#and i gave them like. an exact time and date. and if i changed it now that would look downright inconsistent | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

poisonf0rest · 5 months ago

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𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp

word count: 9.3K what the fuck

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.

Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files.

You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.

After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.

Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.

You doubt you ever will again.

In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request.

Michaela - Boss Man

checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?

talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :(

she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes

pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help

You - Little Star

Hey Micheala

You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further.

You - Little Star

No I get it, thanks for trying though

I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time

And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again.

It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for.

Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.

Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now.

With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line.

You groan as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor.

residency-CS-alerts

Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent.

Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.

Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.

He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.

Safe to say, you admire him just a little.

You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case?

You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat.

Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer.

“Tell me what you see.”

Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings.

You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.

“What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”

He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”

Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered.

Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”

Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?

Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”

“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”

“More detail than that, please.”

A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”

Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”

You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

_______

Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day.

And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.

Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either.

Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers.

Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain.

You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling.

Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.

Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.

Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”

“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.

“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”

You die a little inside.

“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”

Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?

Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table.

His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."

"I accept!"

The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content.

The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."

You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."

Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”

You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way.

After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth.

"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”

You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s.

A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream.

_______

It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever.

Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth.

If that were all, then everything would be perfect.

If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own.

But of course, the plot has to thicken.

Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all.

But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming.

Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone.

This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.

And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.

Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture.

"You're late."

You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."

"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."

"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?”

You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."

"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"

"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."

Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”

You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”

“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"

"We are."

“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”

"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."

You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”

You sit. Zayne follows.

Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”

“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”

“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”

“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”

You’ve really outdone yourself this time.

Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.

“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”

Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.

“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”

Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.

"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."

You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.

"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”

“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.

"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."

"You have."

Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.

"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."

When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”

You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.

"What do you mean by help, exactly?"

"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"

There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t.

"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"

A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”

Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”

“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.

“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”

The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.

You nearly laugh.

“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”

Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”

And he chokes. Again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.

Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.

“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”

You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”

Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.

"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."

The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.

But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?

"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"

Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”

A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”

“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.

He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"

You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."

"It's a deal then.”

He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."

His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."

And with a wave, he's gone.

_______

You don’t know what you expected.

Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.

You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked.

To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.

Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”

Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him.

You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."

He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself.

"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.

Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.

"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.

"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”

Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.

“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”

His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you.

You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck.

But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone.

You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you.

“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. ��Where would you like to do this?”

You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.

Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.

And with that, you lead him to your room.

Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue.

Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next.

He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.

“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”

As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.

Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.

As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."

Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.

You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.

He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"

"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.

Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are."

His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.

"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.

"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.

“Do not mistake my care for pity.”

Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.

Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."

Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.

His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin.

It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.

All for the better, you remind yourself.

He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm.

Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.

Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop.

Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.

“No.”

His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.

“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.

You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.

Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”

“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.

You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.

It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive.

You think you’d let him.

Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.

Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.

Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.

Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”

You can barely manage a nod.

“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”

Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.

And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.

Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.

And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser.

It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.

"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."

His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.

He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.

When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."

The bastard.

You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.

Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion.

You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.

"Slower. You're going too fast."

You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?"

Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."

As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you.

Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers.

You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase.

“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”

You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.

"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own.

“Good. It feels really good.”

Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.

It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.

You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.

But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.

You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."

The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.

“Again. Deeper.”

It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit.

You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.

His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”

“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”

It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.

At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.

The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force.

Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.

He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.

And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor.

You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.”

You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”

A promise he has every intention to keep.

Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth.

You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.

“That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”

His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob.

"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“

Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."

You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."

"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”

“My voice?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”

You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”

You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.

And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest.

“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”

He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.

The rhythm is comforting.

Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.

“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”

Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls.

When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.

"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.

"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.

You nod.

"What else, darling? Are you close?"

Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it.

"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.

"Come. Come for me, darling."

And you do.

Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.

The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.

Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.

"How are you feeling?"

The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.

Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”

Zayne stiffens. “Good.”

He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.

“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.

You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you.

But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine.

You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace x reader #lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne #poisonwrites

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mikanotes · 4 months ago

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teach me ft. eunhyuk x gn!reader

genre: angst/comfort (?) established relationship (?) warnings: sweet home 3 spoilers, nothing much just not my best fic Sorry!!! possibly super ooc eunhyuk author’s note: not much insp so this isn’t my best! the season was pretty good though so. yeah! have this because i love eunhyuk and i missed him a lot.

summary: What do you do when the fight is over? When the person you were looking for comes back with half of his self missing?

“You know I could be of use to you, right?”

“How?”

You groan in annoyance, tilting your head back. The sky is clear and the streets are quiet. This doesn’t quite feel like the ultimate perfect ending, it doesn’t quite feel like peace, but it’s a kind of calm you won’t take for granted. You look back up and continue walking.

“You’re missing tons of emotions. Trust me, there’s no one better than me to help you relearn them.” you say, attempting a dramatic salesman kind-of tone but failing miserably. You hear Eunhyuk scoff and think it was a bit of a victory, anyways.

“That sounds believable.”

“It is!” you insist, jogging up to him, “I swear we were dating before you went off and died.”

“I know.”

“That’s insane. You— I mean, you didn’t forget things, so then you must know this isn’t how you treat the person you’re dating after not seeing them for over a year. Surely.”

Eunhyuk turns to look at you. “The person you’re dating? We’re still together?”

“I mean, it’s not like I ever gave up on you.” you say, crossing your arms. He stares at you blankly for a couple more seconds before looking ahead again.

“Sounds like a waste of time.”

You sigh and let your expression fall for a second before fixing it. When your gaze falls on Eunhyuk again, his own expression has changed ever-so-slightly. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and his eyes are squinting a little, with a familiar tilt of his head. Then he blinks and returns to this neutral expression of his. “Is it not?”

“What else do you have to do with your time?”

“Finding others—”

“—Like you. Sixteenth time you say this, by the way,” you scoff, walking ahead of him. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

Your eyes are burning a little bit. No, none of this feels victorious. To hell with a final battle, with everyone escaping, with everything. Nothing has changed. All that’s good is Eunhyuk being alive and he only feels like half of himself.

The worst part is that he acts the same as he used to. To the detail. It’s so obviously him that it almost hurts— All his actions just miss the hidden emotions he always kept close to his heart. Now it all feels empty.

Eunhyuk says your name and your heart feels like it stops. Just for a moment. You turn to see him catch up to you and slow at your side.

“This thing,” he says, and pulls out a necklace from a pocket inside his coat, “It’s yours.”

You blink. “… Yeah. It is.”

He looks at the piece of jewelry, holding it up by the chain like some kind of random thing he found on the street, before tossing it around his hand and grabbing the pendant in his palm.

“She said to use memories to relearn emotions,” he recalls quietly, then turns to look at you, “What do you think?”

“You tell me. Do your memories help?”

“I remember caring about you.”

You stare at him dead in the eye and barely blink at all for a few seconds. He does, and tilts his head again.

“What is it?”

“Why am I the only one still in love? That’s really unfair.” you huff.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

“I said I remember everything, why are you trying to fool me? You always made this exact same face when you tried to hold back your tears,” he states, “I know this much.”

You heave a deep sigh and crouch down on the ground, covering your face with your hands. He’s right. It’s starting to make you angry. It really is him. It’s as if part of you was still trying to believe it wasn’t really Eunhyuk, that he was pretending not to feel emotions anymore. But it really hits you this time, that he’s simply lost that part of himself. You should be grateful that’s all he lost in the process of his rebirth, but you miss him. You miss him so much it hurts.

“I told you not to cry,” he sighs, and the closeness of his voice indicates he moved to your level, “What’s the point?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

You shake your head.

“…If it’s making you this sad, then alright. Help me relearn them. Emotions,” he says. You take a deep breath and look up slowly. He’s waiting, crouching in front of you, a casual expression on his bloody face. “I’m a quick learner.”

“Okay. I’m bad at teaching though, I totally lied earlier. Promise not to leave me.”

“I have no reason to anymore. Besides…” he trails off, gaze averting. “…”

Lee Eunhyuk is more confused than he’d like to admit. He doesn’t feel emotions anymore, and he doesn’t feel any attachment to them either. There’s little hints of them, however, here and there. He sees you in pain and there’s a slight discomfort in his chest, reminiscent of a time long gone. He sees that necklace and picture and wonders why he bothers carrying them around, still. He sees the road ahead of him and acknowledges that he’s… Just a bit lost.

What now?

“… It’s for the best I stay with you,” he says, blinks, then looks at you again, “I think.”

“You think?”

“That’s the best I can give you.” He smiles, a bit tightly, and the grimace you make in return before scoffing out a laugh tells him he must not be doing a great job at this whole thing. He gives up for now.

“Let’s find somewhere safe to stay first.”

“Anywhere is safe as long as you stay with me.”

You give him an expression of irritation that he doesn’t really understand and get up, immediately beginning to walk away. “Don’t say things like that! You’re making me hope! Shut up!”

He gets up slowly and follows you. “It’s true, though.”

“Shut up!”

#eunhyuk x reader #lee eunhyuk x reader #lee eun hyuk x reader #lee eunhyeok x reader #lee eun hyeok x reader #sweet home x reader

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chillinglyadventurous · 2 months ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy

Tags: Jealousy, Pining

I did NOT proofread this.

Once you met Stan’s twin brother, you were absolutely smitten. Stan had known immediately, of course. You told him not ten minutes after Stanford Pines, the real one, had sent the FBI agents away.

You pulled him aside as the twins gushed over Ford, “Why is he hot? Why do I want to marry him immediately?”

Stan shook his head at you, “I knew you were into older men, [Y/N], but I thought you only have eyes for me?”

The fake hurt in his voice was amusing as you crossed your arms over your chest. You kissed his cheek before turning your attention to his biceps, giving them a strong squeeze. You laughed when he flexed.

“A big, strong man like you,” you gushed, “ugh- men like you just can’t be tied down to one woman.”

“You got that right, hot stuff.”

You and Stan had always been flirty with each other, perhaps a bit inappropriate at times, but it was strictly platonic. He had even pulled you aside once, telling you you were a cute girl, but he didn’t have the same feelings. You had laughed in his face, of course. So presumptuous, so full of himself. “I’m out of your league, babe,” you punctuated your sentence with a wink, leaving him speechless. “You wouldn’t know how to handle me.”

Now, you were all about his brother. He was more your type anyways, older and more mysterious. Stan was an open book, always speaking his mind. You appreciated the honesty, but you weren’t Stan’s type either. He preferred a the exact opposite of you.

In some twist of fate, Ford had asked you to dinner. You knew it wasn’t what you thought. It couldn’t be a date. He was simply taking you to dinner to talk over his research. When he and Stan had gotten back from their sail around the world, he had promised to show you everything over a nice meal, to thank you for all your help before they had left.

You were still excited, though, so you had dressed up. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was more casual, a dress you had found in the back of your closet you just hadn’t had the chance to wear in a while. Mabel had offered to help you get ready, that’s why you stood in the middle of Stan’s TV room.

“How do I look?” You gave a little spin in the living room. You held out your hands as you turned. “Think he’ll like it?”

Stan growled at you. A wide, flirty grin covered his face, “I don’t know about that nerd, but I’d take it off you right now if you’d let me.”

“Stan!” You chastised, your head pointing toward the kids sitting at the table behind you.

Mabel looked from you to Stan and back. She looked confused, “Grunkle Stan, she looks beautiful! Don’t make her change.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper agreed. “I think [Y/N] looks very pretty.”

You laughed at their innocence, hoping it would never go away. They were sweet kids. You loved them. Maybe, if things worked out with Ford, you could be their great aunt. Graunt? Graunty? Grauntie? You’d work out the details later.

You smiled when Ford came around the corner. He hadn’t really dressed up like you had. He wore his normal garb, but the trench coat had been forgotten. You didn’t understand how he could wear a sweater in the middle of summer. You felt over dressed.

“You ready?” You beamed, taking the outstretched, brand new, Journal 4 in your hands. You were so eager to see what he had been up to.

His hand ghosted over your shoulder, afraid to touch down as you walked by him. Your nose was already buried in the pages. “Only if you are.”

A smack and your yelp broke your concentration. You looked back at Stan who had just smacked you on the rear. He gave you a wink, “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

You didn’t notice the scowl on Ford’s face. Specifically, you didn’t notice the angry glare Ford gave his twin brother. Stan knew how Ford felt about you, yet he was still doing this?

“Stanley,” Ford had confided one night aboard the Stan O’ War II, “I think I have feelings for [Y/N].”

