#i had been thinking about this for months before reading this interview and when i read this part i was like 😀😀😀 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aureatelys · 1 month ago

Text

she lives in daydreams with me

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 7k.......

content warnings: 18+ please MDNI, fluff and smut, service kink sorta, mild d/s undertones, oral (f) receiving, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, age gap duh, employee/boss relationship duh, an excuse to write hotch eating pussy ngl

It all started with a cup of coffee. Or: You've had a crush on your boss for a long time, but you've recently started noticing him going out of his way to do things for you without you asking. Or or: Aaron Hotchner likes to do things for people. And by people, he means you.

read on ao3 or below <3

It all started with a cup of coffee.

You had just walked through the glass doors and into the bullpen, still waking up and desperately needing a cup of coffee, when JJ walks by you with a stack of folders in her arms. She gives you that look and motions towards the conference room.

You sigh and follow her, not even bothering to put your bag down at your desk. “That bad, huh?”

JJ grimaces. “Isn’t it always?”

You choose not to say anything, because she’s right. Lately, the cases have been getting more gruesome, more violent, and you’re wondering if it’s starting to affect you at all.

You pass by Hotch as he’s leaving his office and down the stairs, most likely going to make a coffee. You nod at him, giving him a small smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Hotch says, curt as always. He makes eye contact with you briefly, silently telling you that he is still waking up as well and that he’s not being curt on purpose, before looking away.

Thankfully, it’s been a couple of months since you’ve joined the team, so now you know that Hotch doesn’t actually hate you like you suspected. In fact, he seems to have taken a liking to you based on the number of dry jokes and banter he’s participated in just this week. It definitely doesn’t help the tiny, miniscule crush you have on him.

You don’t know where it came from. Hotch has always been an objectively attractive man, but it’s not often you have a crush on a man who is your boss who is more than 20 years older than you.

Maybe it happened last month, when you were on the jet and he was placing files onto the table to run through theories, and you noticed just how large his hands were. Or maybe, it started when you had knocked before entering his office and he hadn’t noticed you because he was on the phone with who you assumed was Jack based on the excited whispers and soft smile on his face. Or, to your horror, maybe it started when you walked in for your interview, and you felt something stir in the pit of your stomach when he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on the form-fitting pencil skirt you had worn.

A very tiny crush, you think to yourself as you situate yourself in the conference room, throwing your bag underneath the table.

It’s still dark outside, barely 6 in the morning, and the entire floor was quiet while JJ set up the files and photos. You yawn and you’re just about to get up and make your cup of coffee since there was still some time left before everyone showed up, when a mug is placed in front of you.

You stare at it, halfway out of your chair, before the wonderful smell of that bad yet addicting office coffee hits you and you sit down.

You look up to find Hotch sitting down at the head of the table with his own steaming mug. He looks at you, not smiling, but his eyes are soft. “I hope I got it right.”

You look back at your coffee. It’s the perfect color. He even used your designated mug you brought from home, plain and pink, and the image of him carrying it through the office makes you want to giggle.

You don’t giggle, and instead carefully pick it up and bring it to your lips to take a sip. It’s warm and absolutely delicious, sweetened the way you like, which is a lot. How does he know, you blink, a bit shocked that Hotch was able to make your coffee perfectly, more perfectly than you’re able to make sometimes.

So you tell him. “This is better than when I make it. Thank you,” you say sincerely, and chalk up the warmth sparking in your stomach to be from the coffee.

“Don’t mention it,” Hotch says, the corner of his mouth quirking up before turning back to his own mug and taking a sip.

You feel pleased that he thought of you, and then a little anxious because why is he thinking of you? He’s never made you coffee before and you wonder how he knew you like your coffee tasting more like sugar than the actual coffee. You blame it on the fact that he probably saw how tired you looked and knew you needed a little caffeine to start the day.

“Morning ladies,” Derek announces, striding in with too much energy this early in the morning, and making you jump a bit. He laughs at your reaction and then notices the man sitting at the table, looking up at him wordlessly. “And Hotch.”

“Morning,” he says flatly, raising his eyebrows at him.

