#and definitely takes you on a few dates before you finally ask him to spend the night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

macfrog · 10 months ago

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sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

#i think duckie is my favorite character i've ever written. that fetus has more personality than vanessa icl #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

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auroralwriting · 5 months ago

Text

need a hand?

bucky barnes x reader (no use of y/n)

bucky fails at being romantic on your first date.. kind of

word count: 738 | warnings: bucky being a goofball

lowkey this is the funniest fic i've ever written, enjoy silly bucky!

James Buchanan Barnes considered himself a true, old-fashioned romantic. So, when you said yes to your first date after a long friendship, Bucky knew he had to make everything perfect for you.

Being two Avengers (or whatever superheros were now called), your lives were filled with action. Bucky wanted to do something laidback, fun, relaxed. After a few Google searches, Bucky decided he'd take you to Dave and Busters for your first date.

Of course, he planned on absolutely winning you over. Sure, it was the first date, but Bucky wanted to show you how romantic he could be. Casual flirting and small touches were already established; he wanted you to swoon.

So, the day finally came for your first date. Bucky had told you to dress casually, so he did the same. He definitely tried to look his best, even if it was a casual look. By the looks of your outfit, you thought the same.

You were definitely surprised when Bucky walked you out to his motorcycle. You didn't know he rode one, so that was great news. The ride there was fun, Bucky sang loudly as you laughed. It was enjoyable.

Once you arrived to Dave and Busters, Bucky made sure to get as many tokens as he could so you both could spend all the time in the world having fun. You played games, competed for who could get the best high score, and casually made fun of each other while you played. So far, things were going great!

Then, your eye caught onto a small stuffed animal in a claw machine you just adored. It took Bucky less than five seconds to decide he was getting you that stuffed animal. So, ten whole minutes were spent in anticipation as Bucky repeatedly tried to win it for you. Of course, as all claw machines are, it was clearly rigged, dropping the toy before it hardly lifted in the air.

"I'm gonna get it," Bucky promised, swiping his card once more in the machine.

You laughed, "I'm gonna go get a drink, you keep trying, okay?"

Even after you left, another turn went wasted as Bucky failed to get the toy. So, he made a new plan, he was going to reach in and grab it.

With his metal arm stuffed up the machine, Bucky quickly realized there was no way he could reach it. So, he went to withdraw his arm when he realized it was stuck. After a few more tugs, panic settled in his core. Shit, this was bad.

"Uhm, Buck?" Shit!

Bucky turned his head to see you standing behind him, stifling a laugh. "Hey, doll,"

"Are you stuck?" You asked slowly, lips pressing together tightly in the strongest attempt to keep yourself from bursting into tears right then and there from the humor of it all.

With an awkward look, Bucky muttered, "No.."

You giggled and knelt down next to him, "Can I?" Bucky nodded with a sigh as your hands found the small buttons on his metal arm that detached it. It fell right off his body and thankfully out of the machine. Bucky stood up and reattached it, doing a full three-sixty with his arm to set it back in place.

"Were you trying to get me that stuffed animal?" You asked softly.

"I didn't wanna waste our tokens..." Bucky trailed off. You could've sworn in that moment, you had hearts for eyes.

You grabbed Bucky and lead him back to the machine, "Watch and learn, Barnes," You said smoothly as the game started up. With just one try, the toy was now in the claws grasp, falling down into the compartment for you to grab. It was safe to say Bucky was floored.

"How did you do that?" He asked as you laughed.

"It's my special talent," You answered with a confident look.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, "You know mine?" With a shake of your head, Bucky smirked slyly at you, "Do you wanna know?" Before you could answer, Bucky grabbed your waist with both hands, pulling you flesh against him as he placed a strong kiss on your lips. It was so soft, yet so smooth and passionate.

Once he pulled back, you stared at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. "That's a good talent." Bucky let out a loud laugh at your response as he kissed your knuckles.

"C'mon, doll. Show me what other games you can win for us."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fic #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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pretty-sparkle-bomb · 6 months ago

Text

Butterflies tap-danced in your stomach as you stood outside the humongous traditional-styled mansion that Bakugo called his house.

Today was the day you'd finally meet Katsuki Bakugo's mom, Mitsuki. You'd been dating Bakugo for a few months now, and while things were undeniable between you, there were a few slip-ups here and there.

He hadn't exactly gushed about his family life, so you weren't sure what to expect.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed down your skirt and rang the doorbell. The wait felt like an eternity before the door swung open, revealing a woman with spiky blonde hair that mirrored Bakugo's. Her bromine eyes were tired, a different shade from Katsuki's carmine ones.

You couldn't help but wonder if that was where his own eyes would end up after years of wear and tear – perhaps after you'd settled down and raised little explosions together.

"You must be Y/n! Katsuki told me you'd be coming," she laughed, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Come in, come in! Don't just stand there like a shy little flower."

You smiled, relieved by the lack of hostility. Stepping inside, you were greeted by an unsurprisingly tidy living room. Photos of a younger Bakugo, with a much wider smile than he ever showed you, adorned the walls.

"Would you like some tea, dear?" Mitsuki asked, bustling around the kitchen. "Bakugo always preferred coffee, that stubborn boy."

You chuckled, "Tea sounds lovely, thank you, Mrs. Bakugo."

"Please, call me Mitsuki," she said, handing you a steaming cup. "So, when are yall thinking of giving me grandbabies?"

Y/n almost choked on the liquid she was sipping. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Don't be so formal, haha!" Mitsuki held the h/c-ette's hand before patting it lightly. "I was joking, dear."

You took a hesitant sip of tea before smiling. "He's...definitely a challenge," you admitted. "But I see a promising future with him. He's incredibly loyal and brutally honest."

Mitsuki's face softened. "I'm glad. He hides it well, but he cares deeply. Just like his father."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. Bakugo rarely spoke of his father, and you knew their relationship was strained. "He does?"

Mitsuki giggled. "Masaru's a quiet man, but he instilled a strong sense of justice in Katsuki. He wants to be a hero who makes a difference, just like All Might. But sometimes, that fire burns a little too bright."

The door slammed open with a bang, startling you both. Bakugo stormed in, a scowl etched on his face. "Oi, woman, I-" He stopped short, his crimson eyes widening at the sight of you. "Y/n? Didn't expect ya t'be here. 'S early."

Before he could say anything else, Mitsuki walked over and playfully headlocked him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Y/n is here for dinner. Isn't that right, dear?"

Bakugo sputtered, his cheeks flushing a faint pink, the scowl fading instantly. You couldn't help but grin, the awkwardness dissolving into amusement. "Oi, get off of me, hag!" he grumbled, though there was no heat behind the words.

You gasped, feigning offense. "Katsuki Bakugo! Don't speak to your mother like that!"

Mitsuki, still holding him in a headlock, was about to make a snarky retort when Bakugo simply muttered, "Tch, whatever," and escaped his mother's grasp.

As the family settled down for dinner, Mitsuki smiled and extended her hands out to say grace. Masaru, a quiet man with a warm presence, held his wife's hand lovingly. To your surprise, Bakugo, with a barely perceptible blush, reached out and held yours too. The gesture sent a jolt of warmth through you, a silent promise amidst the family ritual.

After dinner, you offered to help with the dishes, a subtle way to spend more time with Mitsuki. You found yourself enjoying her company, gossiping about everything from hero gossip to the latest fashion trends. With a twinkle in her eye, Mitsuki seemed to approve of your company.

When it was finally time to leave, Katsuki walked you to his door, his face unusually flushed. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a crumpled envelope.

"Want ya to read this," he mumbled, shoving it in your hand with a scowl that didn't quite reach his crimson eyes. "The old hag slapped me upside the head before stuffing this in my pocket."

You knew from his tone there was more to the story than he was letting on. Carefully, you tore open the envelope, bracing yourself for who knows what.

Inside, nestled amongst a few tissues, were not one, not two, but three bright pink condoms. A handwritten note on a scrap of paper accompanied them. It read in bold, loopy handwriting:

"A little heads up because 1+1=3 if you don't use protection. We don't want that now, do we? Love, Mom. P.S. Don't forget to thank Y/n for helping with the dishes!"

You couldn't help but burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. Katsuki, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of exploding. His face and neck were now a vibrant shade of crimson, rivalling the colour of his eyes.

"See," he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I told you she's a hag!"

You couldn't help but tease him a little. "Well, 'Suki," you said, a playful smile on your face, "looks like your mom's a bigger shipper than you are."

Katsuki grumbled something incoherent, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He wouldn't mind having a baby with you.

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wonton4rang · 2 months ago

Note

First kiss with bnd members and maybe how long it takes them to confess (maybe they wait for you to confess first tho idk)

omggg let’s gooo

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pairing: bnd x reader.

warnings: none ? maybe suggestive for the legal line members.

summary: how would be your first kiss w bnd and how long would it take for them to confess/ or if you confess first.

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

sungho; a first kiss w him would be so lovely omg, he would plan this for weeks and then when the time actually came and you two were finally alone, he would be sooooo nervous, his whole big boy façade would drop but that would honestly make it cuter. cheeks flushed while he softly pressed his lips against yours and held your frame with his strong arms, making you feel him so close your heart started to race. he would confess, it might take him some time (like a few months - one to three) but he would definitely do it.

riwoo; he would ask you a thousand times if you are okay with him kissing you, you would answer a thousand times yes and he would still ask again because honestly he couldn’t believe he was going to kiss you and he definitely didn’t want to mess it up and push you away. he could confess or you may need to do it yourself, it honestly depends on how shy he might be feeling. if he gathers the courage, he’ll confess like within a month, he wouldn’t do it faster just because he wants to make sure you like him back :(

jaehyun; omg he is such a simp 😭😭 he would be sooooo obvious and everyone would know he likes you, it’s no secret to anyone. so one day he gets bold and compliments your lipstick, you making a joke of how cute it would look on him just for jaehyun to blush and ask if that meant he could kiss you. well, you were kinda dropping hints and gratefully he picked them up. as for the confession, do you really need one? he says everyday how much he likes you and enjoys spending time with you, so if he confesses it’ll be while he asks you to date him :’)

taesan; he is kinda quiet so i don’t think he would verbally ask for a kiss even if he is dying for one. so he would just look at you and smile, his heart beat accelerating when you got closer and smiled back at him “i dont want to be rude or anything but i think you are really cute” you would say and even before he answers you would continue “and this party is lit, but it could be better if we were making out”, well, that was said and done. on the other hand, you may need to confess to this one, if he doesn’t do it first with some playlists and a nice dinner, you will need to come forward !!

leehan; shameless. what can I say? he knows you like him cause he’s hot, he likes you too cause u also hot, so you end up kissing because the attraction was mutual. then u realize that you really like him and get nervous because his flirty ass has you confused and you don’t know if it’s mutual :’) well, it is, he would confess it in the most nonchalant way “hey, i like you, would you like to go out sometime?” excuse you?!?? three sleepless nights for this, oh my.

woonhak; ok, hear me out. woonhak is a very extroverted individual, if he likes you, he wouldn’t think it twice before confessing… truly a loyal boy, he knows what he wants and he wouldn’t mind saying it out loud. but when it comes to kissing you?? he turns into this shy, sweet, gentle, trembling boy that would just giggle at everything you say and his cheeks would be flushed red. you would have to kiss him yourself for the first time, after that he’ll take the lead.

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userlando · 1 year ago

Text

cherry wine — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [6.8k] summary: this is what you got for humouring him. lando was bored during the break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax. warnings: 18+ best friends to lovers, explicit smut, experimental masturbation, sex toys, public sex, oral sex (f receiving), inexperienced reader a/n: okay so HEAVILY requested and it was a lot of fun to write this so i hope you find this equally enjoyable to read it!! thank you for all your love lately, it makes my heart sososo happy. as always, don't be a ghost reader, i'd love to hear your thoughts :) ily enjoy

You walked quickly, one foot in front of the other to put some space between you and the restaurant you’d just been spending the past godforsaken hour in. The shoes you were wearing pinched your toes uncomfortably and you willed yourself to hold out for just a few more moments as your phone vibrated in your hand.

I see you, the text read and you looked around the dark street before landing on the McLaren parked by the curb on the other side of the street. It wasn’t hard to miss, given how incredibly flashy and shiny it looked under the street lamp.

You hurried over, like the guy was going to come out of the restaurant and chase you, opening the door and taking a seat with an exaggerated sigh, happy that the night was over and you were in a safe space again. You reached over and slipped your shoes off with a grumble, sitting upright and finally looking over at your best friend behind the wheel.

Lando was giving you a half-amused look, eyebrows raised with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his phone. His jaw was working incessantly on the piece of gum, and it was annoying you how it seemed to add to the smugness he was radiating. You gritted your teeth and gestured with your hand to the wheel.

“Couldn’t you have picked another car?” You asked, referring to the over the top McLaren you were currently sitting in.

“You say that as if I have more cars to choose from.” Lando turned the key in the ignition. “Besides, you’re the one who hates the Jolly.”