Stan had barely looked down at him brother who was lying on the bunk beneath him. He gave a dismissive wave, “She’s a cute one. That’s for sure.”

Now, you were sitting at dinner. You barely noticed the waiter as you and Ford chatted about his and Stan’s run-in with a giant kraken that had almost sunk their ship. You laughed with him over the story, amazed how he used his magnet gun, carefully aimed at a distant lighthouse, to pull them to safety.

“That’s amazing!” Your hand touched his. Perhaps you had too much wine, “You’re amazing.” The buzz of your phone pulled you out of the spell Ford had put you under by just being himself. “Excuse me,” you whispered as you reached into your purse. You held up your phone so he could see Stan’s name.

U 2 get married yet?

Stan. You let out a breathy laugh, “You’re brother is the most annoying person I have ever met in my life.”

Maybe we would be if you’d leave me alone.

U know you love it when I bother you.

You noticed the change in Ford’s demeanor. “You okay?”

“Of course,” he muttered as he waved the waiter down for the check. He gave you a sad smile. “It’s getting late,” he sighed as he paid the bill.

You walked back to the Shack in silence. As always, Ford held open the door for you and you snuck inside only to find Stan waiting for you. He gave you a warm smile and patted the arm of his chair for you to sit. You sat down next him, his arm slung over your shoulders.

“You two have a good time?” You smiled, but Ford didn’t. His eyes were glued to Stan’s hand squeezing your bicep.

You shuffled away from your friend to sit on the floor instead, “We had a great time, didn’t we?” You glanced over at Ford who refused to look at you.

You didn’t understand. “Yes, of course,” his tone was dry as ever. “I have work I need to do.”

A pit formed in your stomach as he disappeared. You looked up at Stan with pleading eyes. He gave you a warm, comforting smile, “Don’t get so flustered, babe. That man catches mood swings better than he catches a ball.”

“Does he like me at all?” Your words were more confident than you had expected. You sighed, “One minute, we’re laughing and have a great time. The next, he’s all cold and distant. I don’t get it. Did do something?”

You had avoided Ford for a few days after that, never even getting the chance to thank him for such a nice meal. The two of you skirted around each other. Just as things felt normal in the few moments you shared, he grew cold as soon as Stan walked into the room.

You didn’t understand it. You thought they were getting along now, only ending their sailing trip for the kids to come back for the summer. They seemed fine most days. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed.

“Hey,” you sighed “I brought your journal back.” Ford barely acknowledged your presence in his study. It upset you. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Ford looked up at you, shocked by your words, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I thought we had a nice time at dinner,” you crossed your arms over your chest, closing the book he was reading. You stared at him with an unblinking gaze. “Now, you’re acting like I don’t exist. When you do speak to me, you get all quiet when Stan shows up. What’s up with that?”

He breathed in a heavy inhale. His thumb and pointer finger gripped the bridge of his nose, “I can’t be around you and not think about you and-“

“What’s shakin’, bacon?” Stan smirked as he entered the room. The atmosphere in the study was tense. “Whoa, what’s going on here?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Ford did the same. The two of you glared at Stan. “Just say it, Stanley,” Ford huffed. “Just say she’s already with you. I’m tired of waiting for you both to just spit it out.”

“What are you talking about?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not with anyone.”

Stan snickered from beside you. “Yeesh, I forgot to tell you guys something.” You and Ford turned to Stan expectantly, “So, [Y/N], you know that little crush on Sixer you told me about last year?” You blushed, trying to hide it behind a flare. Ford’s face relaxed, stare landing on you. Crush? “Well, Ford told me he’s got a thing for you too. I thought I told you.”

“No,” you spat, “you left that little detail out.”

Ford stood from his chair. “I thought you two were seeing each other. You’re always flirting.”

You shook your head, a small smile forming on your lips. Every ounce of anger you had towards Stan vanishing, “We’re just friends.” You could see the relief on Stanford’s face. His eyes sparkled from behind his glasses. “Maybe we should give dinner a second chance.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #stanley pines #ford pines x reader #mabel pines #dipper pines #stanford pines x reader #chillinglyadventurousfics #stan pines

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damiansgoodgirll · 2 months ago

Note

Can I request a Damian Priest x reader fic?, reader thinks Damian is cheating on her with Kayden so she distances herself from him and tries to avoid him. She's been hurt in the past (By ex partner) hence her accusations.

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are more than welcomed!

‼️angst, mention of cheating, feels, ex partners mentioned

odyssey of love

damian loved you. you had no doubt on that. he loved you more than anything, you were his partner, his ride or die, his best friend, his lover. there was no reason for you to doubt of his love for you. and yet, you couldn’t get past that feeling of damian and kayden being constantly together.

they’ve been friends for many years, he knew her before he got to meet you so you weren’t surprised there was a special bond between the two of them.

but having her around all the time was getting tiring. when you were at damian’s place, she was there. you didn’t mind filming their tiktoks, but you minded having her all the time when it was supposed be just you and your boyfriend.

you barely had free time together anymore.

car rides? she took your spot and now you felt like they were dating and you were the friend.

movie nights? she was always there, stealing your spot on the couch, getting more and more comfortable next to damian.

gym? he started training more with her than you, leaving you alone or with rhea sometimes.

your heart didn’t want to think that damian was capable of cheating on you with her, but your mind was playing tricks with you and at this point you were sure he liked her more than you.

rhea noticed how you distanced yourself when you were all out together. at dinner you always took spots near damian but now you didn’t even care, all you wanted to do was disappear.

you thought that after your past relationship, you finally had found peace with damian. he promised you that he would never hurt you, that he would never lie to you. he promised and you believed him. still healing from what your ex boyfriend left you with. trust issues, insecurities and a lot of traumas.

but damian was different, or so you thought.

you knew you had to confront him somehow. you deserved to know if he was cheating on you. you needed to know before you became paranoid. and when he texted you that he would come over at your place with food and drinks, you knew it was now or never.

damian knew that something was wrong the moment you didn’t greet him at the gym two weeks ago. he found it weird, maybe too weird. being used to your bubbly personality, he thought that something was wrong the exact moment you avoided him and kept training with rhea. he tried to have conversations with you for the past days but you always dodged him off.

he was tired of it. he needed to know what was going on. he needed to know if your feelings for him changed. so when he offered to have a take out night at your place, he hoped for you to say yes. and when you agreed, he was more than happy to see his girl.

you were lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear damian opening your front door with the spare keys you gave him once your relationship got serious.

sitting on the couch, you pretended to be lost in whatever show the tv was playing, waiting for damian to make his appearance into your living room.

“hey beautiful” he whispered, not wanting to disturb you as he thought you were interested in the show.

“oh, hey damian…” you made him sit next to you on the couch, helping you set the little table in front of you with all the foods he brought “did you leave any food for other people or did you take it all?” you joked seeing the amount of food he got.

he laughed, missing your sarcastic jokes “i did…i tried to contained myself but i trained all day with kayden and now i’m starving…” he joked, not noticing how your body tensed up at the mention of the young woman.

“we should eat before it gets cold…” you tried to avoid any weird feelings and instead focused on the food since you didn’t have lunch.

“uh uh…i want a hug first…and a kiss from you amor” he smirked. how could you say no? you were down bad for him and that hurt more.

you laughed, accepting him with open arms. you felt his head laying over your shoulder and his lips softly kissing your neck “i missed you so much baby…” he murmured softly, leaving more kisses upon your skin until he reached your face.

for a moment you forgot everything that has been happening and melted when his lips gently touched yours. his hands moved to your hips, as he sat down and took your place on the couch, he led you over his lap. your hands moved behind his neck, bringing him closer to your face “how i missed you baby…” he softly moaned.

you knew you had to stop before that led to something more. he was there for a reason and you wouldn’t have slept peacefully if you didn’t have your answers “baby…we should really eat, i’m starving” you whispered against his lips, making him smile into the kiss.

“fine…but later that night, i’m eating something else” he winked as he let your hips go so you could sit on the couch next to him.

your face blushing. he knew the power he had on you.

as you both ate, he asked you about your day and your week since he didn’t see you much. you’ve explained him what you were up to and when you asked him about his week, the answer he gave you made you sick.

why was kayden everywhere?

“…oh and she made me film probably ten tiktoks just yesterday” he laughed but got serious when he turned to look at you and saw your teary eyes “baby? are you okay?” he got worried.

“damian are you cheating?” you asked. no coming back now.

he was taken aback by your question. he wasn’t cheating so he didn’t know why did you get that idea “mi amor…what?” he turned off the tv so there was nothing distracting you from the conversation you were going to have “por favor, mirame…why would you think that?”

you couldn’t help but let those tears fall “it’s just…you’re always with her…”

“with who amor?”

“with her, kayden…and i feel like i’m not enough for you anymore…” you didn’t mean to sound so weak but even the thought of damian cheating on you was killing you.

“y/n, baby…no, why would you think that?” his voice softened as he helped you sitting between his legs “nothing’s going on between me and her, i promise you…”

“she’s everywhere damian…she took my spot in your car, she took my spot on the couch next to you, she took my spot at dinner…she’s always there to film tiktoks and then making excuses to stay more…she started training with you so i had to train alone everytime rhea wasn’t available…i just need to know if you don’t want me anymore damian…” your voice broken with sobs as more tears fell down “please…i deserve to know…i don’t wanna go through this all over again, not with you…” you broke down crying even more.

damian’s heart broke. he couldn’t believe he was the reason you were crying in his arms. he knew about your ex relationship and he promised you to protect you, to be there for you “hey hermosa…shh…don’t cry baby, it’s okay…” he whispered trying to calm you down. your head was laying on his shoulder while your tears flew into his t-shirt.

he kept whispering soft words to help you calm down and when your breath slowed again, he gently lifted your head up so he could take a good look at you. his hands went to wipe away all the tears that kept falling and he saw it in your eyes that somehow he broke your trust.

“everyone think you’re dating…i see the comments, i see people saying that you broke up with me and they’re happy about it” you spoke up “and if you are dating i need to know, please…don’t go behind my back like this, i can’t handle it again…” damian never heard you sounding so broken and he hated himself for letting this happen.

“listen to me amor…there’s nothing, absolutely nothing between me and kayden…we are just friends and that’s it, i promise you” he sounded so serious and you tried your hardest to believe him but due to all your trust issues, you didn’t know if what he was saying was true or not “i know you’re hurt right now…i understand and and im so fucking sorry…no te imaginas cuanto lo siento” he was trying to gain your trust back but he knew it was hard and he had to work for it “i never meant to make you feel like that, i wished i realised it sooner, i wouldn’t have let this happen, i promise you…”

a tear fell from his eye. he couldn’t stand the idea of losing you. you were everything for him. his first real love, his best friend, his partner in crime. you were his missing piece and he loved you too much to let you go.

“i believe you damian…” you sobbed a little, still trying to slow down your tears “it’s just, i felt so fucking jealous and paranoid this past week. you were constantly with her and everytime i tried to get to you, i felt like i was overstepping…”

he closed his eyes to stop more tears from falling. he was hating himself for all the pain he caused you “i don’t think i’ll ever stop apologising for the pain i caused you…but you have every right to know that there’s nothing between me and her…i don’t wanna lose you, you mean too much for me.”

you saw how vulnerable he was. you saw how he was trying his best not to break down in front of you “you’re not gonna lose me damian…i love you so much…i should have talked with you about this instead of attacking you of cheating, i’m sorry…” you realised that maybe overreacted but now you relieved.

“it’s okay…i should have noticed it sooner, i never meant to ignore you and i promise it will never happen again, te lo juro” he smiled softly and you nodded, letting your head fall on his shoulder as his hands moved gently on your back, trying to release all the pent up stress you had.

you stayed there for a few minutes before you both continued to eat. you spent the night cuddling on your couch and damian stayed true to his promise as he made love to you all night long, showing you that you were the one he wanted.

not her, you.

