn’t, it wasn’t even five—so she knocked on the door rapidly; peering through the glass waiting for the most perfect man she knew to appear. She could have used the key, but this was important, and Harry needed to open the door.

After what seemed like eternity, Harry came from the back: hurried, no shoes, and still in his sweatpants.

“Peach, what are y’doing? I hate when y’come here this early when s’dark out. On foot. What if someone snuck up and kidnapped you?”

“Oh my God, Harry. Shut up about being kidnapped. Everyone in town knows me.”

He snorted. “S’not good t’run in the near dark—Fine, whatever. Peach, what’s wro—”

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. For so many years she dreamed of his lips. How soft they would feel, how nice they would feel. It felt electric. He tasted like toothpaste and summer. His skin was warm, and he loved her.

Harry reached down and cupped the back of her thighs, pulling her legs around his hips. She looped her arms around his neck, clinging to him wishing she could get closer somehow. He closed the door to the diner and fiddled with the signs. Opening late. She imagined the sign was being placed in front of the closed sign. Harry kept one arm beneath her butt, supporting her against him as he walked across the diner and placed her on the same stool she sat on each morning.

He brought his hands to her face, sliding his fingers through her hair, his thumbs skimming across her cheeks as he kissed her again. Her mouth was so warm.

“I could hear you talking last night,” she whispered against his skin as his lips moved to her jaw. "During the movie." She had to tell him the truth about some things. Many things. Some things she hadn’t thought about in ages. Some were still fresh. If this was going to work, she needed Harry to know everything.

“I know y’could, Peach,” he hummed quietly and moved across her collarbone, pausing to kiss the moon charm around the chain. His lips started their ascent up the other side of her throat. Her skin felt hot, tingly from head to toe. "Wanted you t'hear."

Her heart ached a little less. “Is this too soon?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Feels like s’been too long,” his kisses worked up the side of her face, skimming every inch of her like he was going to draw her face with kisses on a canvas and he was measuring what that would look like with an outline.

“Harry,” she whispered, shivering slightly. He didn’t respond as his lips were at the top of her head, kissing her hair line. “I’ve... I’ve known your mom passed away... since I moved in. Alice told me the first week I was here.”

Harry paused his kisses. He drew back to look her in the eye. There was a pucker of confusion between his eyebrows, and he looked at her like he had never seen her before. “Y’never said anything,” it wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t mad. It wasn’t sad. A statement. That’s all he said.

“You clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

His heart swelled. “Y’never... treated me differently.”

“I never asked about your mom, Harry. You didn’t notice?”

Well, now it seemed so obvious. “No,” he mumbled.

She smiled weakly. “You weren’t ready to tell me.”

“Y’didn’t look at me with pity.”

She shrugged. “You did that in spades.”

He smirked and rubbed his thumb on her lip before he took it between his again. “S’much as I want t’make more memories on this seat, s’going t’get light soon,” he pecked her lips and scooped her back up. There would be someone walking their dog and they would peer in and see something they shouldn’t. “But ‘ve wanted t’kiss y’in this seat for ages,” he assured her. He gripped behind her thighs again rewrapping them around his hips and lifting her into his arms again. He kissed her the entire way down the hall to his little home behind the diner that made his heart hurt for so many years. Now it was filled with peaches. So many sweet memories to take away the hurt.

“Harry,” she whimpered as he nipped at her skin.

“Y’taste so sweet, Peach,” he mumbled into her mouth. She shivered, making Harry squeeze her tighter. Then she smiled against his lips. Her fingers tangled in the back of his hair. She ground her hips against him in a needy fashion that she never imagined she’d ever get to do to him. He groaned softly into her neck kissing a path across her collarbone again. “Easy Peach,” he hummed. “M’pretty... starved for attention.”

She huffed a breath of laughter. “You can have all my attention,” she promised. “I’m not going anywhere, Harry Styles,” she pulled his face back so she could read his eyes. “Ever. I’m going to die on that stool in your diner eating peach and white chocolate chip pancakes when I’m a hundred years old.”

He smiled. That genuine, gorgeous smile that she loved so much but he kept so hidden. “Perfect,” he whispered and captured her lips in his again.

“I’m glad it was a new moon,” she whispered.

“Me too, Peach,” he laid her gently on his bed, stripped his T-shirt over his head. “I needed a new beginning.”

“Hey Harry?” She whispered.

“Hmm?” He pulled his sweatpants off next. Leaning to get them off his legs which left him in the perfect position to kiss the length of her leg, starting with her ankle and working his way up to her hip.

“I love you too. In case it wasn’t obvious at this point.”

He stopped, looked up at her, peering into her eyes like he was going to gaze at her for eternity. “Peach,” he said simply. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

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@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

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@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

@emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #grumpy!harry x sunshine!reader #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love at first sight!harry #the lottery

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natsaffection · 7 months ago

Text

Lines crossed. Pt. 2 | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: 18+! Fluffy Smut (fingering and oral), talk about past, scars

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: Okay, since the first part exploded and many people wanted a sequel, the second part is now here!

Part 1

The first light of dawn filtered through the rain-streaked windows, casting a soft glow over Natasha’s apartment. The storm had passed, leaving a quiet stillness in its wake. Natasha stirred from where she had been sitting, her eyes red and heavy with exhaustion. She had stayed by your side all night, watching over you, making sure your condition didn’t worsen.

You lay on the couch, covered by a warm blanket. Your breathing was steadier now, though your face still bore the marks of pain and fatigue. Natasha stood up quietly, stretching her stiff muscles before heading to the kitchen to make some coffee.

The aroma of fresh coffee filled the room, and the sound of the percolator seemed to rouse you from your restless sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings before your gaze settled on Natasha. She approached with a mug in her hand, her expression a mix of relief and concern.

“Morning,” Natasha said softly, handing you the mug. “How are you feeling?” You winced as you shifted to sit up, accepting the mug with a grateful nod. “I’ve been better,” you replied, your voice raspy. “Thanks for… everything.”

Natasha sat down on the edge of the coffee table, her eyes searching yours. “You gave me quite a scare last night. Do you remember what happened?”

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth soothing your throat. “Yeah… I was outnumbered. I thought I could handle it, but…” You glanced down at the bandages on your side, your expression darkening. “Guess I miscalculated.”

Natasha’s eyes softened. “You’re lucky to be alive. Those wounds were serious.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I know. I just… didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Natasha reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “You did the right thing coming here. I’m glad you did.” You looked up at her, a hint of vulnerability in your eyes. “I’m not used to asking for help. It’s not… easy for me.”Natasha nodded, understanding. “I know. But you don’t have to do this alone. We can help you. I can help you.”

You hesitated, the weight of your past actions pressing heavily on you. “But what about S.H.I.E.L.D.? The Avengers? They won’t just forget everything I’ve done.”

Natasha’s expression hardened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. But first, you need to heal. Then we can talk about what comes next.” You nodded slowly, the reality of your situation sinking in. “I don’t know if I can ever make things right, Natasha.”

Natasha squeezed your arm gently. “It’s not going to be easy, but you’re not beyond redemption. We all have our demons. The important thing is that you’re willing to try.”You met her gaze, the flicker of hope in your eyes growing a little stronger. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For not giving up on me.”

Natasha smiled, her eyes warm. “You know,” she began, her voice soft, “I also wasn’t always this person. I used to be someone very different. My past… it wasn’t pretty.” You looked at her, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

“I was trained to be an assassin,” Natasha said, her eyes distant as she recalled her past. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. But then, I was given a second chance. Someone believed I could be more than what I was trained to be. They saw something in me worth saving.” You listened intently, feeling a connection forming. “And you changed?”

Natasha nodded. “It wasn’t easy. It took time, and I had to face a lot of my demons. But I did it. And if I could do it, so can you.” Her words resonated deeply within you, giving you a glimmer of hope. “I want to believe that,” you said quietly. “I really do.”

Natasha’s gaze softened, and she leaned in a little closer. “You’re already taking the first steps by being here. That’s more than enough for now.”

Without thinking, driven by a sudden surge of emotion, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Natasha’s. The kiss was gentle but filled with desperation and gratitude. For a moment, Natasha froze, and panic set in. You pulled back, your eyes wide with fear that you had ruined everything. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you stammered, your heart pounding. “I shouldn’t have—”

But before you could finish, Natasha cupped your face in her hands and kissed you back, her lips soft and warm against yours. The kiss deepened, filled with unspoken promises and a shared understanding of pain and redemption.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Natasha’s eyes held a mix of emotions, but there was no anger, only acceptance. You stared into her eyes, feeling a connection that you had never felt before. The room seemed to close in, and the outside world faded away. All that mattered was the two of you in that moment.

Driven by a mix of gratitude and the need to repay her for her kindness, you leaned in again, kissing her more deeply this time. Your hands found their way to her shoulders, pulling her closer. Natasha responded, but with a controlled intensity that made your heart race.

“I kinda want to repay you..” You said and Natasha pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with emotion. “You don’t owe me anything,” she said firmly, though her voice was gentle. “But if this is what you want… then let me take care of you.”

Natasha’s hands moved to the hem of your shirt, but she paused, glancing at your bandaged side. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asked, concern evident in her voice. “I am,” you replied, your voice steady. “Just… be careful.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she carefully lifted your shirt over your head, her touch both gentle and firm. She ran her hands down your sides, avoiding the bandaged wound, her fingers sending shivers through your body.

You reached out to touch her, but Natasha gently pushed your hands away, a smirk playing on her lips. “Let me,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding.

You felt a thrill of excitement and a hint of frustration. “What if I want to take care of you?” you challenged, your voice breathy. Natasha’s eyes flashed with amusement and something darker. “We’ll see about that,” she replied, her tone teasing but firm.

She leaned in, kissing you again, her hands exploring your body with a careful yet possessive touch. Her lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp softly. You felt her fingers brush against the scars on your chest, and you tensed slightly.

“You’re beautiful,” Natasha murmured against your skin, her words sending a warm flush through you. “Every part of you.”

You relaxed under her touch, feeling safe and cherished. Natasha’s hands moved with expert precision, caressing and teasing until you were trembling with need. She was rough enough to assert her dominance but always mindful of your injuries, never pushing you too far.

“G-God..” you moaned softly, your hands gripping the couch cushions as she continued to drive you wild with her touch. “Shh,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

You surrendered completely, allowing Natasha to guide you. Her movements were a perfect blend of roughness and tenderness, making you feel desired and protected at the same time. She kissed her way down your body again, exploring everywhere, her touch igniting a fire within you.