You grimaced because he was right, it was a humours looking thing and though your friend drove for a living, it was the most unsafe you’d felt while sitting in it. The car didn’t even have seatbelts or doors.

“Can we get smoothies on the way home?” You asked, changing the subject and it didn’t go unnoticed by Lando who threw you a sideways glance as he pulled out of the parking spot. “I’m dying for something cold.”

“Sure.” He nodded slowly and you knew what he was waiting for but you weren’t in the mood to indulge him just yet.

The date had been a disaster, as had all the other four previous dates. You’d let him choose the place, not expecting the extravagant restaurant with the overpriced menu but you’d brushed it off because you - quite frankly - refused to have another failed date. The night hadn’t gone better though.

“So, are you gonna make me beg?” Lando broke the drawn out silence, shooting you a half smile. “What was wrong with him this time?”

“He claimed to have forgotten his wallet.” You sucked your teeth in mild irritation. “We only had drinks before he was shamelessly staring at the waitresses arses and making them feel uncomfortable.”

Lando made a sound in his throat that sounded a lot like sympathy and you were grateful for it. He had a habit of poking fun at your disastrous dates and sometimes you allowed it because they were comically bad. But he could also recognise when the time wasn’t right and it definitely wasn’t, this time.

“He sounds like a twat.” He took a turn into your favourite convenience store and shot you a searching glance. “Don’t tell me you paid for him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not, I paid for my part and then hid in the restrooms to call you.”

Not to mention the fact that the man had become so pissed that he wasn’t even there when you’d gotten out of the restrooms, not even bothering to stay around to hear your well rehearsed excuse. They had started to flow so naturally, with how many times you’ve had to use them.

Something about that made you very bitter and also hopeless.

“Good girl.” Lando reached over to pat your thigh. “Don’t let fuckheads like him walk all over you.”

You huffed out a humourless laugh, swatting his hand away and watching him unbuckle his seatbelt before reaching for his wallet between you. Lando paused and glanced up at you.

“The usual?” He asked, rather uselessly because you never picked anything else than mango flavoured smoothies.

But you still humoured him with a nod and watched him climb out and head for the store. You watched him in silence, tearing your eyes away when they started drifting down and scolding yourself for checking your best friend out. What the hell was wrong with you?

You told yourself it was because of the long line of failed dates. Monaco was full of twats and rich snobs who couldn’t see past their noses. It was hard to not take it personally though and you were starting to enter the dangerous territory of self doubt. Maybe you were the one who was too picky, or boring or even too inexperienced to know what to do with men who showed an ounce of interest in you.

Adulthood was truly a rude awakening.

The scuffle of shoes against pavement drew you out of your thoughts and you looked to your side just in time for Lando to open the door and climb inside. He was juggling two cups and a inconspicuous plastic bag so you hurried to grab the cups from him before he ruined the beautiful and expensive interior.

“What’s that?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you, nodding at the plastic bag as you took a sip of your drink.

There was something in Lando’s face that unnerved you a bit, making you frown when he plucked his cup from your hands and thrust the bag into it instead. Whatever was in the bag was a little heavy, but your interest was piqued enough to set the cup in the holder and peer inside.

It took a second for you to realise what you were looking at, feeling your body go up in flames when your eyes finally registered what was sitting in front of you.

“Lando!” You yelped, letting go of the bag like it had burnt you. “Why — What —“ You scrunched your nose as your friend cackled, rather amused by your reaction. “Did you get that from the store?”

He nodded with the straw between his lips, looking all kinds of cheeky and you reached over to slap at his arm.

“I didn’t even know they sold things like these in there.” You looked down at your lap where the bag was resting, frowning a little dubiously at it like it was gonna come alive and bite you.

“They do.” He said, rather unhelpfully. “I won’t be able to look Mr. Lorenzi in the eyes after that but it was worth it.”

You let out a small laugh at the thought before you went quiet, separating the flaps of the bag and reaching inside.

Bullet vibrator, discover a happy you.

The slogan made you snort unattractively, waving the packaging in your hand and hearing it rattle as you gave the curly haired man a bemused stare.

“Why would you buy this?” You asked, letting him grab the offending thing from your hand when he reached for it.

He turned it in his hand, looking all too happy about it that it made something weird swirl in your stomach. You busied yourself with taking a sip of your smoothie, but it tasted like ashes in your mouth all of a sudden.

“It’s for you.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “What? It’s a neat looking thing. It’s in coral and it’s got… Twenty functions! Fuck me.”

His voice went up in slight wonder and the whole situation felt so bizarre that you couldn’t even find the right words to use.

“Why would you buy that for me?” You asked, a little irked and Lando must’ve sensed the shift of tone in your voice because he glanced up from where he’d been reading from the packaging, eyes a little wide in the darkness.

“You’ve told me about your problem.” He said, slowly like he was choosing his words carefully. “This might help you along a bit.”

“You promised not to throw that in my face!” You squeaked, feeling your face warm up and Lando jumped when you shot your hand out to slap him.

“I’m not!” He loudly protested. “I’m not making fun of you, I’m just saying. This will make you come.”

You slapped your hands to your face, not even caring about the makeup you’d spent hours putting on, and groaned loudly in hopes to make him shut up. It wasn’t like this was the first time you talked openly about sex, but you didn’t really like it when your masturbation habits were the topic. It was odd.

“I’ll never drink again.” You promised but you both knew it was a lie.

It had been a small moment of vulnerability, one that you barely remembered but you could recount the embarrassing parts and that’s what made you feel a little sick to your stomach. You’d come home after a late night of drinking and the both of you had sat face to face on his couch and talked about anything between the heavens and earth. You didn’t even know how it came up in conversation, but Lando wasn’t gonna stop you as you confided in him about your issues.

Okay, so maybe you had a hard time making yourself finish. Maybe you were more inexperienced than the average twenty something year old, but you weren’t ashamed of it. You were well and truly aware that everyone were in different stages of their lives but it still made you a little sad sometimes.

Especially when your dates turned out to be pits.

“Just take it, bug.” Lando slipped the package into the plastic bag and placed it in your lap. He started the engine and you took some comfort in the rumble of it. “Let me know how it goes.”

* * * *

it’s a 2/10

You fired off the text before you could overthink it, letting your phone fall to your stomach as you glanced at the offending phallic shape on your bed. Maybe you weren’t in the right headspace, or maybe it was just wrong for you. But it definitely didn’t feel right and you’d given up after twenty minutes of nothing but frustration.

The vibration of your phone made you jump slightly and you picked it up.

nooooo

did you give it a real try though?

of course I did, you melt

it’s just not working

The next time you saw Lando, was when Max had invited your group of friends for a pub crawl. Max had already ordered a round when you came stumbling in, a little late and warm from having hurried all the way over from your apartment. You went around to greet everyone with kisses and pats to the shoulders before taking a seat in the booth beside Lando.

He draped an arm over the backrest and poked you in the shoulder, prompting you to look up at him.

“I have something for you.” He said and you frowned at the smile on his face, shaking your head when recognition struck you.

You glanced around the table to make sure no one was listening in before leaning into him. Lando’s eyes flitted to your mouth when you got close and you did your best to ignore it and the flicker of heat in your belly.

Christ, you really needed to get laid. There was no way that you were finding your best friend hot. The very same best friend who’d burp in your face after having fizzy drinks and pee with the bathroom door open because he knew the sound of the stream made your skin crawl.

“Not again.” You whispered, a little sternly because you weren’t going to be put through that again.

But you figured that this is what you got for humouring him. Lando was bored during the race break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax.

“This one’s supposed to be better.” He said, like that’d help you change your mind. “It’s a… stimulator.”

“Do I even wanna know what it’s supposed to stimulate?” You asked quietly, like your cheeks weren’t already fifteen degrees hotter.

It was clear that Lando was enjoying this way more than you were, smile too cheeky and happy and his cheeks were flushed. It could’ve been from the alcohol he’d consumed, judging by his breath but you knew that he wasn’t a lightweight.

Lando glanced down at you and your eyes widened at the smirk playing on his lips, placing both your hands over your crotch.

“I think you know.” He whispered, giggling a little when you pushed at him.

That’s how you found yourself staring at the new packaging on your bed, eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. You didn’t really know how something called a clit sucker was supposed to get you there and you really didn’t want to know where Lando had gotten it from.

You knew that if he kept this up, you’d end up with a nightstand drawer full of sex toys that did absolute fuckall to do their job. Maybe the few drinks you’d had earlier would help you relax a bit.

So with that in mind, you yanked your pants off and laid back on your bed, legs a little spread and eyes fastened on the ceiling. You tried to ignore the dread filling your stomach as you brought the toy between your legs, holding the button with the pad of your finger until it buzzed to life.

“Shit.” You swore quietly as you directed it between your legs, kind of enjoying the buzzing as you moved it around.

The moment it touched your clit, you jumped and moved your hand away. That hadn’t felt as good as you’d hoped, and you sighed in slight irritation.

It was like the universe was in on some kind of sick joke to make your life a living hell, because your phone vibrated on your nightstand and you glanced over to see Lando’s name on your screen. You ignored it, turning yourself around and laying down on your stomach to give it a second try.

The toy was still buzzing, making a sound that was a little bit distracting but also easy enough to ignore as you went under your panties this time. You knew that you should’ve probably worked yourself up or even invested in lube because you were everything but turned on at the moment. And not to mention how the dry silicone only made it all the more unpleasant.

Your phone vibrated again, another incoming text and you buried your head into your pillow to groan out loud before tossing the toy away. You watched it roll over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a clatter that made you grimace.

you tried it yet? ;)

I’m guessing by the silence that you have

It took a great amount of control to not roll your eyes at the winky face. You also refused to smile at how you could’ve easily imagined his face right now.

you’re taking an awful lot of interest in my sex life, it’s creeping me out

I’m guessing you didn’t….

???

get yourself all the way over there

Jesus. The amount of embarrassment you felt could probably be seen all over your face and you were suddenly grateful that this wasn’t a face to face talk. You sat up and leaned against the headboard with an exhale.

How were you supposed to say no, I didn’t fucking come, without actually typing the words? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

1/10

The reply was immediate, like he’d been sitting with the text conversation open and waiting for your reply.

oh what?! disappointing! we’ll do better next time

You pulled a pillow into your lap and hid a smile in it.

The next time, turned out to be five days later when he’d managed to pull you out of another horrendous date. The date itself had been fine, but the guy was everything but aware of his personal hygiene and it made you grit your teeth every time he smiled and flashed those murky chompers at you from across the table.

Lando laughed until he cried on the way home when you recalled the date, and you had to calm him down before he veered you both off the road. He’d only just gotten his car and you weren’t too keen to see it in a ditch.

“I’m swearing off of men.” You said when he turned into your street, making Lando snort. “What? I am. I’m convinced all the good guys are taken.”

Lando reached a hand out without taking his eyes off the road, pinching you in the side and making you squeak in indignation.

“Thanks for that.” He said sarcastically, referring to himself and his very available relationship status. “And you’re not swearing off of guys, are you mad? You just need to have patience.”

“I’ve already had plenty of patience, thank you. I don’t have any more in me to spare.” You rooted around in your bag for a hair tie, huffing when you found one to tie your hair up and out of the way. “I already put up with your stupid arse.”

“Hey!” He pouted and you smiled in apology. “You love me. And you’ll love me even more when you see what I got—“

He paused to reach into the backseat, and you watched with a slight bemused smile as he dug around until he made a sound of delight, sitting back in his seat. Your eyes zeroed in on the package in his hand, shaking your head before he even said anything.

“Not again.” You said in a whine, pushing the cardboard package away when he went to hand it to you. “We’re not doing this.”

Lando blew out a breath, pushing it more insistently until you relented and grabbed it from his hold. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small box.

“I’ve read that this is a game changer.” He said, looking a little too proud and it made you grin despite yourself. “Look, it’s even shaped like a rose, how cool is that?”

“Mate, you’ve got way too much spare time on your hands.” You giggled when he narrowed his eyes at you. “Fine. But you have to promise to let it go if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando opened his mouth to protest, shutting it quickly at your stern look and nodding once. It didn’t look believable in the slightest.

“Okay. Yeah, promise.” He said and you nodded, reaching over the console to press a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek in thanks for saving you yet again.

You climbed out of the car and closed the door, waiting until he’d rolled the window down all way. There was mischief written all over his face and somehow you knew he was gonna say something obnoxious as parting words.

“I expect updates tonight.” He said, wagging his eyebrows and you smiled, turning around before he could see how absolutely flustered you became.

“Don’t hold your breath.” You shouted over your shoulder, walking up to your apartment complex.

Once you were inside, you grabbed a quick shower to wash the night away and poured yourself a sad looking bowl of cereal before getting into bed with your laptop in your hands. It was still early, too early to sleep so you figured a few episodes of a show wouldn’t ruin your sleep too much.