———————————

por favor mirame = please look at me

no te imaginas cuanto lo siento = you can’t imagine how sorry i am

te lo juro = i promise you

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buttercupjosh · 2 months ago

Text

The Perfect Proposal (the 4 times you expected that Mat was going to propose + the 1 time he actually did)

(Gif credit to @mattymartin)

word count: 1,968

genres: established relationship, fluff, self-insert

warnings: none

A/N: This story is based off of the song “Joy of My Life” by Chris Stapleton and I make references to this song throughout the story. I highly recommend listening to this song before reading my story. This story is short, sweet and fluffy. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set this upcoming season or even a past season). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. This is not a sequel to Your Favorite Secret (which you can still read and check out and if you want this to be a sequel to that, you can interpret it that way). As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“Someday it will come right on cue.” -Somewhere Love Is Waiting for You from the Schmigadoon TV series soundtrack

Prologue

Meeting Mat changed your life in the best way possible. You took Mat’s breath away when you met up for your very first date and since then, you continued to take his breath away in small doses every time you saw him. He added so much goodness and love into your life and you did the same for him. Mat felt so grateful to have you in his life and even though he made millions, being with you was his greatest treasure. You and Mat deeply appreciated each and every moment you had together, no matter how big or small it was; the two years that you had been together so far were some of your greatest times. You were both so smitten that you always looked at each other with such deep love and devotion and couldn’t get enough of your significant other’s presence. For a while, Mat knew that he wanted to propose to you but he just needed to figure out the best way how to and time when to ask that all-important question.

————————————————————

It finally happened. After 3 challenging years, you finally completed law school and earned your Juris Doctor degree from NYU. All of your friends and family came into town to celebrate your accomplishment. In order to accommodate everyone, Mat graciously rented a large AirBnb house in the Hamptons to host your graduation party. You handled some aspects of the party planning while Mat handled the rest and the party went very well. During the congratulations portion of the evening, Mat wanted to give a quick remark to acknowledge your achievement.

“For the past 2 years, I watched this wonderful person ambitiously work their way through law school. There were a lot of late nights, early mornings and so many case reviews and vocabulary study sessions that I think I could go get a law degree. Y/N, to say that I am proud of you is a massive understatement. My love, you are so amazing and you did it. I love you so much. Because I love you so much, I have a surprise for you.” Mat spoke.

This moment seemed like it was the right time for Mat to ask for your hand in marriage; you had been dating for a while, you lived together and blended your families together, and he had just finished a great speech that made all of the party’s attendees realize how much he was in love with you. Instead, Mat handed you an envelope. Inside the envelope was a copy of a check for the exact amount that you owed in student loans and a letter informing you that your loans were fully paid off. You couldn’t believe what was happening and began to cry.

“How did you do this?”, you mustered out through your tears of joy.

“So you know how you gave me access to your book of important information in case anything happened to you? Well, I asked Liana to call the loan office to pretend to be you and ask for your account balance”, Mat cheesily revealed.

Mat saw firsthand how much distress and frustration law school caused you so he wanted to help out someone he deeply loved by eliminating the stress of having to pay for a student loan; this surprise was better than an engagement ring.

————————————————————

After your graduation party and after the Islanders were eliminated from playoffs, it was the official start of the off-season. This year, it was a milestone birthday for Mat’s dad so the Barzal family decided to do a European summer vacation to celebrate. You were important enough to their family that you had been invited and Liana, Mat’s sister, also invited her best friend to accompany her on the trip.

Hand-in-hand with the man you considered to be the love of your life and his family, for 3 weeks, you explored England, France, Monaco, and Mat’s ancestral homeland of Italy. In England, you indulged in English culture while Mat hilariously attempted a British accent. In France, you shared plenty of kisses with your lover in the City of Love, swooning every time Mat spoke French. In Monaco, you and Mat felt like the protagonists of a spy thriller while hanging out in the city.

Once you arrived in Italy, you got to see a different side of Mat that rarely came out. He had been to Italy several times before but he was thrilled to share all that he knew about that special place with you. Mat glowed differently whenever you got authentic gelato together or when he swam in the waters along the Amalfi Coast. Of course, throughout the trip, you still spent plenty of time with Mat’s parents, sister, and her friend and attended a lovely birthday dinner on a boat for Mat’s dad while visiting Sicily.

On the plane ride traveling back to Canada after your whirlwind European tour, you thought to yourself that you were going to come back to North America with a new jewelry addition to your left hand; you did have a lot of date nights and one-on-one time with Mat on the trip. However, your wonderful boyfriend did get you a gorgeous Cartier love bracelet from the official store in Paris and you were returning back with the gift of good memories that were created with your future in-laws.

————————————————————

The remainder of the off-season went by so quickly; between weddings, summer holidays, and other events all happening, you and Mat were swept in so many different directions. Time flies when you’re having fun and soon, it was already time to return to Long Island for the hockey season.

The usual ups, downs, and chaos of the hockey season lingered in your household but you navigated through it together. As the season went on, you spent a lot of time studying for the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and Universal Bar Exam, which allowed you to become eligible to be admitted to the New York State Bar next year. Even though you had those responsibilities, you still supported Mat at most of his home games. One of the things about Mat that you loved was how he would always quietly tiptoe into your shared home after a late game but he loved how you always waited up for him to come home after every game, regardless of what time he returned. Before you both knew it, the year was winding down and it was almost Christmas time. You and Mat had decided to host Christmas this year and both of your families were coming. This wasn’t the first time that both of your families had been together to celebrate an occasion; they were there all together for your law school graduation earlier in the year and both sides enjoyed being together as one cohesive unit but for some reason, things felt different to you this holiday season.

You spent hours preparing and making sure that everything was right for the arrival of your guests. Christmas came and went wonderfully. It was so nice to have your families together during the holidays. You gifted Mat a new game day tie and a gift card to one of his favorite road restaurants; Mat got you a nice bag to carry all of your work things and a personalized padfolio for you to take all of your legal notes in.

Yes, you were secretly expecting a diamond underneath the tree this year but it was okay because you still got other great gifts as well. Despite wanting something else, you still deeply cherished the time you got to spend with your loved ones.

————————————————————

After the holidays were over, you and Mat settled back into your respective routines until it was All-Star Break. Mat was not chosen for the All-Star Game that year and some of the Islanders players and families decided to go to the Bahamas for their team All-Star Break trip. The time away gave you and Mat both some essential rest and relaxation. At the end of February, you were scheduled to take the Universal Bar Exam but you took a break from studying to enjoy your mini-vacation. You stayed with your lover and company at a phenomenal resort; you swam with dolphins, relaxed at the spa, and ate so much tasty food. You also enjoyed lots of group activities with Mat and his teammates and their respective significant others. During the trip, one of Mat’s best friends’, Anthony, and his long-term girlfriend, Emma got engaged. It stung a little to see someone else reach the relationship milestone you deeply desired to share with Mat and you had expected that it was going to be you and your lover’s turn to share that special romantic moment on this trip, however, you were happy for your friends.

————————————————————

One evening, you came home from a long, exhausting day of work. After passing both the Universal Bar Exam and Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam and completing some other requirements, you were admitted to the New York State Bar last month and got a job as a junior attorney. It was a pleasant surprise to see Mat cooking; he was subtly singing in the kitchen and tenderly caring for some handmade pasta. You couldn’t quite make out what song Mat was singing but it didn’t matter what it was because you had caught him singing songs that you’ve played around the house and pop songs from the radio plenty of times before. You smiled to yourself as watched him in his element before slipping away for a much-needed shower.

After you came out of the shower and changed, there was a beautiful plate of pasta waiting for you on the table. Mat tapped deep into his Italian heritage and made a delectable dinner for the two of you. You shared with Mat the details of work and although, he may not quite fully understand everything you were expressing your feelings about, he still listened to you as you rambled on. After dinner concluded, you and Mat were going to share a box of bakery cannolis and watch a movie on the couch but Mat told you to wait at the table and suddenly got up. He returned to the room with a look of nervousness on his face. You asked Mat if he was okay but you could tell that he had something important to say.

“I’ve been holding onto this ring for a while. There were so many other times that I wanted to ask but there’s just something that feels so right about this moment. Sitting here, I realized something very important. I want to spend the rest of my life, making you dinner when I can and listening to you speak. I want to continue to come home from my games to you and wake up next to you. I have the greatest honor of knowing and loving you. You have the sweetest heart that’s made of gold and you are like an angel brought down to Earth from Heaven. I want to be by your side forever. Y/N, you are the joy of my life. Will you marry me?” Mat declared while holding out the engagement ring of your dreams in a Tiffany blue box.

You were speechless because Mat was right; this was the perfect moment. You looked straight into Mat’s green eyes that you admired so dearly and accepted his marriage proposal; you were both super excited to embark on this new journey in your relationship. You and Mat swayed with each other to the sound of your fiance’s voice, serenading you to “Joy Of My Life” by Chris Stapleton, the same song Mat was singing to himself earlier. Patience was an important virtue and all of that waiting paid off at the right time.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat Barzal imagine #mat Barzal fic #ny islanders #my writing #hockey writing

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bwabys-scenarios · 7 months ago

Note

Vampire kurapika?? ITS BEEN ON MY MIND ALL DAY

Strange Girl(NSFW)

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

Vampire!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

A/N: This post has been in my drafts since October 😭

warnings: slight yandere behavior, Kurapika is possessive/protective over you, fingering, creampie, biting, Kurapika drinks your blood

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

In his few centuries of being a vampire, Kurapika had grown lonely. He hid himself away in the large manor that had been passed down in his family, only coming out to feed at night.

Although, on one of these nights, Kurapika’s life would change forever.

It was late October, perhaps even Halloween night. Kurapika had stopped keeping track of the exact date years ago. It didn’t really matter, he couldn’t feel the cold or the heat on his undead skin, so the changes in months and weather meant little to him.

He wasn’t really that hungry, but had decided to feed that night to get it over with. Honestly, the blonde tried not to feed all that often, preferring to stay in his manor and read to pass the time.

However, he heard the town nearby would be relatively quiet, considering there would be a huge party that all the humans would be attending. That meant he could easily pick off one of the stragglers in the dead of night, giving him an easy meal.

Kurapika roamed the streets, wearing a new coat from one of his latest victims and using the streetlights to read as he walked. It was a new book, some kind of romance novel. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the genre, honestly it just depressed him, but over his 300 years of life, the things he hadn’t read became smaller and smaller. He didn’t have the privilege of being picky anymore.

It was around midnight when he sensed someone else on the path ahead of him. He glanced up from his book for a split second, long enough to see who it was, but not long enough to cause suspicion.

Already, he was feeling bad. It was a girl, a pretty one at that. She was strolling down the street, humming along to something she was listening to in her headphones. The girl didn’t seem to notice him until she got closer, glancing up to give him a friendly smile, pulling off one of her headphones.

“Hi!”

Kurapika gave a quick nod in response before looking away. He didn’t like talking too much with his victims before he drained them, it just left a bigger impact on him to talk to his food before he ate it. “Did you not get invited to the party either? I thought I was the only one!”

He attempted to ignore her, waiting for her to get close enough to strike. “Oh, is that a romance novel? I haven’t seen it before!”

‘This human sure likes to talk.’ Kurapika thought, his scarlet eyes peeking over his book to get a better glimpse at her.

She was closer now, only a few feet away. Now he could tell she was rather plump, and incredibly cute. The woman was wearing a thin silk nightgown with a cardigan thrown over it to keep somewhat warm.

“… why are you dressed like that? Its the end of October, it’s not exactly warm out.”

Although Kurapika couldn’t feel the cold, but he could tell she could. She hummed, stopping 2 feet in front of him. “Oh, sometimes I have trouble sleeping, so I walk around and listen outside and listen to music until I get tired.”

The vampire sighed, looking her over. “You shouldn’t do that. The people say there’s a serial killer on the loose.”

‘That serial killer being me,’ he thought, his eyes scanning her figure.

She tilted her head, seeming to take in his appearance before speaking again. “Hmm? I’m pretty tough I’ll have you know! Look!”

She pulls out a little pocket knife, and it was almost amusing how small and useless it looked. “I’m armed!”

Kurapika looked at this girl standing before him and smiling, and he knew he was going to be leaving hungry tonight. “I see… well, I’ll be off then.”

The woman blinked, quickly turning to grab his hand. “Hey wait!”

Kurapika froze, the soft, warm feeling of her touch sinking into his hand. He almost shuddered. The only ways for vampires to experience warmth was through human touch or blood, so it almost a euphoric feeling to be touched. “What?”

He glanced back at her, giving her a slightly surprised look when he saw she was pouting. “You didn’t tell me why you’re out here all by yourself. It’s not safe for you either!”

Was this little human… worried for him? He wanted to laugh, but instead, Kurapika decided to indulge her. “I guess I’m on a walk as well.”

She seemed unimpressed with his answer, but didn’t push further. “Ah…”

He looked down, noticing she still hadn’t let go of his hand. When she caught him looking, she blushed and pulled her hand away. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

She twiddled her thumbs, glancing up at him. Kurapika found this human somewhat… cute.

