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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 months ago

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A fake soccer date

Summary: Joel asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to get the soccer moms off his back. How convenient that you're both kind of in love with each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: no outbreak, friends to lovers, FAKE DATING, mentions of dead spouse, a little angst, soccer moms (ugh), fluff, making out, smut (protected sex), dirty talk, a lot of kissing, Joel being in love, banner just for the vibes

Part of Fake Dating drabbles

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

You understood his weekly dread of going to Sarah’s soccer matches now.

It wasn’t the soccer or the getting up at 6 am to drive to some god awful town hours away to watch a bunch of teenage girls play ball.

It was the soccer moms.

And Joel was the only single Dad of the group. There was flirting. There were definitely not occasion appropriate attire and cleavage. There was touching.

And that was only what you saw as you watched him in the middle of at least six women who were fussing over him like he was the only men left alive while you made your way towards the field from the parking lot.

He had asked you before if you would accompany him to one of Sarah’s games.

You had been neighbours since before Sarah was born. He had inherited the fixer upper next door when he just turned twenty and made the most out of it. You had seen his life fall apart within months from the moment he found out his ex girlfriend was pregnant not long after. They had tried to get back together again.

It was you and your late husband Andrew who had been there for him once Sarah was born and his ex had left him alone. You probably spent more times in Joel’s house than your own in those first weeks, all of you being new to taking care of a new born.

But Sarah made it easy.

Andrew, Joel and you grew close in the coming years.

So close that Joel was the first one you called when you were sitting in a hospital in the early morning hours after an accident on your way back from your summer vacation.

An accident Andrew did not survive.

He showed up an hour later with a sleeping Sarah in his arms, holding you all night as you cried into his shoulder.

The time after that was blurry. But you knew Joel was there every single step through your grief, right beside you.

He was your best friend.

And as best friends it was okay to ask you to pretend to be dating him to get the soccer moms off his back, right?

It’s not like he knew that you kind of fell in love with him over the last year, right?

With a nervous inhale you put a smile on your face as you approached Joel from behind, his broad back standing out to you in between the moms who had only eyes for him. You put one of your arms around him as you sneaked to his side, feeling him stiffen for a moment as you looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He smiled down at you, instantly relaxing, his arm coming around you to pull you closer against his side.

„Hi,“ he smiled warmly and you smiled back.

„Sorry I’m late. The line was endless,“ you lied and he chuckled. You felt his hand rest on your hip, squeezing you lightly.

„Glad you could make it. Sarah is gonna be excited to see you,“ he said. Like you had not seen her yesterday when you had dinner together at your house.

He kissed your temple and you closed your eyes for a moment before you turned your head too look at the people standing around you. The women were glaring at you and didn’t even attempt to hide it.

„If you'll excuse me ladies. We got a match to watch,“ Joel said, not waiting for an answer before he pulled you towards the field, not letting go of you.

„I can practically feel them trying to kill me with their eyes,“ you mumbled and he huffed a laugh.

„I told you. I didn’t even do anything. They just appear out of thin air once I get here,“ he groaned and you rolled your eyes. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he’d pretend to not now the looks he received from women around him.

Joel Miller was a catch and everyone knew it.

You came to stand at the fence separating the field and the audience, watching as the girls warmed up on the soccer field. Sarah saw you and waved wildly and you waved back with a bright smile. You felt Joel stand behind you, before his hands came down next to yours on the fence.

„Thank you for doing this,“ he hummed against your ear as he leaned down, his chin resting on your shoulder for a moment. You took a deep breath.

„Anything for you,“ you mumbled, gasping when he fell into you against the fence, someone having pushed him. You heard him groan lowly against your ear, his body flush against yours. He took a step back immediately, turning to his side but you were pretty sure you had felt his hard bulge press into your ass for a second.

You turned your head to look at him, finding his cheeks a little flushed as he looked everywhere but at you. But before you could say anything the kids coach cheered the girls on and they got into position for the game to start.

And a couple minutes later Joel was standing behind you again, and you were leaning against his strong chest, one of his arms around your stomach as you watched his daughter play soccer on the field in front of you.

„Are we…. Are we still pretending to be dating?“ You mumbled against his lips, your fingers unbuttoning his flannel.

Things had…. Escalated a little.

One of his hands was on the side of your neck, tilting your head up as his lips moved against yours, your body pressed against the wall next to his bedroom, his body caging you in.

„Do you want to be pretending?“ He asked, his lips kissing down your throat as his other hand came to squeeze one of your tits over your shirt.

„Cause I haven’t been all day,“ he mumbled and you gasped.

You were both still fully clothed, having spent the whole day together on the soccer field, pretending to be dating.

It was pretend when he held your hand while you grabbed food.

It was pretend when he pulled you on his lap when there wasn’t enough place to sit.

It was pretend when you went up and kissed him when one of the soccer moms had her hands on his chest.

Right?

„Joel….“ You hummed letting you head fall against the wall as his hand slipped under your shirt and towards your chest. You finally had his flannel open your fingernails scratching over the shirt he was wearing underneath.

„I… I don’t want to pretend. I… I want you. I want you all the time,“ you confessed, your eyes closed as he sucked on the soft skin on your neck.

He looked at you then a small smile on his flushed lips.

„Good,“ he simply said, before he kissed you again and pulled you towards his bedroom.

He undressed you slowly, kissing a path from your lips down to your hips before he told you to lay down.

With your arms spread out on his mattress you looked up at him as he got out of his clothes, biting your lip when you saw his thick cock, already glistening at the tip.

„Dreamed of this,“ he said as he joined you on the bed, crawling on top of you, kissing you softly as he laid down between your spread legs.

You nipples hardened as his chest brushed against yours, the only thought in your head being that you wanted him closer. Always closer.

„Yeah?“ You asked with a small smile, your fingers brushing over his back. He nodded.

„Me too. Dreamed of this for months,“ you confessed and he kissed you again.

„Months?“ He asked kissing your nose.

„Mhh… Think I knew when you fixed my bathroom sink and explained every little step you were doing. Thought back then that I’d listen to everything you’d explain to me as long as you wouldn’t leave,“ you said quietly, a little shy.

You parted your lips when you felt his cock slip though your folds.

„When you held Sarah after she fell from her bike last year. I watched you with my daughter in your arms and thought to myself, fuck I’m in love with her,“ he said and you felt a tear slip out of your eyes.

You tilted your chin up to find his lips in a deep kiss before you brought one hand down and between your bodies, hearing him moan when your fingers wrapped around his stiff cock.

„Wanna taste you first,“ he mumbled against your lips.

You shook your head.

„Plenty of time for that after. Wanna feel you please,“ you pumped his cock and he closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours.

„Fuck. Fuck okay. Condom?“ He asked and you grinned.

„You got some? I’m on birth control and I trust you,“ you said. He looked at you for a moment before he shook his head.

„The last time I didn’t use a condom with someone who was on birthcontrol I got Sarah,“ he chuckled before he pushed off of you and reached towards his bedside table, finding a little golden foil package, ripping it open and pulling it over his cock.

He came back to kneel between your legs, one of his hands wrapped around his cock while he reached for a pillow and with a grin.

You grinned back, arching your back as he pushed the pillow under you and under your ass before both of his hands pulled you towards him. You crossed your legs behind his ass, pulling him closer as he leaned down, lining his cock up with your pussy.

„No more pretending,“ he whispered and you shook your head.

„No more pretending,“ you repeated before you kissed him as he slowly pushed inside of you.

Your lips parted against his as he slipped inside you, both of you breathing heavily, a quiet moan coming from you as he stretched you.

You hadn’t been with anyone since your husband died and Joel wasn’t exactly small.

"You okay?“ He asked, slowing down.

You just nodded, before you kissed him again, finding yourself enjoying the stretch of his cock as it pushed slowly inside of you.

„Keep going, feels so fucking good,“ you mumbled against his lips and you felt him smile as he moved, his cock moving inside of you until his whole length was filling you, both of you releasing a loud breath.

„Should have done this sooner,“ he said as he pulled back and began to slowly fuck into you. You had one hand in his hair, the other on his ass, feeling him as he moved inside of you, his cock filling you perfectly with every thrust.

„Yeah,“ you moaned, closing your eyes.

„Keep your eyes open,“ he hummed and you did, finding him looking at you.

„I wanna see you when you cum on my cock,“ he said and your walls clenched, making him smirk.

„You liked that, huh?“ He asked and you nodded slowly.

„Keep going,“ you whimpered.

„You know what I think of when I jerk myself off in the shower? I imagine the way you look when you cum. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum so hard you see stars. I wonder how you taste. I wonder if you like it hard or slow. I wonder if you wear these pretty lace panties I saw hanging in your bathroom that one time whenever you’re around me,“ he continued and you whimpered his name.

„I wonder if you would let me fuck you at the dining table when we have dinner together. Or if you’d suck me off in the garage when we have a couple minutes to ourselves. Or on the couch after we watched a movie. I wonder if I can make you scream my name so everyone knows that you’re mine,“ he said before he kissed you and changed the angle of how he was fucking you, his cock hitting a spot inside of you that had you shaking.

„I’m gonna take you to the lake house this weekend so I can have you screaming as loudly as you want to,“ he said and you nodded biting your lip to keep quiet, still mindful of the child sleeping down the hall.

„Cum for me baby, let me feel you,“ he said as he crashed his lips down on yours and you shattered, coming harder than you had ever before, your legs shaking as he kept pumping his cock into you in quick deep thrusts.

„Fuuuuuck,“ you cried quietly against his lips, feeling his lips twitch into a smile.

„Beautiful,“ he hummed before his hips stuttered his cock pulsing inside of you as he slowly continued to fuck into you, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he orgasmed.

Both sweaty and out of breath you just looked at each other before he kissed you and slowly rolled you to the side, pulling you against his chest, his cock softening and still resting inside of you.

Kissing his chest you nuzzled against him, feeling his arms tighten around your body.

„Best fake date ever,“ you grinned and you felt him chuckle, before he kissed your head just as you drifted off to sleep.

#my fic #fake dating drabbles #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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jellyfishrnice · 7 months ago

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Yandere! Rich suitor idea

Hear me out-

The rich suitor that your parents have in mind for you to marry once you turn 30, the guy who's parents your parents are best friends and how they've been imagining their offspring getting married for decades! And how you absolutely can't stand your unofficial fiance!

Of course, he couldn't stand you either. All your lives grown up together with both your parents insinuating that you two will carry on their names. Each year you two would be sent off to some exotic vacation (your parents loosely supervising) and each year you both failed to hold a conversation without fighting. The pressure was always too much for you, you hated the idea of being tied down to some guy only your parents liked. And no matter how beautiful the boy was, he simply wasn't your type. He was too pretty, too spoiled, too prissy with his blonde hair tied in a ponytail and his stupid eyebrow piercing that made no sense considering his personality.

The guy you were supposed to marry felt the same, he couldn't understand what his parents saw in you. You were too wild, he couldn't imagine trying to carry on a family with how you barely even wanted to do school work. He didn't even consider ugly just so... Weird! With your weird, odd sense of fashion and refusal to think about your future , you were definitely not his type. You two hated each other.

Until the summer you two turned 21. The yearly vacation y'all took started off like any other. With both you dreading the sight of each other. But that changed very quickly once he saw you. This was the first year you two were alone, and maybe it was the fresh alcohol in your systems or the soft lights in whatever high class restaurant you were in, something clicked in your suitor's brain.

Turns out a year (or a couple) can really change the way you see someone. Whether he knew or not he started to admire the way you refused to comply with the strict set of rules set by the high class society you two lived in, and how you didn't care what anyone else thought of your peculiar way of self expression. It was admirable he had to admit.