It proved to be too boring for your overactive mind. You’d devoured the cereal and was now laying, sunken down in bed with your mind wandering and attention not at all on what was happening on the screen. You hit the space bar button to pause, eyes drifting to your nightstand where the newest toy sat, innocently but so mocking.

You narrowed your eyes at it, staring for a minute before you reached for it and pushed the laptop off to the side.

“Fucking Lando.” You cursed him quietly, ripping the package open and fishing the innocent looking rose out.

It was pink, on the verge of red and it looked very pretty to be a vibrator. You located the button, holding it down until it came to life and your eyes climbed to your forehead as you pressed on the button again; cycling through the different powers and rhythms.

It felt like clockwork, sinking down into bed and closing your eyes with a deep breath. A frown etched itself on your face when you reached into your sweats and underwear with it, feeling it buzz away until you located your clit and the strength of the vibrations made you gasp.

It wasn’t too much too soon, but kind of perfect and a spark of hope flared in your chest as you thought that, maybe this was it. Maybe you’d found the toy that would bring you high enough and tip you over the edge.

A little moan left your lips as you closed your eyes, letting the toy do its work and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the pleasant feeling. You’d never really gotten the joys of female masturbation when your friends talked about it, but you were starting to.

Your newfound hope didn’t blossom into anything bigger though, because it took about ten minutes before you realised that you wouldn’t be taken much further than you already were. It felt good, but it wasn’t mind blowing. And frustration started to seep into your pores before you angrily yanked your hand out and tossed the toy away after switching it off.

You reached for your phone, teeth gritted because you wouldn’t cry out of frustration. You wouldn’t.

maybe a life of celibacy is healthier for me

The response came in a minute later.

don’t be stupid

was it that bad?

it was… fine. but it wasn’t enough

There was no reply after that, and you chewed your lip. Maybe you’d gone too far with discussing your masturbation and lack of orgasms with Lando. You’d been best friends for so long that the lines were starting to blur. You’d never known any boundaries between the two of you, and that’s how you both liked it. But there was something different about this whole thing. It felt different.

Your phone vibrated once again and you glanced down.

I’ll do more research

The text made you smile despite yourself.

we won’t give up

A week later, you found yourself up in the mountains overlooking Monaco. Lando was sitting beside you, dressed nicely in a suit that he’d definitely ruined by sitting on the grass and you were in a dress that looked pretty but was a little stifling to wear. There had been a gala earlier tonight and Lando had begged you to come with him, even though the both of you despised anything that had to do with overpriced champagne and snooty people.

You’d had a good time despite yourselves, bumping into a few friends from the grid and dancing the night away before it was time to call it a night. Lando hadn’t been ready to go home just yet though, so you’d driven out to your favourite spot in the city.

The lights from the houses and the marina was glittering, the water so mesmerising that you couldn’t tear your eyes away. It was a beautiful night, not too hot but pleasantly nice.

“I have another date on Wednesday.” You told Lando, breaking the comfortable silence.

The man in question turned his head to look at you, and you saw his eyebrows furrow in mild intrigue.

“Another loser?” He joked, but his tone felt a little too flat and it made something weird turn in your stomach.

Usually he was way more interested and would fire off multiple questions before asking to see pictures. You chalked it up to him being tired from a long evening and hummed, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder.

He immediately turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of your skull, like he was on autopilot. It was something he often did, but it still managed to make your heart jump a little.

“He seems nice.” You told him truthfully. “Probably not a relationship type, but he seems like a good time.”

Your hair ruffled when Lando huffed out a humourless laugh and there was something so off about it that it made you pick your head up from his shoulder and look at him in confusion.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little defensive all of a sudden. “I’m trying to think positive.”

“Why don’t you hold off a bit on the dating? Let the guys come to you instead.” He suggested, glancing away from your probing eyes.

You could read him too well and it unnerved Lando beyond belief.

“I’ve tried that, it doesn’t work. I either get someone who doesn’t know what basic hygiene is, or someone who flirts with other people in front of me, a guy who snaps at waiters and not to mention the men who find out I’m friends with the Lando Norris and will go above and beyond to have a chance to meet you.”

“Don’t say that.” He grimaced and you pulled back a bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t say what?”

“My name like it’s something inconvenient for you.” He took in your pinched facial expression and softened his tone a bit. “I’m just saying you deserve way better than what these tossers can offer you.”

You stayed quiet, opting to lay down on your back with a sigh instead. He was right, but you weren’t about to say it out loud.

Lando wouldn’t have that though, laying down on his side and propping his elbow on the grass to stare at you. You tried to hold back the smile threatening to spill, because he was hovering over you and looking adorable that it was impossible to stay annoyed.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, smiling like he knew the answer was in the negative because he was well aware that you could never stay angry with him. “You can’t stay mad at me, I’m too cute.”

You placed your palm against his face and pushed at it, hearing and feeling him laugh against your hand until he reached to grab and yank it away from his face.

He turned your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, the gesture all too intimate for it to be between two best friends and it took everything in your power to not read into his small gesture. You held your breath when he turned your hand over and gazed at it, face contemplative; Lips downturned in thought and brows knitted together.

“Have you used your hands before?” He asked and you smiled in slight confusion, not expecting the odd question.

“No, I use my feet.”

Lando pinched the thin skin of your wrist in retaliation and you squeaked out a laugh.

“I meant for… Your experiments.” He grimaced at the words and you knew he used that to lessen the embarrassment from your part. It didn’t do much though, not with the way he was staring at you like he was looking into your soul.

You held your breath, staring at his face and you knew that yours was heating up faster than you could blink. But it was hard to look away from the way his pupils were starting to expand, trapping his bottom lip with his teeth in what you knew was a nervous tick.

“I wouldn’t know how.” You told him truthfully after a long stretch of silence. There was no way for you to correctly use your fingers on yourself when a toy couldn't give you an orgasm.

"Do you want me to show you how?" He asked, voice quiet and you could feel your eyes widen before you could stop them.

There was a moment where you thought you'd heard wrong, that your sanity had finally gone out the window but Lando was looking at you like he was waiting for a response and there was some conflict in his eyes that you were sure that your eyes were reflecting.

What did this mean for your friendship? Would this ruin everything? What if he just wanted to satisfy his own fucked up needs and then pretend like nothing happened? Those were questions that you wanted to ask, but it wasn't what came out of your mouth when you opened it.

"Yes."

Lando looked as surprised as you felt, like he hadn't expected you to agree to his insane proposition but it didn’t mean that he felt immense relief. He hadn’t really thought of how he’d react or what to even say if you had turned him down. All he really knew was that this had been playing in his mind ever since that damned night when you’d confessed to him. He couldn’t get the image of him between your legs since then.

He hadn’t expected to feel a surge of jealousy when you started going on your dates, but he’d hated every minute of it. It had only lessened the sting a bit when he realised that they were all essentially going nowhere and that Lando was the one who got to pick you up at the end of the night. Minus the fact that he hated how down you were after the dates. But he had the opportunity to be there and cheer you up whenever you needed it, so he counted that as a win. Anything that involved your smile that he was the reason for, was a win.

They were new feelings, but Lando suspected that they’d been laying dormant since your teenage years. They’d only ever surfaced when you talked to potential boyfriends, but he always managed to squash those feelings before they grew into something ugly and act like nothing was bothering him.

That’s probably why Lando’s hand was shaking a bit when it found a home on your thigh, slowly pushing up the silk of your dress and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from your face; caught in your stare. He could see how nervous you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth and chest moving with every quick breath you took.

Lando stopped momentarily because maybe you didn’t really want this. You looked almost scared, and that was enough for him to withdraw. What he didn’t expect was for your hand to find a place on the back of his head, messing up his perfectly styled curls and bringing him closer to your face.

It didn’t take much to get him where you wanted, and he found himself so close to your face that he could feel your breath against his lips. Lando was convinced that nothing was as intoxicating as that.

“This is mad.” You whispered, lip touching his as you spoke and Lando struggled to not groan out loud at that one brush.

“Definitely.” He nodded in agreement, watching your lips curl up into an enticing smile that calmed his nerves down. “Do you still want this?”

Your eyes flickered between his, like you were trying to gauge his reaction when you nodded.

“Do you?” You asked and Lando couldn’t dig deep enough to find the words, so he did the next best thing.

The small whimper you let out against his lips rattled something in Lando’s chest, pressing his mouth against yours in a kiss that had your toes curling and your hands grabbing desperately at his hair. The slight sting in his scalp made him open up under your lips, and he swore he must’ve died and gone to heaven when your tongue brushed his. It was like his skin was cracking open and you were touching his exposed nerves, feelings so on edge when you hadn’t even done anything but kiss him.

You were so into the kiss that you almost forgot where you were, thighs tensing a bit when your dress was pushed up and cool air hit your naked thighs. Lando pulled back enough to look at you, giving you an encouraging smile as his hand travelled up your inner thigh.

It was a struggle to keep your eyes open and on him when his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy, but it was worth it to see his mouth hang open when he felt the lace. You were warm against his skin, and he had half a mind to say fuck it and bury himself deep inside your warmth.

But he had to remind himself to slow down, take a breath and focus on you because you may have relaxed a bit; But Lando had known you for so long that he could read your body.

“This feels nice.” He commented, running his fingers over the material and you couldn’t help but laugh. “What colour are they?”

You knew it was his way of breaking the tension and hopefully relieve the anxiety blooming in your chest, and it surprisingly worked when you tilted your head up to give him a kiss that he was eager to respond to.

“Why don’t you find out?” You murmured and Lando’s eyebrow jumped, cheeky and excited as he placed his other arm on the other side of your body to straddle you.

He probably should’ve cared that his fancy dress pants were rubbing against the grass when he knee-walked down your body, but he was too preoccupied with staring at you. Your chest was heaving, and he could almost see the pebbles of your nipples against the satin material of your dress. He wondered if you wore a matching, lacy bra or if you’d opted to go without, eager to find out later.

Lando was a man on a mission, pushing your dress up to your abdomen and kneeling between your legs. He glanced down, heat flaring up in his body when he got a peek at the cherry red lace, hiding so much but so little.

He stroked a finger down between where he presumed your lips were, hearing you take a shuddering breath above at the sensation. You were looking at him, feeling turned on beyond belief and the feeling was so new that you didn’t know what to do with it.

The feeling only intensified when his finger located your clit, caressing the sensitive nub in small circles until your legs were shaking, thighs tensing.

Lando was like hypnotised, taking in every hitch in your breath and every jerk of your body until he felt like he’d burst if he didn’t get his mouth on you. He probably should’ve warned you beforehand, but he took a little pride in the surprised squeal you let out when he opened his mouth and slotted it over your pussy, sucking until he tasted your slick through the lace.

“Lando!” Your voice was breathy, scandalised and you put a hand over your eyes when you looked down and saw him staring at you.

He looked… depraved. And it did something funny to your stomach. You'd never seen him like that and you didn't really think you'd ever get to experience it.

You'd thought about it, even allowed yourself a night to fantasise about the way he'd look and what he'd say if you were ever in this position, but those were thoughts you didn't let yourself drift into too often. It was a dangerous thing to imagine having sex with your best friend, yet here you were - experiencing it. Outside, nonetheless.

"Oh, fuck." You stuttered out when he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulled them to the side, the cool air hitting the very slick center.

The unexpected feeling had you squirming, bucking your hips up and huffing out a laugh when Lando glanced up at you, feeling a little embarrassed to be so needy.

"You're so sensitive." He pondered, sounding a little amazed before he stuck his tongue out in a crude fashion and licked up your pussy. "You're gorgeous, bug. Those guys are missing out on something great."

That got an eye roll from you, but it didn't stop the zip of heat from racing up your back at his words. You could feel him flattening his tongue to lick every part of you, like he couldn't get enough of your taste before he got your clit into his mouth and sucked.

He tried not to feel too smug when you moaned, head tilted back and facing the sky, like you were praying to whatever was up there. The stretch of your neck was gorgeous, so spotless that he had the sudden urge to sit up and mark the sensitive skin of it with his mouth and teeth. But he sat put, focusing on eating you out with an eagerness he'd never really felt before.

It didn't take you long to really become vocal, and it honestly surprised Lando because he'd always pegged you for a quiet one. Not that he complained; the sounds you were making had his pants feeling tight.

"It feels—" You trailed off into a stuttered moan that made Lando reach down and squeeze himself through his trousers, moaning into your pussy at the slight relief he felt. "Lando, fuck, I'm gonna..."

You didn't finish your sentence, too lost in the multiple sensations you'd never felt before but Lando could guess what you were trying to communicate. He kept at it, watching your face as it scrunched up and your mouth dropped open, groaning out your climax as it washed over you.

It felt better than you'd imagined, stomach clenching up and toes curling as you shut your eyes so tightly that you saw stars behind your eyelids. You weren't sure how long you were out of it, or how your hands had managed to find their way to your best friend's hair. Lando laved his tongue over your center, steering clear of your sensitive clit but he couldn't help but bump against it a few times just to hear your breath hitch.