“One more thing!”

She smiled shyly at him. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around town!”

Kurapika thought for a moment. He could lie to her, but he considered lying a sin. It was a little hypocritical of him, considering he killed people to eat.

“It’s Kurapika.”

She smiled, offering her hand to him. “Well I’m (Name), nice to meet you Kurapika!”

And like that, they were exchanging phone numbers. It took him a moment once he was alone to process that she had snatched his phone, gotten his number, and given him hers. He was too distracted by the kissy mark now on his cheek… and the sweet smile she gave him when she left.

This human had caught his interest… and he wouldn’t be letting her slip through his fingers.

———————

(Name) ended up being quite interesting, keeping him entertained. At first, that all she was, entertainment for him until he got bored of her presence.

But after spending yet another night as her personal body guard while she went out for drinks… he felt the creeping feeling of protectiveness beginning to evade his mind. He didn’t like the way the other humans spoke with her, how they touched her with little regards to who she may belong to.

Lately, when she requested he’d join her, Kurapika preferred spending nights in at her home. She enjoyed this as well, calling their meetings “sleepovers”. He hated how he found that cute…

“Kurapika, do you want to sleep on the couch or my bed? I promise I don’t mind sleeping on the couch-“

He stopped her by raising an eyebrow. “I would not kick you out of your bed, (Name).”

She pouted a little, something that always softened Kurapika’s cold exterior. “Do you have any other ideas, my dear?”

(Name) thought for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows. “Hmm… oh!”

Kurapika blinked when she grabbed him by the shoulder. “We can share my bed! Ah, that’s the best way to have a sleepover, isn’t it?”

Oh, his naive and innocent little friend. Kurapika sighed, rubbing his temple. “Dear, I am a grown man and you are a defenseless woman. Are you sure?”

(Name) tilted her head, looking up at him. “Yeah… because you would never hurt me, right?”

If his cold, undead heart could race, it would. He melted, cooing softly as he caressed her chubby cheek. “Of course not, my dear. I would never hurt you, never.”

She giggled, tugging him towards her bedroom. “Then let’s get ready for bed!”

——————

It was hard for Kurapika to concentrate on sleeping when (Name) was curled up next to him, clinging to his side. Did this woman know what personal space was?

He sighed, reaching out to gently caress her cheek. She was so soft, so warm… and she smelled like home. Kurapika had never felt more at ease in his long, miserable life. He only was able to relax and truly be himself when he was with her.

She slept so soundly, even with him, a man eating monster in her bed. Kurapika had told her of his true nature a month into their friendship… yet she stayed with him.

“You’re beautiful, you know…”

Kurapika leaned forward, giving her forehead a kiss. “I love you…”

The words just came out… and he found himself blushing at the fact. He… loved her? Was that what these feelings were?

That explained how protective and possessive he was over her, how all he wanted to do was keep her tucked away in his embrace for all eternity. His lips found hers, and he gave her a gentle kiss as she slept.

When he pulled away, his eyes flashed scarlet. Kurapika wanted her more than anything, and for once his connection to this human had nothing to do with his need to feed.

Kurapika… he genuinely loved her. Her kindness, gentle nature, and understanding mind all made him fall head over heels. No human had ever accepted him for who he was, but she had with ease.

As he gently caressed her cheek, Kurapika vowed to love her for the rest of his life, to keep her safe and happy.

And as the sun rose, he made sure the blinds protected him from its harmful rays. Kurapika didn’t want to hide in his coffin, he wanted to spend more time with her. Now that he knew what he was feeling, all he wanted was to soak in her presence for as long as he could.

“Good morning, my darling.”

She rubbed her eyes, still waking up when she felt his hand on her cheek. “Mmph… Kurapika? Good morning…”

He was still in awe at the fact she didn’t flinch at his touch. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

Kurapika caressed her cheek with his thumb, his scarlet eyes soft with affection. “This. Me touching you…”

She blushed a bit, looking away. “I don’t mind at all… don’t you know how precious to me you are?”

“Precious? To you?”

Kurapika leaned in closer, his undead heart soaring. “You mean it, (Name)? Truly?”

Her cheeks continued to get warmer. “Of course… why would I let you stay with me if I didn’t care for you? I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t just share my bed with anyone.”

It was Kurapika’s turn to blush this time. A vampire as old as him getting flustered over one human? It was embarrassing.

But he couldn’t help but swoon when she touched her forehead to his. “I love you too, you know.”

His face flushed an even brighter red. “Y-you heard that?”

“Felt it too.”

She smiled, pointing to her lips. Kurapika whined in embarrassment, hiding his face. He felt like a teenage boy again, embarrassed by his first crush.

“Mmph…”

His blonde eyelashes fluttered when she captured his lips with hers. Kurapika raised his hands to cup her chubby cheeks, lightly squishing them as he melted into the kiss.

She tasted so sweet, her tongue more delectable than any blood he’d ever drank. He felt almost drunk off of her affection, his eyes half lidded as he pulled her into his lap.

It wasn’t until she whimpered into the kiss and shifted in his lap that he realized he was hard. He felt humiliated, popping a boner from a heated kiss.

“Want you…”

His teeth grazed against her neck as he whimpered out his needs. “Need you, (Name)… so warm, wanna…”

Kurapika slipped his fingers into your panties right as his fangs sunk into your neck. You hissed in pain at first, but the feeling of him stroking your needy cunt was enough to have you mewling out his name. “K-Kurapika!”

He’d never pleasured a woman before, but she wouldn’t have guessed by the way he was touching her as if he had done it a hundred times already. His fingers sank into her just as he retracted his fangs, lapping at the small pinpricks in her neck.

“So pretty, like an angel…”

He pulled down his pajama pants just enough for his cock to spring forward, rubbing it against her needy pussy. “Warm… so warm, all wet for me…”

He pulled her down onto his cock, capturing your lips in a kiss. She could taste the metallic taste of her blood on his tongue, his hands moving her up and down on his cock.

“Squeezing me…” he said with a grunt, feeling her clench around him as she came.

“C-cumming, Pika!”

He kept moving her, his mouth moving to her pretty breast. His tongue flicked against her nipple, quickly taking the (color) bud into his mouth to suck on.

Kurapika left hickeys all over her, occasionally sinking his gangs into her skin. As he continued to fuck into her pretty cunt, his possessive feelings continued to grow until he was growling into her ear.

“Mine, all mine. No one touches you but me.”

He was almost feral, his teeth bared as he came inside of her. She was a panting mess, whimpering as his cum painted her walls.

After giving her a creampie, Kurapika calmed down a bit, feeling like he had claimed her in some way. He let out a soft purr, rubbing his face against her neck and licking the bite marks he had left there.

“Kurapika…”

She clung to him, letting him clean her up and apply small bandages to the bite marks he left. He felt slightly guilty, but that guilt was outweighed by the immense satisfaction he felt so see his beloved covered in his love bites.

“Mine, all mine…” he purred, curling up with her in bed. The two spent the rest of the day snuggling, never leaving each other’s side.

Kurapika had found a reason to keep living his eternal life, and would never let her go. His (Name), his love.

His everything.

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forcemeanakin · 8 months ago

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Right where you left me.

•WARNINGS: Angst. Situationship. May trigger people with abandonment issues or that have intimacy problems. Not technically cheating, but it may be triggering. Anakin's a douche bag.

Pairing: au!Anakin Skywalker x you!reader.

Summary: Anakin decides to pursue things outside of your relationship, breaking your heart in the process.

Word count: 1.7k.

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.

☽⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✺⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☾

You ran into the coffee shop, in a hurry, which is a normal state for you and your continuous tardiness. “Fuck.” You muttered under your breath as you forced the door open with unnecessary strength.

Anakin must’ve been waiting for half an hour now.

On your tippy toes, you scanned the room, looking for the golden curls to stand out from a booth.

Bingo.

Trying to hide your excitement, you rushed to the table where your -relatively- new thing was waiting for you. You cursed your bag for making so much noise and told yourself off for packing so much shit. Maybe there was no need to bring all the stuff with you, but you couldn’t help yourself in your excitement to show Anakin all of the activities you had planned for you two and the remaining part of the summer.

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough for him to listen to you, but your shortness of breath didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave you a toothless smile as you sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was at work and my manager-” You didn’t finish the sentence, instead, your face let him know everything he needed.

“Don’t sweat. I haven’t waited long. Five minutes to be exact.” He checked his phone carelessly.

Oh.

“Training ran long?” You hoped.

“Oh, no, just ran a little late.” He shrugged his shoulders. Like it was of no importance.

At least you felt ashamed for being late. He didn’t seem to carry the same guilt.

Sometimes Anakin did this thing that stung your heart a little. His number one priority had always been him. And when you agreed to try things with him, you knew that was implied in the contract. Part of you had been hoping that you were going to be the reason that changed.

So far, you had failed in your mission.

“Oh, right.” You tried to fake a smile.

“And how’s life outside of work, baby?”

And just like that, your heart felt a little lighter and spark returned to your face. Especially when he reached out to hold your hand and play with your fingers. Especially when he used that nickname that you loved and you hadn’t heard in a while from his lips.

“It’s fine. My summer classes are always boring.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the end because he knew how much you hated to take extra courses.

“I told you to give yourself some time off in the summer.” He raised his eyebrow.

“I know, I know…” You huffed. “Actually, I’ve been working on that.” You smiled, turning to your bag and taking some of the things you packed.

Tickets for one of your favorite movies, that he insisted he wanted to watch with you. It made you smile so hard when he had proposed that plan, given that he was aware how much that franchise meant to you.

You also took out some coins for the local fair, the one you two had walked by and promised to do that as your next date.

The brand new control for your gaming console you had just bought to join him in video games because he said he wanted to share that without you. He seemed pretty excited to do that as an activity together and he even listed all of the games you might like.

And right when you were about to take the keys of your summer house out, to hint him that you were ready to take the next step in your relationship, he stopped you.

Anything intimate always made you nervous, even when you two were in the middle of it. It was a very vulnerable space for you and Anakin was your first in many things. It was normal for you to still be adapting to it.

But you wanted to try. For you.

For him.

As a more experienced person than you, Anakin had needs. Needs that you sometimes failed to meet. That even though he was patient, you could feel how your lack of confidence sometimes bugged him. Not in an explicit manner, just… the occasional huff when he tried something experimental in bed or when you started to psych yourself out of the make out session.

Any other person would have already left, but Anakin was your friend first and he was well aware of your uptight personality way before the two of you agreed to be friends with benefits. He knew what he was getting into and he was actually glad to help you experiment with that part of yourself you normally hid.

So your demonstration of being an organized and planning psycho was nothing new to him.

“Hey, hey…” He slowed you down, barely gazing the things on the table and fixing his eyes on yours. “Before you get started, I wanted to talk to you.”

His serious tone alerted you. But you weren’t surprised. Something inside of you had been alerting you all weekend. You thought it was your well-known anxiety. However, this felt unusual. Like his habitual ghosting and lack of response for the past few days meant different things this time.

“Sure.” You took a deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious. “Go ahead.” You nodded with a little smile trying to appear serene.

“So, sorry for not replying to your texts this weekend. I was out in nature, thinking and connecting, you know?” He tilted his head, his eyes looking for some compassion out of you.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You rushed the words when the silence dipped between you two, part of it your fault because you were too worried with your sinking heart.

You could understand a little impromptu retreat, you only wished it wasn’t right after you did some pretty intimate stuff back at your house. That last day you two crossed more boundaries than ever before. And even though you highly enjoyed it, his absence after that had you feeling nauseous, making you overthink and regret your decision of not giving him your virginity right in that opportunity. Maybe he would have shown more interest if you would have-

“So…Uhm… I think we should stop hanging out.”

Your heart was down by your feet when he pronounced those words. You tried with all your soul to control your trembling hands that lied in between his palms so he didn’t notice how he was ripping you apart. Your irregular breath threatened to put you on blast but you managed to keep it on the low.

“It’s not about you, seriously. I love hanging out with you and spending time with you, among other stuff.” He chuckled lightly, but instead of following his action, you released the breath you were holding. “But I’ve been talking to this girl and I just want to make sure that everything is working out with her. Emotionally.”

The sting in your eyes only grew bigger as you realized how embarrassing and heart shattering this moment was for you. Your cheeks felt hot and tight, something you tried hard to disguise with a breezy exterior.