And the night you two shared an accidental drunken kiss, it made the hair on his arms stand up, it made his face flush red(which he blamed on the liquor), and it made his heart pound in a way he never thought possible.

Every bone chilling reaction was forced out of him and it made his skin light on fire. After that night, he only wanted more to come out of your relationship.

But, the attraction was simply one sided.

You still only saw the same prissy boy. He still refused to look at things from more than one perspective, he still poked fun at your style of clothes, he still refused to say thank you to whatever person who was serving him!

He was everything you hated all wrapped up in one ball of a man.

And when he dropped the idea of getting married the next morning while you were still recovering from your hangover, you almost vomited.

"Ew! What the fuck are you talking about?!" You yelled while almost dropping the mug you had in your hand. The guy was just insulting you yesterday like he always does and now he's talking about marriage?

"You act as though marrying me is the worst thing possible." Andrew sighed while sipping on a glass of orange juice. He looked out the nearby window onto the private beach of the resort while leaning on the nearby wall. It didn't show but your response clearly hurt him just a bit.

"'Cuz it is." You groaned in frustration while sitting down on the living room couch. The guy you hate proposing is definitely not helping with your pounding headache.

You took a sip out of the mug of coffee and tried to rub away the ache from your temples. Why now of all times to propose? You two had at least 5 more years of freedom before yours and his parents would put their foot down and set a date for you two to sign the wedding papers.

"I mean- why not now? Its be better sooner than later, it would be like ripping off a bandaid-"

"Hell no." You sighed and set down your mug on the coffee table next to you and dropped your head onto a pillow. How were you going to deal with this?

"Anyway," you paused trying to gather your words, "don't you hate me? Why would you want to tie the knot so soon? I mean, you're an attractive guy right? Why don't you try out other options before having to-"

"I don't want other options."

You lifted your head and stared at Andrew for a second. The pink dusting his fair cheeks and avoidance of eye contact was all you needed to know.

You looked away from his face and stared at the wall behind him. Your head hurts even more than when you had woken up.

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I said I'm leaving." You hauled yourself off the couch and into your room. You could hear Andrews faint footsteps and even more of his questions but ignored it. You packed your backpack, only the necessities and a small bag of seashells. You were getting on the next plane and heading back home. Or wherever you could land first.

You were not staying here. You refused to marry. Not yet at least.

But as you try and open the door to leave, a large hand slams it shut before you can completely open it.

"Andrew. What the hell are you doing."

"You are not leaving." Andrew says while placing his other hand against the door, caging you.

You never realized how muscular Andrew was before this moment.

"Yes, I am. Now let go of the door-"

"No." He says in a much firmer tone.

It dawns on you that you're on a private beach with no one to hear you yell for help. You see one of his hands leave the door and for a second you think he's come back to his senses and stopped whatever crazy shit he was thinking- but instead he snaked his hand around your waist and lays his forehead on your shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

HEHEHEHE JUST A THOUGHT THOOO

Not proof read forgive me 😔

#yandere #oc x reader #oc #original content #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #orginal #yandere oc #yandere x reader #maybe more

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harrysfolklore · 10 months ago

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jacob elordi and yn take a lie detector test | vanity fair

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON | jacob insta blurb

"YN," the interviewer said, you and Jacob were sitting side by side with expectation shown in your faces, "Jacob."

"Hello," you said in unison, which made you look at each other and laugh.

"We're going to be taking a lie detector test today," the interviewer explained, "One of you will he hooked up to the machine while the other asks questions, and then you'll switch."

"Why are my palms sweating?" you said, making Jacob laugh and kiss the side of your head quickly.

"Who would you like to go first?" the interviewer asked again.

Jacob and you looked at each other for a few seconds before he winked at you and told the interviewer he would go first.

The video showed someone from the crew getting the machine ready and getting Jacob hooked to it.

"Do I look afraid?" Jacob asked, making you relax and laugh.

"You look fine, babe," you looked at the guy who was in charge of the machine, who give you the cue that you could start asking questions, "Okay, is your real name Jacob Elordi?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Were you born in Melborune, Australia?"

"No, I was born in Brisbane."

"Are you ready to take this lie detector test?" you asked, a smile playing on your face.

"I think so," he looked at you with a nervous smile and then looked at the camera.

"Okay, let's get started."

JACOB ELORDI TELLS THE TRUTH

"So, you were born in Australia. Do you like LA better?" you asked, reading the folder in front of you.

"Right now, yeah," Jacob answered, a small screen on the top left showing the lie detector machine working.

"Would you say you've adopted the LA lifestyle since moving here?"

"Yes,"

"Do you like going to yoga classes with me?" you raised your eyebrow, noticing a smile appearing on Jacob's face

"Absolutely." he answered confidently and you directed your raised eyebrow to the man behind the machine.

"He's telling the truth," the man said

"Were you doubting me?" Jacob said, an offended tone in his voice.

"Just confirming," you looked at the folder once again,"Do you consider yourself a heartthrob?"

"Yeah," he answered, but the look on his face said otherwise.

"A lie," the man said.

"I don't consider myself a heartthrob," he began, "but I mean I guess I kinda have to accept it."

"Yep, there you go," you said and a cheeky smile played on your face as you read the following question, "Have you ever felt jealous of any of my co stars?"

The room got quiet after the question, Jacob threw his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Just answer the question!" you said and he shook his head.

"I wouldn't say that I'm a jealous person, specially not of your co stars because I'm an actor myself and I know how it works," he began, "I'm just protective, okay?"

"No reading, that was too close," the man behind the machine spoke, "It was a gray area, we could ask it again or we could just move on."

"Let's move on, he doesn't want to admit that he was jealous of Andrew Garfield on camera," you joked and Jacob couldn't help but laugh along, "Did you feel nervous during our first date?"

"Yes," his eyes widened at the memory, "I was about to piss my pants, actually."

"Truth,"

"Oh I already knew that," you shrugged with a cocky smile, "If I asked you to move to New York with me, would you do it?"

"Yeah, definitely," he smiled, "New York is the shit."

"Alright, babe, let's keep this interesting," you said with a grin. The lie detector machine still monitoring his responses, "Have you ever borrowed my clothes without asking?"

"Of course, guilty as charged," Jacob chuckled, "Your oversized sweaters are just too comfy to resist, love, and don't get me started on your purses,"

"This shouldn't have been a question, everyone knows the purses you use to go out are mine," you rolled your eyes with affection,"Okay last one from me,"

"Bring it,"

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

You looked at Jacob curiously, and he took a moment before replying.

"Yeah, I do," he answered smoothly, "I mean when I met you, there was this instant connection, and I just knew there was something special about you."

"He's telling the truth," the lie detector confirmed, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Smooth answer, Elordi. Looks like we're on the same page about love at first sight," he smiled back at you, "Lord that was so cheesy, It's my turn! But, did at any point of this interview did you lie and we didn't catch you?"

"I mean, I don't know if you caught me," Jacob rested his chin on his hand.

"Did he lie?" you asked the man, both you and Jacob turning to look at him.

"He's not lying," He confirmed and Jacob gave you a smug smile

"I guess you passed the test."

YN TELLS THE TRUTH

You took your place in the hot seat while Jacob prepared to play the role of the interrogator, nerves kicking in as the crew hooked you up to the machine.

"Okay, YN," Jacob said, a smirk showing on his face, "Let's get started, shall we?"

You nodded and he sent you a wink.

"Is your favorite movie still 'The Notebook'?"

"Absolutely," you answered immediately and the machine confirmed your answer.

"Classic," he muttered, "Have you ever faked a compliment about my cooking?"

"Maybe once or twice, but it's only because I didn't want to hurt your feelings," you bit your lip, and Jacob gave you a surprised expression

"So, I've been living a lie?" he raised his eyebrow at you.

"No, no," you reassured him, "Your cooking skills have definitely improved over time."

"Truth," the man in charge of the lie detector said, and Jacob nodded in approval.

"Fair enough. Now, have you ever pretended to like a movie just because I wanted to watch it?"

"Guilty again," you covered your face in embarrassment,"But in my defense, no one wants to watch the Star Wars movies after a long day of filming."

"My feelings are definitely hurt," Jacob said and dramatically put a hand on his chest, "This test is making you look like a bad girlfriend, actually,"

"Come on now, give me more questions,"

"Alright, let's dig a little deeper," Jacob said with a smirk, "Have you ever considered stealing my phone to read my text messages?"

"Maybe once or twice," you said, "But only out of curiosity, not suspicion."

"Well, you know I'm wrapped around your finger so I would let you go through it anytime," he shrugged, "Do you think my Australian accent is sexier than your American one?"

"Oh, come on! That's not a fair question," you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Just answer the question, love," Jacob teased.

"Fine, fine," you said, still laughing, "Yes, your Australian accent is undeniably sexy."

"Truth," the machine confirmed, and Jacob playfully raised an eyebrow looking satisfied.

"Do you regret any of the roles you've played?" he asked, and you took a deep breath before answering.

"No, all of the roles I've played have been very meaningful to me," you replied, and the man operating the machine machine looked at you with a raised eyebrow."

"She's lying," he simply said, and you shut your eyes hearing Jacob laugh.

"I guess you have some explaining to do," he chuckled, shooting a playful glare at you, "Come on, spill it."

"Okay, fine," you admitted, "There was this one project early in my career that I took for the paycheck, and looking back, I wish I had chosen something more aligned with my values. It's not a regret per se, but more of a lesson learned."

"Fair enough," Jacob nodded, moving to the next question, "Have you ever stalked fan accounts dedicated to me?"

"Maybe a casual scroll here and there," you admitted, trying to seem cool about it.

"Casual scroll, huh?" Jacob raised an eyebrow and peeked at the lie detector, "The machine doesn't seem convinced, right?" he asked the man.

"It's a lie," he confirmed ad Jacob burst into laughter.

"Caught red-handed, love. What's next? Have you ever used my toothbrush without telling me?" he teased, making you laugh

"No way! That's just gross," you protested

"You hesitated there. Are you sure?" Jacob raised an eyebrow again

The machine signaled the truth, and you sighed in relief.

"I was just grossed out by the thought. I promise I've never done that."

"It's not like we haven't kissed before," he teased and you rolled your eyes but smiled, "Okay last question.

"Hit me with it," you said, ready for whatever it would be.

"Have you ever thought about what our future holds? Like, where we'll be in 10 years?" he asked, his expression turning serious.

You took a moment to contemplate the question.

"Yes," you answered sincerely, "I think about it quite often. I imagine us still together, maybe with a family, still acting and pursuing our passions and of course supporting each other."

"Truth," the lie detector machine confirmed your words, and Jacob's serious expression softened into a warm smile.

"Well, looks like we're on the same page there once again," he said, "Did you lie at any time and we didn't catch you?"

"Nope, I was an open book, babe," you replied, sending a wink his way.

"Did she lie?" Jacob turned to the man behind the machine,

The man hesitated for a moment, building suspense, before finally saying, "She's telling the truth."

"Told you!"

The video ended with both of you laughing at each other, and it became one of Vanity Fair's most watched Lie Detector tests.

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devilfic · 1 year ago

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❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #andrew garfield #spider-man #marvel #mjwrites #tasm

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devine-fem · 3 months ago

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If you wish to get into Spideypool or write for them then this is a masterlist of all ‘Spideypool’ evidence of Wade Wilson or Peter Parker being astrangly interested in each other. This took me forever... please don't flop. If I miss anything please let me know, I'll edit this list as soon as possible.

1. When bound against Spider-Man, Deadpool gets... excited for lack of a better word and even more so when Spider-Man yells at him.

2. Deadpool has a celebrity crush on Spider-Man like young teenage boys would crush on various female actors, but instead Wade Wilson had Spiderman, I guess.