The third time he did it, you pushed him away with an exhausted grumble, hearing him laugh as he stretched up to kiss below your navel. The pecks were so tender and sweet, a stark contrast to how he'd ate you out like a depraved man just minutes ago, and it filled your belly with so much warmth you didn't know what to do with it.

You made a confused sound in your throat when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your legs, bunching them up in his hands.

"These are mine now." He said casually, cheek deepening into a dimple and you raised your eyebrows.

"No..." You dragged out the word, reaching out your hands to grab the flimsy material from his grip but he was quick to turn away, batting your hands away with small, teasing tuts. "Those are my fancy pair, you twit."

Lando shoved the underwear into the pocket of his trousers, ignoring your protests and silencing them rather quickly by leaning over to kiss you. And shut you up it did, because that was the last thing you expected but it wasn't necessarily unwelcomed.

He opened up his mouth under yours, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself and something about that made your legs tighten up around his body where they'd been previously splayed out.

"I'll buy you more underwear." He promised after pulling away slightly, giving you a smirk that made your head spin. "Only if I'm the only one allowed to see them from now on."

You huffed out a laugh, pushing his face away with your hand. He rolled over and laid down beside you, and you sat up with the help of your shaky arms.

"You're a walking cliché." You said, shaking your head slightly. "But I won't say no to free stuff.”

He reached a hand out to pluck a leaf off your hair, flicking it away before turning his attention to you.

You suddenly became aware of what you’d done, nerves humming just under your skin and your conflicting emotions must’ve shown on your face because Lando scooted closer to you and grabbed your hand.

“We’re okay?” You asked quietly, staring down at your intertwined hands and how his thumb brushed across the back of your hand. The way he always did when your anxiety was acting up.

“Of course we are.” He assured you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your naked shoulder.

You knew that you’d have to have a longer talk about what this meant for the both of you in the future. But you pushed it to the back of your mind for tonight, snuggling up to your best friend’s side and laying your head on his chest.

You did believe him though. No matter what, the both of you would be okay.

#lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x you #f1 fics #f1 #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader

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deanstead · 4 months ago

Text

Marry That Girl

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: no

Word Count: 600+

Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: Short one because I haven't released something for Jay in way too long! This has been sitting in my WIP drafts for the longest time so I finally got it written! An anon requested something similar for Will but since I had a half-written fic, I finished this and posting this instead! As always thanks to bestie @seatsbythepit for being my beta queen~!

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

You hadn’t thought this through.

It sounded like an innocent enough date when Jay had asked if you wanted to go watch the game. You hadn't been dating for long, and every day felt a little unreal in a ‘I can’t believe Jay Halstead wants to go out with me’ kind of way, and you appreciated every opportunity you got to spend with Jay especially since you never knew if he would have to go undercover or spend nights at the district trying to clear a case.

But now that the game was approaching, you were in a bit of a panic.

You enjoyed watching a game, but you didn’t always know what you were watching or doing, and you weren’t sure you were ready to let Jay see that side of you.

“Y/N, everything okay?” Kelly’s voice interrupted your internalized panic and you glanced up.

“Ah, I should have thought of you!” You proclaimed, earning yourself an eyebrow raise from the squad lieutenant. “I need your help.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow but chuckled before nodding toward his office.

You thanked all the stars that it was a quieter shift. After all, an entirely quiet shift didn’t exist at Firehouse 51. But at least that’s the way you liked it.

Kelly gave you a crash course, but not without reminding you that you owed him one. You spent the rest of the downtime studying it so that at least you’d have something smart to say, even though there were a few times you wondered what the hell you were doing.

Hard work indeed paid off.

You walked out of the game, feeling a little embarrassed as Jay’s friends gushed over you.

“Jay, you got a good one. My girlfriend doesn’t even want to come to games with me.” One of his buddies quipped.

Jay laughed, putting an arm around you and grinning. “Hey, should I be worried? What if you guys just call her for the games instead?”

The laughter rumbled through the group as they all nodded, teasing Jay that they’d rather call you instead of him in the future.

You really did owe Kelly one.

As his friends dispersed, calling that Jay had better bring you out for the next game, Jay’s phone rang.

You nodded at him, telling him he’d better take it, assuring him that you and Will wouldn’t leave him behind.

Jay took the call from Voight, glancing toward where you and Will were talking as he nodded. “Yeah, I got it. I’ll be right in.”

Jay could feel the dread in his gut, that felt just a little too much like guilt that he had to blow off again tonight even though he’d promised a nice after-game dinner and maybe some drinks and cuddling.

“This is why you don’t promise anything, Jay.” He mumbled to himself, before he walked back toward the both of you.

“Hey, Y/N, I…”

You glanced at the look on Jay’s face and just smiled. “Gotcha.”

“Sorry.” Jay couldn’t even say anything more because everything else in his head sounded like an excuse.

“I’m not saying I’m not disappointed, because I kinda am. But I get it. And if these were bells going off for the ambulance, I’d do the same thing you’re doing now. So, go.” You paused. “But you owe me a mind-blowing date.”

Jay laughed and nodded. “That, I definitely do.”

You shot him a huge smile and headed off toward Jay’s truck to wait because you knew he’d at least take you home before heading back down to wherever he was supposed to go.

Will watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and awe before he glanced at his younger brother.

“Jay?” Will called, before Jay and him headed off in different directions.

Jay glanced up at Will and Will smiled. “You better marry that girl.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

#jay halstead x reader #resa.fics #jay halstead #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #will halstead #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead fic #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead fanfic

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jaeyunverse · 1 year ago

Text

kiss cam

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, frenemies to lovers, high school au, basketball au

wc: 3770

warnings: profanity, mentions of kidnapping

summary: you were fully prepared to spend valentine’s day alone. yang jungwon was fully prepared to blow your mind.

note: i know i’m off season but i still hope y’all enjoy <3

masterlist

It was Valentine’s Week and you were absolutely, extremely, horribly miserable.

You didn’t particularly care about the celebrations, but the feeling of loneliness first began to creep in when the student council appointed a Valentine’s Day Dance committee and made them decorate the entire school.

There were banners and streamers hanging everywhere. The culinary club was selling heart-shaped cookies and the broadcasting club was busy urging students to get their dance invites every few hours. You wished the PA system would malfunction and they would finally shut up.

Some boys even had the genius idea to capitalise Valentine’s Day and ask people out on behalf of the students who paid them for their services. They called themselves Cop-Your-Crush.

Classes were being interrupted all day long. You were witnessing a grand proposal being made multiple times a day. Just today, you had seen three girls being asked out and each proposal had been better than the one before.

Karina got asked out through a song the choir group sang for her. She quite literally burst into tears because her boyfriend, Soobin, still remembered the song they had first kissed to.

NingNing got asked out when a member of Cop-Your-Crush sweet-talked Mrs. Kim into letting him take over her presentation. He’d prepared a cute montage using the pictures provided to him by her boyfriend.

Yeji got asked out by the cheerleaders. They had prepared a special cheer for her, courtesy of Heeseung, also a member of Cop-Your-Crush, and his girlfriend, Chaewon, who was cheer captain. They were both Yeji’s best friends and had spared no expense in helping her boyfriend deliver a memorable proposal.

You thought the entire concept was corny, but it would have been nice to have someone ask you out too. You didn’t even have any expectations. Just a simple Hey, will you be my date to the Valentine’s Dance? would have sufficed.

Needless to say, you were irritated and cranky. You were debating begging your mom to let you skip school tomorrow. It was the thirteenth of February, so Valentine’s spirit was definitely going to be at an all-time high.

You slammed your locker door shut. Slumping against it, you clutched your books to your chest and sighed deeply. If only you had the courage to ask your crush to the dance. It was sort of surprising that he still didn’t have a date.

He was really attractive and really popular. You wondered why—

“Keep moving, dummy,” a voice popped from behind you, and you couldn’t help the groan that left your mouth. Deciding to not acknowledge the person further, you pushed yourself off the locker and turned to leave in the opposite direction. However, they seemed to have different plans for you. Throwing an arm around your neck, Yang Jungwon twisted you around and said, “Class is this way.”

“Piss off, Yang,” you snapped, trying to not stumble as he dragged you along.

“Are you coming to the basketball game tonight?” Jungwon inquired.

He wasn’t much taller than you, so when you glanced up at him, you found your faces only a few inches apart. “Why?”

“We’re playing Riverside High. You know there’s a bet between our schools, right? Losers have to jump in the lake at midnight.”

“Okay. Let me know if you lose and I’ll meet you there to enjoy your humiliation.”

Jungwon narrowed his eyes and flicked your forehead. You let out a sound of protest and slapped his hand away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I think I have better things to do,” you retorted. “I’m supposed to pick up my sister after her soccer practice and drive her to her friend’s house for a sleepover.”

“That can be taken care of,” he answered immediately. “Riki will do the chauffeuring in your place.”

You snorted. “No.”

“C’mon!” Jungwon complained, moving to stand in front of you. You crossed your hands and raised an eyebrow. “I need you at the game tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because—” he hesitated— “because we always win when you’re watching from the stands. You’re our lucky charm.”

Jungwon was making absolutely no sense. The Bears of Eastwood High were one of the best. They didn’t require lucky charms to win games. Besides, you’d never benefited from the so-called fortune Jungwon claimed you possessed. He definitely had an ulterior motive for wanting you at the court tonight.

“You won the Christmas game,” you pointed out. “I wasn’t there that day. I was with my family at my childhood home.”

“Well, I thought you were at the game,” Jungwon corrected. “That’s why we won.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Stepping past his figure blocking your way, you said, “You need to get rid of these superstitions.”

“Please!” he begged, following after you the way a lost puppy would. “Winning tonight would give us a ticket to regionals! Can’t you let me have this?”

The desperation in his voice was so evident that you couldn’t help the crack that appeared in your resolve. You weren’t one to believe in luck, but you still carried an Omamori to stay safe.

You hadn’t exactly been the recipient of any good fortune lately, but your life had been sailing smoothly. Come to think of it, you’d probably subconsciously begun to depend on the charm.

You were a hypocrite for making fun of Jungwon’s superstitions.

“Fine,” you relented. “I’ll come. But—” you added immediately upon seeing a wide grin replace the pout on his face— “after I’m done with my chores. I’m not leaving Hyeri with Riki. He crashed his car into a trashcan last week. I was with him. My life flashed in front of my eyes.”

Jungwon looked slightly amused. “Do you think you might be able to make it before half-time?”

“Easily.”

“Nice,” he popped. The two of you had arrived at your classroom, so he ruffled your hair and bid you goodbye before making his way towards his friend group. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you muttered to yourself.

You finished dropping your sister earlier than expected.

Her soccer practice had run short and when you’d checked your watch after seeing her off, you’d realised that the first quarter of the game would be ending in a few minutes.

You glanced up at the screen displaying the scores as you walked into the gymnasium.

8-3. Eastwood High in the lead.

Good luck was a scam. Shaking your head, you searched for your best friend, Eunchae, in the stands. Your eyes stopped on a girl who was aggressively waving her hands in the air.

You smiled and waved back, making your way to her.

“I was worried you’d be late,” Eunchae said.

You hummed. “Hyeri finished her practactice early so I was able to get here quicker. I don’t even know why Jungwon asked me to come. We’re in the lead.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she popped. “Second quarter just started. We should pay attention.”

You turned to look at the court. While you’d been talking to her, Riverside had scored a 3-pointer. Eastwood was only 2 points ahead now.

You could hear both schools’ coaches screaming despite the loud noise of the audience. Cringing a little when Mr. Jung blatantly cursed at Jungwon and told him to get his head out of his ass, you decided Eunchae had been right about being better safe than sorry.

“Timeout!” Riverside High’s coach yelled. “Timeout!”

The whistle rang and the playing 5 went jogging over to the sidelines. Jungwon’s eye caught yours as he scanned the stands and you waved at him awkwardly. He smiled and waved back, looking rather relieved to see you.

“You guys are so cute,” Eunchae commented.

You whirled on her. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying!” she exclaimed, raising her hands defensively. “Jungwon and you would make a really good couple.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Other than the fact that he’s completely whipped for you?” Eunchae shrugged. “You’re into him as well. No! Don’t give me that look! I know you are. I’m not fucking blind, Y/N. You say he’s annoying but I don’t see you pushing him away. I think you love the attention he gives you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling awfully exposed. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I though?” She raised an eyebrow. “You both are together all the time. You can pretend all you want, but I know your petty and childish banter is just a cover for the horrible amount of flirting that’s hidden underneath.”

“I don’t flirt with him!”

“He flirts with you and you entertain him! You claim to dislike him but hang out with him at school everyday! An idiot could tell by looking at you how much you enjoy being around him.”

You glared at Eunchae. “I don’t appreciate being psychoanalysed.”

“You just don’t appreciate the truth.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what’s stopping you from asking him out to the dance, but I hope you come to your senses. You don’t wanna regret missing out on someone who cares so much for you.”