Like a flash, you remembered the day both of you talked about the rules of your agreement. You kicked yourself mentally when you reminisced of the moment where both of you agreed to let the other one know if they wanted to pursue something with someone else. You had said yes, in the expectation that his constant checking in on you and daily talks was enough proof of interest. Meaning that he would not be looking outside of your “situationship” .

And you agreed, because that was your case. You were interested enough.

“You let me know if you want to see another guy, okay?”

You could almost laugh at such stupid idea. Didn’t he know?

“I think it’s better if we stop talking, so I can figure out things with her.” He scrunched his nose, like he was running out of words.

But how many words do you actually need to let someone know you don’t want them? He didn’t need much more. You’ve gotten the message.

“It’s nothing definitive, but yeah… Let me know if you have any questions.” He gave you a side smile, still fidgeting with your frozen-in-place fingers.

That took you out of the slow motion trance you were in.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You took your hands out of his quickly, blinking quickly into realization. You started to rush everything back in your purse, screaming the word “Stupid!” over and over again in your head while you carried on with a calm expression. “Do not worry about me. No questions on my part. Thanks for letting me know.”

I guess.

“Totally agree with not talking anymore.” You finally stopped for a second after pushing all of the items on your tote bag. He seemed to be analyzing your expression in search of any sign of real approval, because your shy and cold body language wasn’t reassuring him. So you put on your bravest face and forced a smile. “I hope everything turns out great with her.”

Speaking those words felt like hot iron was passing through your throat.

He gave you an honest smile and got up, taking his jacket with him. “Thank you. And thanks for understanding.”

You stayed frozen in place, your purse on your lap with your hands clutching it so hard you could feel your nails through the fabric. You limited yourself to nodding quietly and letting the side of your mouth curve slightly up.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay-” He began explaining his sudden escape.

“Don’t be. Don’t worry about me. ” You dismissed. “I’ll just stay and have lunch.” You took the menu and fixed your gaze on the listed items, anything that wouldn’t be his eyes.

He excused himself off the table politely, leaving you all alone and speechless. You glued your eyes to his back until he exited through the door, begging silently that he would turn around and say something else. Something that would pull you back into his life.

It seemed like that wasn’t his plan.

“I know I shouldn’t look for you for sexual stuff, but can I contact you for friend stuff?”

The text arrived that Saturday at 1am, 5 days later, erasing any progress you had done.

The day of his usual drunken nights.

Right around the time he used to get bored and there wasn't anything left to smoke.

Exactly at the time he would always contact you.

And you?

You were still at the restaurant. Unable to move.

Every day since that day.

Right where he left you.

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars #sw anakin #anakin #anakin skywalker smut #fanfic #anakin au #anakin x reader #anakin x you #angst #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker blog #tcw anakin #situationships

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starkwlkr · 1 year ago

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the perfect dad | lewis hamilton

warnings: child loss, depression, online hate (if these topics are sensitive to you, please don’t read, your health is much more important!!)

The day Y/n and Lewis met, it felt magical, those were her exact words. It was 2008, a year after his F1 debut. Y/n, at the time, didn’t know anything about the sport other than the cars go really fast and there’s a world champion every year. She worked as a presenter alongside Natalie Pinkham. It took one interview for Lewis Hamilton to fall in love with Y/n L/n. After their interview, Lewis asked her out and from then on, they were named the paddock’s it couple.

Their relationship was made public after Lewis won his first championship and kissed Y/n on live tv. It became a regular occurrence for them. After every race win, Lewis would be interviewed by his girlfriend and interrupt her for a kiss.

The year was 2011 and after three years of dating, Lewis had proposed to Y/n and of course she said yes. The wedding was small with only close family and friends attending. Their perfect family was slowly forming and that’s all they could ever hope for.

Five months after the wedding, Y/n and Lewis found out the incredible news. They were going to be parents to a little boy or girl. Lewis immediately started buying baby related items and asked his father and brother for help on the nursery even if Y/n had no visible bump yet.

“We’re going to be parents!” Lewis kissed Y/n’s lips as he held the pregnancy test in his hands.

“The baby is going to be so loved.” Y/n smiled.

Everything was going perfectly fine. Y/n and Lewis went to all the checkups, Y/n read any books in order to prepare while Lewis dealt with baby proofing their entire house. They were more than ready for Baby Hamilton.

When the day finally came, Y/n was scared. She held onto Lewis’ hand tightly as the doctors and nurses motivated her to push. Her body ached and sweat began to form on her face.

“You can do this, love, you’re the strongest woman I know. Think about our little baby. They’ll be here soon.” Lewis whispered in her ear then gave her a kiss.

“Lew, I’m tired.” Y/n replied, breathing heavily.

“I know and I’m so sorry I can’t take your pain away. You can do this, Y/n, just a few more pushes.” Lewis said.

It felt like forever, but Baby Hamilton had finally arrived, the only problem was that neither Y/n or Lewis heard any baby cries. Y/n looked over at Lewis, who was just as confused as his wife.

“Where’s our baby, Lewis? I can’t hear them.” Y/n started to sit up, but the nurses told her calm down and sit back down. “No, I want my baby. Where are you taking them?”

Lewis instantly knew what had happened. Baby Hamilton didn’t even take their first breath. Lewis took his wife into his arms and let her cry as the doctors took their baby away.

“Our baby. . .” Y/n sobbed as Lewis held her. His heart had broken into millions of pieces. Why did it have to happen to him and Y/n?

For six months, Y/n stayed in her and Lewis’ room. She became a stranger. She skipped out races making the media believe that her and Lewis had divorced. Everytime a friend or family member reached out to her, she would push them away. Lewis tried his hardest to talk to her, but she would either kick him out of their room or leave the house then return an hour later.

It was supposed to be Baby Hamilton’s seventh month when Lewis finally got Y/n out of the house. Y/n had apologized to her husband for pushing him away when they were both grieving the loss of their baby.

“Baby Hamilton is with us always.” Lewis showed Y/n a tattoo that he had recently gotten last weekend. It was Baby Hamilton’s birth date along with a tiny heart. The tattoo was on his wrist so whenever he missed his child, which was often, he looked down at the ink and remember them.

“I love you, Lewis.”

After their talk, Y/n and Lewis got changed and dressed to go out to a restaurant to eat. It wasn’t one of those fancy ones that Lewis took Y/n whenever it was an birthday or anniversary or just because he felt like it. It was a small restaurant that sold vegan food that both Lewis and Y/n loved so much.

“Taste this,” Y/n held up her sandwich for Lewis to taste. He took one bite and stole the sandwich from Y/n’s hands. “Hey! You ordered the wrap!”

“But this one tastes good too! I’ll order you another one, love.” Lewis got up and walked to the counter to order another sandwich. While he was gone, Y/n could hear camera clicks and saw flashing lights from the corner of her eye. Paparazzi had found them. Of course every celebrity hated paparazzi, but Y/n absolutely despised them.

She felt uncomfortable as her body had obviously changed from the pregnancy and from her not taking good care of it after. She tried to ignore it, but soon some paparazzi had yelled out her name. It was impossible to ignore now.

“Y/n! You look different! Tell Lewis to order you more food, you look skinny!”

That was all it took for her to start crying.

When Lewis returned, he saw the paparazzi outside. “Let’s go home, come on.” He said and took off his hoodie. He gave the hoodie to Y/n and as she put it on, he asked a waiter for boxes to take their food home. “Ignore them, we’ll be home soon.”

As they left the restaurant, the paparazzi got more pictures of Y/n hiding her face from the camera. It was clear that she had lost tons of weight after the pregnancy. As Lewis opened the car door for her, a man called out for Y/n once again.

“Mate, fuck off.” Lewis said and walked to his side of the car. On their way home, Y/n ranted to Lewis about how the paparazzi makes her feel and him being the best husband, he listened to every word she had to say.

When they arrived home, Y/n walked into the house, Lewis slowly followed her. He was picturing them coming home from lunch of dinner with Baby Hamilton in a stroller. That was his version of a great day.

“It’s too quiet here, Lew. I don’t like it.” Y/n sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Lewis grabbed her hand and together they walked to their shared bedroom. Baby Hamilton’s nursery was right across from their bedroom. It remained untouched ever since Lewis and his father finished painting the walls and installing the furniture.

“We are going to get through this, Lewis Hamilton. I know we are.” Y/n faced her husband.

A new year came and so did new changes. Y/n still remained with returned back to work with Sky Sports F1 and Lewis was still with Mercerdes. After every race, Lewis would look down at his wrist and see the date that belonged to Baby Hamilton.

“Well Lewis, it’s been a hectic week for you, where to start, but firstly I want to ask about something the fans noticed you’ve been doing at every race and that is you kiss your wrist before getting into your car. Is there any meaning behind that?” A lady from ESPN asked him during the Monza Grand Prix.

“There is a meaning and it’s something only my wife and I know about. It’s something to represent that my child, who is now looking down at me, is always with me. It’s to represent that no matter what, I’m always going to be their dad.” Lewis proudly stated.

Y/n watched from a tv inside the Mercedes hospitality as her husband was being interviewed. The couple had talked about announcing Baby Hamilton before since during the pregnancy, no one other than close friends and family knew. Lewis wanted to make sure Y/n was okay with announcing it before anything else.

After Lewis was done with his interview, the tv changed to another interview happening live. Y/n knew it would be a while before Lewis returned so she went onto twitter to distract her mind, which was the wrong move.

Her name was trending after the paparazzi photos of her and Lewis were finally posted. Mean twitter users were pointing out how skinny and tired she looked.

formula1facts this is hamilton’s wife?😂

paddockinsider someone give her a burger

lolurnotmichaelschumacher Lewis finds her attractive?? get this man glasses or something

Her mentions were all about her body. Every single one of them were how she had changed. Without thinking, she went to her settings and pressed the ‘delete account’ option.

Y/n and Lewis continued with their lives, occasionally having breakdowns when they remembered how their child was taken from them too soon. But that didn’t mean Y/n and Lewis stopped calling themselves parents. They were still a mom and a dad, their child was just waiting for them in the sky.

One day, Lewis had the bright idea to bring up a solution to the quietness in their house. A dog. The couple was laying in bed in a hotel since the Singapore Grand Prix was just a few days away.

“A dog? Are you sure we’re ready to have a dog? We travel like crazy and who would take care of them when you and I can’t?” Y/n asked.

“Dad could or we could just bring them on the road with us. Everyone loves dogs.” Lewis said.

“Something tells me you already have one in mind. Did you adopt a dog and didn’t tell me?” Y/n chuckled.

“Not really. But I can ask around.”

Lewis did just that. Eventually he did find the perfect dog for him and his wife. After the 2013 season ended, Lewis took a well needed vacation with Y/n where he would surprise her with their dog. When Y/n met the dog, she was in love.

“What their name?” Y/n asked as she scratched the dog’s belly.

“Roscoe.”

Roscoe became a family member. He wasn’t ‘just a dog’. He traveled with Lewis and Y/n, ate with them, slept on their bed. He was their second child. A few months after adopting Roscoe, Coco came into their lives. Both Y/n and Lewis treated the dogs as if they were their own kids because in a way, they were.

Often Lewis would show Roscoe and Coco the ultrasound pictures of Baby Hamilton and would tell them how excited he was to be a dad. Y/n would smile so much as how Lewis talked to their dogs. It didn’t matter if they were a dog or an actual baby, Lewis Hamilton was the perfect dad.

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton #lh44 #mercedes amg petronas #f1 #dad!lewis hamilton

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konfeitos · 10 months ago

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YOU STILL HAVE IT? — JJK MEN X M!READER

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀featuring : choso , nanami kento , higuruma hiromi , & getou suguru .

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀synopsis : you discover that your boyfriend is still holding onto something you gave them a long while ago ! — WC: 1.7k

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀notes : male reader. fluff. established relationship. "darling" & "love" as a nickname. not proofread.

✧ ⠀ › ⠀ CHOSO

Without a doubt, he keeps everything related to you two and your relationship in a special box. Anything you’ve ever given to him or something you two have gotten while out on a date is kept safe in this box.

Expect to see things from old letters to polaroid pictures to even movie or concert tickets. Just about anything and everything really.

He likes to preserve all these things as if he’s captured the moments and memories. Every single thing saved carries the weight of your shared love and affection for each other, and that’s something that he won’t risk losing.

This also applies with digital things such as any selfies and pictures you’ve sent him. He saves them all and has a folder dedicated to those pictures that’s named “my boyfriend ♡”.