3. Wade Wilson owns a plethora of Spider-man merch, plushies, blankets, posters, underwear, belts, he has them.

4. There are two official variant covers that display Deadpool and Spider-man recreating the upside-down kiss… this is technically not canon due to them being variant covers, but they can be if you want.

5. When someone asks Deadpool about the relationship he has with Spider-Man he either says they are best friends or lovers.

6. Wade is jealous or envious of Peter’s bond with Johnny Storm.

7. Wade comments multiple times about how tight Spider-Man’s suit is and how nice his butt is.

8. Wade has called Tobey Maguire cute.

9. There are mutliple occasions of pedestrians in the marvel universe assuming Spider-Man and Deadpool are some sort of couple.

10. When Deadpool is asked about a romantic date… he imagines him and Spiderman sharing a candlelit dinner together…

11. It’s important to remember that Spider-Man is a grown man. Yes, Deadpool flirts a lot, but he is flirting with another adult that he is sexually attracted to, and this is not a crime, he’s not harassing Spider-Man in any way and if Peter felt like he was then he can also be an adult and tell Wade to stop which he never does.

12. Deadpool most of the time does not know that Peter Parker is Spider-Man so when Wade flirts with Spider-Man, he’s mostly attracted to the idea of Spider-Man he has in his head and when he’s in the position to know Spider-Man’s identity, he always refuses and even protects his identity from being known by other people. + Forehead kiss.

13. Wade has a list of people that he would cheat on his wife with. It’s a list of people he’d be given a free pass to have sex with if he’s given the chance. Most people on this list are woman but the last person is Spider-Man, this is one of the biggest nods towards Deadpool’s sexuality because it’s set in stone that if given the opportunity, he would have sex with Spider-Man, while knowing that he’s a man.

14. Wade has pictures of him and Spider-Man together in his house.

15. Spider-Man keeps pictures of him and Wade on his phone… for reasons… I don’t know why.

16. They have one biological child together called ‘Itsy Bitsy’ and another they adopted called Matrix.

17. Wade doesn’t hesitate to protect Spider-Man.

18. Ryan Renolds and Andrew Garfield have kissed before. Not really evidence, I just think it's funny.

19. Deadpool loses his wife because of how much time he’s devoted to Spider-Man, instead of her. She even calls him out on his crush, he legitimately loses his wife because of his relationship with Spider-Man due to her feeling like she’s third wheeling.

20. Marvel ships it.

21. Asking Spider-Man for a kiss, an upside-down kiss that is and I mean, if you count the variant covers as canon then sure, yeah, never say never Spidey.

22. Wade would die with Spider-Man (and he gets to prove this later)

23. Spider-Man’s touch, voice and smell all seem to calm Wade down. 24. There's an issue in a Deadpool comic literally just called "Spideypool." 25. Wade references fanfiction, fanart and says Spideypool out of his mouth multiple times so he's very aware that this exists. 26. There's an alternate universe where they are old man in an apocalypse. 27. Deadpool's villains are well aware that he has a weak spot for Spider-Man and uses this against him at times. How cute is that? 28. Spider-Man is Wade's special boy... dude, this is so fanficy... 29. Okay, so, the heartmates thing. A group of people use magic to try and summon Deadpool's heartmate to try and get to his wife, I'm not entirely sure what a heartmate is but I'm pretty sure it's a 'one true love' type of thing and yes, this summons Spider-Man, so unless Wade's 'gay jokes' have tricked the concept of magic as a whole, that's pretty on the nose. 30. Wade has seen Spider-Man naked... I'm pretty sure that is what this is implying. 31. Peter does find Wade genuinely annoying sometimes, but he never voices this to Wade directly but the funniest thing is... Peter's attitude to Wade is like a 'he can only get on MY NERVES!' type of thing. 32. Peter genuinely gets worried for Deadpool when he gets hurt even though he has a healing factor, he even takes care of him when he's healing after a mission. 33. Peter gets magicked into thinking Wade is attractive. NOW LET'S GET INTO THE SAD AND EXISTENTIAL STUFF! 34. One of Wade's bigger character arcs is when he tries to become a hero like Spider-Man. He admires Spider-Man, he puts him on a pedestal because he does the right thing without hurting anyone and he's admired for it. To be honest, we did just go through a bunch of cute fanficy moments but this moral back and forth between the two is definitely the gayest thing they've done. 35. Weirdly Peter is trying to actively force himself to hate Wade, but he can't find it within himself to dislike him. I think that his mean comments toward Wade are definitely more of an act because the behavior that Wade displays remind him of things he dislikes within himself. Peter also has been betrayed multiple times throughout his life by people he thought he could trust so he has a hard time allowing himself to trust Wade. Meanwhile Wade feels jealous of what he assumes is a relationship between him and Peter Parker that could possibly be romantic, yes, Wade does think Peter Parker and Spider-Man may have been dating which is why Spider-Man is so protective of Peter Parker which causes Wade to get jealous. 36. Wade and Peter actually become friends very easily which is something that people complained about when this comic was still just coming out. Eventually, because Wade is convinced Peter Parker is an evil doer, he kills Peter Parker (Spider-Man) which causes Spider-Man to revoke their friendship and feel betrayed by Deadpool. Peter assumes that Wade falsified their entire friendship just to get to Peter Parker and kill him, he eventually finds out this was a mistake and brings Peter Parker to life which is around the time where Wade's wife leaves him. Now, because of Peter, Wade is using rubber bullets and refusing to kill people. It's important to remember that Wade in the past, has mentioned that killing was all he had, and he gave that up for Spider-Man, to prove himself to Spider-man. This is a huge thing for Wade, killing was one of his most defining traits but it also made him hate himself, but he's willing to change for Peter.

Is it... wrong of me for kind of finding the fact that Peter has worked to help Deadpool stop killing but this ultimately culminates as Wade killing Peter, like biting the hand that feeds you... is it wrong that I find this tragically romantic...? I need so much therapy. 37. Wade explains that he was just trying to protect Spider-Man which is one of my favorite moments between the two.

38. Peter eventually forgives Deadpool, and they go after the person who put a hit on Peter Parker.

39. When Peter’s mad at him… he doesn’t exactly… hate it? I guess.

40. Wade has a little "What would Spidey do?" wristband. That's adorable. 41. Wade describes his new morality as the best thing that's ever happened to him and one of the biggest things that motivate him to be better is because someone (spidey) genuinely believes that he can get better. He mentions that if Spider-man was to die or leave him then there would be no point in getting better which is so sad to me.

42. Spider-Man has a bad habit of easily forgiving people. Spider-Man has a hero complex and believes that everyone can be saved, even when told to his face that Deadpool is not the type of person that can be save, he defends Deadpool and rejects this idea.

43. When Wade does the right thing Peter tells him that he's proud of him and this is also a big motivator for him. He feels better if he's told someone notices his efforts and feels neglected if they don't.

44. Speaking of tragically romantic, Peter starts to question his morality because he finds out that there's a hole in his life that seemingly can't be filled with doing the right thing anymore. He lets himself slip away and contemplates killing itsy bitsy which he commits to doing but Wade tries relentlessly to stop him.

He ends up killing Wade because he finds that his ongoing worship of him makes him feel guilty. 45. Wade doesn't stop trying to get Peter to stop.

Ultimately Peter beats him in the fight and to stop Peter, he sacrifices himself. He kills Itsy Bitsy instead so Peter can't. He gives up his morality, something that meant the world to him, for Peter, once again. Peter feels immensely guilty for this and promises to make it up to Wade somehow. It's also implied that Wade fills that gap in Peter's life that he's missing.

46. This is from a different writer so it's a little inconsistent, basically because of Wade's new morality, he stops making as many jokes, starts to become more serious and eventually gets to really be alone with himself and his problems which causes him to dislike the version of Wade Wilson he's become because of Spidey. It's like Peter makes him see parts of himself that he dislikes a little bit clearer, and he loses hope, he stops believing that he can actually become better. Cameleon, a villain at the time fakes Deadpool killing someone, Peter believes this - which hurts Wade due to how little faith it seems Peter has in Deadpool. He blows up in Peter's face and says that he did all of this for him, and he doesn't really care about letting everyone down... except him, he feels extremely guilty for some reason when he lets Spider-Man down.

47. Eventually, Peter finds out that Wade did not kill someone and apologizes to Deadpool which is important because it means Peter cannot wrong Deadpool without the narrative making sure he makes amends for his actions. Deadpool sometimes is very vexing, and this is not necessarily entirely Peter's fault for getting aggravated with him. Deadpool does this on purpose, he has low self-esteem and sometimes uses his behavior as a way to push the people he cares about away, whether it's to protect them or to keep himself from getting hurt. Wade has communicated this to Peter before and Peter very sweetly affirmed him. 48. Wade has a daughter named Ellie that he keeps far away from him because he does not want her getting in the middle of his mercenary business and getting hurt. He says that one day when he's ready to put this mercenary stuff behind him then he'll be ready to take care of her properly. Wade introduces his daughter to Spider-Man, and she says that she loves Spider-Man and Daddy talks about him all the time which Wade adorably gets embarrassed by. 49. Peter goes out of his way to hang out with Wade. 50. Theres this huge arc of future!Wade Wilson coming back from the future into the past to stop things from going so wrong in the future. This might be confusing but basically, this whole arc is about how Wade refuses to live without Peter and without Peter's permission, gives up some of his healing factor to keep Peter alive way past his due date. He outlives every person he knows and the only person he has is Deadpool. He even gives up being Spider-Man until busting a robbery motivates him to be Spider-Man one more time which he spends that time with Deadpool. Peter almost dies once again and to save Peter, Deadpool gives up more of his healing factor to keep him alive. It's so strange to me that Wade refuses to live without Peter but what's even stranger is that it's revealed that Peter knows Deadpool is keeping him alive and never stops him. These two are so weird about each other. This eventually culminates with the both of them dying in each other's arms, I kid you not. 51. So, Wade and Peter, long story short, stops this future from happening which is the second the last arc. The last last arc is them defeating the concept of the third wall I believe...? 52. Another thing that is EXTREMELY important to note is that Wade and Peter are canonically established friends right now. During the last 10 issues of their solo comic they become friends, set in stone, no going back on that. Peter finally accepts Wade as he is, and they go on a little adventure together. There's no point in saying Peter doesn't like Wade or Wade doesn't like Peter. Peter and Wade's friendship developed over time, there's no need to try and erase their friendship. Peter likes Wade now; he stops pretending to be annoyed with him, he cheers him on, and he compliments him regularly. He even trusts Wade enough to reveal himself as Peter Parker. Peter and Wade's friendship was very similar to Johnny Storm and Peter Parker's, both hated each other at first but then slowly became good friends. There's no point of putting Spideytorch and Spideypool against each other when they are so similar. 53. Wade thinks Peter is handsome. 54. Peter thinks Wade is a hero. 55. One of my favorite moments because I am CRAZY. Wade dying for Peter without hesitation and Peter being devastated. This happens almost right after Peter reveals himself as Peter Parker. 56. Wade has eaten Peter before, if you're into that Cannibalism being a metaphor for love type of thing.

57. Wade has called Peter 'baby boy' and "bambi' but these things have happened literally one time before and have become extremely overused. Wade has plenty of nicknames for Peter, let's mix it up a bit. 58. Marvel's little animation for the both of them. 59. They've interacted in Ultimate Spider-Man before.

60. Peter has a fever dream… Deadpool is crossdressing in it.

61. Deadpool gets put into a falsified reality where everything is his version of perfect, this is a villians way of getting information out of Deadpool while using his favorite things as leverage. In this reality, fake!Spider-Man tries to get information out of Deadpool by bribing him with sex. I kid you not.