Thankfully, the whistle rang before you could formulate a reply. The game began again, and you focused your attention on the court.

It was Eastwood’s way and the ball was in Jungwon’s hand. He aimed high and his eyes set on Jake who was standing at the far end of the court. However, instead of throwing the ball with all his might, he only flicked his wrist.

The ball bounced between a Riverside player’s legs, and Heeseung, who was waiting a little behind him, grabbed the ball immediately. Instead of dribbling, the boy passed the ball right back to Jungwon.

Jungwon caught it without stopping and sprinted to Eastwood’s side of the court. Your jaw dropped when you saw him manoeuvre his way through Riverside’s defence so flawlessly. Even though you’d watched him play multiple times, you’d never really been able to comprehend how good he was.

He’d covered the court by himself without needing to stop or backtrack. It was as if he knew the opponent’s move even before they decided to make it.

The crowd went wild the moment Jungwon executed the layup effortlessly. The whistle for half-time blew a few moments after and Eunchae turned to you.

“That was so good!” she squealed. “He could go pro so easily!”

“He could,” you agreed. “He really is very good.”

You had to admit—watching Jungwon in his element made your heart beat at speeds you didn’t even know it was capable of reaching. You convinced yourself it was the adrenaline and the anticipation from watching the game. Your dad never sat still whenever he watched his favourite team play in the World Cup.

“It’s time for the Kiss Cam.” Eunchae nudged you with her elbow. You turned to look at the big screen hanging from the roof of the gymnasium. The camera focused on Juyeon and Chaeyeon. The couple grinned and pointed at their recording on the screen in excitement before the latter grabbed the former’s collar and pulled him into a kiss.

You felt a smile form on your face. You’d always thought the two of them were one of the cutest couples in your school.

The camera then focused on Mr. Hwang, your biology teacher, and Mrs. Jung, your calculus teacher. You hooted and joined everyone else in the stands as they encouraged the two teachers to kiss.

Whoever had decided the Kiss Cam victims was a genius. Mr. Hwang and Ms. Jung were the youngest faculty members in your school. It was a popular opinion amongst students that they looked cute together. Some even placed bets on whether it would be Mr. Hwang to make the first move or Ms. Jung.

Naturally, the two of them didn’t kiss. They just smiled in embarrassment and waved at the camera, asking it to focus on someone else instead.

You waited eagerly to see who the drone would target next. A jolt passed through your body when you saw yourself on the screen.

Eyes widening, you shook your head and tried to tell them that you were single. The camera didn’t move despite your protests, instead zooming out to include Eunchae in the frame instead.

You paused.

Looked at her.

Considered.

Raised an eyebrow.

“I’m down if you—”

“To your left, you idiot!” she exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and whirling you around.

Yang Jungwon was standing in front of you with flowers in his hands. His hair was dripping with sweat and his cheeks were flushed. He was panting, but there was a shy smile on his face.

Your heart stopped as he got down on his knees and the entire gymnasium burst into cheers.

“Hey,” he popped.

“Hey,” you answered with much effort. Then added stupidly, “You’re on your knees.”

“No comment about the flowers?”

“Not when you’re on your knees for me in front of the entire school.”

“Oooh, I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“I didn’t know this was why you begged me to come to the game.”

He laughed and the sound was like music to your ears. You were nervous. You were rambling. There was no way he was going to ask you to the dance. He wouldn’t be stalling so much if he was. He wouldn’t—

Oh.

He was giving you time to wrap your head around what was happening. This was clearly intended to be a well-planned surprise meant to catch you completely off-guard. He—

“Yeah, I would’ve been really bummed out if you hadn’t shown up. My efforts would have been for nothing.”

“So I’m not actually your lucky charm?”

“Of course, you are. I feel the luckiest when I’m with you.” Your chest swelled with an emotion you couldn’t identify. The gymnasium faded into the background and all you could hear was the sound of your heart thudding against your ribcage and Jungwon’s voice as he asked,

“Will you make me lucky again by accompanying me to the Valentine’s Dance?”

The game had ended twenty minutes ago.

Eastwood had won by 10 points. You’d thought the difference was pretty good but your Mr. Woo, your school’s coach, didn’t seem to share your opinion. He’d claimed that Riverside never even should have been able to get within 15 points of Eastwood.

He’d been especially tense in the second half of the third quarter when the opposition had begun scoring back to back baskets. It had all worked out in the end nonetheless, all thanks to Yang Jungwon, the MVP of the match.

You still couldn’t believe he’d asked you out and you refused to believe he’d done it in such a grand way.

He was the definition of a jock and goofed around in school all day long. He was charming, sure, but you’d never known he was capable of pulling off something this big.

You’d never even suspected he was a romantic.

Your phone dinged and you unlocked it to check who was texting you.

[eunchae]: wya?

[y/n]: parking lot!! are u here? i’m leaning against my car

[eunchae]: noo i’m home :( btw are u still waiting for him??

[y/n]: yeah he asked me to but the team hasn’t come out of the gym yet

[eunchae]: yikes i heard mr. woo was hella mad we only won by 10 points.. maybe he’s yelling at the players right now

[y/n]: i’m p sure he is LMFAO

Your fingers hovered over your phone’s screen as you waited for Eunchae to type her reply. However, before she could send it, you felt the device being grabbed from your hand.

“What the—” you started, but relaxed when you saw Jungwon standing in front of you with an amused expression on his face. “Yang.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Someone could have easily kidnapped you, you know?”

“We live in the most boring part of the town.” You snorted. “Baek Seung threatening to chop his neighbour’s tree on local TV was the most interesting thing that happened this year.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be on your guard,” Jungwon said and moved next to you, leaning against the side of your car as well. He was wearing black sweats and a red hoodie. He smelt of cheap soap and his hair was damp, making you realise that he had probably showered. “Besides, Baek Sung actually followed through. We have a real criminal in our ranks.”

“Didn’t you literally let five sheep loose in our middle school three years ago?”

“That was just a harmless middle school graduating prank.”

“There’s no such thing as a middle school graduating prank.”

“Tell that to the current 8th graders who are planning their prank. I hear they’re going to stuff the hallway outside the principal’s office with helium balloons so she won’t be able to leave.”

You stared at him, a small smile playing on your lips. Jungwon’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a millisecond before he looked into your eyes again.

“Why did you ask me to the dance?” you asked and turned on your side to face him. It was a stupid question but you were genuinely curious.

Eunchae was right before. Jungwon flirted with you all the time and you always entertained him. You enjoyed the attention he gave you. But if this thing between you was just platonic, and if it was never going to progress into something real, you needed to know now.

You didn’t want to hope and wait for something that was never going to happen.

“Sunoo said I was an idiot for not shooting my shot with you,” he replied and turned on his side too. “He threatened to make a move on you if I didn’t get my shit together before Valentine’s Day.”

You snorted.

“Oh, also,” Jungwon added. “I really, really like you.”

You felt a tidal wave of emotions override your senses. Euphoria, nervousness, breathlessness, giddiness, uncertainty and this inexplicable urge to squeal washed over you.

Your heart went haywire inside your chest when Jungwon leaned closer to you and dipped his head so that his face was right in front of yours.

“You’re blushing,” he whispered.

You squeaked and buried your face in your hands. He grabbed your wrists and gently moved them out of the way. “Can I kiss you?”

“I think that would be a health hazard,” you croaked, looking at anywhere but him. “My heart is beating concerningly fast right now. What if I drop dead?”

“I can do CPR.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up in a small smile. Your heart beat slowed down and you began feeling at ease. You wondered if Jungwon could tell that this was the first time someone had confessed to you.

The entire concept of dating and being in a relationship was foreign to you. You doubted Jungwon had much experience in the field himself since he’d only had one girlfriend in kindergarten, but he seemed confident.

You trusted him to take over the wheel and guide you through the strange waters of love.

“Okay,” you breathed and closed your eyes. “Kiss me.”

His hands cupped your cheeks, his soft lips brushing against yours. You sucked in a breath and just stood there, not really knowing what to do.

Your hands itched to grab onto something, so you shifted closer to Jungwon and clutched the front of his hoodie in your fists.

He smiled against your mouth as you rose on your toes and tilted your head to the side.

But then you realised something and hastily broke the kiss. Jungwon stared at you in confusion, but before he could ask what was wrong, you blurted, “I like you too.”

There was a pause. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so you clarified, “I thought I should make that clear. I mean, you confessed but I didn’t confess back even though I feel the same way and what if you thought I wasn’t into you. I am into you, by the way. I’ve been crushing on you since forever but I never knew how to say it—”

Jungwon swooped in for a second kiss and you melted in his arms. You could get used to the feeling of his lips on yours. They fit together perfectly.

“You are so cute.” He giggled after detaching his mouth from yours. Resting his forehead against yours, he continued, “Eunchae told me last week. She urged me to confess because she knew your stubbornness would never allow you to make the move.”

“What?” you exclaimed, jerking away from him. “Where’s my phone? Give me my damn phone, Yang!”

He grabbed arms before you could lunge at him and search him for your device. “Relax!”

“I’m going to kill her!”

“Why?!”

“Because—” you sputtered, struggling to get out of his grip— “because it’s embarrassing! I was pretending to not like you but you knew I was crushing on you the entire time!”

“It’s not embarrassing!” Jungwon said. “It’s normal—Y/N stop!”

You let your body fall limp in his arms. “I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re seriously not going to let Eunchae’s nosiness stop us from having our first date, are you?”

“What?” you asked and moved out of his grip.

He shrugged and shoved his hands into pockets. “It’s nothing special. I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for some food.”

“Oh,” you replied blankly. “Don’t you have a celebratory dinner with your team though?”

“I can ditch them.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Let me correct myself: I already ditched them. I want to spend tonight and celebrate with you.”

Your heart swelled with happiness. “Really?” When was the last time someone outside of your parents prioritised you? You genuinely couldn’t remember.

“Of course. Do you wanna get some McDonald’s?”

You nodded, but before he could make his way to the passenger’s seat of your car, you said, “Just so you know, I feel the luckiest when I’m with you too.”

Yang Jungwon kissed you for the third time, and by no means was it the last, or even close to the last one you shared that day.

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theastrical · 4 months ago

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withering with you (retired genshin men AU)

Genshin men headcannon where they are spending their retirement and old age with you

Kaeya, diluc, childe, alhaitham x fem!reader

a bit angsty yet also fluffy!! hurt/comfort.

Kaeya:

he had retired a few years ago at the age of 65, he retired a bit late than his other comrades due to him enjoying his job as much as how his younger self would. Leaving the job was rather..emotional for him, because his job lead him to meet you, his wife.

Even after years, the knights still give him his monthly pay check to ensure his future and that pay check was used by kaeya to take you out to a romantic dinner. Every single month, in one particular evening, he would asked you to dress up and drive you around the city before taking you out to an expensive dinner.

Would help you walk since your legs aren’t as strong as it used to be. Lending his arm to let you hold into cause he doesn’t want you to fall.

He needs you 24/7. He can barely use a phone and would asked you to set up the brightness to dim, how to save contacts, and how to chat his grandchildren.

Would cook you food everyday, breakfast? He’ll serve it on the bed, with his signature smiley face with ketchup. lunch? Whatever you want, he’ll make it (or if it’s too hard, he’ll buy it). Dinner? You’ll get full course meal. Quality time for him means seeing you enjoy his food and his company.

Would nag you to get a check up every month with him, because he prioritise your health the most and he will carry you if you’re being whiny. The dedication is surreal.

Has an investment for a couple graveyard so when you both have finally passed away, both of you would get to be buried with each other. Because he doesn’t want to burden his children to think about their funeral and burial, he wants his and your death to be prepared since the very beginning.

His favorite activity is walking around the street with you and teases some children in the garden about monsters, until today he loves scaring children. Yes he also loves to scare your grandchildren because he loves to make

Bought couple clothes for you and him…wear it in every single place since he barely change his clothes (he forgets he had used it for 4 days straight. Somehow it smells like his rose shampoo.

Diluc:

As soon as he retired he takes you out to a vacation. What is the definition of his vacation? Eat free breakfast in the hotel, look around the hotel, sleep, eat the street food, look around the local stores, look around some art gallery, go back to hotel, take a bath, dinner date, sleep. It’s boring, but he would take you out to some pretty dinner in the local area so you can taste the real deal!

you’re his walking reminder, since he can get lost just by walking beside you, that’s why when he walks too fast while you both stroll by the street, you have to immediately tug on him. “Diluc…if you stray, you won’t be able to come home..the hotel key is with me..”

also he’s really mesmerized by bath bombs, he collects every scents the salesman offer (he’s easily persuaded by the salesman). Now, he had bought around 20 of it. You have been stressing about the spending…sometimes he helps you bathe with the relaxing bath bombs since you’ve always been the one to take care of the finance and house problems. Obviously, it stresses you out even more knowing Diluc’s excuses to buy these bath bombs are also because he wants you to be more relaxed.