Both you and Choso are searching through his room for a movie disc—one that Itadori swears up and down he left behind there the last time he visited. As you crouch down in hopes you’ll find this movie case and call an end to this search, your eyes land on a box that’s innocently sitting underneath the bed.

You can’t recall ever seeing this box here before. Then again, it’s not as if you’re actively rummaging around under your boyfriend’s bed.

This must be where Itadori’s movie is then. That’s the conclusion you come up with as you slide the box out. But before you can question Itadori’s choice in keeping a movie disc in such a large box, your thoughts come to a halt as you open it.

“Oh,” Blinking a couple times, the items within the box don’t change. Rather than being the movie disc you thought you finally found, there’s stacks of letters, dried flowers, some tickets, and more instead.

It wasn’t until your eyes landed on the movie tickets on the very top and noticed the movie title and the date were the exact same as the movie date you went with Choso just last weekend.

That’s when it hits you that you recognize all these items.

“You kept all this?”

Your voice guides Choso’s attention away from the drawers he was searching through. His steps are quiet as he moves over to your side, peering at what you’re looking at.

His eyes widened a slight bit once he realized what you’ve found before he crouched beside you. “Of course,” There’s a hint of a smile that reached his face as his gaze lingered on the items, “Why would I not keep all this? They hold such fond memories that I would like to keep.”

The response tugged at your heart that you can’t help but coo softly, reaching out to kiss him.

“That’s really cute.”

Neither one of you have any complaints about putting a pause on searching for Itadori’s movie in favor of going through old memories and reminiscing on those times.

✧ ⠀ › ⠀ NANAMI KENTO

All the flowers and bouquets that you give him randomly are the ones that he preserves. Of course, it’s difficult to keep flowers after they start wilting, so he goes through the process of pressing them as a way to keep them.

He cherishes each of them with all his heart. It makes him smile whenever you surprise him with them, so he likes to maintain them and they tend to last for a long time.

Depending on the flowers, he may dry them to preserve their shape and display them instead of pressing them. Either way, he will have them around as if leaving tokens of your love all over his place.

Anywhere he steps in his place and sees those dried or pressed flowers is a strong reminder of your love for him.

You’re helping him clean around the house to lessen the weight from his shoulders (even though he insists that you don’t have to, you always do since you love seeing the tension leave his body whenever he has less this stress over).

As you’re wiping down some tables, you can’t help but get distracted by the sight of some pressed flowers and petals framed. These weren’t here the last time you came over.

You stepped closer to these frames, leaning in to admire the sight of them.

“Hey Kento, where did you get these?” You ask him, voice full of curiosity. You never pictured Kento as the type of man to decorate his space with pressed flowers, but you can’t deny that they do look rather pretty.

Even if the ones you were admiring were only lined up in a row, waiting for a proper place to be set up.

You hear Kento make his way over to you. A partially questioning look on his face given your lack of specifics on what you were referring to.

Though it soon fades away once he notices the pressed flowers that you’re near. “Oh, those are from bouquets and flowers you’ve given me.”

It was a simple answer. A simple answer that had you stare up at Kento in awe.

“Huh? Like all of them?”

“Yes, all of them.”

Feeling surprised is an understatement. You never expected him to do anything with the flowers you’ve given him. Your gaze shifted back to the pressed flowers, admiring them a bit longer, and you turned back to look at him with a smile.

“Can you teach me how to do that? I want to save some of the flowers you get me too!”

“Of course, darling.”

✧ ⠀ › ⠀ HIGURUMA HIROMI

You have the habit of leaving him sticky notes with either motivational messages or silly doodles for him to find or take as he goes to work. It’s something for him to look at and be reminded that he has you cheering him on to get through the day.

It absolutely does get him through the day. There was no way he would be able to part with them once the sticky notes lost their adhesive. Especially not when he’s staring at the ones in his hands that have your handwriting mentioning how you love him.

The older notes are kept somewhere safe in a box at the bottom of a drawer. All the newer ones are those that he sets up onto his computer and desk, in places that he can easily see while he’s working.

“Hiromi, you forgot your lunch.” The sound of your voice pulls him away from the documents that Hiromi was going through. It wasn’t that often that you came to visit him at his workplace, but of all the times you did, it was mostly for the same reason. Him forgetting his lunch.

It made him grateful to have someone as caring as you, who always looked out for his well-being and made sure that he didn’t skip out on any meals.

His eyes traveled slightly down to look at the bento in your hands. He can see another one of your sticky notes right on top of it, especially as you soon hold it out to him.

Any traces of exhaustion seemed to wash away at the mere sight of you and that note.

With a soft thanks, he sets the bento down to his desk, away from his important papers, as you walk around the desk to be closer to him. You’re leaning close to press a kiss to his temple when you spot a small pile of sticky notes at the side of his desk from the corner of your eye..

At first, you thought these were some notes he made, but you soon recognize your own handwriting and doodles. Except these aren’t any of the recent ones you’ve done for him.

No, they looked older.

“I didn’t know you still had those old notes.” You commented after you finally gave Hiromi a quick kiss at his temple.

His head tilted in the direction that you’re staring at. “Ah,” He reached out for the pile, “Well, I couldn’t just get rid of them. I like looking back on them.” Hiromi admitted before he went to rest his head against your side.

He can’t help but gravitate to his lovely boyfriend with such ease. “Especially on long days.”

“That’s sweet,” You tell him with a smile growing on your face. “I’ll be sure to write you a lot more notes then.”

“I appreciate that, love.”

✧ ⠀ › ⠀ GETOU SUGURU

It’s pictures of you that he tends to keep. Anything from picture booths to polaroids to random pictures you printed out and handed to him.

He keeps them all and carries at least one picture in his wallet. Whenever he’s out with his daughters and going to pay, the employee behind the counter gets a glimpse of whatever picture he has in his wallet.

The picture is constantly being swapped around. Sometimes it’s just of you, other times it’s a picture that has the both of you in it, and there's some that have you both and his daughters there.

Nanako and Mimiko sent you both out to check out this new cafe that opened up to see if it was worth stopping by. It was a cute place; one that you’re certain that they will enjoy.

Right now, you’re in line with Suguru to order some drinks and pastries (to take back for the girls, of course). Idle conversations are made as you both move up to the front with Suguru stepping in to take care of ordering.

When he takes out his wallet to pull out his card, your eyes happen to flicker over. In there you spot a polaroid tucked safely inside of the two of you.

It’s one of the more sillier pictures that exist of you both. You remember how long it took to convince Suguru to strike the most ridiculous pose with you, and you remember the minor complaints he had afterwards once the polaroids developed.

Your copy of the polaroid is kept safe with the rest of the other polaroids of you two, but you never had any idea of what Suguru did with his.

“You still have that photo?” You asked, voice full of amusement as the memories of that night came flooding back. “I thought you said you didn’t like it because of how silly you looked.”

One end of his mouth twitched partially upwards at your words. “Hm, I did,” Suguru hummed softly while he pulled out the polaroid. “But my boyfriend looks very adorable in it, so I can look past that.”

The way that he shoots you a small grin manages to bring some color to your cheeks.

And it doesn’t help that he carries on as normal, paying for the order, and the employee also comments what a cute picture that polaroid was. His simple response of, “I know,” was more than enough to make your cheeks flush even more.

#— ✦ ˙ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 .ᐟ #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk choso x reader #choso x reader #choso x male reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami x reader #nanami kento x male reader #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x male reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto x male reader #jjk geto x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi x male reader #jjk higuruma x reader

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gotta-winwin · 4 days ago

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(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special teaser

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air.

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

🐻‍❄️ release date: christmas day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ i just know i'm going to have sm fun writing this cuz the dynamic is so interesting! its already giving christmas romcom vibes and omg you guys are not ready.

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003:

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground.

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?”

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised.

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word.

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.”

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.”

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.”

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met.

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.”

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene.

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister.

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

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topguncortez · 1 year ago

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I Still Love You - Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey

opposites attract masterlist || main masterlist

synopsis: Y/N goes out on her first date in. . . in a while. She struggles with her feelings as if it is time to start moving on, or if she wants to fight for things with Jake.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of cheating

Y/N didn’t know what she was doing.

She couldn’t remember the last time she went on date. Things had changed a lot since she was active in the dating pool. Dates were no longer big events where you shaved every crevice of your body, went out and bought a new dress, spent hours doing your hair and make-up, where picked up at your house and greeted with flowers and taken to some fancy restaurant across town. No, dating now was going to a local bar for a drink or two with some guy you had matched with on some dating app.

Y/N felt her hands shake as she looked over her shoulder as the bell above the door rang. She was extremely early to her drink date, a whole half hour early to be exact. But the nerves had gotten the better of her, and she didn’t want to show up late. Now she sat looking completely out of place in this swanky bar on the east side of San Diego. It was far enough away that she knew it would be safe from anyone she knew catching glimpse of her.

It wasn’t that she felt guilty about being on date. . . well, she felt a little bit guilty. Jake hadn’t signed the divorce papers yet, but they were making way with setting up visitation days. Y/N was currently living in the house while Jake was staying in an on-base house. Y/N hadn’t even thought of getting out into the dating field, wanting to wait until the divorce was completely over, but Val had set her up with one of her co-workers and Y/N didn’t have the heart to say no. Who knows, maybe she was going to meet her second husband.

A small huff left her lips at even the thought of marrying another man. Having another man raise her kids. Having another man in her bed. Jake had been the one for her, and he’d always be the one for her, even if he broke her heart. She could entertain the notion of getting drinks with someone, but it wasn’t going to go much farther than this.

“Y/N?” A masculine voice called out to her. She lifted her head, “I’m Miles, it’s nice to meet you.”

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, reaching her hand out to greet him, “Nice to meet you, Miles.”

He was clad in a black dress pants and baby blue button up. The top buttons were undone, showing the faintest gold chain around his thick neck. He sat down on the barstool next to you, his scent of oranges and hospital drifting to you, making your nose scrunch. You hated oranges and the thick smell of hospital disinfectant.

“Sorry I’m late, got held up at the hospital,” Miles said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows looking at her watch. It was 7:01 and they agreed to meet at the bar at 7:00, “A minute late is hardly late.”

“In my book. . . it is,” He smiled, flagging down the waiter to order himself a drink and some appitizers, “I don’t like showing up on time, it feels like I’m late.”

“I’m the same way. I like to be atleast 10 minutes early to everything,” Y/N sighed, “But having kids, I’m lucky if I’m even 5 minutes early.”

“Val told me about your children,” Miles said, taking a sip of the old fashioned he had ordered, “Three of them right?”

Y/N nodded her head, reaching for her phone. Her favorite thing about being a mom is getting to show off pictures of her kids. She showed Miles pictures of Alex when he first got his glasses, Ella winning her first soccer game, when Eli rolled over for the first time. Miles smiled along with her the whole time, asking questions about her kids; what they liked to do, what their favorite colors are, what their favorite bed time stories are.

“They look like they are some fun people,” Miles said, sipping his drink.

Y/N wasn’t sure what it was that snapped in her, but she suddenly felt embarrassed. Was she talking too muc about her kids? Did this guy even want kids? It wasn’t just her he would be getting if they ever decided to go past this one date, it was her and three kids. Three kids that had cried when their father moved his things out the door. Three kids that had been fighting and acting out more since the divorce process had started. Three kids that were waiting for her to come home.

“Hey?” Miles asked softly, putting his hand on her knee, “Did I lose ya?”

Y/N blinked a couple of times, plastering a fake smile on her face, “No,” She shook her head, “It’s just I-”

“Thinking about your kids?” Y/N nodded and Miles set his glass down on the bar, “Val told me this is your first time out since your divorce. . . It’s my first time out since my wife died and I. . .” Miles shook his head, “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong, meeting you here.”

Y/N’s heart broke a bit in her chest, seeing his sad brown eyes look at her. Val had mentioned that he was previously married, but she never disclosed the details on what happened. She shifted on her barstool, placing her hand on top of Miles’ giving it a squeeze.

“This doesn’t have to go very far tonight. . . If anything, I’m not ready to go very far tonight,” Y/N spoke honestly, “I’m still hurt and dealing with everything, but I could really use a friend?”

Miles nodded his head, turning his hand in Y/N’s so their fingers were intertwined, he squeezed her hand back, “I can use a friend too.”