62. His little “Make Spidey mine, Marvel!” Badge. He’s so down bad.

63. The entirety of Deadpool (2013) Issue #10.

64. The official Deadpool manga where Deadpool contemplates asking Spider-Man for a dirty favor.

65. Deadpool’s random little Spider-Man keychain at the handle of his Katanna.

Or, y’know, reading their duo comic: Spider-Man/Deadpool (2016) would also basically tell you everything you need to know about their dynamic if you need somewhere to start. I hope this helped to refresh anyone’s mind on things as well.

Again, if I missed anything cute, please let me know. I’ll edit it as soon as possible.

#spideypool #deadpool #wade wilson #marvel comics #spiderman x deadpool #spiderman #peter parker #spideypool masterlist #spideypool guide #reading guide

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beat-the-morning · 10 months ago

Text

AFTER-CONCERT FEAST

Rating: +18

Relationships: Hozier/Reader

Contents: no y/n, oral sex (f! recieving), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dry humping, accidental orgasm, (by this I mean he starts mindlessly humping the couch

Word count: 1.7k

SUMMARY: After Hozier, your boyfriend, calls you backstage after a concert he eats you out like a starving man and cums after mindlessly dry humping the couch while doing so.

Fic under the cut💜

The concert had ended, and you were making your way backstage with a security guard in front of you. Andrew, your boyfriend, had sent them to get you, and your mind couldn't stop racing with how he’d looked at you while he sang. How his eyes lit up when he saw you in the crowd, the little smile that escaped him, that verse he messed up on when you winked at him. You could have sworn that he didn’t take his eyes off you for the rest of the concert once he noticed you.

“Here,” the security guard said, opening the door to Andrew’s dressing room. You smiled at them and nodded as a thank you before stepping in. He was waiting for you, leaning on the vanity with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Close the door, it’s fine.” He told the security guard, the door closed behind you and you smiled. He practically bounced off the vanity and onto you with how fast he took you into his arms and lifted you off the floor in a spinning hug. “What are you doing here?” He asked as he finally lowered you from his embrace.

“Came to see you,” you answered with a grin.

Andrew chuckled, then started kissing your face with every pause he took from speaking. “Yes, but why? Weren’t you visiting your parents this week?”

“Yes, but you having a concert in the same city distracted me a little.” You giggled, his beard tickling you.

“Oh, forgot your parents lived here,” he looked down at you with loving eyes that turned to confusion the second he realised what you had done. “Wait, so you bought a ticket, queued for God knows how long-”

“Twelve hours.” You interrupted him

“Twelve hours?” His eyes widened at that fact. “You did that, when you could've called me and gotten in faster and also seen me before the concert?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to surprise you!” You smiled. “And I wanted to see if you'd notice me in the crowd.”

“Well I did, couldn't take my eyes off you,” he kissed your lips.

“I know,” you kissed back. “There's going to be a million tiktoks asking who you were looking at.”

“I don't-” he stopped his sentence halfway through once he saw your shirt. “Are you wearing my shirt?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking, he already knew the answer.

“No.” You lied, as it was, in fact, his shirt that he had accidentally left at your house the last time he saw you.

“You definitely are.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you teased, he rested a hand on your hip, his thumb making small circles on your skin.

“I’m sure you don’t.” His other hand rested on your cheek, caressing it gently.

Then he kissed you again, not letting go this time, you got on your tip-toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. He lowered himself lightly and bit your lower lip, you moaned in response. He broke the kiss and guided you to the couch where he pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. You kissed him again, more passionate this time, almost hungrily, his hands explored the skin under your shirt, revelling in your warmth.

You explored each other's mouths, delighting in the taste you had so missed, the way his beard scratched your face felt like heaven, his hands travelled to your hips and ground you against him, you could feel his hardening cock rubbing against you and he could hear your whimpers every time your clit got the slightest bit of friction. He slowly lifted you up and changed the pose you were both in, setting you on the couch, and taking off your shirt and bra, promptly discarding them on the floor next to him.

Andrew's lips left your mouth and moved down from your jawline to your waistband, leaving bites and hickeys on his way, he was giving you goosebumps with the way he caressed your body so lovingly, worshipping every curve, every mole and little imperfection, as you called them, seemed like gold in his eyes, like beautiful stars in a sky only he could see. Once at your hips, he looked up at you with lustful eyes, “I need to taste you, so fucking badly,” he whispered, “but I need you to be quiet, can you do that for me, baby?”

“You know the answer to that,” you answered with a grin, already kicking off your shoes.

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled back, quickly kissing you one last time before he unzipped your shorts and pulled them off completely along with your panties, throwing them to the floor as soon as they were off you, joining the rest of your clothing. He kissed his way up your thighs, resting your legs on his shoulders. He looked up at you with his beautiful green eyes, pupils dilated to a point where they looked black, silently begging you to give him the final go-ahead before he lost himself in you.

You nodded, he smiled.

He dove into you like a starving man having his first meal in weeks, lapping up your juices and drinking you. You arched your back in pleasure. He licked from your entrance up to your clit, pressing his tongue to it just to flick it right after, you bit your lip in an attempt to quiet down, but it barely worked. His tongue worked at you expertly, he knew exactly what to do to make you squirm under his touch. His tongue travelled down from your clit to your entrance, where he lost himself and moaned just with your taste. Your breathing hitched at the sight of him eating you out, completely enamoured with his eyes closed. He was moaning as he fucked you with his tongue. As his nose rubbed on your clit just right, you thanked God for giving him a big one.

You moved his long curls out of his face, he looked up at you. Your breathing stopped for a second as he rubbed his nose against your clit while smiling into your cunt, in blinding lust you grabbed a fistful of his hair and started grinding your hips against his face. You could've sworn you heard him chuckle. The way he was holding onto your hips was sure to leave bruises later on, you didn't care one bit, you were too focused looking into his eyes and the way they were full of lust and admiration for you. How he kept eating you out even as you held his head in place and basically used him.

He was so hard it was starting to become painful, so he started rubbing himself against the couch, and God did it feel good, he started moaning into your pussy, your taste was driving him crazy, the little sounds that escaped you while he devoured you just got him harder and harder. He left your hole to go back up to your clit, sucking on it and pressing his tongue against it while one of his hands left your hip just for two of his fingers to enter your cunt seconds later, your hips buckled against him again, he placed your clit between his teeth and lightly pressed in response. Your legs started shaking when he did that, you had to place a hand over your mouth to not scream. He fingered you faster, curling his fingers into you and hitting your sweet spot.

He continued like this for a while, making a whimpering mess out of you, and thankfully, today he didn't seem to have the need to edge you endlessly until you were begging for release, he needed this as much as you, maybe even more. He was still rubbing against the couch, but he didn't notice he was doing it, he was too occupied getting you to your own high to care for himself at the moment. You were almost there, his fingers replaced his tongue on your clit, rubbing it rapidly. His mouth moved to your entrance, he knew you were close, and he wanted to taste every drop of your release.

You came with a loud moan that was thankfully muffled by your own hand, your vision went white and your legs trembled. Andrew drank you in, letting you ride out your high as he moaned into your pussy, and then you noticed his hips. He was desperately dry humping the couch, what a sight that was, you could tell he wasn't even noticing he was doing it, suddenly his hips buckled repeatedly and he was groaning into your cunt as he drank the last of you, his eyes were closed and his hand that was still grabbing you was doing so in a way that you were surprised it wasn't breaking skin. He'd come, just from eating you out, the thought made you giggle.

He kissed your clit one last time before pulling his head out from between your legs, his hair was a mess and the lower part of his face was glistening with your juices, he was panting heavily. “I- I didn't notice I was-” He said with heavy breaths, but you interrupted before he finished.

“Humping the couch while eating me out?” You asked in a teasing voice. A smirk plastered on your face.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “made a fuckin’ mess.”

“It's not noticeable from here.” You assured him.

“Good,” he leaned closer to you, hovering his body over yours, one hand held him up while the other found your waist. “Tank you for letting me do this, baby.” He kissed you gently, his accent thicker than before.

“Thank you for doing it.” You smiled.

“I love you so much,” he murmured between kisses, “my perfect girl, so fuckin' beautiful.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him back, “I should get dressed though.”

“Hmm, fine, but I'm keeping these until I see you next time.” He said, grabbing your panties from the pile of your clothes from the floor and keeping them in his hand.

“No, you're not, give them back!” You feigned annoyance, thinking he'd give them back.

“Would you rather I take back my shirt, then?”

“What would I wear then? I didn't bring a jacket.”

“Exactly, so these,” he held up your panties again, “are for me.” He placed them in his pocket right after.

“You’re horrible.” You fake pouted.

“You love me.” He grinned while handing you the rest of your clothes.

“You're lucky I do.”

“I know.”

#hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #hozier smut #hozier x reader #mornfic #andrew hozier byrne

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sweetpascal · 4 months ago

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

gif: @andrew-lincoln

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: there are four more days remaining in the week before your mom returns. joel observes how easy it is for him to get into your head, thus creating a strict routine that makes it easy to break you down and put you back together again.

warnings: MINOR DNI. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], manipulation, gaslighting, dumbification, one slap to the face, sloppy make-out session, TW: isolation, oral [f receiving], hella pussy eating, multiple orgasms, joel fucking loves to eat pussy, joel is mean and condescending, squirtiinngggg

wc: 6.2k (are you really not surprised that i go overboard with what are supposed to be short chapters ???)

notes: i have really bad daddy issues and trauma if you couldn't tell already. i didn't know i needed perv!stepdad!joel that badly until i wrote him out and saw the swarm of attention he's been getting by all y'all depraved nasties out there (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

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Upon waking in the morning, you found your head throbbing and your mouth as dry as the Sahara. An unswallowable aftertaste lingered, repulsive, reminiscent of vomit mixed with glue. You winced at the bright sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains, groaned drowsily, and buried your head back into the pillow, pulling the fluffy blanket over your head.

A knock at the door was followed by Joel's voice asking, "Babydoll, are you awake?" Then the door swung open, and the sound of his boots echoed as he walked towards your bed. You responded with a groan, swallowing hard and stifling a hiccup.

Reflecting on the previous night felt like a nightmare. The only memories that lingered were informing your stepdad about the lake, spending time there with your friend, returning home, and vaguely recalling sharing a drink with Joel. Beyond that, everything was a hazy blur.

The bed sags beneath you as you curl up under the covers. Joel's husky laughter fills the air as he rubs your back, his hand's warmth seeping through the thick blanket, causing a delightful shiver. Then, in a jolt as if a shock to your frontal lobe, you recall everything. The shared alcohol, the kissing, Joel's deep voice as thick as honey in your ears, the throbbing in your lower half--all of it.

Jerking upright hastily, you grimaced as the intense sunlight dazzled you once more. You narrowed your eyes as much as possible, attempting to focus on Joel. He grins at your disheveled appearance, taking note of the little love bites all over your throat and the sides of your neck. You wiped away the blurriness that lingered in your eyes.

"I-I remember... what we did last night," you whispered the last part and covered your mouth with both hands, suddenly too shy to look at your stepdad and worried that he would reprimand you for getting too carried away. "Joel-" Your sentence stops because of the warning glare he sends your way. "Daddy," you try again, feeling warm inside when he gives you a nod. "I-I think I acted very... all over the place... and-and I did some naughty, dirty things with you and-and I'm so, so sorry."

Last night was erotic, dirty, and didn't ease his perversion. When you could barely hold yourself up and kept burping in his mouth, Joel decided to call it a night. He had picked you up effortlessly in his arms and stomped up the stairs, not even breaking a sweat. He undressed you, slowly and meticulous. He left on your bikini, not wanting his first view of your cunt being when you're unaware and unconscious--which was a lot fucking harder than he thought, and also ironic considering what he had done days ago. He couldn't help himself, however, when he buried his nose between your thighs and inhaled deeply, the heady scent of your pussy making his jaw ache and his mouth water.