Gets more emotional these days, he eats the breakfast you made and cried. “One day i won’t eat your grilled sausage again..” he cried silently and wiped it, you were confused instead of worried but you still hugged him from behind to at least make his heart steady… Afterwards, he just ate it again as if there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a weirdo.

gets more clingy, especially when he sleeps, he would hug you unconsciously and squish you. he might be old and grey, yet his power is still the same as the young him

he loves quality time, he would follow you around everywhere. if you plant flowers, he would be the one to wipe your sweat. if you cook lunch, he would be the one to cut the veggies or meat. if you're doing your makeup, he'll be the one to offer you his face as your lipstick test.

he hates outdoor activity, he just wanted to stay at home and cling to you like a koala as he gossips about kaeya.

childe:

in the night of his retirement, he held a huge party. he's old enough to be a grandpa yet he celebrates his retirement by drinking and playing cards. you can only watch from afar, staring at him menacingly before he gets scared by your anger and immediately stops the party. the house was a mess. a wreckage. "I'm sorry...ill treat you to a-" "no." "but honeeeyyyyyyyyyyyy"

becomes even more whiny. he had always been bad with managing the household money even as he reach retirement, you're the one in charge of his money. when he want something, he has to get your approval and if he's persistent he'll start to persuade you using his clingy self.

he gets easily bored, that's why retirement means going out daily. he'll wake you up at 7am just to accompany him run a marathon in a 5-celsius degree weather.

would tease you just so he can laugh at you for being silly. at some point he pulls up a prank that makes you cry, he immediately kneels down to apologise but ends up injuring his knee, ah yes, his legs are already stiff, he forgets he's an old man by now.

his new hobby? farming. even with the sharp weather and uneasy condition, he continues his hobby diligently, he plants your favorite veggies and fruits, making sure the quality of the food is guaranteed.

As he grew older you realise he also gets even more jealous, sometimes when you were just talking to the butler in the house, he would immediately scoffs and hold your hand, as if he guards you from being stolen by that butler (he hates handsome man because he wants him to be the only man for you).

He snores so loudly, it gets even louder as he ages, and somehow you can still sleep so peacefully. He’s a deep sleeper and you’re a dead sleeper, somebody who can’t be budge while sleeping…you both are perfect for each other indeed.

Alhaitham:

He retired quietly, he didn’t want to make a fuss about his retirement, after all his health was slowly declining and his line of work needs his survival instincts, hence he decided to stay at home and enjoy his pensions.

To make sure he didn’t lose his mind, he bought a gaming station. He was used to his work in the academia that he forgot how to relax his mind at least a bit, so he played some online games with you (even when you can barely play the game since he’s already a pro by days, he helped you and carried you so you both can play in the same level)

He tried doing meditation, he sucks at it because he kept getting interrupted by your humming while watering the garden, he wanted to tell you to be quiet but deep down…he enjoyed it, it makes him feel fuzzy.

He kept on persuading you to have a pet…”we’re both already old and aging, let’s have a pet together…at least for once in our life, please..?” He asked politely, too polite it makes you get in the mood to accept his persuasion.

Nevermind. You’re trapped into his fantasy of getting a pet. You were dragged to a pet store and alhaitham immediately shows you a huge golden retriever that wags it’s tails so energetically with it’s lovely eyes. how can you not melt from that sight..? Now that golden retriever is now alhaitham and yours best buddy.

He abandon his game station to play with the dog everyday, he even teaches the dog to send you his artificial flower he made secretly because he can’t never give it to you face to face since he’s too prideful and embarrassed.

If the dog disobeyed you he would scold it, because all he does to the dog is teaching him tricks to please you. Yes he secretly does this since he’s too shy to convey his “thanks” for you after looking out for him day by day.

You guys will have a date where he takes the dog out for a walk as his other hand held your hand tightly. You guys will just enjoy the sunset as you rant out about your day to him even when you both are mostly together everyday since the day he retired.

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thegnomelord · 5 months ago

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This is a convo I had with Embry @embry-garrick about Soft Sub Gaz that I'll probably write a fic ab this after my exam ends. This is just my rambling

CW: Mentions of toxic relationships, Gaz experiencing a healthy relationship, slight NSFW at the end.

You meeting Gaz at a bar. Gaz had been freshly dumped by his ex, met the dude with some chick his ex was cheating on him with at the same party, and is just trying to get drunk. He has his standards so low he just wants to fuck and forget the night and his entire past relationship.

But also imagine being the bouncer who then gets flirted by drunk Gaz, saying how you two should go to his place as your shift is ending. You usually wouldn't fuck around with drunk people like this, but he looks like he needs someone to talk to so you take him back to his place as he's too drunk to get back on his own and you don't want him getting robbed or worse.

And Gaz in his drunken stupor tries to touch you up in the car, but you shoot him down. So Gaz is a bit hurt but still thinks he's gonna score some mindless bliss. So you lead him to the door and Gaz lets you in, thinking it's for sex, but you just sit him down on his bed and get him some water, telling him to offer again when he's sober and you're just there to listen if he needs it.

And Gaz ends up kinda crying about his relationship in his drunken stupor, probably passing out on top of you. Come morning he's waking up with the WORST hangover ever and only when he sees your phone number on a napkin on his bedside table next to a bottle of water and headache medication does he remember the fucking embarrassing night. He just lies in bed wanting it to swallow him whole at the thought of how he acted.

But then he calls you to meet up and apologize for the night. You two meet up at a coffee shop and what starts as a somewhat awkward conversation turns into like, you two spending 3-4 hours there just chatting. Gaz laughing at an unexpected joke and then wondering why his heart is beating so fast and feels like it's in his stomach.

Like it's not the frantic drumming his heart would do when he and his ex would fuck, that was similar to what it felt being in the battlefield. Being with you makes his heart beat in a fast but different way, like a bunch of cicadas are buzzing in his chest.

Him not used to them fancy dates without sex at the end looking at you weirdly when, after a date he prepared probably too long for, you walk him to his door and don't do more but a kiss on the cheek cause you can see how his body subconsciously gets more and more uncomfortable and tense with each step you two take towards the door.

But also, imagine soft sub Gaz getting ready to go back from his leave, feeling very uncomfortable thinking about leaving without telling you (Not to mention fearing getting cheated on while he's off shore) so you two meet up at the same coffee shop and he tells you that he's going back into duty. And his mind is kinda blown when, after another 3-4 hours of just random chatting, you end up driving him to the airport and kiss his forehead goodbye

Gaz accidentally telling the lads about you, and it only takes a few clever questions from Soap before Gaz is just full on gushing about you. But he vehemently states you two aren't together, you two are just... well he doesn't know what you two are, but you two aren't having sex, so it can't be boyfriends. Buuuuut he also spends too long of the time he has for sleep texting with you, and lowkey waits for the good morning text when you finally wake up.

Gaz periodically sending you sexy photos in his uniform (he's a good looking man, he knows it, and his exes all went wild for the soldier look and he won't admit it but he's scared of losing your interest) and you do say he looks hot but also ask him just to send you a selfie, just a picture of his face so you know he's still alive. And overtime he ends up sending more random selfies where he definitely doesn't look his best then those sexy photos he used to send his exes. Or you just send him some random things that remind you of him throughout his deployment.

Gaz being at that half giddy half scared stage where he wonders if you'll be waiting for him at the airport (He knows you said you would and you keep your word, but, again, his exes lied all the time) and him being surprised when you're there with those big signs with his name on it like some cliche romance movie.

And when you drive him home, you don't just drop him off and skip- no. You treat him like a kin; full five course meal of home cooked food, candlelight dinner and all, then a bubble bath that ends up with him giggling at the bath bombs shaped like donuts. And then when he's nice and relaxed you lay him down on the bed to give him a massage and shit you're good at it — Got him melting into the bed and dopey brained in minutes.

Oh and Gaz feels like he HAS to repay you with sex, it's not like his ex did anything for him for free without wanting something in return. But you're just comfortable laying down with him in the bed and watching the movie. I can definitely imagine him deciding to try this 'not toxic sex life' thing by just, while you two are cuddled up watching a movie, just lazily kissing you instead of trying to sneak a grope at your junk. Just Gaz kissing your temple or cheek and feeling light hearted when you turn your head to reciprocate.

Gaz wanting to try some lingerie for you but he's unsure - his ex always hated the idea, thought Gaz was supposed to be the dominant manly one cause he's the soldier. But he still tries it, even goes out to buy a nice pair of lingerie (says it's for his gf when he goes to buy it) and takes hours trying to decide if he should send the photo or nat. Chooses to send you one regardless and then turns his phone off cause he's kinda scared to see what you'll say. Then he's wonderfully surprised when he turns the phone on cause the curiosity is eating him alive, and finds all of your messages just complementing it.

Also Gaz who gets kinda bothered that you're not as demanding of sex as his ex was, that there's no 'passion' (in his eyes anyway, he's just not used to not being slapped around in the first five minutes of sex) in the bedroom so he thinks you're not into him or something. So he tries to purposely deny sex so you get pent up, like purposely sending you revealing pictures of himself but when you get home saying he's too tired or something

And he keeps getting more and more annoyed and has this tight bad feeling in his chest when you honor his words and don't engage after he says he's tired, in his mind it's like you don't find him attractive at all.

And like, imagine waking up in the middle of the night and he's slowly jerking off. You ask if he wants some help, but he acts a brat and says no but continues to stroke himself. You say you need to talk cause you don't understand why he keeps doing this and then not committing to have sex.

And it turns into a teary confession session but Kyle's so horny and pent up cause it didn't feel right jerking off without you there so you end up talking him through the masturbation session and when I say it's the hardest he's ever cum in his life (up to that point) I mean it.

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7ndipity · 5 months ago

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How They Would Propose

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how each of the members would propose to their S/o

Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you to the lovely @bethanysnow for this request and for helping me brainstorm ideas! I hope you like it!😘

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

Jin loves making big gestures, like he literally brought his own confetti to an award show, so he would definitely want to go for a more grand, classically romantic proposal.

Like you would come home one evening to the house filled with heart shaped helium balloons floating around.

Once you make your way through the forest of balloons, you find him waiting for you in the living room or on the balcony, in a suit and tie, surrounded by flowers.

And although he’s so incredibly sure about this, he can’t help but feel nervous, his hands shaking as he pulls out the notecards he prepared.

His speech would be simple, but so full of his love for you and the life you’ve built together, by the time he finishes speaking and drops to one knee, you’re already in tears and saying yes.

Yoongi:

Yoongi would propose in a way that’s very quiet and personable to the two of you, just like everything else in your relationship.

I’ve said this in his dating hcs, but I see him half-jokingly asking you to marry him so often that when he finally does say it seriously, you might not take it as such at first.

It would probably happen either first thing in the morning as you’re having breakfast, or last thing at night as you’re getting ready for bed. Those quiet little moments of domesticity show him how much he want this forever

“I wanna marry you.” “I know, baby.” “No, really. I want to marry you.” You turn around and he’s holding out a ring box to you. “I mean, if you’ll have me?”

Once the initial shock wears off, you half-jokingly demand that he asks you properly, which he does, quickly dropping to one knee. Then you say yes.

Hobi:

Hobi would want to make your proposal as lavish and memorable as possible. Like he loves any opportunity to dote on and spoil you.

Like I see him surprising you with a weekend getaway to somewhere coastal so the two of you could just relax together on the beach for a few days.

But then on the final evening, as you’re watching the sunset together, he turns to you and drops down on one knee.

He has a whole speech prepared, but in the moment, he’s so overcome with emotion that he forgets half of it and basically sums it up with “I cannot imagine my life without you. Will you please marry me?”

He manages to keep it together until you say yes and then he breaks down in tears as he slips the ring on your finger.

Namjoon:

Despite being a man who’s well known for his ability to weave words together into heartbreakingly beautiful lyrics, I think when it comes to his own proposal, he would be surprisingly simple.

He would bring it up after a normal date night as you're walking together through the park or something, waiting till you’ve stopped to admire the view before he decides to speak.

He would start off talking about some study he read that showed how being married can benefit ones health, extend life expectancy, etc. He would then shift to how much you mean to him, how much you’ve changed him for the better, how much he loves you.

“And so,” He pulls out the ring box, sliding it over to you somewhat shyly, almost afraid to meet your eyes. “If you're willing, would you please marry me?”

Of course you immediately say yes.

Jimin:

Jimin would want to plan something more cozy and classic, like a romantic dinner at home or at one of your favorite restaurants.

He would be so nervous, fidgeting around half the evening until you ask him if he’s alright, and then he just spills it all out.

He would have a somewhat short, but sweet speech, going over how much you mean to him, how thankful he is to have you in his life, and how he hopes for the two of you to spend the rest of your lives together.

By the time he finishes speaking, you're both crying, moving to hug each other tightly as you say yes.