You couldn’t deny how good her touch felt. Natasha continued to explore your body, her hands and mouth leaving a trail of sensations that made your head spin. She was rough enough to keep you on edge but always careful, never letting you forget that she was in control.

When she finally moved lower, her hands parting your legs, you gasped, your body arching towards her. “Natasha,” you breathed, your hands reaching for her.

She held your gaze, her eyes dark with desire. Your breath hitching as she moved closer. Natasha’s touch was both commanding and gentle, her fingers exploring you with a skill that left you trembling. She brought you to the edge, holding you there, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you.” Natasha’s lips curved into a smile. “Patience,” she murmured, her touch driving you wild. When she finally took you over the edge, it was with a fierce intensity that left you breathless and trembling.

You cried out, your body arching towards her, your hands gripping the couch cushions as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Natasha held you through it, her touch gentle now, soothing you as you came down from the high. She pulled you into her arms, holding you close, her lips brushing against your forehead.

She kissed you again, her lips soft and inviting. You could feel the fire reignite within you as her hands roamed your body with renewed fervor. She leaned back slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a dark intensity. “Ready for more?” she whispered, her voice husky. You nodded, your breath hitching. “Yes… please.”

Natasha smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she resumed her exploration. She kissed her way down your neck, her hands caressing your sensitive skin. Her touch was both commanding and tender, igniting every nerve ending as she moved lower.

You gasped as Natasha’s fingers found their way between your thighs, her touch electric. She moved with a deliberate pace, building you up again with expert precision. The tension within you coiled tighter and tighter, the need for release almost unbearable.

Natasha leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “Come for me, Y/n, come on..“ she commanded softly, her voice sending shivers down your spine. With a cry of pleasure, you came undone beneath her touch, your body arching towards her as waves of ecstasy crashed over you again. Natasha held you close, her hands steadying you as you trembled in her arms.

When you finally came down from the high, Natasha kissed you softly, her eyes filled with warmth and satisfaction. “You did so well,” she murmured, her voice soothing.

You lay there in the aftermath, your breath slowly returning to normal. Natasha’s arms around you felt like the safest place in the world. She glanced down at you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Y/n,” Natasha began softly, her fingers tracing the scars on your body. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s a long story,” you murmured, your voice tinged with sadness. “I wasn’t always like this. I had a family once. A sister. She was everything to me." Natasha listened intently, her hand gently stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "She got involved with some bad people. Tried to help her, but it was too late. They... they killed her. The police did nothing. They said it was an accident, but I knew better. I saw the bruises, the fear in her eyes. I knew she was in trouble, and no one was willing to help."

Natasha's eyes softened with understanding. "So you took matters into your own hands." You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I couldn't let those monsters walk free. I couldn't let anyone else suffer like she did. So I started hunting them, taking down the ones who hurt innocent people. It became my mission, my way of coping with the loss."

Natasha pulled you closer, her embrace comforting. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. No one should have to go through that." You sniffled, wiping away a tear. "I know what I did was wrong, but I felt like I had no other choice. I had to do something."

Natasha nodded, her voice gentle. "I understand now. Your intentions were good, but the methods were extreme. But we need to find a better way." You looked up at her, a glimmer of hope in your eyes. "Do you really think it's possible?"

Natasha smiled softly. "I do. But it's going to take time and effort. And you're not alone in this. I'll be with you every step of the way."

The next few days passed quietly. Natasha helped you regain your strength, providing a safe space for you to heal. She was always there, offering support and understanding. You found yourself opening up more, sharing stories and fears you had kept buried for so long.

One evening, as the two of you were sitting on the couch, Natasha turned to you, her expression serious. "Y/n, there's something I need to tell you."

You looked at her, sensing the gravity in her tone. "What is it?" Natasha took a deep breath. "Don’t be mad, but I called Fury. He's on his way here."

Your heart raced, a surge of panic rising within you. "What?! Why? I thought-“ Natasha raised her hands, trying to calm you. "No, listen. He's coming alone, and he wants to listen to you. I explained your situation, and he agreed to hear you out."

A short while later, there was a knock at the door. Natasha stood up, giving you a reassuring nod before opening it. Fury entered, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding.

"Romanoff," Fury greeted, his gaze shifting to you. "Y/n." You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves. "Director."

Fury sat down across from you, his eye fixed on you with an intensity that made you shiver. "Natasha tells me you want to make things right. I’m all ears.“

You took a deep breath, recounting your story, your motivations, and the reasons behind your actions. Fury listened intently, his expression unreadable.

When you finished, there was a heavy silence. Fury leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You've taken the law into your own hands. That's a dangerous path.“

You nodded, "I know what I did was wrong. But to all respect..Do you know what it’s like to watch innocent people suffer because the system is too slow or too corrupt to act? To see those people walking free because they can afford good lawyers? I did what I did because someone had to.”

Fury sighed, his expression softening slightly. "You're a fighter, Y/n. I can respect that. But you need to learn to fight the right way." You looked up, surprised by his words. "What do you mean?"

Fury glanced at Natasha before continuing. "You want justice? Fine. We'll give you a chance to prove yourself. You'll work for us, under supervision. Help us take down the real threats, the ones that slip through the cracks. But you step out of line, and it's over. Understand?"

The weight of his words settled on you. This was it, a chance to prove yourself, but also a heavy responsibility. You glanced at Natasha, who gave you an encouraging nod. "I understand," you said firmly. "Thank you..“

"Good," Fury said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Don't make me regret this."

---

As you walked through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, you felt the eyes of agents on you, their expressions a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and, in some cases, outright hostility. You tried to ignore the whispers and the glares, focusing on the promise you had made to Fury and to yourself.

Natasha guided you to a conference room where the Avengers were gathered. The room fell silent as you entered, every eye on you, again.“

"Everyone, this is Y/n," Natasha began, her voice steady. "She'll be working with us from now on." Tony was the first to speak, his tone skeptical. "So, we're just supposed to trust her now?"

"I know it's a lot to ask," Natasha replied, her gaze steady. "But she's here to make things right. And Fury's given her a chance. We need to give her one, too."

Steve stepped forward, his expression serious. "It's not going to be easy. You'll have to earn our trust. But if Natasha believes in you, that's a good start."

You nodded, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. "I know I have a lot to prove. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "I won't let you down." Natasha guided you to a room in the living quarters. It was small but comfortable, a far cry from the places you had been staying in recently.

"This is your room," Natasha said, her voice softening. "It's not much, but it's a start." You looked around, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "No, it's perfect.."

Natasha placed a hand on your shoulder. "Remember, you're not alone. We're in this together." You nodded, feeling a sense of hope for the first time in a long while. "I know. And I won't forget it."

As you settled into your new room, the reality of your situation began to sink in. The road to redemption would be long and difficult, but with Natasha's support and the chance to prove yourself, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And as you lay down to rest, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life. A chapter filled with hope, determination, and the promise of a better future.

@mrsrushman @lOnelyish @imnotslouching @a-colletion-of-cells

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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ratatoastwrites · 5 months ago

Text

Playing house

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

[this was specifically written with s2 bratty(suffering from withdrawal)!Spencer in mind 🧚‍♀️]

Synopsis: “has a PhD in engineering and thinks that Ikea manuals are for stupid people” boyfriend vs “isn’t really a good handyman but is determined to follow the rules” s/o get into a bit of an argument 🫢

a/n: it’s me woo! did y’all miss me? 🌝 ofc u did!! 🥰 jkjk but umm i was inspired to write this bcuz i actually got a new chair from ikea a few days ago and i almost ripped out all my hair by the time i managed to put it together ✨ i was listening to the Like a Prayer EP from deadpool & wolverine for the whole two (2) hours it took me to put it together as well lmao 🪑 also, the pic on the left of the moodboard is my own ikea manual on the exact page i messed up!! fun 🧚‍♀️ also, did u guys like that i included a synopsis this time? i hope u did ;)

cw: light angst, arguing about something that shouldn’t really be a cause of an argument, reader has one (1) violent thought but doesn’t actually mean it and also doesn’t act on it ofc, allusion to Spencer’s addiction/withdrawal, some kinda unhealthy thoughts, Spencer is a bit 🤏 of an asshole in the beginning, mostly fluffy ending, also kinda rushed ending which is my bad :( sorry

“This is stupid. And you’re doing it wrong.”

You scoffed in exasperation at your boyfriend’s complaints, but otherwise kept your focus on the task at hand.

You’ve been trying to assemble your new desk chair for the past half hour, while Spencer loomed over your hunched figure, like an unhelpful little devil on your shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you do it then?”

You mumbled under your breath, not necessarily wanting him to hear. He did anyway.

“Well, I would. If you weren’t so insistent on using the manual.”

You could quite literally hear the eye roll in his tone, and while you usually didn’t mind his bratty attitude, right now it wasn’t helping your already frustrated mood.

“Oh, right. Silly me, using the manual that tells me how to assemble this piece of- furniture.”

You had to try your hardest not to start cursing, not wanting to let this swedish nightmare of a chair get the better of you. Spencer sighed behind you, and you were secretly hoping that it was a sigh of resignation.

“I have a PhD in engineering, do you really think that I don’t know how to assemble a chair from Ikea?”

Your hopes were proven to be futile, just like every other time you found yourself not seeing eye to eye with your boyfriend. You took a deep breath, not wanting to turn this petty argument into an actual fight.

“I don’t know, Spencer. And I’m not interested in finding out. I just don’t understand what you’re trying to prove by refusing the very idea of using the manual.”

Your tone became a little sharper by the end, although it wasn’t actually aimed at him. As you read over the manual again, you realised that you messed up the last step, cursing quietly under your breath as you had to undo the last eight screws in the armrests.

“Good thing you were using the manual.”

You were seriously contemplating throwing the screwdriver at your boyfriend’s smartass head after his smug comment. However, you just slowly put it down instead, before standing up from your place on the carpet, ignoring the crackling in your knees as you turned around to face him.

“Spencer, I love you more than words could describe, but you’re seriously getting on my last nerve right now. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, do not follow me please.”

You told him with eerie calmness, before walking out of the living room and towards the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at your stomach at how annoyed you’d gotten over something so trivial. You knew that he was going through a rough patch in his life, and you couldn’t blame him for being more annoying than usual. But you couldn’t always have the patience of a saint, and you were already quite worked up about that stupid chair.

‘I just need a few moments of peace. Then I’ll go back and pretend like everything is okay. As per usual.’

You tried telling yourself, blocking out the voices saying how unhealthy that sounded.