Now, as he sits before you while looking into those pretty eyes of yours, Joel's hunger is nearly beastly, even fucking demonic. He wants to sink his sharp teeth into your delicate flesh and leave you broken and bruised with no other choice but to beg him for mercy, beg him to stop, beg him to put you back together again.

"Remember when I told you what adults do to feel good?" He asks you, his voice sweet enough to cause a toothache. When you give him a nod, he grips your thigh just enough to make you squirm. "Well, what we did last night is just that. You and I are adults, and we did somethin' that made us both feel good, right?" When he raised his brows at you, expecting you to agree with him, you immediately nodded as you processed his words.

"Good," he continues, sliding his hand further up your leg until he's gripping the meat of your inner thigh. "Daddy has a lot to teach you, sweetheart."

The sun was shining high and blazing down. Since you didn't get time to really enjoy it at the lake--your friend was too handsy for comfort--you decided to enjoy it in the backyard. Wearing the same bikini as yesterday, you laid on the grass on top of your polka dot towel with your sunglasses perched on your nose. Joel had prepared a drink for you: strawberry kiwi juice with a splash of passion fruit rum. It was delightful, striking the perfect balance between fruitiness, sweetness, and a subtle hint of alcohol.

As you laid out in the sun, you think back to the series of events that occurred after your mom's departure. There's a lingering feeling in the back of your mind that can't let you ignore the inappropriate relationship you and Joel now have. This is the same man that has been in your life since you were a child. This is the same man that has watched you grow into the beautiful, young woman you are now. This is the same man that is still married to your mother.

Each touch he lays upon your pliant body left a trail of fire. It was all so confusing and wrong. It's your stepdad, for goodness' sake. He's three times your age. But he also knows so much about the world and how to navigate through it. He knows everything and anything, and you'll be damned if you don't accept all the help that you can get from him.

A series of bangs from within the house jolted you upright. You pushed your glasses up and peered toward the backdoor. Silence ensued for a few seconds before the banging resumed. With a puzzled frown and concern etching your brow, you wrapped your towel tighter and hastened inside. Joel was nowhere in the kitchen, living room, or guest bathroom. As you reached for the basement door, the banging echoed from upstairs, punctuated by a loud curse and an even louder bang.

Following the noise, you hurry up the stairs, towel still tightly wrapped around your body. Upon noticing that your bedroom door was opened, you weakly called out, "Uh, Daddy?"

"In here, babydoll," you hear his voice coming from your bedroom, further easing the anxiety that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As you entered your room, your eyes widened, and an involuntary gasp escaped your lips. There stood Joel by the windows, wielding a hammer in one hand and clutching long, thick nails in the other. Unmoved by your gasp, he persisted in hammering the nails into the window frame, each blow forceful enough to send tremors through the floorboards. He was sealing you inside.

"What are you doing?!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side and frantically seizing his forearm to prevent him from driving another thick nail into the window frame.

Joel sighs deeply with frustration and merely shakes you off. He stares down at you, your eyes wide and frightful, tears brimming along your waterline. The sight stirs something deep in his gut. He wonders if this is what you'd look like if he shoved his dick so far down your throat that you pass out from the lack of oxygen, slobbering and crying all over his thighs and heavy balls.

"Sweetheart, we talked about this last night," he tells you gently, wiping away one of the tears that managed to slide down your cheek. "Don't you remember?"

He knows you don't remember because he made it up. He never told you about this. Seeing you getting caught off guard, falling for his rotten lies was a comical sight. He wants to laugh in your face to further drive the embarrassment deep in your heart and make you feel really stupid.

Your brows furrowed and you looked off to the side, wracking through your mind to try and remember the conversation you and your stepdad had last night. All you can see are images flashing through your mind of the two of you kissing and touching, but nothing of Joel mentioning nailing your windows shut.

"I-I... don't remember," you whispered up to him, eyes glancing up to look into his own. "Did I really agree to this?" You couldn't remember a damn thing.

Joel grins and lets out a gruff laugh. "Of course you did, silly girl. You don't remember 'cause you were a goddamn mess all over me." He can see that his crude choice of wording made you shrink in on yourself. He continues, "It's for your own good, babydoll. I'm only doin' this to protect you from the dangerous people out there that wanna separate us. That's why I can't have you goin' out with those bad influence friends o' yours anymore."

Everything is becoming clear now. The pieces are falling into place. Joel is acting this way because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. The reality that there are people who wish to tear you apart is genuinely frightening. Even if it means cutting all of your friends out of your life and only following Joel, you'd do so without hesitation. You no longer have your own voice. Now, when you think, Joel's is the only voice you hear in your head.

Lying in bed freshly showered, you hold onto one of your stuffed animals and look up at the ceiling. Shortly after hammering your windows shut, Joel had taken your phone and pocketed it, informing you that it was also for your own good and that media consumption will influence you to do things only a bad girl would do. And you're not a bad girl. You'd never want to give off that impression to Joel. All you wanted was to be good for him, to hear his praises fall from his plush lips.

But then, your mind started racing at the thoughts of him. His broad shoulders and strong arms, muscles that ripple with effort and exertion. There have been many instances where you caught yourself staring at the muscles of his back when he would be working on his truck. Your stepdad was a handsome man--there's no lie in that. You were just too young to really understand the intricacies of finding someone attractive.

But now at your adult age, feeling his lips and hands on your pure body, you needed more. You needed to hear his gravelly voice in your ear and his hot breath sweeping across your skin in a way that makes you shiver deliciously. You needed to feel him touch you everywhere, mainly focusing on your lower half. That feeling was still confusing. You didn't understand why it throbbed and why it'd get so wet and why you would feel butterflies in your tummy.

A knock came at your door. As it gradually swung open, it revealed the man who had been on your mind incessantly. Joel was there, clad in his day-long attire: a dark green flannel shirt, dirt-stained dark blue jeans, and his well-worn work boots. When he fully enters your room and closes the door behind him, you're left with a throbbing ache that settles deep in your core. There's an insinuation in the way he begins to unbutton his flannel, revealing the forest green t-shirt underneath. With parted lips, you shakily exhale and lean up further against the headboard.

"Barely had time to spend with my favorite girl," Joel remarks, perched on the edge of your bed, unlacing his boots. It's quite the contrast—his attire against the backdrop of your room's pastel hues and the pretty pink bed adorned with vintage floral bedding. "But now that I'm finished with grown-up stuff, I can finally give you some attention, huh?"

When he turns his head to look at you, he wolfishly grins at the sight of your labored breathing and dilated pupils. He hasn't even touched you yet and you're already affected by his close proximity. Then, the grin slowly vanishes, and the air grows thicker. The two of you stare at one another, neither of you speaking, but more so observing. You fear that Joel can hear just how fast and hard your heart was thumping in your ribcage. You wonder if he can even see it through your thin tank top.

Mustering up the courage to speak, you licked your lips and shyly look away from him as you say, "Stop looking at me like that." You fiddle with the hem of your tank top, slowly bringing your knees up to your chest to shield your nipples that are now poking through your top.

Joel had seen them the second he walked in. You knew he did. You saw his eyes scan your entire form when he shut the door behind him. He's not stupid. He bites down on his plump bottom lip and releases it as he sits closer. When he looks into your eyes, he can see that you really don't want him to stop.

"How do you want me to look at you?" He asks in a husky voice, so low and deep and thick with that glorious southern accent of his.

As you look at him, you feel a warmth spread under his intense, fiery gaze. His face, aged yet ruggedly handsome, is highlighted by the dimly lit shadows that play across the contours of his visage. It's clear why your mother chose him. His skin is a beautiful golden hue, complemented by thick curls of dark brown hair, lightly spotted with grays. Joel Miller stands before you, the very image of a Greek deity.

A hand on your ankle grounds you once again. Your body trembles, and goosebumps emerge along your arms and legs beneath the warmth of Joel's palm. He hums, lost in contemplation, watching the deliberate motions of his hand.

"You don't... You look at me in a way you're supposed to look at mom. And... And you don't look at me the same way stepdads are supposed to look at their stepdaughters," you murmur the confession to him, the cute curiosity in your voice making Joel smile.

His hand slides further up your leg until it reaches your knee. Then, he very slowly coaxes your legs to open. His eyes track where his hand is leading to. Your feet part to allow his arm to rest comfortably between your legs. Just as his large hand reaches your inner thigh, middle finger just barely skimming the hem of your shorts, you elicit a delicate gasp that has Joel looking up at you.

"You're a very special girl, babydoll," Joel speaks quietly and slowly, allowing you to hear and feel every word that leaves his lips. "Your momma... Well, she can be a bit difficult, ya know?" His hand very slowly rubs up and down your inner thigh, both of you now looking between your legs to watch his careful movements. "But you? Well, you're one of a kind, sweetheart. You're so different from your momma. You're so soft, so supple, so... easy to get in that little head o' yours."

Your hands tighten into fists on either side of your hips. Fighting back the urge to clamp your thighs shut around Joel's forearm, you keep watching, eager and curious to see what happens next. The closer his fingers get to your covered pussy, the more warmth he feels radiating from it. He feels the subtle tremble of your thighs against his palm, causing his fingers to dig deeper into your virgin skin.

"Joel...?" You breathe out heavily, your chest rising and falling quickly as the throbbing in your core only increases. This whole cat-and-mouse game is driving you crazy. The ache you feel is borderline painful, just begging to be relieved. "What... What're you...?"

Joel hushes you softly, his own lips parting as he rests his palm against your mound, slowly trailing his thumb down to rest over your covered, swelling clit. As he gently presses down, your hips jolt and you release a wanton whimper.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, your eyes so wide and mouth all open from the pool of warmth that briefly intensified in the pit of your tummy. "I felt something!" He lets out a low chuckle from your reaction.

He pressed his thumb down again, loving the little tremors he feels in your thighs. This time, he starts to rub slow, deliberate circles. You begin to feel the throbbing ache go away. It was now replaced with a tingly sensation you can feel all over your lower half. It was a liquid warmth that made your hips wiggle.

"Tha' feel good?" Joel asks, his breath calling across your knee as he presses a kiss to it. He trails the fingers on your mound further down to swipe up and down your pussy, just barely pressing against your hole. "Can Daddy take these off, babydoll?"

Barely registering what he asks, you still nod. You're in a hazy state, almost drunk and dizzy from what you're feeling. Joel kisses your knee once more before tucking his fingers underneath the waistband of both your shorts and panties and pulling them down agonizingly slowly. He briefly turns around to throw both articles of clothing aside. When he turns back to face you, almost all of the air is almost punched out of him.

With your thighs now comfortably spread open, you watch his reaction to your exposed pussy now on display for him to see for the very first time. You see his eyes darken and his jaw clench so tight that you're surprised his teeth didn't shatter from the pressure. Joel could barely think. All of his thoughts are clouded with permanent images of your virgin pussy. A soft dusting of hair covers your mound and pussy lips. Your clit was so swollen and pink, almost pulsating in time with your heartbeat. There was a sticky mess of slick leaking out of your tight hole. Joel's mouth waters. No matter how many times he swallows, it builds back up.

"Jesus Christ, sweetheart," he croaks, almost sounding in pain. "Your little pussy is the prettiest I have ever seen in my goddamn life."

Glancing down between your legs, your brows furrow at the wetness that keeps leaking out of you, now pooling onto the sheets. "What is that stuff coming out?" Your question came out embarrassed and shy, and Joel silently pats himself on the back for not groaning aloud.

"That's what happens when you're feelin' good, silly girl," Joel grins from ear to ear. His fingers touch your bare pussy for the first time, so soft and fucking wet under his fingertips. When he parts your pussy lips, spreading them wide like succulent flower petals, he can hear the faint wet noise, along with strings of your arousal connecting from one lip to another.