After a few moments, you both manage to compose yourselves enough to separate so that he can slip the ring on your finger, before immediately pulling you close again.

Taehyung:

Tae would want to make a grand romantic gesture, similar to Jin, but on a slightly smaller scale, more personalized to the two of you.

He would pick one of your favorite places, asking you to meet him there fro date night instead of him picking you up, which already makes you suspicious that something’s up.

But nothing could quite prepare you for the scene you’re met with as you walk in, candles and your favorite flowers covering every surface, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. And in the middle of it all stands Tae, grinning widely at you.

His speech is short, telling you how much he loves you, and promising as he drops to one knee that he will do everything in his power to try and make you as happy in life as you make him.

You can’t even say yes, just nodding as he slips the ring onto your hand.

Jungkook:

I see Jungkook going one of two ways with a proposal; either super elaborate, destination proposal with a beautifully planned out speech, or completely impromptu confession when he just blurts it out

He would want to plan an amazing weekend away together, where he would have a whole scene planned out with the flowers and candles and a speech that he's been writing and rewriting for weeks/months.

But it ends up happening very suddenly but naturally, as you’re getting ready for bed one night and he’s just watching you picking out your clothes and setting your alarm for the next day, and it just slips out. “Marry me, please?”

You whip around in shock, but he’s just staring up at you with so much love and sincerity that you don’t don’t even hesitate to say yes.

He’d be kinda embarrassed afterwards, but neither of you really mind, because it was his true feelings in that moment and that made it all the more special to you.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

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merrybloomwrites · 28 days ago

Text

The Only Way of Knowing You (Chapter 3)

Story Summary: After a chance encounter, Y/N finds herself on a series of dates with Harry Styles. She shares with him her innocence regarding physical intimacy, and he takes his responsibility in teaching her all about that very seriously.

Chapter Summary: After a number of weeks dating Harry, Y/N is ready to take the next step physically. He guides her through her first couple of intimate experiences in a way that has her falling deeper and deeper for him.

Word Count: 5.5K

CW: thigh riding, handjob, fingering

AN: First bit of smut! I feel like I should warn that while the rest of the chapters (3-5) are smutty, they’re not exactly spicy. Since reader is very innocent the story is more Harry teaching her so its definitely more like, awkward and endearing than sexy haha

——————

After a few weeks, numerous dates, and plenty of innocent kisses, today might finally be the day you experience more.

Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to spend plenty of quality time with Harry. It’s been wonderful just getting to know him and grow closer together. Your relationship is strong, you’ve both started to really trust and depend on each other.

And while all of the time spent talking and hanging out has been fantastic, you can’t help but think about the more physical side of a relationship. You’re more than ready to take it up a notch, whatever that may be.

Harry had driven you home from a few dates, and you hadn’t asked him to come in again. Not yet.

But today, as the two of you sat at a local park eating ice cream and enjoying the warm spring air, you made the decision to ask again. You hope he’ll understand that this means you’re ready.

As always, he walks you to your door. Before he can lean in for a goodbye peck, you say, “Would you like to come inside?”

“I would love to,” he answers, having noticed your hopeful expression. You unlock the door and he follows you inside. You stop briefly in the kitchen to grab water for each of you then lead him to the living room.

You sit on one end of the couch and he does the same on the opposite side. He’s as far from you as possible. And that’s just not going to work. But you’re nervous. Unsure of how to make the first move. You desperately wish he would take control, but you don’t know how to say that.

Instead, you ask, “Do you want to watch a movie?” It’s painfully obvious what you’re trying to do, but he doesn’t call you out on it, just replies, “Sounds like a great idea.”

Of course that means you now have to choose a movie. Luckily, the two of you quickly settle on a romcom, one you’ve both seen before. Which is perfect, because you hope you won’t actually be watching the whole thing. You’d love it if there was some sort of distraction in the form of Harry.

The movie starts and a few minutes later you get up to make popcorn. When you get back you sit down on the middle cushion, noticeably closer to Harry. His small smirk tells you he knows exactly what you’re doing.

There’s definite tension in the air, an electric charge that’s both exciting and nerve wracking. You’re hyper aware of Harry next to you, noticing every time he so much as shifts a finger.

And then he finally makes a move. Kind of. Maybe the start of a move. Harry raises his arm and rests it on the back of the couch behind you. He’s not technically touching you, but his fingertips graze lightly on your arm every now and then. It’s enough to drive you crazy, teasing you to no end.

Eventually you gain some confidence and slide closer so that your sides are touching. Finally, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close to him.

Turning to look at Harry, your breath catches in your throat as you see him already watching you. He smiles gently at you, and his eyes glance to your lips. You smile softly in return, and as though it’s slow motion, he begins to learn towards you.

Your tongue darts out quickly, licking your lips just before Harry’s mouth meets yours. As always, it’s soft, his mouth plush and gentle. But this time he doesn’t pull away after one kiss. He turns slightly, his lips moving against yours in a way that you know will quickly become addicting.

After a few minutes of sliding your mouths together, you feel his lips part. You follow his lead, opening your mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. Finally his tongue slides into your mouth, just a little bit, enough to tease and make you want more.

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. He notices your expression, how calm and serene you look.

“C’mere,” he says, voice low and gravelly. His hand gently grips your leg, his skin meeting yours, sliding just under the hem of your sundress. He helps you shift so that you’re seated in his lap straddling one of his thighs. You don’t quite settle, keeping some distance between your bodies. Harry’s hands slide back up to your face, holding your cheeks as he leans in for another passionate kiss.

When he deepens the kiss once more, you start to feel something in your belly. It feels warm, and tingly, and you become antsy, like you need to move or else you may explode. Your body moves, and you don’t even realize what’s happening. You lower your hips until your center is directly on Harry’s firm thigh.

A new feeling jolts through your body at the contact, and you pull back with a gasp. You look at Harry, confusion obviously written all over your face.

“It’s okay, love,” he says to reassure you.

Your brow furrows even more and you ask, “What was that?”

Now it’s his turn to be confused and he says, “What was what?”

“That feeling. When I uhm-”

“When you grinded on my leg?” He says, smirk back on his face. You flush, and without making you answer he continues, “Have you ever come before?”

“Come? Come where?”

He laughs, and you duck your head, embarrassed by how naive you are. He moves your hair out of your face and ducks as well to meet your eyes. “I don’t mean to laugh at you. You’re very endearing. What I meant to ask is have you ever had an orgasm before?”

“Oh. No, I haven’t,” you answer honestly.

“You haven’t even had one just from touching yourself?”

“Harry, masturbation is a sin,” you reply.

He’s taken aback by this response and you quickly laugh to show you’re not serious.

“It’s what I was taught when I was younger,” you continue. “And then when I got older and realized that was ridiculous I tried a couple times. But I never actually felt anything so I just gave up. Wait, was that an orgasm?”

“Not quite, love. That was pleasure which can build into an orgasm,”

“Oh,” you say.

He leans in for a sweet kiss. “Can I show you? Help you feel good? Will you let me do that?”

Your whole body grows hot at this question, and you simply nod.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, Harry. Can you show me?”

“Of course. C’mere,” he says as his hands go to your hips. He gently presses down until your panty-covered pussy meets his jeans-clad thigh. There’s a spark again and Harry says, “Just do what feels natural. I’ll help, but you should follow your body's instincts. It might be a bit strange at first, and we’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, but it will lead to pleasure if we do it right. Okay?”

“Okay,” you reply as you lean back in for another kiss. It quickly grows heated once again, Harry’s tongue sliding along yours. You quickly feel that heated, restless feeling and press down on Harry’s leg.

His strong hands grip your sides and he encourages you to move. You begin to slide on his leg, going back and forth the way Harry leads you. As the pressure builds in your tummy you break away from the kiss in order to take in a gasping breath.

“Doing so good, baby. Just take what you need,” Harry says to encourage you. He presses kisses to your head before moving down. His lips ghost against your neck and suddenly the feeling in your core grows.

You begin to lose the rhythm that Harry had helped you with, your hips not frantically moving of their own accord as you chase the feeling building in you. Harry kisses your neck, just under your ear and the feeling inside of you explodes.

Your breath comes out as harsh pants as waves of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Harry soothes you through it, rubbing his hands over your skin as he murmurs sweet words.

When the intense feeling starts to subside you begin to grow self conscious of what just happened. You hide your face in Harry’s neck, and while he’d rather be able to see your face right now, he understands what you’re feeling.

“You did so good, baby,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm, good? I think?”

“I understand. It’s a lot huh?”

“It felt like, hot all over? But not bad. I liked it,” you say shyly.

“I’m glad. I promise, this is nothing to be scared of. I know it’s all new, but it’s good. As I said before, we’ll go at your pace as we add in different things.”

“Thank you for being so understanding, Harry. It really means a lot. Makes me feel better about being so inexperienced.”

“Hey, never feel bad about that. It’s not a bad thing.”

The two of you share a smile as you become more aware of your body. You notice how damp your panties feel, and suddenly jump off of his lap, worried that some of the wetness might have leaked through. You stand in front of the couch and look down to see a small but undeniable wet spot on his jeans where you had been sitting.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say, mortified by the sight.

“Hey what’s wrong, what happened?” He’s obviously concerned by your reaction, worried that he did something to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “Your pants. They’re wet. I got them wet.”

“This is what you’re worried about?” He asks, his finger touching the wet spot and you want to hide in shame. “Y/N, look at me.” You do as he says and he continues, “This is not a problem. It’s nothing to worry about. On the contrary, it’s actually quite hot. Truthfully it’s caused another problem down there.”

Your expression turns back to confusion until he points to what he’s talking about. And then it clicks. He means the bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there when he sat down earlier.

“Oh,” you say. “Should I uhm, do you want me to-”

“Not today sweetheart. Today is about you. I’m just going to splash some cool water on my face and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply and he stands up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he heads to the bathroom. You run into your bedroom to change into fresh panties and then grab more water from the kitchen.

The two of you meet back in the living room and Harry casually says, “Wanna watch a couple episodes of Parks and Rec?”

Just like that, Harry makes everything normal again. You spend another hour together, Harry holding you close. Eventually though, it’s time to say goodbye once again. One long kiss is shared at the door, and then he drives away, leaving you alone now with your thoughts.

And those thoughts are primarily about Harry. For the next couple weeks, your mind is constantly replaying how it felt to kiss him so deeply, to be held so closely. How it felt to have an orgasm for the first time.

You try to recreate the feeling yourself. Harry had mentioned that a lot of girls can get off by doing the same thing you did against a pillow, but it doesn’t have the same effect. Maybe you need the connection in order to feel pleasure. Maybe you just want Harry to be there. He made you feel so at ease, but doing it yourself just seems awkward, uncomfortable.

You and Harry see each other a few more times, but always out in public. Until one night the plans change at the last minute and you end up meeting at his house.

“I’m sorry again that we can’t go to the restaurant,” he says when you get there.

“Harry, it’s okay. I completely understand,” you reassure him. And you do understand. He’d explained the situation, how word had gotten out that Harry Styles would be dining at Le Petit Chateau and now the place was swarmed with fans and paparazzi. “I’m just glad we were given a heads up instead of walking into that craziness,” you continue.

“I completely agree. I did come up with a backup plan though, so I think we can still save this evening,” he replies.

“Harry, every evening with you is a good one. I don’t care what we do when we’re together,” you state. His face breaks out into a smile and he coyly looks down. You’re enamored by how shy he can sometimes be, this mega popstar who can own the stage but gets so bashful in his own home.

He’s flustered but manages to lead you to the kitchen, where two glasses of wine are waiting on the large island.

“I uh, thought I’d make dinner instead. But I had to do a grocery delivery and it just got here so nothing is ready,” he explains.

“So what you’re saying is we get to cook together? Sounds fun to me!”

He smiles, again, brightly this time, before clinking your glasses together and leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Let’s get to it then,” he says and turns towards the ingredients. He puts on some music and the two of you move around the kitchen making dinner together. When you sit at the dining table to eat you’re both impressed by how delicious it is, commenting that the night is going even better than it would have been if the original plans had been possible.

After cleaning the dishes you move to the living room, where the lights are dim and music is playing quietly in the background. You’re seated on the couch, tucked into Harry’s side, and without preamble, he leans down to connect his lips to yours.

It quickly becomes heated, and before you know it you’re once again straddling his leg with his hands on your waist. Just like last time, he gently presses down, encouraging you to grind against him, but you pull back.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yea, I’m okay. I was just thinking, last time I was the only one to, you know, finish. I was hoping maybe this time we can do something else? Something to give each other pleasure,” you explain.

He listens and nods along before saying, “Why don’t we go to my bedroom to have some more space, get comfy?”

“Yea, that sounds good. But, I’m not ready for like, going all the way yet,” you say nervously.

“Don’t worry, I was thinking there are some fun things we can do with our hands,” he says smirking.

Your face heats up at the implication; truthfully, a warm flush runs through your entire body. He plants his feet on the floor and shifts you so that your legs are around his waist. “Hold on tight,” he says, the only warning he gives before standing from the couch with you wrapped around him. You gasp in surprise, another wave of arousal running through you at this show of his strength.