You went through the steps of making your tea, doing your best to silence the myriad of emotions swirling in your chest. By the time you finished your hot beverage and put your cup in the sink, all your previous frustrations were gone, replaced by only tiredness. The weight of the day weighed on your shoulders as you dragged yourself back to the living room, although the slight aching in your muscles quickly faded to the back of your mind when you took in the sight waiting for you in there.

“Wh- Spence?”

You were dumbfounded as you looked at your boyfriend, who was standing next to your -now assembled!- chair with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, put it together for you. All according to the manual, of course.”

His tone was almost shy, and he gave you the sweetest puppy dog eyes imaginable, which never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“But I thought the manual was stupid.”

You stepped closer to him, still feeling a little confused, but your gaze softened in fondness as you looked at him. He shuffled on his feet a little, glancing between you and the chair awkwardly.

“It is. But it doesn’t matter. According to the studies, most healthy relationships are based on compromises. I guess I just realised that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately.”

You frowned at his words, stepping even closer to him, until you were almost toe to toe. You didn’t like it when he talked about himself like that, and he quickly understood your expression.

“You know it’s true. You’ve been nothing but patient and accepting since I… And I can’t even swallow my pride for an hour to help you put together a piece of furniture.”

He continued before you could argue, and your heart broke as he trailed off mid-sentence. You knew that it was hard for him to acknowledge what he was going through, and you really wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong. But you knew that those empty words of comfort wouldn’t do your relationship any good.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But Spence, I don’t want you to think that me being there for you is a chore, or a sacrifice. I’m being patient and accepting, because I love you.“

You told him, reaching your hands out to hold his, interlocking your fingers as you smiled at him softly.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. And you being a little annoying about a stupid chair doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Not to mention that you ended up putting it together for me.”

You nodded your head towards the aforementioned furniture next to you, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as you smiled at him fondly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He said softly, tilting his forehead against yours.

“Negative. You deserve only good things in your life.”

You told him, before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

The two of you didn’t always agree, and you could both be incredibly stubborn. But at the end of the day there was nothing you wouldn’t do for your beautiful, intelligent, sweetheart of a boyfriend, no matter how much he tested your patience. And you knew that he felt the exact same way about you.

🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍��️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

Bonus badly edited pic of Spencer in my new chair ✨

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #cm spencer reid #spencer reid angst #barely #spencer reid fluff #kinda #angst to fluff #maybe

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 1 month ago

Text

Cariad | Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader | One shot 2.3k

After a forced night out with your fellow fae ‘friends’ ends in a trail of your fairy dust, it’s your werewolf roommate who takes the blame.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of violence, blood, bad friends and bad ex boyfriends. Bucky is a cutie pie puppy (werewolf) and reader is a fae with wings.

A/N: Very loosely based on the story of Beddgelert. Cariad - darling in Welsh.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Come on, you can’t stay cooped up in your flat all night.”

Your friends pounded their fists on the door of your apartment, calling through the keyhole and begging you to come out with them.

Friends might be too generous, women who also worked at the shitty diner down the street and also happened to be fae was more accurate. That seemed enough license for them to come and bother you, but it was never quite enough for you to really open up to them or for them to offer you a place to stay when you left your disgusting ex, John.

“I don’t want to, I’m fine here,” you shouted back, lounging against the arm of the sofa, your feet in your roommate, Bucky's, lap and a bowl of popcorn on your own. You tossed a kernel across to Bucky and he caught it with a snap between his preternaturally sharp teeth. You giggled and he grinned, flashing his long canines, before returning his attention to the terrible reality show you were both watching.

The two of you had been watching the series from the start and had become increasingly close over the last six weeks since you moved in. Bucky always made sure you had popcorn, a blanket, which he spread over your legs, and something fun to drink, either a cocktail, a glass of wine or, one week, a huge hot chocolate covered with marshmallows.

Despite your reservations about moving in with a were, he was really a lovely roommate. He kept mostly to himself apart from your TV nights, which you looked forward to more and more, enjoying the feel of his warmth so close to you, the heady scent of his musky cologne and his ringing laughter that always made you smile.

In fact the only downside seemed to be that he shed hair like a large dog, but then you left fairy dust everywhere so it worked out evenly in the end.

Plus after living with John and his volatile nature, being able to predict Bucky’s mood around the moon cycle was actually more reassuring than scary. You’d expected him to be grumpy, snappy, even a little mean when the moon was full, but instead he just stuck around the flat and, if anything, was friendlier, touching your elbow or the small of your back, brushing his leg against yours on the sofa and, as he was now, massaging your feet after a long day at work. His instinct was to nest and seek comfort, following you around like a lost puppy, a huge, muscular, lost puppy.

“You can go out if you want, doll, don’t stay in on my account,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Bucky liked to stay in around the full moon. It wasn’t that he was dangerous as a wolf, he could still control himself, but everything felt so much…more. He was always a little more territorial when the moon was at its fullest, seeking the comfort of a familiar space and, increasingly, wanting to make sure that you were protected.

In reality, he’d have liked to keep you exactly where he could see you and keep you safe, but he’d never been the kind of guy to trap someone like that. He liked seeing you smile. If going out made you smile, then he’d try and suck it up… okay, he’d be a grump, but he certainly wouldn’t be letting you know that, even if it meant you wouldn’t be here to scratch behind his ears to keep him calm when the moon rose.

“I like staying in with you.” You poked him with a fluffy sock covered toe and earnt his fingers tickling you in return.

“Well, that’s settled then. Go away!” he shouted at your friends, still banging on the door.

Quiet reigned for all of two minutes before your phone started pinging.

You’re allowed to leave,you know?

Tina, of course, was always starting the arguments about Bucky.

He can’t control you

Morgan, desperate to be the ringleader of the group, but falling very far short.

So that was two of your friends chipping in, that just left Jenny.

Leave the dog at home and come out with us, I promise we won’t see John.

She was the biggest barrier to your friendship. Their personal attitude towards Bucky went way beyond the suggestions that he kept you trapped in the flat somehow and ended up in slurs. She’d use any opportunity to take a dig at him, especially if she knew he could hear.

No.

You text back, slamming the phone down on the arm of the sofa, but they continued to text and text and text until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ugh, God fine!” you bellowed across the room, your wings glittering and flashing red with fury, sprinkling fairy dust in your wake as you stomped across the room and yanked the door open.

“One fucking drink and then I’m coming home, just to prove that I can leave whenever I want.”

You glowed with anger as you slammed your bedroom door, emerging a few moments later with a crumpled dress on and a pair of heels. On your way past the mirror, you rubbed a finger below each eye to tidy your makeup.

“Have fun, Fairy, see you soon.” Bucky smiled, squeezing your hand over the back of the sofa. “I promise I’ll watch something else so we can see who gets voted out together.”

Dutifully, he flicked the TV off.

“Let’s go,” you said, allowing your friends to drag you out of the door while Bucky waved them off.

There was no way Bucky was really going to let you go out alone on the full moon. Although you’d have that gaggle of fae around you, he didn’t trust them not to abandon you at the first sign of trouble and, despite his lone wolf status, he knew that there were plenty of other wolves and shifters about just waiting to pounce should the opportunity arise.

Waiting until you’d at least left the building, Bucky sprang up from the sofa, looking out at the last of the sunset before he shook off the blankets, then his clothes and then his human form. Dragging his nails along the hardwood he clambered out the window and onto the fire exit. Scenting your perfume as you rounded the corner onto the next block, he couldn’t help but let out a howl, leaping onto the roof of the adjoining building and beginning his watch.

Fairy dust.

It was everywhere, sparkling like glitter, the scent of vanilla frosting, but twice as sweet. It glimmered a path towards the alley way and, as Jenny rounded the corner, it was all she could see.

Despite the sparkling impairment, she could still hear your scream, ringing in her ears.

Tina and Morgan fell out of the side door of the nightclub, stumbling on their heels and dominoing forwards until all three fae were piled together on the cold, filthy ground. The golden shimmer of your fairy dust was all that let them know you’d been there.

Sometime after the third round of shots and your fourth complaint that you wanted to go home, you’d edged away from them, towards the exit. That’d been fifteen minutes ago, when a were approaching Morgan at the bar had prompted the conversation to turn to Bucky again and what a disgusting, unsuitable, roommate they all thought he was. You rolled your eyes. If only the knew how bad John had been.

Tina had only stopped when they’d all had a chance to complain about his taste in clothes, his solitary nature and even his smell, when she noticed that you hadn’t said anything in a while and their hunt for you began.

Eventually, trailing a story of you and a tall man with dark hair from the bar to the back doors, they had ventured outside.

“Look!” Jenny declared, spotting a spec of blood higher up on the alley wall. She fluttered her yellow wings and got closer to inspect it, running a finger through the smear, blood. “It’s blood! Call the Police!”

Tina immediately started to dial as the three fae set off as fast as their wings could carry them, following the trail of blood.

The trail wound between each block from the club to your street using the darkest back streets and alleyways. Morgan had conjured a ball of light to follow, but the three fae were still anxious to be back in the street lights or, better yet, back inside their own locked homes.

It was a full moon after all, a foolish night to be out, drunk and alone.

Everyone they met confirmed that an injured fae had passed by with a brunette man and the trio’s imaginations ran riot, thinking of all the horrible things they were sure Bucky was doing to you for leaving the flat.

As they turned onto your street, the blood seemed to stop but, at a run, they continued towards your apartment building.

From the outside, it looked as if Bucky was still watching television, the blue and white flashing of the screen lighting up the window and the patch of ceiling they could see from the doorstep below.

Then a figure appeared, a huge figure with pointed ears and long arms ending in claws that seemed to go on forever, elongated by the shadows cast across the walls. It reared up and then, just as quickly, it ducked down. No doubt to complete whatever awful ritual it was that weres enjoyed on the full moon, killed and eating fae no doubt.

Jenny screamed and began running up the short steps to the foyer, forcing her way past your confused looking neighbours.

In the street, Morgan, rooted to the spot in horror, watched as the werewolf lifted a body in its arms and moved away from the window. Tina grabbed her hand and dragged her up the stairs to follow Jenny.

Blood. Blood. Blood. That was all Bucky could think as he paced the living room, his fur matted with it, the scent filling his senses, stinking and hot and foul. He took a deep shuddering breath, willing the wolf inside of him to quiet. It paced in his mind, snarling and growling at any thought he sent its way, the thought of another man’s hands on you, the thought of you at the bar, unprotected and alone.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

He heaved a breath in and dropped his head into his hands, groaning as his body calmed. He tried to stay still, not wanting to cause anymore damage or spread the blood any further than his stumbling body already had.

You were covered in it too, your wings heavy and drooping down your back. The iridescent shine was dulled, your breath coming in shallow, rasping sobs.