"Is... Is that normal?" Shyly asking him, your hips couldn't stop shifting. Having Joel play with your pussy like this was so foreign and weirdly not uncomfortable. It felt natural with him. You felt safe under his experienced, calloused hands.

Joel hums affirmatively. His attention was more focused on the wetness pooling on his middle finger. He fucking aches to sink his finger deep inside your cunt to feel your tight walls sucking him in. As he pulls his finger away, a string of slick follows and is shown to you.

" You see how messy you are, babydoll?" He smirks at the expression on your face. "Now, when you get like this, the only way for it to go away is for Daddy to clean it up with his tongue."

That makes sense. Joel knows more about this than you do. If he says one thing that might not be factual, you'll believe him with all of your heart. Also, the idea of your stepdad cleaning up your stickiness with his warm, wet tongue was exciting and you were curious to know what it feels like. He can see the realization settle on your face.

When you look back and forth from his finger and his mouth, the words spill out before you could stop them, "Will you clean me up?"

Joel's smirk widens, and he pops his finger into his mouth before he moves onto his knees. The taste of your tangy sweetness on his tongue made him go fucking insane. To know that he's the first man to touch you like this, to taste you on his desperate tongue made the ferocious beast within him thrash in its crate.

"Lie back, babydoll," he instructs you by gently pulling your body down, so you rest comfortably against the pillows. "Attagirl."

Joel's hands then gently slide under the crook of your knees, delicately parting your thighs and bringing your knees closer to your chest. This movement results in your labia spreading further apart, your engorged clit peeking out cutely while your empty opening quivers needlessly--so intensely pink and dripping with arousal. A soft groan escapes Joel's lips as he settles on his stomach, gradually moving his head closer until it rests snugly between your thighs. Lowering his head, his nose barely brushes against your clit as he takes a deep breath in. The aroma of your arousal causes him to see stars dancing behind his closed eyelids.

"Goddamn, you smell so fuckin' good, sweetheart," he sounds so wrecked and already fucked out. The fact that you have such a hold on him was catastrophic. This was a dangerous game he was playing. He knew there was no going back.

Opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out, he glides the warm muscle from your leaking hole all the way up to your clit. Upon feeling his tongue licking your pussy up and down, you let out a soft yelp that was quickly muffled from the palm of your hand. Your eyebrows twitch and your eyes flutter as Joel's tongue leisurely moves in circles around your clit before the swollen button is pulled between his lips and sucked on. The ceiling became blurry, your vision spotted with squiggly lines and black dots.

"Mmmm," Joel hums around your clit, the vibrations forcing another yelp from your covered mouth. He pulls his lips off with a wet pop before lowering his tongue to slurp up your slick messily and sloppily. "Tha's my girl. Jus' lie back 'n let Daddy clean up your mess."

Then, he starts ravishing your cunt. His hooked nose, his long tongue, his plump lips, his scruffy chin, his fucking sharp jaw were all covered in a concoction of your slick and his saliva. Joel's a messy eater, for sure. His big hands tighten in the crook of your knees, forcing your legs to spread wider apart and pinning you down further into the bed when you start squirming under his working mouth.

The wet sounds of Joel eating your cunt had you blushing from the top of your head to the painted tips of your toes. He flicks his tongue against your clit, leaning his head up briefly to spit onto your clit before eagerly licking it all the way down to your fluttering hole. The sounds you released are music to his ears. He's groaning and humming pleasantly against your soaking pussy. When he pulls away for a third time, strings of your slick are stuck to his chin and bottom lip. You glanced down at him with parted lips and unfocused eyes.

"Keep going!" You nearly wailed, hips trying to buck into his mouth, which he pulls away each time you buck up. "Please, Daddy. Oh, please, please, please keep going. I'm-I'm starting to feel so tingly."

Joel sits up suddenly, using one hand to go behind his neck to pull his shirt over his head. He yanks the clothing from his broad shoulders and throws it carelessly to the ground. Then, he pops open the button of his jeans, sighing heavily with relief as the tightness around his hard cock disappears. As he slides down his jeans, he sees your eyes almost bug out of your head. He laughs at that.

"Easy there, little girl," he mutters and fully slides off his jeans, once again tossing the article of clothing blindly across the room. "Ain't gonna fuck you jus' yet, babydoll. You still got a lot to learn before I think you're smart 'nough to handle me."

Your shoulders deflate when you hear that. Part of you was hoping Joel would go all the way with you, but he's right. There's still so much to learn and without his guidance, you'd be clueless and stuck. But that also means there is definitely going to be a sooner time until he takes your virginity. The thought casts a delightful shiver across your body; your stepdad taking your virginity--your mom's husband for crying out loud. It was better this way. If Joel thinks this is a good, sure thing, then so do you. Who are you to question his methods?

When Joel's head lowers back down between your thighs, you find the courage to gently curl your fingers through his hair. It was messy when he walked into your room, and you know you're only going to be messing it up even further when his mouth goes back onto your weeping cunt.

"Attagirl, babydoll," Joel murmurs against your cunt, his hot breath seeping across the throbbing bud and causing your hole to flutter. "Hold onto Daddy while he cleans her up." Her meaning your pussy.

Your mouth opens once his tongue grinds against your clit. Eyebrows twitching and eyes shutting, your head falls back and your fingers tighten in his hair as he licks, sucks, slurps, and swallows. Your thighs begin to twitch on either side of his head. Joel's fingers dig into your plush skin, gripping the meat and holding you steady. Moans start spilling from your lips when his tongue licks all around your hole before focusing on your clit again.

The tingling warmth comes back, now settling deep in the pit of your tummy and spreading along your upper thighs and clit. It's almost equivalent to peeing. And so, with a worried shout, you frantically try to push Joel's head away, but he doesn't budge an inch.

"I'm-I'm gonna... I'm gonna pee! Daddy, move!"

Your frantic whines are ignored. Joel only licks harder and faster, moving his head around in a circle to gather up as much slick as he can. He grabs both of your wrists and tightens his hands around them, pulling them away from his head and pressing them down on either side of your hips on the bed. His broad shoulders are doing a perfect job at keeping your legs from shutting completely. With your feet kicking at his back and your hips grinding towards and away from his mouth, you have no other choice but to lie there, like he said, and take it.

"Oh, my God," your voice was unrecognizable--breathy, high pitched, and slurred. The knot gets tighter and tighter. The warmth was nearly burning your gut. Your hole fluttered and began to tighten on its own. And with an arched back, you simply let go.

Joel can feel it before you do. As your back arched beautifully, your entire body tensed and your pussy spasmed against his chin. Your moans were stuttering and confused and so, so cute. Your words were slurring together--Daddyohmygodohplease. He shakes his head back and forth to further rub your clit without removing his tongue from the needy little bud. The action caused your body to shake.

Does he stop? Absolutely fucking not. He only grips your wrists tighter, most likely leaving bruises, and eats your pussy like a starved man at an All-You-Can-Eat buffet.

At this point, you're on cloud nine. It feels like you're submerged deep underwater, your sights blurry and your hearing muffled. You can't see or think, only feel. And what you feel is electrifying. Your nerves are buzzing all over, almost like static electricity running through your veins. The only thing that made you come back down to earth was the distinct and distant voice of Joel. He's saying something, but you're not sure what. You can only make out the words like that and good.

Panting heavily, your hips shift, and you feel a sudden surge of tingles spreading like wildfire along your lower half. It was addicting. Intoxicating, even. You can almost taste it on your tongue.

Joel observes you from between your thighs as you're coming back down from your first orgasm ever. The intensity nearly made you blackout. Your mom had never looked that pretty cumming from his mouth for the first time, ever. Seeing her daughter doing it because of his tongue made him want to whip his dick out right then and there and shove it so deep inside your needy pussy. But he won't do that. He's a patient man--for the most part.

His thick tongue sloppily eats you out. The taste and heady scent made him pussydrunk. His eyes were half-lidded as he swallowed down the combination of pussy juice and his saliva. He's so sure that after he wipes your wetness off his nose and mouth, he's still going to be smelling and tasting you for days.

Your speech is still slurred by the time you glance down at what he's doing to you. The pupils in your eyes are so wide that your irises are nearly black. Your baby hairs are matted to your forehead from sweat. There's a pretty glow on your skin from your first orgasm. You wondered just how much more you could take before you have to tap out--if Joel even allows that.

Speaking of which, he still doesn't stop. His jaw works tirelessly to scoop up your wetness. He's practically drowning between your thighs, a specific type of death that sounds like heaven on earth. Your labia are puffy under his tongue and your clit throbs rhythmically between his lips. The wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth working against your pussy made you blush fiercely.

"I... I... mmph," you could barely speak as you fell back again, desperately trying to pull your wrists free from Joel's tight hold on them. Your feet weakly kick at his muscled back, but he makes no point in stopping.

He laughs against you. He fucking laughs. The vibrations make your thighs almost clamp around his head if it weren't for his wide shoulders keeping you spread open for him. Joel pulls up for a split second to spit on your clit once again before going back down to lick you all over again. Your eyes cross and roll into the back of your head. Your hips are now mindlessly grinding up and down against his tongue.

"Tha's it," his response is muffled.

When he glances up at you, seeing your chest arched to the ceiling again, he releases your wrists and slides his hands up your arms. Both hands yank down your top with enough force that it causes one of the straps to snap off. You barely register the pain of your tank top rubbing your skin like a rug burn as you're so deep into cloud nine again.

Joel's hands cup and caress your tits, his fingers squeezing and grabbing them eagerly. His thumbs rub your nipples until they harden. Then, he's back to slurping and eating pussy like tomorrow is the end of the world and he only has tonight to show you what he can really do with his mouth. The feeling of his hands on your tits, pinching your nipples and fondling your sensitive flesh has the tingling sensation come back. This time it was a lot sharper and stronger.

Joel knows what's about to happen. It's only happened once with your mom, in all the years of being with her. And now it's going to happen with you. Like mother, like daughter. He removes his hands from your tits and places them back under your knees, further spreading your thighs to get better access to your sweet nectar hidden between your pussy lips. He doesn't even care if his jaw is on fire right now.

"I-I... Da-... aaahh-haaahh!"

Your little squeal comes first, then a steady stream of wetness splashes against his chin and chest as he ferociously sucks your clit and flicks his tongue fast and hard, just how you liked it. He fucking did it. He made you squirt for the first time. And god-fucking-damn, it was the sweetest thing he has ever tasted. It was better than any whiskey that ever touched his tongue. Now, your body can't stop shaking. Your thighs are trembling terribly, and Joel has to pull away to gently close them shut. Your breathing is labored and unsteady, your eyes shut tightly and body tense.

"Breathe for me, sweetheart," Joel murmurs gently, brushing your hair from your sweaty face and blowing cold air on your skin. "Jus' like that. C'mon, pretty girl. There we go."

The aftershocks coursing through your body are unmanageable, no matter how hard you tensed your body to stop them. Joel leans over your shaking body and kisses up and down your neck, humming quietly against your skin and lowering further down to kiss and suck at your chest. He glances up and sees your eyes are still shut as you try to relax. He takes advantage of this opportunity to suck one of your puffy nipples into his mouth and licks all around the erect bud, no doubt spreading your pussy juice that he still hasn't wiped from his nose, mouth, cheeks, and chin.

"Daddy?" You weakly asked, your thighs still shaking, but not as much as before. "That felt... That felt so, so good." Letting out a drowsy giggle, you covered your face and wiggled excitedly. You had came so hard. Not once, but twice. And the second time you squirted. You would often hear about squirting from your experienced friends. They described it as peeing, but it's not really pee, but it feels and looks like pee, but it's completely different, but also the same.