You can’t wait until you get to your destination, the need to kiss him is too strong. He’s surprised by the force with which your mouth meets his, but not bothered, and he matches your enthusiasm gladly. He makes his way to his bedroom, pulling away from the kiss a few times to make sure you get there safely.

When you arrive, he gently places you down on the bed, climbing up so that his body is pressed on top of yours. He’s holding himself up so as to not crush you, but you still feel him above you, every point of contact burning with electricity.

He kisses you again, slow this time, like he’s trying to learn everything he can about you through the kiss. He swallows your soft sighs, his plush lips brushing so softly against yours. Pulling away, Harry starts pressing kisses along the column of your neck. This alone has you whimpering, and Harry murmurs, “God, I love how sensitive you are.”

It’s such a strange compliment to you that you let out a small laugh, releasing some of your nervous energy. He continues to work at your neck, sucking lightly and creating a new sensation that has your eyes rolling back and wetness seeping from your core.

He continues to pepper kisses on your skin, but his hands go to the button on your jeans.

“Can I take these off, baby?”

You take a deep breath and say, “Okay, yea.”

Hearing the hesitation in your voice he asks, “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m just overthinking it. I mean, no one has seen me naked before, or like, not since I was a baby you know? It’s just, new,” you explain.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable.”

You think for a moment, trying to figure out what you want but Harry speaks again, suggesting, “What if we keep shirts on, would that help?”

“Yea, I think it would,” you say with a smile. “That wouldn’t be silly?”

“It’s not silly if it makes you feel at ease.”

“Alright. Let’s do that then.”

He leans back in for another sweet kiss, then gently removes your jeans. Before you can get too in your head, he stands off the bed to remove his own pants, effectively distracting you from your own self-consciousness. You sit up against the headboard to watch as his long legs are revealed to you. Your heart rate increases and your eyes travel up to his thick thighs, and then are magnetically pulled to the large bulge in his boxer briefs.

The nerves come back as you unintentionally stare at him. It seems bigger than you thought it could be. Not that you have anything to compare it to, but really, the size is still surprising.

Harry notices where your attention is, but rather than tease you which is his first instinct, he thinks about how intimidating this all is for you. He climbs back on the bed, kneeling next to your outstretched legs. His hand rubs calming circles on your shin and he asks, “What are you thinking right now?”

“Are you like, bigger than average? Or are all guys that big?”

Now he can’t help but laugh, though he quickly composes himself and says, “Yes, I would be considered bigger than average.”

His hand starts to move up your leg, getting closer to touching a place that has never been touched by anyone else, and you shift away slightly. He quickly pulls back, not wanting to cross any lines, and you're grateful for how attuned he seems to be to you.

“You said there’s something we can do with our hands to give each other pleasure, right?” you ask.

“I did,” he replies.

“How would I go about uhm, giving you pleasure?” Hearing how uncertain you sound, you say, “God, I’m sorry, this is supposed to be sexy and I’m just so clueless-”

“Hey, none of that,” he says as he moves to sit beside you, his legs stretched out next to yours. “You may be inexperienced, but I don’t care, okay? I don’t care that you need me to talk you through this. I am more than happy to teach you, got it?”

“Got it.”

Hesitantly, you place your hand on his thigh. You’re still for a moment before you start to slide higher up his leg, until it’s touching the waistband of his underwear. You look at him, asking a silent question to which he replies, “You can take them off.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. Harry senses your hesitation and puts his hands on top of yours, helping you remove the fabric until he’s completely bare from the waist down. He watches your reaction, notices how your eyes go wide with a mix of surprise and lust. He turns to grab a bottle of lube from the bedside table, giving himself a second to breathe. He didn’t expect just how much your big, doe eyes would turn him on, but seeing you discover all of this is somehow acting like an aphrodisiac to him.

You shift so that you’re kneeling next to him, resting both of your hands on his thigh, your eyes flickering between Harry’s face and his hard cock.

“You can touch,” he says. “Feel free to get familiar, explore a little bit.”

Following his direction, you gently run a finger along his length, too scared to do more just yet. You go from the base, all the way until you gently swirl around the tip, and he can’t keep in his gasp of pleasure at the feeling.

Scared that you’d done something wrong, you pull your hand back.

“That’s good, baby. Felt good,” Harry says. “Try wrapping your hand around it.” Again, you listen to the instruction and gently grip his length. “A little tighter, you won’t hurt me,” he says. He hisses in satisfaction when you do as he said. You glance up to his face just in time to see his eyes slip shut and his lips part.

You spend a moment just feeling him under you, surprised by how firm he is while somehow still being soft to the touch. He opens his eyes and watches as you practically study this new appendage. He’s again surprised by how incredibly hot he’s finding the whole situation. Never before has anyone been so focused, so curious.

After a little while he says, “Let me put a little of this on, it’ll help.”

You move your hand away and watch as he drizzles some lube onto his cock, stroking himself a few times to coat his whole length. You watch what he does, taking note of the way he moves his hand, how tightly he holds himself, how he seems to twist his wrist occasionally.

You reach out again, and he moves away so you can take over.

“Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” you say.

“You won’t. Do what feels natural, and I’ll give tips if you need them,” he replies.

You begin to stroke him, gripping tight and twisting just as you’d seen him do. Harry’s panting breaths and little moans encourage you, let you know you must be doing something right.

“You can uhm, change up the pace. Go faster for a bit, then go slow,” he says, and you try that as well, loving his reaction as you do so.

Growing more curious, and more bold, you use your other hand to gently touch his testicles that are laying against his leg. Harry sucks in a shaking breath, which you take as a good sign. “Try rolling them in your hand,” he says, “and you can squeeze them, gently though.”

You focus on doing that for a moment before realizing that you’d completely let go of his cock. You refocus and try to maintain stimulation everywhere, and the loud moan from Harry tells you that you must be succeeding.

“Just like that baby, feels perfect, just keep going.”

His breathing grows heavier, his moans more frequent, but his eyes stay fixed on you. He’s watching every move you make, and notices your furrowed brow when liquid starts to bubble out of his tip.

“Stop just a second,” he says, his voice breathless.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all. I just wanted to give you a heads up on what’s about to happen. That liquid is precum,” he says.

“Oh! So you’re going to…”

“Come, yea. Soon,” he says with a chuckle. “I just wanted to give you a heads up that it’s going to get a little messy.”

“Well, thank you for the warning,” you say and both of you laugh. Something about the fact that you’re both able to joke even in the middle of an intimate moment makes you feel so comfortable, so secure in this relationship.

You lean in for a kiss and start moving your hands again, picking up where you left off. The kiss grows more intense as he nears his orgasm, and suddenly he pulls away, a loud groan leaving his mouth. His eyes roll shut and he tips his head back. You feel his cock start to twitch and you watch as ropes of cum shoot out and land on your hand.

While Harry catches his breath your eyes scan his body. You watch as his cock slowly softens, as his breaths return to normal. Finally, he opens his eyes and leans in for another sweet kiss.

“That was amazing, love,” he says.

“Thank you,” you reply bashfully. It feels so odd to be complimented on a handjob well done, but at the same time it does boost your confidence.

Harry leans in for a quick kiss and says, “I’ll be back in one second.” He gets off the bed and heads into the bathroom, coming back with a few wet washcloths. He uses one to clean up, and notices you looking at the others.

“Just wanted to be prepared,” he says.

“Prepared for what?”

“For after I make you come,” he states matter of factly.

“Oh. Good idea,” you reply and you both begin to laugh again. “Thank you for not taking this so seriously.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

“I like that we can joke and laugh even during these intimate moments. Makes it less awkward.”

“I agree. I’ve always thought that sex should be something fun, not so serious.”

He leans in, once again gently cupping your face and kissing you. You admit to yourself that making out with Harry is quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

His hand moves to your thigh, fingers tickling the inside and making you squirm. He slowly moves up, until he’s hovering over your underwear.

He pulls away from the kiss just far enough to ask, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, you can touch,” you reply, your lips still brushing even as you speak to one another.

“Spread your legs a little bit, okay baby?”

“Okay,” you answer as you relax your legs, letting them separate enough for Harry to slide his hand in between. He rubs against your pussy, and when he touches a certain spot, you moan loudly and grip his arm.

“Feels good there, huh?” He asks and you only nod in reply. “This is the clitoris, a wonderful little bundle of nerves that will make you feel really good if you stimulate it just right,” he explains. “This alone can make you come, but it feels even better when you have something inside of you, something to clench around.”

You realize where he’s going with this, what the next step will be, and say, “I’ve never had anything inside me except tampons. Will it hurt?”

“If done properly it shouldn’t hurt. One finger’s roughly the same size as a tampon, and I’ll make sure you’re well lubricated. Would you like to try? You don’t have to, and we can stop at any time.”

“I want to try.” Even you’re surprised by how sure you sound. But even though you’re nervous, you need to try it someday. And here, with Harry, you feel so safe. Not only that, you want to be that close to him, feel him inside of you even if it is only a finger.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, touching the waistband of your panties. You nod and shift again so that he can slide them down your legs.

Instinctively, you clench your legs again in an effort to hide yourself, but noticing this, Harry says, “Please don’t hide yourself from me.”

Slowly, you relax once more and you hear Harry say, “You’re perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect.”

You’re overwhelmed by the sincerity and duck down. Sensing you need a moment, Harry simply rubs circles on your leg once more and then again asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice breathy this time. His finger runs through your fold and up to your clit, and you gasp at the feeling. He starts rubbing circles just like earlier, but it’s more intense now that it’s direct contact.

After a few minutes of his working you up like this he moves away and you whine in complaint. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says with a light chuckle. “Just grabbing some lube. Technically you’re wet enough, but since it’s your first time I want to be extra safe. It might feel a little cold,” he adds in warning before drizzling some of the liquid on his fingers and touching you again.

“I’m gonna slide in now, nice and slow okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses you as he lines his finger up with your entrance. Just like he promised, he moves slowly until his finger is fully inside of you, and you don’t feel any pain as he does it. It feels a little weird, but when he starts to move it in and out while his thumb circles your clit, you can see why people enjoy this.

“How’s that feel?”

“I like it,” you say, before you cut yourself off with a loud moan. You have no idea what happened, what Harry just did differently, but you absolutely need him to do it again.

“Right there huh?” He says and you feel that same spark of pleasure. He continues moving both the finger inside you and the thumb rubbing your clit, and soon enough everything peaks.

You ride out the waves of your orgasm, your walls clenching around Harry’s finger, and yea, that feels as good as he said it would. As you start to come down from the high you gently hold the back of Harry’s head and pull him down so you can tuck your face into his neck. You’re craving security and closeness, and Harry is happy to comply.

“I’m gonna pull out now,” he warns and you feel oddly empty when his hand is gone. You know it was only one finger, but you still had felt so full. You can’t imagine what it will feel like when his actual dick is inside of you.

Harry places soft kisses to your neck until your hold on him loosens. He picks up one of the cloths he’d set aside earlier and starts to clean between your legs. “I’ll be right back,” he says before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands.

When he gets back he finds you sitting cross legged in bed, and he can’t help but be enamored by you. You’re not doing anything special, but somehow you’re so adorable, so effortlessly attractive to him.

He grabs himself fresh boxers and then sits next to you on the bed.

“Would you like to stay here with me tonight?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment, and while you hadn’t planned on sleeping over, you’re realizing you really don’t want to leave his side right now. Having him inside you had you rather vulnerable, and you don’t want to be alone tonight. Spending the night in his bed sounds like the perfect plan.

“I’d like that,” you reply. He smiles and gets back up, grabbing some clean clothes for you to wear. As he hands them to you he says, “This is gonna sound weird, but you should probably go pee.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s doctor recommended that women pee after sex of any kind. Something about bacteria, I can’t quite remember.”

“Are you messing with me?”

He laughs and replies, “I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Alright then, if you say so.”

You head into the bathroom to pee and get dressed, and you take in your appearance in the mirror. Your hair is just a little messed up, your cheeks flushed and your eyes bright. It’s weird to note this physical change, and how it reflects how you feel on the inside: bright and just a little more daring than before.

Harry’s not in the bedroom when you get back, but a second later he walks in with water, snacks, and both of your phones which had been left downstairs earlier.

“Movie night in bed?” He suggests, and you nod enthusiastically. The two of you spend the rest of the evening snuggled together, watching films and talking. You don’t feel yourself getting drowsy, but the next thing Harry knows, you’re asleep curled into his side.

He lowers the volume of the movie, remembering you once mentioned that you sleep with TV on, and he carefully shifts the two of you so that you’re comfortably laying in bed. He places a soft kiss to the top of your head, and is lulled to sleep by the sound of your deep breaths.

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Taglist: @lizsogolden @daphnesutton @kissitnhekitchen

AN: Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying the story so far!

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you

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