But no sooner had Bucky caught his breath than the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his senses telling him that danger was still approaching.

Looking up, he finally saw Tina, Morgan and Jenny standing in the door, staring open mouthed at his blood covered body. His fur, where it was longer across his head, was matted together and his paws left red marks against the white walls when he pulled away, shrinking back, ears flat to his head and tail tucked between his legs.

Jenny screamed, a blood curdling, piercing scream causing the neighbours to open their doors. Bucky’s ears twitched, and his soulders slumped, his hearing enhanced by his current form.

“He killed her! He killed her! Look at that blood!” Jenny screached.

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, unable to do anything but let out a low howl of pain at the thought of doing anything to hurt you.

“We know it’s her blood, on you!” Morgan shouted.

Bucky was shaking now, the wolf desperate to fight back while Bucky tried to tame him. He knew being aggressive would make it worse, but he was having a hard time keeping his body in check in such a small space. He backed his way to the wall and slid down onto his hackles, the hair on his neck still raised, and gave a sharp bark of warning.

“We knew you’d turn on her, you were mad she went out!”

He shook his head again, his howl now a constant, pained, wail.

Then he couldn’t hear anything.

Tina, Morgan and Jenny had brimmed with magic as they cornered him, but now he was behind a wall of light watching your friends and neighbours back away, forced out of the door by your power.

Bucky grabbed around your waist so he could get close enough to press his muzzle into your neck, scenting you roughly in the hopes of calming the wolf.

You fell back into his arms, spent from using the last of your energy on defending Bucky, but safe in his arms.

“I’m okay, Buck,” you whispered, tired and breathy, digging your hands into his fur.

He scooped you up into his arms again, the same way he’d carried you home after John’s attack just an hour before and held you close.

“I’m with you, I’m okay.” You gave a weak smile, placing your hand on his muzzle as the fur faded and the wolf disappeared for another month, leaving your hand on his stumbled cheek. He turned into your warmth, placing a delicate kiss on your palm and kept you there for a moment, your eyes locked and then he dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky #fae! reader #fairy!reader #were!Bucky #werewolf bucky barnes

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girlgenius1111 · 9 months ago

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to be worthy.

and impromptu mother's day fic in the sol-verse it's a difficult day. and a weird day. but it's also a day for family, and for people stepping up to take roles they didn't have to. a day for love, really. angst. but also sickeningly fluffy.

You’d never second guessed yourself more than you were in that moment, parked outside the flower shop, watching people enter and exit the building. It was barely 7am, and you had been there for almost a half hour already. Just sitting. Just thinking.

Mother’s day. It hadn’t ever been your favorite day. No matter what you did or bought or made, your mom was never very happy with you. She didn’t want anything you could give to her. She didn’t even really want you around. She wanted Ingrid with her on the day, and she always made that very clear.

This year was obviously… very different. Different because you weren’t speaking to your mother, and you didn’t have to get her anything. You didn’t have to write lies down in a card about how much she meant to you, or buy a gift she’d throw out in a few days anyway. You didn’t have to do any of that; there was no pretending this year, and you weren’t really sure what to feel about that.

It was suddenly a day with no obligations, but then again… not really. Because if anyone in the world deserved to be celebrated it was Ingrid, and it was Mapi.

Ingrid was your sister. Mapi was your sister's girlfriend. You knew this. It just felt… inexplicably wrong to let the day pass without acknowledging all they had done for you, all they were doing for you. There was no… older-sister-acting-as-your-parental-figure-day. You were left with this sunday in may, a day that already made your heart ache. Now, you were terribly anxious, too. You didn’t want to overstep, nor did you want to… understep? Too little, too much. Not enough.

Logically, you knew that Ingrid and Mapi would probably be completely fine with anything you chose to get them. You weren’t feeling very logical, though, so you grabbed your phone, and called someone you knew would be.

“Hi älskling,” Frido greeted, suppressing a yawn. It was quite early for her to be answering the phone, but she wasn’t in the business of not answering calls from you. If you were calling, it was important.

“Frido, does Ingrid like flowers?” You asked, nervously cracking your knuckles.

“Flowers? Everyone likes flowers, Solstråle. Why?”

“I just… I wanted to get her and Mapi something, and I don’t know what to get. I don’t want it to be too much or too little, or ugly or stupid or something they don’t like and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable but-”

The words rushed out of your mouth like someone had turned on a faucet, and Frido sighed, now understanding what you were so stressed about.

“Hey, Solstråle, relax.” She interrupted. “Flowers are good. Ingrid likes daisies I think. And Mapi loves pink roses. It’s not weird, it’s not too much, or too little. They’ll be happy with anything, really. Don’t overthink it.”

“Right. Okay. Daisies and pink roses. I can do that.”

“I know today isn’t the easiest for you, but just try to remember-”

“I have to go Frido, sorry. Thank you, I appreciate you.” You said quickly, not really wanting to get into that at the moment. The Swede sighed, hoping you’d relax a bit as the day went on, and as you got a good reaction to your gift.

------

Dropping the flowers off at home, along with the cards you’d gotten, and fleeing hadn’t been your best idea in retrospect. The idea of being with them… when they say what you’d gotten for them and when they read their cards… was nauseating. Sickening. Horrifying. You wouldn’t be doing that.

You set everything up on the counter, grabbed Scout’s leash and Scout himself, and headed out the door, intending to spend the morning at a cafe just down the street. You had your computer and some school work to finish, which seemed like as good of a distraction as any.

Back home, Ingrid was lying awake in her bed, as she had been for a few hours. It was only when Mapi rolled over into her, her head clunking against Ingrid’s shoulder, that the Norwegian realized it was probably past time to get up.

“Morning.” Mapi grumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” Ingrid replied softly. The single word, dripping with anxiety, was enough for Mapi to lift her head and blink groggily at the other woman.

“Something wrong?” She asked.

“It’s mother’s day.” Ingrid whispered, tears inexplicably clouding her vision. Mapi was sitting up in a flash, pulling the younger woman into her chest. Ingrid nuzzled close to the soft t-shirt Mapi was wearing, inhaling the comforting scent of the woman she loved.

“Mi amor,” Mapi sighed. “I know, it’s a hard one right now. You don’t have to call her, though. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can cancel lunch with my mom, stay here with Solstråle. We can pretend it isn’t mothers day.”

Ingrid shook her head, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “No, your mom deserves to be celebrated. We’ll go to lunch. I want to give Solstråle some space today, but I’m worried about her. And I don’t want to call my mom. That would be like… betraying my sister. I don’t want to speak to that woman. She doesn't deserve it.”

“Okay.” Mapi agreed, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. The Norwegian’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and she relaxed into her girlfriend once again. “We’ll keep an eye on our Sol, and we’ll be quick at lunch. And you can have as many hugs as you want.”

“Can’t I always?” Ingrid asked with a small smile.

“You have a point.” Mapi chuckled. “I am going to go make you a coffee, be right back.”

With that, she rose from the bed, pressing a quick kiss to Ingrid’s lips, heading for the kitchen. Ingrid stayed in bed, worrying about you and how you’d act today, until she heard Mapi call out for her in a strangely choked voice. She was out of bed within a second, rushing down the hall towards her girlfriend.

“What?! What is it?!” Ingrid shouted, sliding in her socks on the wood floor into the kitchen, looking around frantically.

She saw Mapi first, staring with tears in her eyes at a little card that had the Spaniard’s name on it. She saw the two vases next, sitting precisely in the middle of the counter. One with daisies, one with pink roses. There was a card with Ingrid’s name on it on the counter, too, and it wasn’t hard for Ingrid to connect the dots. Her first concerns were with her girlfriend, though, who’s lip was wobbling dangerously, as she blinked rapidly down at the card in her hand.

“María?” Ingrid murmured. “Baby, are you-?”

Mapi blindly reached a hand out towards Ingrid, a hand that the Norwegian took. Gently, Ingrid rubbed her girlfriend’s back, reading the card over her shoulder when Mapi tilted it slightly in her direction.

María,

It’s mother’s day, and it didn’t feel right to let today go by without telling you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You allowed me into your home without a second thought. You met my stubbornness and hostility with love and kindness, and I will forever be grateful to you for that. You love Ingrid so deeply, and I couldn’t wish for a better partner for my sister. I think I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be as good of a person as you are. I hope you like your flowers, and I hope you know how much you mean to me.

Love, Solstråle.

By the time Ingrid had finished reading, Mapi had turned in her arms, burying her face in the crook of Ingrid’s neck, and was sobbing quietly. They were happy tears, Ingrid realized. Emotional, but happy. Ingrid couldn’t do much but hold Mapi tightly to her, and press kisses into the top of her head.

“She means every word, you know? And she’s right. You are the best person I know, the kindest, the most loving. You deserve the flowers, María.”

That set off another round of tears, bringing a small laugh out of Ingrid, always astounded and impressed by how emotionally… healthy her girlfriend was.

“Damn you Engens. Making me cry.” Mapi huffed, using Ingrid’s shirt to wipe her tears away.

Ingrid took her girlfriend’s face in her hands, carefully kissing her lips. “Because we love you very much.”

“Cut it out, Ingrid.” Mapi complained, though she was smiling shyly. “Open your card, I want you to cry.”

Ingrid laughed, reaching for her own card, though she hesitated before opening it. Mapi had moved to get the coffees going, but turned to glance at Ingrid when she fell silent.

“Open it.” Mapi encouraged, turning away to give Ingrid space to read.

It was another little card, in your big handwriting, a bit longer than Mapi’s. Ingrid took a deep breath, trying to stave off tears before she even started reading.

Ingrid,

Mother’s day is weird now. It kind of always has been, but I’m sure it’s weird for you now, too. I hope today isn’t too difficult for you. You are a lot more to me than a sister. I’ve always looked up to you, always seen you as a role model. And I still feel that way. Now, though, you’ve taken me in and been so patient with me. More patient than I deserve. I feel safe here, with you. For the first time in a really long time. Safe and loved, in a way I had kind of forgotten existed. Ingrid, you changed my life. You saved my life, too. I’ve never felt very worthy of love or care, but it’s so readily available here. And if someone as good as you thinks that I am worthy of your love, your time, your attention, then I must be. At least a little bit. There aren’t enough flowers in the world to express how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you Ingrid. Really, just thank you. I love you very much, even if I don’t always show it or say it.

Love, Solstråle.

And now Ingrid was crying, and Mapi was abandoning the coffee to pull her into a tight hug, and you were walking in through the front door at just the perfect time. You had just barely unclipped Scout’s harness before you were being forcibly pulled upright into some kind of suffocating group hug.