The two of them stayed in the bar for only another hour, before going to find something to eat on the east side. Miles had picked out a local seafood place that he swore had the best fish tacos. The conversation flowed easily as they ate. They talked about everything under the sun; what he did for work at the hospital, Y/N’s plan to go back to work at the flower shop in a couple weeks, Miles’ most recent travel to Switzerland for a pediatric board conference, how Y/N finally got to visit the USS Midway museum. It truly did feel like Miles was the perfect friend for Y/N. He understood what it was like to lose someone you love, only difference was Jake wasn’t dead.

“I should really get back,” Y/N sighed as they walked down the sidewalk to where she parked her car, “I gotta trade off with the kids’ dad, he works early in the morning.”

“Don’t gotta explain anything to me,” Miles shrugged. He had been totally respectful when Y/N talked about everything with Jake. She didn’t go into full detail about it, mainly because the wounds were still so fresh. She still felt a pang in her heart when she walked through the front door and his boots weren’t there.

“I think we should do this again, I really enjoyed getting to be with another adult,” Y/N smiled and Miles returned it.

“I would love to,” Miles responded and opened Y/N’s car door, “Let me know when you get home, please.” Y/N nodded her head, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Miles,” She whispered as she shut the door.

The whole drive home it felt like Y/N was in a cloud. Her feelings were a bit conflicted on what she felt towards Miles. He was a good guy, with a nice smile. He had a sense of humor and had made her laugh several times throughout the night. Y/N could tell he had manners from the times he pulled out her chair and switched sides on the sidewalk so he was near the street. But all those little things were also things that Jake had done. Jake always sat so he was facing the door, or in the isle. Jake always opened the door and walked next to the street. Jake always knew how to make Y/N laugh.

Y/N had just pulled into her driveway, Jake’s black truck parked in it’s normal spot when her phone dinged.

‘Valeria Bates: how was it!? Did you kiss!? Did you do more than kiss!?’

Y/N’s face paled. Was she supposed to kiss him? They had agreed to just be friends, for now, but what was supposed to happen on the next date? Y/N hadn’t ever kissed another man besides Jake. And she sure as hell hadn’t slept with another man. Even though Miles was attractive, the thought of him touching her the way Jake had made her feel queasy. She didn’t respond to Val, tucking her phone in her purse and heading towards the front door.

Quietly, she pushed the door open, coming face to face with Jake sitting alone on the couch, only the light of the television illuminating his face. When Y/N first asked Jake if he could watch the kids tonight, she hadn’t felt bad about it, but now, seeing him sitting there alone, she felt nothing but guilt.

“How was it?” Jake asked.

Y/N sighed as she took off her coat and hung it up, “It was good.”

Jake nodded his head and stood up from the couch, “Will there be another one?”

“Too soon to say,” Y/N mumbled and turned to face Jake, “How were the kids?”

“They were fine. Eli was a bit fussy but he’s got some teeth coming in,” Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets and Y/N nodded.

“Well, You should probably get-”

“Don’t go on another date,” Jake said, cutting Y/N off, “Look, I know I fucked up. I know what I did is something that is unforgivable, and I beat myself up for it every day, but please. . . Please. . .” He walked towards her, and grabbed her hand in his, “Please.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to do, as he stood before her, his green eyes with a tint of red to them.

“Goodnight, Jake,” Y/N muttered, squeezing his hand before moving towards the stairs to go check on the kids.

“I love you,” Jake whispered as Y/N’s frame disappeared down the hallway.

taglist: @damrlova @phoenix1388 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @malindacath @justenoughmadness @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch @hookslove1592

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desideriumwriter · 2 months ago

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Anyone But You | Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: It's now Fred's turn to hold a grudge against you, you try to smooth over things with him by returning something of his. After unexpected events unfold at the third task, you get comforted by the last person you'd want to be comforted by. You think.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers + hurt/comfort

Content Warnings - reader is in denial once again, canon character death, grief, crying, this one is just a mess of emotions yall

Word Count - 4.5k

A/N: supriseee, this is why i changed the dates of the tasks, buckle up. this one is...a lot. sorry.

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

Fred hadn’t made any contact with you since your outburst at the Ball.

He paid you no mind when he walked past you the next day to board the Hogwarts Express. He never sent any owls like he usually did over the remainder of winter break. He nor George bothered you anymore in potions. During the second task of the tournament, Fred stood as far away as he could from you on the wooden dock.

It had been almost two months since you lost it at him and the most he did was glance in your direction and shove past you once in the hallway.

Yet, there were still constant reminders of him and you lingering around.

God, you were infuriated when you saw a photo of Fred and you had made it onto Rita Skeeter's section in the Daily Prophet.

“That bitch is a bloody liar!” You exclaimed as you looked at the newspaper.

Of course, her photographer had to get a photo at the exact moment you smiled and let out a small laugh instead of when you stood up and began shouting at him.

Now that seemingly innocent split second of a moment between Fred and you was playing on a loop in a heart shaped frame.

“Woah! Language!” Cedric was shocked yet amused by your outburst.

“Young love? This is what you call young love?” You mocked, pointing at the photo of Fred and you, “How’d she even get in? I can’t believe it!”

“Maybe it’s a sign.” Cedric shrugged, laying down on the stone bench.

“A sign for what? That Rita Skeeter has no idea what the hell she’s talking about?” You went on as Cedric closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean, come on. I smile at him for three seconds and all of the sudden I’m in love?”

“Merlin's beard, just put us all out of our misery and admit it already.“ Cedric let out a dramatic groan, rubbing his face.

“Admit what?”

"Admit you have feelings for him."

"Only the worst ones." You whacked him with the newspaper. “Besides, I already told you what happened. I’m sure he hates me now too.”

“I’m sure he’s just heartbroken. The first stage is denial.” Cedric commented, earning him a disagreeing head shake from you. “You know, some time in the future you’re gonna look back and think: Damn, Cedric was right, I am in love with Fred Weasley, I’m just too stubborn to admit it.” He teased in a high pitched voice. You hit him again.

“Shove off, just tell me how your date went with Cho.”

It seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t escape Fred.

Even with Angelina and Katie refusing to bring them up, even with Fred or George no longer bothering you, even with Fred literally hating you now, you couldn’t escape him.

Like when you opened your dresser doors, looking for your missing glove, only to find Fred’s hat he gave to you at the first task.

You didn’t realize you still had it, you didn’t realize you never gave it back.

He never asked for it back.

The guilt was settling in.

He never asked for it back though. He could’ve taken it back after the first task was over, or the next day, or really any other time. But he didn’t. He let you keep it. All this time has passed and he let you keep it. Why?

Fuck, you felt like you were going insane. You had to talk to someone about this.

“Cedric! Cedric!” You called out, running up to him in the empty courtyard. You were quite lucky to find him alone these days, he usually was always walking in a group of his supporters. “I need your help! I really need your help!” Cedric acknowledged you, but he didn’t stop walking.

“I’m not sure if I can help you right now, I promised to meet Cho at the pitch in like ten minutes-”

“Your snogging sesh with her can wait!” Cedric goggled at you for a second, continuing to walk.

“It’s urgent! It’s about Fred!” You grabbed onto his arm, pulling him to stop.

“Oh my- When is it not?” He groaned, his face scrunched up and scowling.

“I’m thinking about apologizing to him.” You blurted out, Cedric's face dropped into a serious stare, he paused for a moment before speaking.

“To Fred? Are you serious?” You nodded, still straight faced. “You are?” He asked again, looking at you like you were speaking another language.

“Yes! I have a plan! Hey- what’s so funny about that?” Cedric began to let out small laughs, now you were scowling.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just, you’re so deep in denial.” He said through chuckles, he actually found this humorous. “I’ve been waiting forever for this, I cannot wait til i see you two walking hand in hand in the hallways after this!” You gaped and gave him a shove.

“Hey! I still hate him! I absolutely do! I just…feel bad.” He raised his brows at you in disbelief, giving you a look that said Really? That's it?

“I’m scared that it could end badly if it doesn’t work out.” You admitted, shamefully looking down.

“End badly? Oh please, you already hate each other. How much worse could it get?”

Worse, it turns out.

You had a plan. The next time you saw Fred by himself. You would stop him, return his beanie back, and apologize. And, you would make it clear that you weren’t friends, that you still found him bloody annoying. You just didn’t want anything of his in your space.

Maybe it wasn’t the best plan, or the best way to apologize. It was also a bit weird carrying around his beanie in your bag everywhere you went. But, you didn’t know how much longer you could go having his belongings in your presence.

You didn’t know how much longer you could go with him ignoring your presence instead of bothering it.

You were able to stop him after you caught him wandering down an empty hallway. Honestly, you wanted to hide behind a pillar and let him walk past without noticing you. But, he couldn’t avoid you forever, neither could you.

“Fred?” You stepped out of your hiding place, he saw you but he didn’t show you any acknowledgement, continuing to walk with a stone cold expression.

“Fred, wait.” You called out, following after him, “Can you just stop avoiding me for a second?” You exclaimed. He drug his feet along the ground as he stopped, turning to you with his arms crossed.

“Stop avoiding you? Reckon that’s what you begged me to do the last time we talked.” He spat out, shaking his head.

“I didn’t beg-” You bit your tongue. Now's not the time for your defensiveness. This is not the time for an argument.

You reminded yourself that and took a deep breath and swallowing your anger. Fred let out a breath of annoyance as you composed yourself.

“I’m not here to apologize.” You blurted out, your plan was now abandoned. Fred's face scrunched up for a second in confusion, you rummaged through your bag hanging from your shoulder, “I’d just thought you’d want this back.” You pulled out his hat, holding it up in between the two of you, your eyes on the ground.

Though you didn’t dare to look straight at him, you could see his posture soften in your peripheral vision. Wanting to get this over with you shook it at him, signaling for him to take it.

“You didn’t have to stop me out here, you should’ve just left this on my bed or something..” He trailed off as he reached out one arm, keeping the other tucked around him as he snatched the hat from you awkwardly.

Both of you stood there in silence for a moment, Fred looking at his returned hat, you adjusting the strap on your bag.

“Uh, cheers.” He gave you a tight lipped smile, turning and walking back to his original direction.

Okay, maybe it hadn’t gotten worse than it already was between you two, but it was sure as hell awkward now.

“So you didn’t do what you said you were going to do?” Cedric stared at you, expressionless.

“I didn’t say I was going to do it, I said I was thinking about it.” You shrugged. Cedric fully sat up in a swift manner, jaw ajar and eyes narrowed as he stared.

“You said you had a plan!” He then cried out. Oh, so he was listening and not just laughing at you earlier.

“To give him his hat back! Not beg for forgiveness.” You huffed, slouching against the tree. “Besides, he never begged for mine all those times.”

Always a battle between you two, Cedric wanted to say, but he knew that’d only tick you off more.

“Yeah? And what’d he do instead?” Cedric questioned, it made you feel suspicious about what he had to say.

“He’d just go back to annoying me.” You shrugged, a bit hesitant since you could see the cogs turning in his head.

“So why don’t you?” Cedric suggested, “Why don’t you go and bother him like he always did to you?”

You opened your mouth, stammered out something unintelligible, and closed it. You had hit a wall, all this time you’ve worried about when Fred would acknowledge your presence, you weren’t doing anything to get him to acknowledge it.

You can’t say Cedric’s got a point. You won’t admit to that.

“Because I’m happy he doesn’t bother me anymore, I’m not going to put an end to that! I enjoy him leaving me alone!” You crossed your arms, putting up your wall of defense.

“No you don’t.” Cedric let out a breath through his nose, his face was stoic, unamused.

“I do!”

“You’ve complained about it a million times since he has!” He exclaimed. “Oh, Fred did this! Fred said that! Fred bothered me in class! Fred pissed me off a the ball! Fred won’t talk to me! Fred doesn’t like me!” He mimicked, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Fine, maybe you had mentioned how Fred was now avoiding you in the past two months. Maybe those mentions of it spiraled into rants, rants that Cedric had to listen all about.

You just shook your head doubtingly, Cedric sighed and moved over. He slapped a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve only seen people care this much about another person, about what they’re doing, what they’re saying, unless they loved them.” He grabbed onto both shoulders, holding on in the way coaches do when giving their players a pep talk.

“I have been your bestfriend for six years now.” He shook you slightly with each word, putting an euphemism on them. “And I have never, never, seen you care so much about another person. Maybe, you should think about that.” He gave a sympathetic smile, the silence letting his words sink in.

Nope. You weren’t going to let it.

“Piss off! I am not in love with him!” You wriggled out of his grasp. Cedric grumbled.

“You should think about it!” He repeated, putting his hands up in defense.