Smiling at your reaction, Joel removes your hands from your face, further leaning into your space with his head aligned with your own. The two of you share eye contact for a brief moment before he starts to kiss you. The groan he lets out when your lips touch has you grinding your hips again, desperately chasing something--you don't know what. When your tongues touch, you catch the faint tracings of what you taste like, and it's pretty yummy. It's almost sweet with a hint of tanginess. It almost tastes like your strawberry kiwi juice. Joel opens your mouth wider with his jaw to suck your tongue into his mouth before he coaxes you to do the same. The kiss was so dirty and frantic, drool pooling at the corners of your lips before sliding down your chin.

Joel pulls away to lick it up before shoving his tongue back inside your mouth. When he pulls away again, your eyes are still shut. "Open your mouth," he commands, his voice rough and gravely as he tries to hold back the beast within him. When you don't do what he says quick enough, he pops your cheek with the palm of his hand a little harder than intended. You yelped and your eyes flew open from the smack. Your cheek was burning, no doubt blooming pink from the force. "I said, open your fuckin' mouth." Joel squeezes your jaw roughly and forces your mouth open. You know what's going to come, so you stick out your tongue without being asked to and that pleases him.

A wad of spit lands on your tongue before Joel goes back to licking his way into your mouth, further spreading your slick from his face onto yours and your shared saliva dripping down your chin. Everything about this kiss was so dirty and filthy and represents your relationship with him. When you pull away from air, Joel sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before releasing it with a wet pop. He attacks your neck in biting kisses again.

The sensation of his beard tickled, thus causing you to giggle under his partially hovering body. Joel's shoulders shake as he chuckles against your marked skin. He flops down next to you, propping his head up with one hand while his arm rests on the bed. With his other hand, he draws you close to his chest. You hum gently and snuggle into him with ease.

"Daddy?" Softly speaking, you play with the collar of his shirt and shyly look up at him. "Do you think tomorrow... maybe you could show me how to... do stuff with my mouth, uh, on you?"

The unexpected question made Joel smile from ear to ear. He didn't even have to ask, or even tell you. This was something you thought about all on your own. There's a certain glint in his eyes as he looks at you. It's predatory and dark, and it makes you uncomfortable. His arm tightens around your waist to keep you from moving away.

"I don't know, babydoll," he says with mock sympathy, pushing a few strands of hair away from your hands. "You're not smart enough yet. You know that, you silly girl." As he pokes your nose, he almost wants to laugh at the sight of your pout. "Don't give me that pout." He pats your cheek with a little force again, forcing the pout to leave your lips when he glares at you.

As he lays back on the bed and pulls you into his side, Joel stares up at the ceiling. A plan forms in his head: do whatever you can to make her need you and no one else. A sadistic smile slowly makes its way onto his face. He's close. Just one more day until he can permanently get into your head and fucking tear you apart with his bare hands.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @blueberrypancakesworld @heyhihello-4771 @codenamekitten @chamepagnessimo @idioticcatss @takochansugoi @zjasminelouvre3 @natalieispunk @koshkaj-blog @giowritess @beardropascal @pascaltesfaye @callmeafra @nexy00 @josephquinnswhore @baronessvonglitter @peelieblue @paanchusblog @b3bybunny @sugadolly @ktluvsmen @elliesr1fle @taeslarityy @yourgirljasmin444 @laloestoyvivo @aquanatalie @vickie5446 @cowboybootjoel @olicity-boo @ashleyfilm

!! please let me know if you wanna be added or removed !!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller x reader #stepdad!joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller series #joel miller tlou

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lookingformoondrop · 1 year ago

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could i request a boyfriend!andrew graves x reader headcannons or scenarios? i LOVE TCOAAL🫶🫶

Boyfriend! Andrew Graves x Reader - Headcanons

TW: Andy has a foul mouth, reader gets groped, Andy is a little possessive, a tiny bit of violence (-is always the answer)

♥︎Notes: I'm kind of an idiot so if you notice something is spelled incorrectly, feel free to send me a dm so i can fix it (totally not at all referring to my first Yandere!Andy x Reader post where I spelled dark as darmfk ;-;). Also this is kind of short because so many people requested for Andy x Reader, so I didn't want to pull out all the stops. I hope this meets your expectations <3.♥︎

The first thing you gotta to know about dating Andy, is that he's very touch starved.

I can just headcanon that due to his aloof personality and very broody behavior, he doesn't get many hugs...

So when you enter his life, best believe that Andy shows you this completely different side of him!

I'm talking.... Cuddling in the mornings till the point where you're almost late for work because he refuses to let you go.

I'm talking.... Andy being able to sense when you're about to go into the shower. His spidey-senses tingles, and the moment you're about to hop in, he's right there already getting his hair wet.

I'm talking.... Trapping you with his kisses when you're making food, definitely not noticing that he's causing you to burn dinner.

And no amount of protest can deter this man either.

Speaking of making food... Andrew is the master-chef of the house!

Now he's no Gorden Ramsey (as he likes to tell you whenever he makes you a sandwich), but everyone knows that one bite of his food is enough to make a sailor come back to the land.

So it's very nifty when you're sick and at home, in need to have someone take care of you.

The first time you ever got sick was when you and Andy were still living separately.

It was a Friday night, and it was supposed to be your 1-year anniversary with Andy. Unfortunately, due to some unhygienic biotch at the office, you caught a cold and had to cancel.

At first Andy didn't respond, instead leaving you on read. You felt bad, figuring that he was mad at you for canceling.

But lo' and behold, exactly 10 minutes later, that was a frantic sound of keys jiggling into the your front door.

You had gotten up from your couch-potato position to see the person who wanted to rush into your home so badly, when it occurred to you;

Andrew is the only one with another set of keys...

And with that realization, Andy burst through the door with a pharmacy store bag in one hand, and a grocery store bag in another.

In an instant, Andy made you take a disgusting amount of cold medicine, and blessed your cold home with the warmth and smell of spices and herbs (likely all from the soup).

When the food was ready, he sat you up with a pillow and hand-fed you soup for the rest of the night. You felt so bad for ruining your anniversary, but everytime you tried to apologize for it, Andrew would stuff your mouth with more soup and would say;

"I don't care about that romance and anniversary shit. We don't need to go to a fancy restaurant or an expensive place just to feel like we're honoring an important date. That date is important because it is our date. We don't need to one-up that memorable time just to remind everyone of how special it is... Y/N, you're crying into the soup."

Needless to say, you cried.

But Andrew doesn't just take care of you...You best believe he also protects.

Well, sorta.

You could be in a grocery store, at a Boba shop, in the mall, getting new shoes, it wouldn't matter, Andrew would always have his hand on your waist.

Be it because he saw someone look at you, doesn't matter who or how old they are, he'll always wrap his arms around you and whisper ever so softly, "You're mine..."

It has definitely given you some weird looks over the years, but you know he means well.

And if anyone ever actually looks at you funny? It's over for them.

Andrew will make it VERY clear that you're not to be messed with.

For example, a couple of months into your relationship, you were riding the train. Enjoying a simple conversation about suspicious neighbors and whatnot, when all of the sudden some guy came up behind you and tried groping you discreetly.

Andy noticed very quickly that all the blood drained from your face. He looked behind you and noticed the old geezer trying to get a hand full of someone way younger than them, and Andrew could feel every restraint in his body snap.

In an act of "self-defense" as told to the cops later on, Andrew punched the living daylights of the guy and sent him flying into a pole.

You fussed over Andy's fist for awhile, completely forgetting about how you felt. But the only thing Andy could think about was how he should've hit that guy harder.

When you guys were finally walking home, hand in hand, you leaned on Andrew.

"I'm sorry about today Andy... I didn't mean for you to get all banged up."

Andrew snorted, "My knuckle is a little scratched up, so what? That perverted asshole had it coming for him."

You kissed Andy's cheek, which granted you a dark blush from Andy, and a grin from you.

"Thank you Aaandy~" You brushed his hand with your thumb,

Being in a relationship with Andy is a little messy, and yes sometimes a little crazy. But no matter what happens, Andy will always stick by your side.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Andy squeezed your hand in return.

Thank you for the ask<3

#the coffin of andy and leyley #x reader #andrew graves #andy graves #headcanons #y/n #andrew graves x reader #andy graves x reader #relationship headcanons #cute #what else do i put here #not proofread #andy and leyley #the coffin of andy and leyley headcanons #dem kids swear up and down

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abbeym28 · 10 months ago

Text

Clarisse x Reader - This is a Life

Clarisse x gn! reader

Reader is from the Aphrodite cabin, but only for the plot!

An- Around 3.3k words, sorry it took so long to get out! Hope you guys enjoy this! Let me know if I should write something that kind of does more of a deep dive into this, because I feel like something is missing or something

Warnings- Weapons, fake dating, blood at one point, affection, petnames, guy named Andrew (apologies to any one named Andrew), Aphrodite is a pretty okay mom in this. Pls tell me if I missed anything!

Everybody in camp recognized you as the favored child of Aphrodite. People looked twice when you walked by, flowers bloomed in your direction, and mirrors wished they could reflect you.

Clarisse is the favored daughter of her dad, Ares. People feared her, flowers looked away as she passed, and only a select few could stand to be close to her.

But even those who were close kept a great distance.

That was what was similar between the favorite Aphrodite kid and the favorite Ares daughter.

But even that was comparable, for she was a daughter, and a daughter could never compare to a son in her fathers eyes, whilst your mother seems to love you unconditionally.

You and Clarisse weren't close by any means, but you had always caught each other's attention on some level.

For you, it was how she sparred. Muscles flexing, covered in sweat, and a wild and free grin spread across across. You could find beauty in her that was no wheres else in the camp.

For her, it was the way you held yourself and how you were with young campers. Your slight confidence, the care you have for each camper, and the way you treat others. It was admirable, considering the way that Clarisse was probably the opposite of you.

“-risse, Clarisse, Clarisse!” Clarisse brook out of the slight stupor she was in and looked across the table where her sibling was calling her name and waving his hand around. “Oh, thank the gods. I about almost called over an Apollo kid to check on you.” She rolled her eyes as he laughed a bit.

They were in the dining hall, for it was lunch. Her plate was still quit full as she looked down at it. She was hungry, but she felt as if there was something preventing her from eating.

“Hey, would you look at that.” Her brother was looking past, his eyes holding questions. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and scoffed. There you were, holding your tray and standing talking to Percy Jackson, who was sitting alone at his Poseidon camp table.

That Capture the flag game happened a while ago now, but it was still upsetting how many people still like that kid, even after what he did, although it makes sense with all of the things he has done.

Her grip on her fork tightened, and she glared hard in your direction. Her brother snorted. “You really like them, huh?” She whipped her head back to look at him.

“What? Who?” She softened just slightly after he said your name. “Where did you get that idea?”

“The way you two look at each other. There's a rumor going around that you two are secretly dating each other, but we all know that you would never.”

“Never what?”

“Date anyone. Especially them.” She scoffed again.

“What do you mean?”

“You're not… an emotional person. Everyone knows you couldn't even make a relationship actually work.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine then.” She slammed her hands against the table and got up, making her way over to you. Percy noticed her first and scrambled to sit up straighter and to not smile. You raised your eyebrow at him, but he nodded his head in Clarisse’s direction and you laughed a little.

“Hey Claris-” you lifted one of your hands up to wave, but once she was close enough she took that hand in hers and then wrapped her other arm around your waist, pulling you towards her in a kiss.

The whole camp seemed to go quiet, and while it wasn't the most emotional kiss, Clarisse was very passionate in how she was kissing you, it was overwhelming to say the least. Your tray dropped, spilling food all over the ground and making a loud crash. Your hand found its way to the back of her neck and you gently tugged on her curls and twirled some of the baby hairs at her nape around your fingers. She broke off the kiss, looking you right in your eyes as you were flustered and tried to reclaim your breath.