And normally, something like this would have probably made you uncomfortable. You felt yourself melting into the hug, though, before you really knew what you were doing. Embarrassment flooded you. Regret flooded you. Because even though the hug was nice, you felt dangerously exposed. Dangerously vulnerable.

------

You insisted that Ingrid and Mapi go to lunch with Mapi’s parents and her brother, without you. Both girls tried to explain, while respecting your privacy as much as possible, why you had stayed home, although Mapi’s mother was rather insistent that she wanted you at lunch, too. You were part of the family, after all.

It was only when you were home alone, curled up on the couch with Scout, that the reality really hit, that questions you didn’t want to consider really started to flood into your brain.

Had they really liked the flowers? The cards? There wasn’t much time to talk, as they’d had to get ready for lunch, and both of them had clearly been crying. Maybe… maybe they didn’t really like what you had to say? Maybe you were putting pressure on them to be something they weren’t. It was so easy for you to spiral into self doubt when you were left to your own devices.

Should you have called your mom?

No matter how much time passed. No matter how many times Ingrid and Mapi told you that you hadn’t done anything wrong, that she had been the issue. You were pretty sure you’d always blame yourself, at least a little. You’d spent so long thinking you were at fault, and that kind of thinking was hard to break out of. Knowing that you weren’t to blame, and really believing it were two different things. And something was easier about blaming yourself. Safer.

Maybe you should have called. Maybe you should take the first step. She was your mother, after all, and you only had one. You couldn’t help the guilt that began to suffocate you, the insecurity, the self hatred.

You wished you could just hear Ingrid and Mapi tell you that they loved you, that you were a good person, and believe it. You were kind of afraid, though, that you’d never fully believe that.

The best thing to do, the most logical thing, was to shut yourself in your room for the rest of the day. So you took Scout and some snacks and buried yourself under as many blankets as you could, tucked away in your room. A closed door between you, and the avalanche of emotions and feelings you’d let out earlier in your cards.

Too vulnerable. You’d been too vulnerable, and there was no taking it back, and that was terrifying. Being vulnerable in the first place wasn’t easy, but not wanting to die afterwards was even harder.

-------

Ingrid and Mapi returned from lunch to find the house dead silent. Your bedroom door was tightly shut, and when Ingrid peaked her head in, you had been pretending to be asleep. So, she headed for the living room, tucking herself into the corner of the couch, thought after thought running through her head.

Had she been too emotional with you earlier? Had you not really meant what you’d said in your letter? Were you just trying to be nice? Ingrid had learned not to push you before you were ready for something, and she felt like today, she had. She should have played it cooler, not made it as big of a deal.

And, fuck, she should have called her mom.

She shouldn’t have, but she should have, and there was no correct answer in her head. Either decision made her feel like she was being bad. A bad daughter or a bad sister.

And now she was being a bad girlfriend, because Mapi had been trying to get her attention for several minutes, and she’d been too spaced out to notice.

“Ingrid!” Mapi said again, this time reaching out to grab onto her girlfriend’s hand and squeezing.

“Sorry, sorry. I was distracted.” Ingrid said. “What?”

“I checked on Sol. She seems upset. You should go up there and talk to her.”

“No, no, today has been a lot for her, she has to process her emotions.” Ingrid said, shaking her head. “She doesn’t want to see me right now.”

Mapi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly. The two of you were both hyper aware of the others’ feelings while simultaneously being too afraid to actually talk about said feelings. You needed each other, today, and Mapi was done trying to get you to figure that out yourselves.

“Enough of this. Vamos.” She stated decisively, standing up from the couch, grabbing Ingrid’s hand and pulling. Ingrid groaned her annoyance, but went somewhat willingly.

Mapi dragged her up the stairs, knocking on your door before entering upon your response. You were still on your bed, trying to hide the evidence of your almost constant tears, when Mapi entered the room with Ingrid in tow.

“Alright. Both of you need the other right now. Sol, Ingrid isn’t mad at you. Ingrid, Sol isn’t mad at you. Everything is fine. Stop overthinking.” And with that, paired with a small shove to Ingrid’s back, pushing the Norwegian in your direction, Mapi looked between you two expectantly.

You looked very cautiously, but also somewhat hopefully, up at your sister.

Ingrid looked at you similarly, taking a hesitant step closer to the bed. “What do you need, Solstråle?” She asked, determined, at least, that you get better about asking for what you needed. If it was space, she'd respect that. And if it was a hug? Well. Good. Because she really needed one too.

You shifted slightly, lifting one of your arms in a half gesture. “Sit with me?” You requested.

Relief flooded Ingrid’s face as she all but launched herself onto the bed next to you, instantly pulling you into a tight hug. You were relieved, too, that you hadn’t been too much for either of them. That your love in return wasn’t too much. Your mom had always made you feel like it was suffocating, the way you tried to get her to pay attention to you and love you.

Ingrid and Mapi never did that. They just… gave you what you needed, without a second thought. Before anything else. As you sat squished in between the two of them, listening to all the details from the lunch you’d skipped, you realized that all you’d needed today was Ingrid. Being with Ingrid and Mapi made your head go quiet. There wasn’t room for doubt when they were on either side of you. Mapi trying ridiculously hard to make you laugh. Ingrid combing her fingers through your hair without a second thought.

You fit here, in this family. With them. They told you you fit, that you were wanted, and that was something that was getting more and more believable as time went on. You had a family, and even if you didn’t really have a mother to celebrate today, you had two people who put you before anything else. People that loved you more than your mother had. You had a family, again. And that was really something to celebrate.

------

:) happy mothers day to everyone who celebrates, and to everyone that doesn't.

however you feel is valid. if today is hard, or if today is easy, there will always be tomorrow, and tomorrow will be even better.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader #platonic reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #🍓☀️

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briarberrythornedhart · 20 days ago

Text

Heart’s Desire

Eddie Munson X gal!Reader, Fluff, Kissing, reference to sex acts, Eddie being a fluffy romantic, 1633 words

🦇 🚐 🦇

It had been almost two months since you started seeing each other. Today you both had off work and you were hanging out in his van to have a little more privacy.

Eddie had a way of starting out dates on a playful note. Teasing, tickling, even rough-housing with you.

As if he thought he needed to trick you into paying attention to him or getting close to him.

As if you weren’t totally enthralled with him and didn’t always want to be all over him. Which you did.

Anyway, after some amount of silliness he’d get more intense. Giving you hot and deep kisses, bringing his hands to the sides of your face, or cupping the back of your neck to keep you close, or grabbing a handful of the side of your shirt - and kissing you like the world depended on it before getting naked with you.

He suddenly stopped in the middle of a kiss that had been getting quite serious and asked you, “What do you want for your birthday?”

“Wha...Um… I’m not s-sure?” You were breathless. And your birthday was months away and you were very much feeling grounded in the here and now with Eddie and his kisses and his wandering hands and the heat of his body pressed to yours.

“I just want to give you the best day, on that day, you know.” He huffed and smiled wryly, leaning his head down to the side - kissing you just under your left eye. “Also... I don’t know when your birthday is yet, so I thought this would be a good time to ask.” He shrugged, grinned.

That made you chuckle. “That info wasn’t in ‘the dossier’ from Dustin?”

Dustin had given Eddie a great deal of intel on you. Dustin loved playing cupid - and this time it actually worked.

Eddie shook his head ‘no’ and his curls flew around dramatically, “Uh-uh, he was shockingly not forthcoming on your birth date! Now, your birth Year, I already know. And your star sign. But that’s a wide window of dates.” Eddie gestured broadly with his arms to show how wide - but then his hands came to rest on your hips again as if a magnet pulled them there.

You told him your birthday. He smiled. “Good. Then, I’ve got time to plan.” He leaned in to kiss you again, but you stopped him.

“When is yours?” You asked him.

He looked down. Pulled a lock of of his curly hair between his lips. “Today.”

“What!!!?” You stiffened in his arms from the surprise. “Why didn’t you say??”

“I just did?” Eddie looked innocent with those big pretty eyes, but there was a glint of something decidedly non-innocent in them.

“No, I mean, when you called me, instead of saying ‘do you wanna hang out or something?’ you could have said, ‘hey come over and bring birthday-boy treats’ or something??!”

Eddie’s smile was irrepressible. “What are ‘birthday boy treats’?”

You may have made an exasperated noise, you weren’t really upset, though. “C’mon. We need to really celebrate!” You dismounted his lap and grabbed for his hand.

“I thought you said you liked it back here!” Eddie gestured at all the effort he’d put into making the space cozy. Blankets, pillows, the cushion from a papasan chair laid out like a (too-small) mattress, battery powered christmas/fairy lights strung up on the ceiling. It was nice. “Anyway, I donwanna stop fooling around, just....” He pouted playfully. He curled one arm around your waist and pulled you close, burying his face against you. Whatever he said next was too muffled by your sweater to understand.

“Eddie...” you sang his name softly into the top of his head. “Let me spoil you.”

He looked up with that mischievous look in his eyes again, he licked his upper lip. “Spoil me how???”

“I will grant you three wishes.”

“Hmmm... that never ends well in stories. It always goes all.... monkey’s paw....” Eddie brought your hand to his lips and flipped it palm up, kissing the center under your palm’s heart line. Then he bit lightly between your thumb and forefinger making you gasp.

“Not if the wishes are your heart's desire. Heart's Desire is sacrosanct.” You said this with unearned confidence and tugged down the neck of your sweater to tap your heart’s general area and exposing more skin. His eyes widened and his fingers flexed. He made a noise not unlike a growl.

The key to arguing with Eddie (and winning) is projecting confidence, and flashing him your tits.

“So... let’s have it? What do you desire?” you said.

“I, Edward Munson, get my heart’s desire TODAY, and it’s only date 13??!” Eddie laughed. “Knowing that, I woulda taken you on twice as many dates...to level up faster.”

“Today is Date 14.” You stated.

“You don’t ... count the Laundry incident as a date do you?” Eddie’s nose wrinkled.

“Of course I do. You don’t??” You kissed his neck - tentatively licked over his adam's apple making him hum a happy noise. Then you sat up. “Wait, why do you call it the Laundry Incident?”

“If you have to put everyone’s clothes in the wash, it is officially an Incident, but, we’re getting off topic, Sweetheart.” Eddie pushed some of your hair behind your ear.

“Quite right. You were distracting me. What is your first heart’s desire, Eddie, on this very special day.”

Eddie looked down, turned a little pink along his cheeks and jaw, he whispered. “S’not that special. Just another day...”