The bell rung for the next class. Cedric stood up, giving you a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

“Tell me how it goes, when you're stuck with him in the Gryffindor section of the pitch.”

“Tell me how winning feels, I’ll let you rub it in my face. Good luck Ced.” You smiled.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

The third task began at dusk, the sun beginning to set and casting a golden glow on everything.

Now it was pitch black outside, Fleur had been pulled out early, and it felt like there were no signs of the task being won by the other three anytime soon. Your leg bounced wildly up and down in anticipation. Angelina and Katie noticed, you could see them staring in the corner of your eye.

“Something feels wrong, it’s been nearly three hours.” You spoke out, resting your head in hand.

“It’s a twenty-foot-tall maze, it’s gonna take a while for them to figure it out. Especially with your thick headed loverboy.” Fred blurted out, voice laced with mockery. You hated it, you were only stuck near him because Angelina and Katie were.

“Will you stop calling him that? You don’t have to be so rude all the time.” You said, exasperated already.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Fred muttered as he eyed you.

“It is a giant maze with whatever is in there. It might take a while.” Angelina said in a nicer way than Fred, budding into your and his blooming debacle.

“I know, I’m just worried that something might go wrong. Like, what if something messes up?” You gestured, biting your nail.

“He’s made it out of the past two just fine, I’m sure he’ll make it out of this one charming as ever.” Fred blurted, earning pointed glances from Angelina and Katie.

You tried to ignore your anxieties, trying to focus on whatever Katie and Angelina were chatting about. But your eyes kept darting back to Fleur on the sidelines, and Freds shitty attitude towards you wasn’t helping. Godric, is this how he felt all the times you’ve been pissy to him?

She looked terrified when she got pulled out, the tear stains on her face were obvious. You could see her rambling to the teachers about something, causing some of them to blink and give each other concerned glances.

She had seen something.

“What’d you think happened to her?” Katie took a look at Fleur, who was now surrounded by a group of girls clearly trying to comfort her.

“Don’t know. Maybe it was just too much for her.” Angelina shrugged, letting out a disappointed breath.

“She looks horrified.” You thought out loud. Eyes now locked on Fleurs face.

“I would be too. Battling dragons? Having to swim in the black lake? Going through a dark maze in the cold? Seeing all that, I’m a bit glad my name wasn’t picked.” Angelina muttered, leaning back.

“You’d have to pay me more than a thousand galleons and a dumb cup to get me to swim with ze Grindylows.” Katie nudged, mimicking Fleurs accent, earning a small breathy laugh out of Angelina and you.

Awhile after Fleurs return, a loud whoosh was heard, you got a glimpse of Cedric and Harry falling into the ground together.

The entire stadium shot up from their seats, including you. There was an uproar of cheer and the band playing the classic march.

“Did you see? It’s Harry and Cedric! They got back at the same time!” Angelina shouted, still clapping.

“Oh don’t tell me it’s gonna be another tie!” Katie groaned out. Fred and George pushed past the three of you, already excitedly running down to the field. Angelina grabbed onto your and Katie’s hands, creating a chain to follow them.

By the time you were hopping down onto the grass, a harrowing scream came from Fleur, she cupped a hand over her mouth and looked away.

Before you got to the front of the already forming crowd around the two champions, you could tell something was off.

None of Cedrics friends were cheering, neither were Harrys. Even the twins were dead still and staring.

As you got closer to the front of everyone, the music stopped and the noise of the crowd died down. Going from cheers to concerned whispers. You could hear the sobs of someone.

“No! He’s back! He’s back!” It was Harry. His voice was hoarse and heavy.

Pushing your way between the twins, now standing in front of them, you could see what was going on.

“He’s dead!” Harry cried, clutching onto Cedric’s limp body when the teachers tried to pull him off.

Time felt slow, stopped, frozen. You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream, all you did was stare. Feet stuck to the ground, and it felt like the only thing you could do was watch with wide, terrified, and glossy eyes as Harry grasped onto your bestfriends body, sobbing over him.

“Diggory's dead!” A horrified voice from the stands yelled, causing the entire pitch to fill with gasps and more whispers.

Soon the sight took hold of you. The scratches and blood smudged around Cedric’s pale face, his wide open yet lifeless eyes, his body having no reaction to being shook and held onto.

He was dead. Cedric Diggory was dead. The boy you grew up with, the boy who you saw as blood, the boy who was your bestfriend, was dead.

Taking in a shaky breath and blinking away the tears that had formed in your eyes, you attempted to step back, stumbling a bit and bumping into Fred’s chest.

“Oh shit,” Fred looked down at you, noticing the stray tears that had fallen from your eyes, “Oh shit, don’t look. Don’t look.” He grabbed onto you. You unconsciously yet willingly turned your body to his, allowing him to wrap his arms around you, attempting to prevent you from staring at the sight in front of you any longer.

“Don’t look.” He repeated.

Everything after the night of the third task felt foggy. It was a blur. Hell, it was a blur since then.

Classes were canceled for the next few days. Most days blended into each other, even when classes resumed normally. It was all foggy.

Most days you weren’t focused on anything. Stuck in a weird state of dissociation. Everything felt static.

You didn't remember a word Dumbledore said at Cedric’s memorial in the Great Hall. You didn’t cry with the others, you just sat and stared.

Even though you were usually in a daze, you still noticed things. You heard what people would talk about. You had ears, you could still hear.

“I’m worried about her. I haven’t seen her cry or…do anything really.” Katie whispered to Katie once you got up from the table.

“I know. I mean, we all have our own ways of grieving, maybe this is just hers?” Angelina leaned over.

Of course your friends tried to talk to you, not about what happened. But have regular chats, though you didn’t add much to the conversation, single worded responses or a short sentence.

On the nights you couldn’t sleep, you sat in the common room. Usually staying there until you went back to your bed, staying awake and sleep deprived the next day until you fell asleep where you were sitting in the common room.

“Hold on, shhh.” Fred stopped George as they snuck back into the common room, returning from another late night run to Zonkos. Fred pointed you to, knocked out on the leather chair.

“Should we wake her up?” George whispered, looking over at your curled up position and closed eyes.

“No, let her sleep, she needs it. I don’t think I’ve seen her actually go to bed in days.”

You noticed the faces you got from others when you walked by.

Pitiful glances. Sympathetic smiles. Apologetic looks. You noticed it all. You hated it. You hated being reminded of it. You hated feeling this way.

A shell of yourself is what you felt like. When you walked through the halls you felt like you carried the same presence as one of the ghosts in the castle.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Cedric passed and you still found yourself doing things you normally did with Cedric.

Stopping in the hallway after McGonagall's class in hopes to talk with him before he went in. Skimming your eyes around the Hufflepuff table looking for him. Waiting in the Courtyard after the school day for him to stop by and chat.

It was strange. It was like your brain hadn’t processed that he was gone.

You often wandered around, going on walks to clear your mind, even though it never worked. You found new places to sit and hide at.

Tonight, it was the Astronomy Tower. Rarely anyone came up there this late, the cool wind on your face helped ground you, and you had a pretty damn good view of the starry sky. You’d get in trouble if you were caught out here, especially with the strict rules they enforced for the rest of the year after what happened at the tournament.

You sat against the planet structure in the middle of the tower, your back against the hard marble while you brought your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Swaying yourself gently side to side, you stared at the sky, almost not catching the quick footsteps coming up the stairwell.

Fred appeared.

Fuck. Why is he here?

“Hey.” He greeted quietly, putting his hands in his front pockets once he felt the cold air hit them. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

You stared at him for a second, a bit confused on many things. He gave you an awkward smile.

“So, what’re you up to?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Why are you here Fred?” You unraveled from your position. Your tone wasn’t mean, it wasn’t snarky or sarcastic, it was sad. Defeated. Fred noticed.

“I was looking for you.” He unraveled, “I was worried. Katie told me you weren’t in your bed or the common room. Her and Angelina were freaking out looking for you, they thought you might’ve…done something.” He mumbled the last few words.

You only stared at him for a few seconds through lidded eyes, an unamused look on your face.

“I'm not up here to throw myself off the astronomy tower, if that’s what you assumed.” You muttered, turning your gaze back to in front of you.

“No! No! Not at all! I didn’t assume that.” Fred squeaked, trying to defend himself, “I was just a bit concerned, is all.”

“Since when do you care?” You muttered, only paying attention to his last sentence. Fred spent the last two months hating you, but oh, now your bestfriend is dead and of course he feels guilty for being so mean.

“I just…I’m worr- a lot of us are worried about you.”

“You should be worried about Cho, I know I am. She’s doing worse than me.” You huffed, you weren’t trying to sound mean, you were telling the truth. You knew Cedric's death was tearing the poor girl apart, she was his girlfriend for Godrics sake.

“Yeah, she’s driving herself mad.” Fred tried to joke as he looked down, but failed. “She’s worried about you too though.” He said softly. You let out a small hum, picking at your pajama pants.

The both of you stayed there for a good few seconds, maybe a minute, silent and awkwardly keeping your eyes away from each other.

You took in a sharp breath, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know what to do.” You looked over to him, “What am I supposed to do? With everything?” Your voice cracked a tiny bit and it made you cringe. Did Fred know how to handle grief? Probably not, but he knew what you were asking.

“I don’t know.” Fred's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. You clenched your jaw to try and keep from crying.

Giving him a nod and tight-lipped smile at his response, you bit the inside of your cheek and turned your head away when a few stray tears fell.

This is the first time you’ve cried since Cedric’s death.

It was horrible. You hated that you were crying, and that Fred was there to see you so vulnerable, or that he was talking to you, but you didn’t think it mattered during that moment, you just needed comfort. You would really take any comfort too at this point.

“Can I sit?” He nodded to the empty spot next to you.

“I don’t care anymore.” You shook your head and shrugged weakly.

Fred walked over and sat a comfortable yet close distance next to you, his long legs bending at the knees.

“Can I ask you a question?” Fred played with a loose thread on his sweater, likely knitted by his mum.

“Sure.” You didn’t have the energy in you to say no, or be snippy towards him, you felt exhausted.

“Were you in love with Cedric?” Fred looked at you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, a small bit of hope bloomed in Fred’s chest, he’d gotten a classic reaction out of you. You hadn’t become a shell of yourself, you were still you.

“No.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I know everyone thinks that. But I wasn’t. He was a brother more than anything.” Fred wanted to let you know not everyone thought that, mainly just him, he was just curious.

“He was too in love with himself,” You joked, “Always so cocky.” Fred noticed the way the ends of your mouth slightly curled up as you shook your head.

“Yeah? I always knew he was too thick headed for his own good. He’d probably use the reflection of the cup as a mirror.” He breathed out, a lighthearted attempt to make you laugh. It worked, somewhat. A slight smile appeared on your face as you let out small bits of laughter.

“I’m serious, Lee told me that he caught him posing in the sink mirrors in the prefects bathroom!” Fred began to laugh with you, as you laughed even harder, your body bending forward a bit due to it.

This is the first time he’s ever made you laugh.

His laughter was mostly confused. He was puzzled at how you could find that to be this funny, until your weak chuckles turned into strong sobs. You broke. Crying into your hands.

Fred wasn’t sure what to do at this moment. His way of comforting was humor, and it worked, but not the way he expected it to. So, he just hugged you, he actually hugged you.

He closed the small gap between your bodies and wrapped two long arms around you. And you let him. You didn’t hug him back, you just sobbed, letting your heavy limbs fall and lean yourself into him.

He had one arm wrapped around you, holding you tightly while the other was brushing his hand over your hair.

It was strange, you didn’t care that Fred Weasley was hugging you, holding you. You didn’t try to shove him off, or break out of his grasp, you were too exhausted to protest.

Instead, you shifted into a position where you could grasp onto him, you wrapped your arms around his lanky torso, crying into his chest, letting out heavy sobs that wracked your entire body.

You said his name through a sharp breath, Fred cupped your face with both hands as you brought your head up to look at him.

“Fred, I’m sorry.” You broke down again, “I’m so sorry.” You said through sobs.

“Shh, it’s alright. Save all that for later. It’s alright.” He shushed you, pulling you back into your cradling position again.

If you told yourself from just a few months ago that this was happening. You would’ve never believed it. You would’ve never thought it’d be a real moment between you two.

But tonight, it was, it was real, it was happening, you were crying on the top of the astronomy tower while Fred Weasley, out of all people, held you.

You tried to apologize, and you sobbed into his chest while Fred Weasley, raked his fingers through your hair and held you.

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