“Um, what the-'' Percy began, but before anything else was said Clarisse tugged on your hand and ran towards the forest with you.

“Clarisse, what was that a-”

“Date me.” She blurted out the words before her mind could tell her to not to.

“What- this is super out of the blue, even for you Clarisse!” Clarisse rolled her eyes.

“We can fake dates then. Just for a few months or so.”

“How is that even relevant?!?!”

“If we fake date, then none of it will be real. And then, I get to prove something, and you…well, I can make sure people dont bother you.” You narrowed your eyes at her.

“But why?” Clarrise sighed deeply and your eyebrows furrowed more.

“Look, people already think we are dating, my sibling thinks I could never be in a relationship, and I don't hate you. Much.” She then looked you up and down in a way that almost made you wish that you were invisible.

“Now, how well can you act?”

The shock of the century happened at camp Half Blood the next morning at breakfast when Clarrise showed up with you attached to her arm. Jaws were on the floor and every table was turned towards your direction.

Clarisse had a proud smirk on her face as she survived the dining hall. Some part of you also felt weirdly proud as well, as if having your arm intertwined with hers was the reason you were at this camp anyway.

She moved you in the direction of the Ares table, an arrangement the two of you had settled on while setting up rules and guidelines. You would sit with her at her table, at least come to most of her training sessions and sit next to her at the bonfires. She would visit the strawberry fields and lake with you, join the craft classes you have with young campers, and on occasions, she would allow you to place a kiss on her while wearing lipstick or lip gloss, making sure to leave a mark.

You both also agreed on minimal kissing, which was a shame since she was a good kisser. Any other types of touches were pretty much guaranteed if the two of you were near each other.

“Goodmorning.” Clarisse greeted the rest of the table, untangling her arm from yours before setting her tray on the table and then sitting down. You did the same, and in an instant, Clarrise wrapped her arm around your waist, situating her hand on your stomach comfortably. You scratched a bit closer to her so your thighs were touching.

A chorus of morning greetings left various peoples mouths and Clarisse hummed a bit. She reached for a bag of apple slices and ripped open the small bag with the help of her teeth. You giggled a bit and nudged her side.

“Honey, that was kind of weird. You know you could've just let go of me, right?” She stared into your eyes mischtifully.

“You lost me at let go.”

It took everything in you to not burst out laughing as a few people around you literally gagged. She winked at you and you grinned at her before the two of you each turned back to your breakfast.

Your chin sat on both of your palms as you sat in the stands right outside of the training grounds, watching as Clarisse took on another camper in a dual. Capture the flag was coming up in about a week, but despite that, many people have come up to you asking if the news that had spread around camp was true.

“Hey, babe, did you see that?” Clarisse was jogging over to you, a smile on her lips. You smiled back at her and once she was close enough moved to stand between your legs, her hands trailed up your thighs lightly before they landed on your waist. You tried your best to ignore the shiver that went through your body.

“I missed it. I’m sorry hun.” You put one of your hands on her shoulder while you fiddled with one of her strands of curls with the other. She let out a breathe, and you could almost swear she was pouting.

She leaned in closer, her lips almost touching your ear. “You're doing good, yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” you whispered back. She moved a little bit back and smirked.

“Good. You keep doin’ that, 'kay sweetheart?” she patted your thigh twice before turning and running back to her training. Your heart skipped one to many times during that interaction.

Please Mother, let me survive this.

The next week and a half went pretty much like that, with you and Clarisse glued to each other's sides for the entirety of the day. She was even somehow able to convince Chiron to put the Aphrodite cabin on the red team.

You were with Clarisse now, getting ready for the capture the flag game. Your armor sat heavily on your shoulders as you did your best to fix all of the straps while following your “girlfriend” and listening to her bark out orders and plans.

Some of your siblings were grouped together all complaining about how much stuff they had to do compared to when they were on the blue team, but you knew that some of them were grateful that Clarisse knew that they were capable to do things that the other cabins could do.

Clarisse looked behind her where you were still struggling with your armor. She sighed and moved closer to you. She carefully took your hand in hers and then tighten your straps so that way it was secure. You watch her face the whole time, finding the way she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration to be quite cute.

“There. You ready to do this?” She looked up, pausing when her eyes met your. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before your eyes flickered to the ground, or at least any wear that wasn't her face.

“Yeah, I am. What did you want me to do again?” She huffed out a laugh and then moved past you.

“All you need to do sweetheart is to follow me.”

Even though you were out of breath, you continued to follow your fake girlfriends footsteps.

Well, it wasn't like you had much of a choice with how tightly she was holding your hand and tugging you along paths.

Out of nowhere, a group of people from the blue team jumped out of the trees and began to attack. Clarisse let go of your hand and brought out her spear, running forward and taking on two people at once.

You took out your provided sword and prayed that your trainings with Clarisse would pay off. Your sword clashed with the sword of a boy from the Hermes cabin, and you recognized him as a guy named Andrew, someone who used to follow you around and flirt with you before you and Clarisse became a temporary item.

“I’ve been wondering if I could even get you alone.” Andrew backed you away from the rest of the group and more into the trees.

“I have a girlfriend, Andrew.” You made sure your voice was stable and hard. You hoped you could get your point across to him, but this is the guy who couldn't take a hint from you before, so it was evident that he wasn't going to start now.

“Come on, everyone knows that you like me. We can tell that Clarisse pressured you into the relationship. The two of you weren't meant to be.” You tripped over a root, sending you falling, hitting the ground hard and hurting your back in the process.

“Me and you were meant to be together. Couldn't you see that I was flirting with you? ‘Cause I could see that you returned the feelings with how you flirted with me.” Your eyes flickered for any type of escape from his anger and jealousy, but there was no safe way out with how he was practically sitting on your stomach. It made you sick with how close his face was to yours.

“Well,” you carefully moved your hand to twirl a longer strand of his hair between your fingers. It was straight, especially compared to Clarisse’s. You tried to ignore how wrong this felt, and you tried to push away the urge to gag. If using the charm you had gotten from your mother would get you out of this, then so be it. “I had no idea you felt like that, sweety. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Charmspeak wasn't against the rules. After all, this was the gift that was given to you from your godly parents.

You watched as his eyes followed your hand as you began to softly caress his face.

This has to be one of the most disgusting things you have ever done.

“So you do like me! I knew th-” Andrew stopped his sentence as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he flopped off of you to the side. You jumped up, finding yourself in front of your savior.

“Clarisse! You knocked him out! Is that even aloud?!” Clarisse laughed and poked Andrew with the none sharp end of her spear.

“He deserved it. Easiest decision of my li…” you stopped trying to wipe off all of the dirt that had resided on your clothes to raise your eyebrow at her Clarisse.

She was staring at you, her mouth slightly open and an almost entranced look in her eyes.

Was there dirt on your face? Did you somehow use your charmspeak on her?

“Um, Clarisse, maybe we should-'' Before you could finish your sentence, Clarisse had brought her left hand up and gently slid her thumb over your cheek bone.

You guessed that you had gotten a small cut there, and from the small flash of red that appeared and her thumb, you guessed that you were right. She moved it away a bit, and then she pushed back a strand of hair that had begun to obstruct your vision. She kept her hand there then, and you brought up your hand to touch her wrist, a grounding move for you were starting to feel light headed. You stared into eachothers eyes, and what broke you apart was the flinching sound of the games ending conch shell horn.

The blue team had won, another year in a row.

Clarisse sighed and ended the contact, moving away and bending down to pick up your discarded sword. She put it in your hands.

“You weren’t too bad out there. And, you, huh, you looked, um pretty good too.” She nodded, cleared her throat and turned away from you, heading back down the trail, but not before using her foot to push Andrew out of the way more.

For some reason, that was the moment you finally realized how in love you were with your fake girlfriend.

That night, your mother appeared in your dreams for the first time. Sitting on the wood pierre that was feet above the water, with moon light reflected off the liquid, Aphrodite appeared in front of you. With curly brown hair and brown eyes, and that tanned skin that you could swear you had begun to memorize, your mom looked different from what you expected.

“I appear as what you are attracted to,” Aphrodite nudged your shoulder from where she sat beside you. She seemed to respond to what you were thinking. “For you, that's that girlfriend of yours.”

“Fake girlfriend. We aren't really dating.” Aphrodite laughed in a way that made your heart beat a bit faster. That laugh belonged to someone who now had your heart.

“Could… could you switch to look like someone else? This is kind of unnerving to me.” She laughed again and shook her head.

“I can't be here for long, my child.” She change the subject.

“Then why are you here?”

“You're in love somehow. I know that you probably wouldn't tell her without some sort of push.”

You stared at her. She was practically glowing, the sear fabric that was draped on her body floating.

“Hearts aren't meant to hurt, hunny. If you distance yourself, or try to break away from her and move on, then two hearts will get hurt.”

Silence fell over the two of you, just for a moment.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Am I… am I really your favorite? I mean, other people say that, but you've never given me a gift, and I haven't been on a quest, and this is the first time I've even met you. I just-”

“There are many of you, and I have love for each of you and your siblings. But yes, it could be said that I am very proud of you, and what you have accomplished.” Tears started to fill your eyes, though you weren't sure exactly why you were crying.

“Goodbye, my dear.” She softly pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And with that, your mother was gone once again.

Tears were running down your face once you woke up.

You moved off your blankets and got up moving towards the cabin's front doors. It was almost pitch black, and it was easy to tell that it was still night. Maybe just sitting out on the porch and thinking would do you some good.

But right when you were a few steps away, the door started to crack open.

Your mind jumped to many conclusions, like there was a ghost or one of your siblings had stayed out late with their partner. Then you caught sight of the hand that was pushing on the wood.

It was the same hand that has intertwined with yours, the same hand that had held onto your body all week. The same hand that you had seen wielding a sword for years.

“Clarisse?” The door stopped opening, and then Clarisse poked her head through the opening.

She whispered your name back, and you took note about how this was the most sheepish you had ever witnessed her to be. She backed up, and you went out of your cabin to join her.

“Hey.” she whispered.

“Hi.” you whispered back. “What's wrong?” You could swear that her hand twitched in the slightest, like she was about to reach out and hold yours but thought better.

“I, um, had a nightmare. You were the only place I could think to go to. It’s fine now though, so you should go back inside and get your beauty sleep.” She turned away from you, starting to go down the steps back to her cabin.

“Do you like me?” She stood still on the second step down. You walked towards her slowly, and you started to wish you had brought a blanket out with you. The night chill was starting to get to you, and you were starting to wish that you had that type of safe feeling.

“My, um, my mother visited my dreams tonight. And we talked, and I know that we havent really been dating, but i kike you Clarisse, and I kind of hoped, only if you want, if we could kind of be offic-”

A pair of lips crashed into yours before anything else happened. The passion from the first kiss that the two of you had shared was there still, but this time something felt so much more real.

You felt so many emotions, and so did Clarisse, and you knew that she was trying to convey them all to you like this.

Both of her hands were on your face, each one gently holding your cheeks so you could stay in place. Your hands were on her wrists, but you moved them to the back of her neck where you gently tugged on her curls. You smiled into the kiss.

Her hair would always be your favorite.

Clarisse pulled away from the kiss, and laughed when she saw your eyes were still closed. You glared at her a little, but your smile was still present on your face.

“I do.” Clarisse said. You hummed and tilted your head in confusion. Clarisse laughed again a bit.

“I do like you.” Somehow your smile got even bigger.

“So we can kiss anytime now?”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

#clarisse la rue #pjo #pjo x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader

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harstyle · 6 months ago

Text

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now.

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered.

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself. Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?”

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum.

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?”

“Of course.”

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.”

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine.

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

“Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?! I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone: “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight. “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts. Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat. He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder.

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

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I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

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