“The day you came into the world is the most special to me.” You lifted his chin so his eyes would meet yours. “Tell me your first wish.”

“Promise you won’t laugh.” Eddie’s forehead was creased in a line that led down to his nose.

“I swear, I will not, not even a little.”

“Come to the mall with me, just ta’ walk around... holding my hand.” He frowned and watched your face intently.

“That’s all?” Honestly you were expecting something sexual in nature.

“Most of my exes... didn’t want to be seen in public with me. I know you aren’t like... ashamed of me or anything, you’ve introduced me to your parents, and you hang out with me in groups... but, at the mall it’s...”

You interrupted...“Extra Public? May I hang all over you? And maybe....do everything just shy of getting us kicked out for excessive PDA.”

Eddie grinned again, “That’s the general idea.”

One shared USS Butterscotch, one thorough combing through the sale bin at Sam Goody, quite a ton of necking and groping, and one piggy-back ride to Eddie’s van later, you asked Eddie for his second wish.

He winced as he started up the van. “Will you play a game with me? A board game.”

“Of course. But I’d play a game with you like any day, I kinda feel like you are squandering your wishes...” You teased.

Eddie sighed and his shoulders dropped. “Gareth says I’m... unreasonable when I play tabletop games. That it is no fun to play with me. He says I’m good as a Dungeon Master because I have a measure of control but he says no one would put up with my BS in a non role-playing game.”

“Sounds like Gareth has lots of opinions.” You said dryly. Gareth was an okay kid but grumpy, and you’d bet money he was a sore loser.

“I have Talisman, Battleship, Risk and Twixt.” Eddie said this new-york fast and then was biting his lips together.

“Can we play Talisman?” You asked.

Eddie smiled and it was like the sun rising over lover’s lake. “I’ll set it up.”

Eddie got really REALLY into the game, but he didn’t smack-talk you or make fun of your choices and he was a gracious winner. He didn’t do any number of things that make a person unpleasant to game with. You pronounced Gareth: full of shit.

“What is your third wish?” you asked.

“Are you prepared to take our relationship to the next level?” Eddie asked. He pulled out his old metal lunchbox from beside his bed.

“What kinda level would that be?” you purred back. Finally, this had to be a sex thing.

Eddie took out a pair of Handcuffs (!) Standard police issue handcuffs.

Oh. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. Not scared... he did have that handcuff belt buckle after all, just, bondage hadn’t come up at all yet. If anything Eddie was REALLY into missionary with hand holding and 69ing for as long as possible.

He swung them around on his finger. “So...I wanna go to Benny’s Diner, you know Benny’s?”

“Isn’t Benny’s closed? Like condemned??”

“Behind Benny’s.” Eddie said.

Okay - you thought... he wants to have bondage-y sex outside the closed diner... strange but not OFF the table for you. After some discussion of hard limits and things you might be into that. Eddie could, after all, be very persuasive when he put his mind to it. And he was very generous.

“Which of us is gonna be wearing the cuffs?” You asked.

Eddie sputtered. “Oh - I - I - didn’t mean like... uh, maybe when it’s not so cold out we could... but this is because... there is a love-lock fence behind Benny's. People put their initials on a lock or - like - I put ours into these cuffs and we could lock it to the fence...” He showed you that he’d gotten ‘forever E M’ on one cuff and your initials and a heart on the other. “It’s like... a vow. Unless that’s too much or... too fast.”

You may have jumped into his arms. You may have kissed him like he had made you the happiest person in the world.

Because he had.

#eddie munson #stranger things #briar writing #fluff #woman reader x Eddie Munson this time #love-locks can be destructive and vandalism but Bennys is already trashed so #romantic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #board games #scoops ahoy #matchmaker Dustin is also a huge romantic #birthday boy

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viktorsblanket · 9 months ago

Note

Can you do toji x male reader who is a bunny hybrid? Maybe also a pillow prince?

MENTIONS — Male!Reader, Blood(not his or yours!), Pillow prince, Oral/BlowJob, showering with Toji, teasing, love bites, slight edging.

your pov!

It was a normal day like per usual, you were sitting on the couch enjoying your favorite snacks while watching your favorite TV show. You were all snuggled up cuddling the blanket waiting for Toji’s return, you missed him. He was gone on a job request for a few days now..you missed his caresses, his touch, when he would pet you, rub and play with your ears. You missed it all..after all you were very needy for him and his touch. He was the first and only man who treated you right, your other exes were..something!

All you knew is that you just wanted to be comfortable in your man’s arms but sadly he wasn’t there..there was the next best thing though! A pillow..! Yeah..a pillow. One of the pillows on the couch, it was really soft and comfy so you decided to cuddle up onto it along with your fluffy blankets. You were about almost done with the bag of your favorite snack but you were still hungry but didn’t feel like getting up to go get more..you knew Toji wouldn’t be home for a while but you thought to text him anyways, ‘Hey baby! Do you mind gettin’ sum’ more snacks on your way home? Pleeeaasses( ´∀｀)!’ And with that you pressed the send button.

It looked a bit late and you were feeling a bit sleepy, you really did try to wait for Toji each day he was gone hoping he’d come over next to you to let your ears and kiss your forehead like he usually does when he greets you. Unfortunately though..you ended up falling asleep on the couch hoping you’d be waking up into his arms or at least something from him!!

Toji’s pov.

“Ya’ sure ‘is gon’na pay a lot?” Toji looked at Shiu with an eyebrow raised. The job Toji had got sent on paid a lot but he was unsure if the people who were paying him were going to give him the promising amount. The job was so..simple? Easy. Almost suspicious but he did it anyways, he sighed with a light shrug, “alright then. I’ll b’ back.” He said then walking off onto do the job he was ordered to do, after all he kind of trusted Shiu, he was the one who gave him jobs occasionally so he just did it. Plus he could use the cash..he was broke as shit.

He was a bit annoyed that he couldn’t lay next to you and hold you though, as much as he hates to admit feelings such as these he loves you. He adores you. You’re cute to him, you’re everything to him and hell he would kill anyone for you. He’d do anything for you, as he kept thinking about you he felt a small blush creep upon his face and quickly snapped out of it as soon as he saw the target, the person he needed to eliminate. The sun was setting down quite quickly as he didn’t notice how late it was, Toji had felt his phone vibrate but he didn’t look at it he’d have to look later.

— timeskippin’ this part bc I don’t feel like writing a whole fight scene! —

He sighed and looked at the dead corpse below him, he didn’t even break a sweat when fighting them. He had his worm, ‘Megumi’ consume the dead body. After his cursed worm done so he made sure to absorb it again. Hiding it inside his body..honestly no one knows how the curse even partnered up or listened to him, it just does. No one knows but him..Toji had looked up and noticed it was dark out, probably around 9 o’clock? It was late and he needed to get back to you but first he needed to get back to Shiu and the people who asked for him to do this job.

He had walked all the way back to the plaza and into the dark alleys meeting up with Shiu and those people once again. Toji looked at them with a little bit of blood on his face and a little on his shirt. “Jobs done.” He spoke in a deep tone, obviously he was some what tired he had a long day and just wanted to get back home, he showed proof that he finished the job and they paid him as promised, Tojis aged scar on his lip curled up as he smirked. He put the cash inside of his pockets as he looked back at Shiu, “Ya’ knoooowww..you should treat me to some Yakisoba or sumthin’.” Toji said resting a hand on his hand onto his hip and the other on his side.

“I know you wouldn’t even covered your half even if I tried too. No way, Fushiguro. I’ll see ya’ next time, or never. Who knows.” Shiu said with a neutral tone walking off, he was gone. Toji scoffed and rolled his eyes, he remembered he had gotten a vibration on his phone but never checked. Surprise surprise..it was from you, hours ago..damn. Hours? He must’ve been BUUUUSSYY.

He mumbled out the text you sent him out loud, he chuckled softly as he liked your message and went to a corner store to pick up some of your favorite snacks. He knew you so well so he already knew what you liked, He left the store after paying, people gave him slightly weird looks..probably because of the blood stained on his clothes and face. But that didn’t matter, not right now. He just wanted to make it home to you, he was also tired and just wanted to sleep..to sleep with you in his arms.

— out of POV —

After the short trip to the corner store he was finally back in the apartment you both shared, he opened the door to notice you sleeping on the couch curled up cuddling and snuggling up with the blankets. Toji’s face softened, he smiled a little before placing the bags onto the counter and closing the door behind him. He then walked towards you and gently nudged you, “Hey, baby. ‘M home. Ya’ sleepin?”

“Mmh…” you groaned, slowly fluttering your eyes open but they quickly opened with them lighting up, you slowly wrapped your arms around him not noticing he was dirty, you didn’t mind it though. “Toji..I missed you so much!!” You smiled and kissed his cheek as you looked into his greenish-blue eyes.

“Mm. Sum’ one missed me.” He said with a slight smile before speaking again, “‘m gon’a go shower. You wan’a go back to sleep?” You shook your head as you tugged onto his shirt before saying, “I wanna shower with you..but I don’t wanna move can you hold me?..” you asked with a sweet pleading voice as you looked him into the eyes, he grinned once more before nodding and picking you up. He held you close to him as the both of you were now in the bath room, he sat you on the counter as he undressed you being carful with you. “‘M sorry I took so long to come back home..was busy with a job. I got payed a shit ton though.”

He said in a soft tone before turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature to the way you like it, Toji slid his blood stained clothes off tossing them onto the floor..of course you knew what type of job Toji did but you didn’t care..you only really cared for him you didn’t give a shit if he was a jujutsu sorcerer killer or any if the sort. He treats you right and that’s what matters to you, before you could speak he like, “did I ever tell ya’ how perfect ya’ are?” Completely catching you off guard you swore you felt your heart beat faster as your face became flushed.

“‘Mmm? Is my lil’ bunny quiet on me? I meant what I said, darling.” Toji walked back towards you and picked you up with one arm. He gave a quick peck on your neck before stepping in the shower with you, wetting your body with the nicely tempered water, just the way you like it. You looked over your shoulder and grabbed a loofa and a bottle of nicely scented lavender body wash..you applied it into the loofa before trying to clean off the blood stains off of Toji’s rough skin, the red stains slowly faded as you kept cleaning him off, you happily did it. You wanted to be with him and try to help him in some way, he began to rub and gently scratch your long fluffy ears, you squeaked from the sudden touch before hiding your face into his chest.

“You can’t just..do that..” you pouted as you said in an embarrassed tone, you whined as he continued to pet and rub your ears. “Mm’..why not? I thought ya’ loved physical touch baby.” He faced you soft kisses on your flushed cheeks trailing down to your neck, you felt his gaze upon you and you didn’t dare speak a word. You were too nervous too..he made you feel things you’ve never felt before. “I love you, sweetheart.” The nicknames he would call you would make your heart melt and you spoke once more to him in a stuttering nervous tone, “I love you..too..Toji.” He let out a low chuckle before grabbing a fresh wash cloth hanging on the metal bar, he applied the same soap you used on him onto the cloth. He began to wash your back and torso until he moved onto other places such as your arms, legs, hands, neck, etc. anywhere he felt like he needed to care for he would with no hesitation do if it’s for you.

After the both of you were both done cleaning each other you were both clean and not dirty anymore, thankfully! You both were still under the shower head letting the water hit the both of you gently, Toji had leaned forward and gently applied his chapped lips onto your soft luscious ones..the kiss was slow and gentle until you felt him nibbling on your lips causing small little purple bruises on them, as he then slid his long tongue inside of your mouth shoving it in overlapping your own, he held you up against the wall as he kept his eyes open observing your movements..your squirming, soft moans, and the twitches your body would make. He enjoyed this moment.. he pushed the kiss on to last more longer kissing you more deeply but making sure he was slow with it, it was kind of sloppy but did he care? No, no he did not. He did not give one shit.

He just wanted to focus on making you feel good..that was it. He then stopped the kiss as the both of you slightly panted after the kiss was done. Your pupils being completely focused on him, your soft little whines filling his ears up like his favorite melody was playing. He loved hearing you and he wanted to hear you more, he turnt the water off as he stepped out the shower holding you close to him, Toji then threw you on the bed wet and all. He didn’t care if the bed got soaked or damped, he just wanted to hear you and please you. He was too pent up to let this slide, he didn’t even care about himself he just cared about you, he needed to hear you. “H—hey wait—! It’s almost midnight..don’t you think we should w-wait for to—“ he interrupted you mid sentence by saying, “I’ll be quick.”

You laid there as he was on top of you, he singled you to relax and that he wasn’t going to go rough, he wanted to take his take and be gentle with you. “The way that yer squirming for me..you enjoy this..aren’t ya’?” You nodded as your bare body was laying against the soft fluffy blankets and pillows, Toji began to trail kisses all over your body further and further down until he reached your happy trail, he was breathing directly over your crotch, he tapped your leg making you spread them open, giving him a view of everything, “good boy.” He muttered under his breath as he kissed and bit down onto your thighs leaving hickeys and love-bites all over them..

You were whimpering and whining due to each time his teeth and fangs bared into your skin…not able to draw blood or hurt you but enough to make you squeeze your plush soft thighs around his head..you wiggled your hips and moaned softly, you wanted more..everytime you kept thinking of the more you wanted the more your cock twitched. Toji noticed and smirked, he knew you liked when he did everything during times like these..when he was in control. When he did everything, when he pleased you like there was no tomorrow. He brought his lips to your twitching cock as he kissed the tip before putting it into his mouth as his mouth was being coated by your pre.

His hand traveled down to the lower part of your shaft as he slowly stroked it with his rough calloused hand, his mouth would sink deeper as your cock would disappear into his mouth. He continued to stroke you meanwhile his tongue swirled around the tip of your cock as it caused you to whine, his saliva was leaking down onto your cock and his hand as he continued to keep going. A knot was building up in your stomach, the sensations you were feeling were driving you mad. The orgasm building up,

Your toes had curled up as your back arched, his other hand was on your stomach as he pushed his hand down on you keeping you still. He took your cock out of his mouth as he continued to kiss and lick the tip as he stroked your cock. He moved his hand a bit more faster causing his grip around your sensitive leaking cock to go more tighter, he was sending vibrations and hums onto your cock causing you to be more sensitive. Your moans turning into shuddering panting harsh breathes.. “s—stop—..teas—-teasin’!..please please…I’m..I can’t take it..I need..I need to..c—come!..” you whined you with tears filling your eyes, your bunny tail twitched as your fluffy hair was a mess, as long with your ears.

The pupils of your eyes that were once circular were now heart shaped, the amount of lust filled the air was insane..but Toji loved it. He loved seeing you in this state, begging, needing, wanting more..desiring more out of him. You needed that sweet release only he could provide for you. He grinned once more, that evil, sexy, fucking grin..he chuckled as your dick went deep inside his mouth, the slurping noises filled the room along with your loud sloppy moans. Just as sloppy at the head he was giving you, he continued to jerk you off faster and more rougher as he kept on deep throating you, you felt a wave of heat hit your body as you gasped loudly, eyes widening and finally releasing all of that pent up pleasure into his mouth..Toji gagged a bit as he swallowed all of your cum, a little bit dropped off onto his chin as he pulled back and sat above you.

“Such’a good boy. Did ya’ enjoy that? Hmm..my dear prince?” He asked you in a teasing tone and then realizing you were passed out cold, the pleasure was too much for you and you couldn’t stay awake any longer, it was officially midnight anyways it was understandable why you were our cold. He grabbed the blankets and covered you with them as he held you into his arms holding you into his embrace kissing your forehead. “So cute..I love you, so much.” He whispered softly as he then fell asleep right next to you..

#gay #jjk x male reader #male!reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #smut #x reader #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #gay smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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redrose10 · 5 months ago

Text

Part 2 of three… Thank you for all the comments and messages!

CEO Yoongi x Female Barista/College Student Reader

Title: Cold Brewed Love

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, hints of smut(nothing explicit), Yoongi is mean but we all know he’ll turn fluffy later, violence, kidnapping, mention of a gun, drug references, gang activity, murder, overdose

Word Count: 3,824

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up confused and alone in a room you didn’t recognize. Your throat hurt, but your head hurt worse. You looked around trying to make out your surroundings to get some idea of where you were. The room was empty except for an armchair in the corner with a small side table next to it. The only light in the room came from a small space between the curtains of what you assumed was a window. It seemed like you had been out for quite some time judging by the amount of sunlight.

You tried to stand up, but you felt too weak immediately falling to the ground. You tried once again, but froze when you heard the door handle begin to jiggle. The door swung open and a light was turned on making you squint from the change in brightness.

“Good morning Y/N, good to see you’re finally awake. Can I get you something to eat or maybe a coffee?”, a deep unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Who are you and how the fuck do you know my name?”, you spat not in the mood for pleasantries.

The man walked in and took a seat in the chair across the room. You took noticed of his expensive looking suit that was tailored to fit him perfectly. His hair was slicked back. A strong cologne followed after him. He reminded you a lot of Yoongi.

“Is that anyway to speak to the man that saved your life and took you away from that monster?”, he said while lighting a cigar.

You scoffed, “You saved my life? My life was just fine until you kidnapped me and threw me in this room.”

“Oh dear Y/N. You really are too good and naive for Yoongi.”, the man chuckled.

The mention of Yoongi made your breath hitch.

“How do you know Yoongi?”

“Well Y/N…I am glad you asked. You see me and Yoongi go way back. We met when we were just children. We used to be very good friends, actually like brothers. We ran a little side business together. The largest drug manufacturing and distribution organization since the 80’s, you know… nothing too extreme. Then one day Yoongi’s parents decided to finally give him the reigns to control the business and suddenly he didn’t need me or our organization any more. I agreed to let him walk away because he was my brother and I loved him as such. I wanted him to have a good life either way.”

The man paused to take a long draw of his cigar before continuing, “But it turns out that wasn’t good enough for Yoongi. He was selfish. He wanted to take everything we had worked for while also making sure his past life would never get out to the public. He lied to me. He deceived me because he knew I trusted him. He took all of our assets, every cent. He destroyed any evidence that could be linked to him. And then to top it all off he went to the police to get the whole operation shut down to make sure this could never come back on him. But..unfortunately for him I’ve been able to build back most of what we had even though it’s nowhere near what we once had. It took a lot of time and cost me a lot of money and many of my men all while I’ve had to watch him live the life of luxury in his comfy office, going to galas, being praised and awed by strangers around the world that don’t know how evil he really is behind the facade of expensive suits and sultry looks. I vowed that I would get my revenge against him and make him pay for what he did to me…to us. I was starting to loose hope that I would ever get my chance.”

The man suddenly stood up and took a few long strides to kneel down in front of you. You pushed yourself back against the wall as far as you could while trying to conceal your whimpers.

The man poked his finger against your forehead, “And then I saw the photos of your little date. I could see it in his eyes…just how in love with you he is. I knew this wasn’t some random hookup like the others. And I knew that my time had finally come. Min Yoongi took everything from me and now I will take everything from him.”

“So what are you going to do? Just kill me to get back at him?”, you scoffed.

“Oh no no no Y/N. Not yet at least. I’m going to have some fun first. I want him to suffer for a while. I want him to worry about you until he’s sick to his stomach. For him to know your pain is all his fault. Then I want to kill him.”

You watched as the man walked over to the door before he turned to look back at you, “At the end of the day Yoongi doesn’t care about anyone or anything except himself, his image, and his money. You’re going to learn real soon about the real Min Yoongi.” The man stood up and left you speechless as you watched the door slam shut behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck”, Yoongi chanted as he drove around trying to figure out his next move. He knew he never should’ve asked you out. He scolded himself for being weak for you.

He thought back to the first time he saw you and how he developed an immediate crush on you. Something he’d never experienced before. He saw you behind the counter of the coffee shop. You were definitely new. You kept eyeing him before quickly turning away every time he’d try and make eye contact with you. He knew you liked him. He wasn’t stupid.

Unfortunately he liked you too. Your cheeks flushed from nervousness and the heat of running around in behind the counter. Your hair wet from sweat and plastered to your forehead. You bit your lip in concentration as you poured the coffee. You looked so cute to him and he wanted to get to know you. To date you and make you his.

Then you shakily handed him his coffee only to knock it down on the counter spilling all over his favorite custom made shoes. Sure he had three other pairs so it really wasn’t a big deal, but he took it as the opportunity to scold you hoping to make you hate him. Selfishly hoping it would keep you away from him so he wouldn’t fall for you even more.

But it didn’t work as he had hoped and he quickly fell more madly in love with you every time he saw you. Then his parents made him get a job at Jin’s Java House. He knew it was a bad idea from the start. He tried to argue with them, pleaded for another option but to no avail. He thought he was strong enough. He started off trying to be rude while working together to make you hate him even more then he already knew you did, but it only made him feel guilty and left him wanting to make it up to you any way he could.

Then he tried distracting himself with other women, sometimes as close even ten minutes before he came down for his shift at the coffee shop with you. But even when his secretary was topless and moaning underneath him as he thrusted into her on his office couch all he could think about was you and your beautiful smile and how he wished it was you below him instead. As he was burrowed deep inside someone else he fantasized about how he would take his time and do everything possible to pleasure you until it was you screaming his name over and over. He knew it was a lost cause at that point because he was a man in love. And now here he was driving around the city while you were God knows where because of him and his weaknesses.

Yoongi regretted his past life. He wasn’t proud of what he did. He had gotten in a little trouble at school so his parents had told him he was a failure and they would sell the company before allowing him to take control. He felt hurt and useless and desperate to prove them wrong.

So as a teenager he turned to crime. Him and his best friend started dealing drugs. It started small with just some weed or pills here and there to other friends and their acquaintances. Then it got bigger and bigger until next the thing he knew they were moving thousands of kilos of various drugs every year worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They had bases in Seoul, LA, New York, Tijuana, London, Rio, Moscow, and Beijing as well as dozens of smaller ones he couldn’t even remember any more. Money was rolling in like he’d never seen even though he already grew up wealthy. He had a new woman every night and said goodbye to them before the morning with no strings attached. He was on top of the world and the best part was he was doing it all with his best friend.

Then he got a call. His dads health was deteriorating. The generational family company was falling apart. His mom was coping by drinking and popping pills, probably from his own supply unbeknownst to her. They were proud of him for becoming so successful in his “pharmaceutical business”, a lie he told when people started questioning his job or where his money came from. His parents had changed their minds and wanted him to take over the company. Become the ceo and bring profitability and success back to the family name and business.

At first Yoongi told them to fuck off. He wasn’t going to give up what he had worked hard for after they tossed him aside like he wasn’t their own flesh and blood.

Then days later he got another call from one of the few people in the world that he respected, his grandmother. She asked Yoongi to take over the company that her and his grandfather had fought so hard to build and turn into an empire. She didn’t want to see it given to someone outside of the family or worse have it shut down completely.

Yoongi tried to politely decline, but then solemnly she begged him. She begged him to take over not only to save the company, but so that he could escape his life of crime before he ended up in prison or worse. She cried reminiscing about how many times she stayed up all night worried about him and what he was doing out in the world. How every phone call made her heart skip a beat fearing the worst. How she saw families being torn apart thanks to him and his business’s product. She begged him, even referring to him as her little dumpling, a nickname she had often used for him growing up that he hadn’t heard in years.

Yoongi didn’t ask how she knew about his secret life. He didn’t want to know to be honest, but he knew he didn’t want to be the reason for her tears any longer. So he called his parents the next day to accept the position.

His friend had been kind and understanding, offering to let Yoongi just walk away from everything and leave him in charge.

At first that was fine. Then one night on his way home he found out that his neighbors daughter overdosed. She was just sixteen. A star student and respected ballerina already being scouted by some of the biggest dance companies from all over the world. Yoongi knew the drugs were from his prior organization. There were no others around at the time.

He watched the girls parents standing in the pouring rain until their knees gave out and they hit the concrete and sobbed as the stretcher carrying their daughter was wheeled into the back of a waiting van. After that night his grandmothers voice started playing over and over in his head often keeping him up along with the screams of the parents he heard that night.

Yoongi decided he wanted to erase that part of his life like it never happened.

Because he was still trusted by his friend he had access to the bank accounts which he wiped clean. He destroyed every document he could find that would tie him to the organization. Anonymously he contacted police in every city he could think of and helped them to track down all of their operations getting them all shut down. Multiple people were arrested and a few even killed. He did his best to convince himself that their blood was not on his hands.

And when the few that were arrested tried to snitch and implicate Yoongi there was no significant evidence and the little the police could find was quickly swept under the rug thanks to a little cash swung their way.

Yoongi was able to walk away without anyone knowing of his past life. His friend left to pick up the pieces of a once great empire. And now here Yoongi was paying the price for something he thought was long behind him and could no longer keep him from happiness.

You walked around the room as you looked for an escape. The window had bars around it. Of course the door was securely locked. There was nowhere to go. You didn’t have your phone any longer. You resigned to taking a seat back on the floor trying to come up with a plan.

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by but at some point later in the day a woman appeared with a tray carrying a bowl of soup and some toast as well as an apple and a bottle of water. You thanked her even though you had no appetite at all.

As you sat under the window staring up at the little bit of the sky you could see you wondered what was happening in the outside world. What happened at the coffee shop when you didn’t show up for work? Did they call looking for you? You were going to fall behind in your classes if that even mattered any more. Was Yoongi even looking for you or was he worried this would get out in the public and ruin his image? It was all becoming too much and you began to cry fearing the future and the unknown.

After a while of crying and dozing off you decided you were getting a little hungry. Remembering the tray from earlier you decided against the soup which was now cold and gelatinous, but the toast still seemed okay so you picked it up taking a bite.

It was slightly stale but passable. As you mindlessly chewed you noticed a small piece of paper on the plate where the bread had been.

With your brows furrowed you unfolded the paper finding a hand written note. The writing was barely legible as it appeared quickly scratched down and was written in some kind of lipstick.

“I’ll come back tonight. When you hear three knocks at the door be prepared to run.”

Your mouth went dry. Your heart began to race. Quickly you chugged down the bottle of water as you contemplated if running was worth the risk. Surely if they caught you then you would be killed. And who is this woman and why is she helping you? What if it was a test?

You had a million different thoughts going through your mind, but they were cut short.

*Knock…Knock…Knock*

Slowly the door creaked open and the same woman from earlier peaked in the room. She motioned for you to follow her. What did you have to loose you thought so you did.

The two of you tiptoed down the hall and some stairs before you heard shouting after you.

“Run!”, the woman shouted so you sprinted not far behind her. You ran down hallways and and stairs. Looking for any exit door.

Just when you saw your hope, a door with a large window facing the outside world just down the hall from you, you were grabbed and harshly thrown down on the ground. You looked up seeing Yoongi’s friend breathing heavily.

“This is what I get huh? I tried to let you stay upstairs in a warm room. I gave you food. Yoongi always said I was the soft one out of the two of us. I guess he was right, but not any more.”, he spat dragging you down the hall by your arm.

Frantically you searched for the woman from earlier who tried to help you. You hoped she got out or was at least safe, but you quickly realized that was not true. A blood curdling scream rang through the air followed by a single gunshot. Your eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not gonna kill you just yet. Not before you’ve gone on a final date with your Yoongi.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as the man threw you in a cell, the iron gates loudly clanking shut. It looked like you were in a dungeon. It was cold and there was zero light coming through.

Without speaking the man tossed you an old dirty towel to use as a blanket before heading back upstairs leaving you down there alone.

Days went by. You were barely fed and barely slept. You had accepted your fate at that point. Unsure if it was the delirium setting in or what but you often found yourself chuckling at your situation.

You missed the days of going to college. You missed your friends. You missed the smell of coffee and the warmth it brought. You couldn’t believe how your life had turned around in the matter of hours all thanks to you falling in love with a lier, con artist, the devil? You weren’t really sure how to view Yoongi right now. He was probably leading a meeting right now without a care in the world. He’s probably going out to dinner later with some woman he met on his way to work with the sole intention to get in her pants by the end of the night. A small part of you hoped he was worried about you. Looking for you. Doing anything to help. Because a small part of you still loved him.

You hadn’t heard anyone walk in until you heard the iron gate slide open ending in a loud clank.

“Put this on. And use these wipes to clean yourself up.”, an unfamiliar voice said.

You sat staring at the items in front of you not moving.

“Bosses orders”, the man growled.

Slowly you grabbed the wipes and began wiping down your face and arms. It actually felt kind of nice.

You reached for the other items, a black cocktail dress and hair brush. You took the brush and ran through your hair a few times until the knots were out.

You looked at the dress and then at the man in front of you. He rolled his eyes and sighed before turning around and facing the wall. Quickly you removed your clothes and put the dress on before the man could turn around.

Just as you finished, the familiar smell of cigars entered the air and not long after Yoongi’s friend appeared.

“Wow don’t you look nice. I can see why Yoongi likes you. I think he’ll appreciate that you dressed up just for him.”, he said before blowing a cloud smoke through your cell.

“Now go ahead and stand up against that wall.”, he pointed towards the other side of the cell.

You crossed your arms in defiance refusing to move.

He chuckled, “I like you Y/N. I really do. Too bad I’m only giving you twenty four hours to live.” Your face dropped in realization at his statement.

A bright flash lit up the cell for just a moment before you realized your photo had been taken.

“Thanks sweetheart. I’m sure Yoongi will love it.”, he laughed before leaving you alone once again.

Yoongi was back at his place pacing back and forth. He’d ignored call after call from Hobi. He’s sure he’s wondering where he and/or you are and he doesn’t have the brain power right now to come up with a believable lie.

As he stared out at the river below his apartment he heard a new notification on his phone. A text message from an unknown number came through showing the preview of a photo.

Clicking on the message he instantly dry heaved sure he would’ve fully vomited had he consumed anything today.

A photo of you in a black dress. Your hair frazzled. Immediately Yoongi noticed the bruising on your body. The cut on your lip and welt on your forehead. What killed him the most was the look on your face. The look of fear, of despair. He could see you were holding back tears and it was all thanks to him.

Seconds later another message came through, “Y/N’s a beauty Yoongi. I always did think you had good taste when it came to women and it seems like even after all these years nothing has changed. You have 24 hours to find us. If you involve the police I’ll kill her instantly. If you even care…”

You had changed back into your old clothes giving yourself a little more coverage from the cold. The floor was made of stone but you were so exhausted you were able to drift off to sleep quite quickly.

You fell into dreamland. Dreaming that you were on a beach. The warm sun shone down on you as a breeze rippled through the air. The ocean waves crashed gently against the sand next to you as you walked along the edge. Looking up you saw Yoongi just down the beach waiting for you. He flashed you a gummy smile showing you the two drinks he had in his hands. Just as you began to walk towards him the sky turned dark and a giant wave came crashing down on you dragging you out to sea. You screamed for help unable to get yourself out of the current as the waves kept you down. Running out of fight you felt yourself slowly drifting under water father and rather. The last thing you remembered was hearing Yoongi screaming your name.

You jerked awake sweaty and out of breath with your hand clutching to your chest.

Sitting up you did your best to try and calm yourself down taking deep slow breaths.

Faintly from a distance you swore you heard your name shouted. You brushed it off thinking it was just a residual memory from your dream.

Then you heard it again, a little clearer this time and you were a little more certain.

“Yoongi?”, you whispered to yourself hearing a familiar sound as the door slammed open.

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