Derek laughs and chooses to situate himself between you and Hotch. You silently try not to be annoyed by that as you take another gulp from your coffee, and then internally beat yourself up because why would you be annoyed, he’s doing you a favor.

You start reading up on the file that JJ placed in front of you when Morgan asks “Hey, where’s my cup of coffee?”

You glance at him, still holding onto your mug like a lifeline, to find him looking at you almost offended. You shrug. “I didn’t make it.”

Morgan whips his head around to look at Hotch, who acts as if he didn’t hear him. “Where’s my specially made Hotch coffee?”

He doesn’t even look up. “I only have two hands.”

You snort, almost choking, while JJ laughs and Morgan scoffs before he gets up to go downstairs to the break room.

You glance at Hotch to find him smiling to himself, mirth in his eyes, and feel the warmth in your chest again despite how tired you feel.

It’s probably the caffeine.

The next time it happens, it’s after you had gotten shot.

To be fair, you’ve been shot a handful of times already since being on the team, but still. You hate being shot at.

Luckily, this time it was your leg and not your stomach like last time, which absolutely fucking sucked. You had been on bedrest for weeks and was going crazy in your apartment despite Penelope visiting you every day, bringing takeout or a steamy romance novel.

You’re currently in a hospital in Texas, leg in a cast, and starting to get antsy. They told you you’re going to be able to discharge later today, but you’re ready now.

“Relax,” Hotch says where he’s sitting at your bedside, not even looking up. He’s finishing up some reports from the case they just finished, laptop on the bed providing a warm presence against your thigh. You try not to ogle at his hands. How is he even able to work with hands that big?

“I’m just ready to go home,” you say through gritted teeth. “I don’t know why we can’t just leave now, I’m fine.”

“You’re lucky the bullet didn’t hit a nerve,” Hotch says, now looking up at you. There’s a frown on his face and his eyes are tired. The bags underneath his are deeper, darker, and you ignore the pang in your chest when you remember the frantic shouts of him calling for an ambulance after you got shot, the warmth of his hands on your calf to press against the wound.

“I’m fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. “What I’m worried about is what I’m going to do the next case we get.”

If possible, his frown deepens. “You’re not coming with us on the next one.”

Something like irritability rises up your throat. “Yes, I am. I can still work in this stupid cast.”

“Yes, but the doctor said you need rest,” Hotch states, sitting up a little straighter after seeing the look on your face. He knows how stubborn you can get, and this time is no different.

“I can rest on the jet, at the precincts.” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow defiantly at him. “I can still be helpful. I’m not useless.” Like hell you were going to go crazy in your apartment again, living off of frozen pizza and reality TV.

Hotch sighs, and whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by a nurse coming in to check your vitals one more time, your pain level, and then giving you the rundown to be careful, get some rest, blah blah blah.

Somehow Hotch is the one who is tasked with driving you to the airport after you get discharged, the rest of the team already on the jet. You hobble awkwardly through the parking lot with your crutches, and Hotch is right next to you with his hand on the small of your back in case you fall. His hand is warm, nearly setting your whole back on fire, and you shake that thought away as you stumble a bit into the passenger side of his car.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks as he puts your crutches in the backseat. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you with concern, his hands already out to catch you just in case.

You fight a blush and sit down with a grunt. “Yep, I got it.”

The drive to the jet is quiet besides the low hum of the radio. You stare out the window the whole time, just happy to finally feel the warmth of the sun on your face.

“Do you need me to stop for anything?” You turn your head to look at Hotch. He has some stubble forming on his cheeks, hair mussed, and he’s wearing that brown quarter zip-up you like. He has his eyes on the road and turns to look at you, eyebrow cocked. His lips are chapped.

You are struck with the thought of how insanely handsome he is.

You clear your throat. “Nothing I can think of.”

Hotch hums. “Let me know if there’s anything you’re needing.”

You nod silently, and five minutes later, you’re on the tarmac and stumbling up into the jet. Hotch’s hand is at your back again, barely grazing you, and making sure you don’t fall down the stairs. He’s holding onto your crutches despite your protests, and you try not to feel a little indignant.

“There she is,” Morgan singsongs as you plop down into a seat with a sigh. “How’re you feeling?”

“Ready to go home to my bed,” you say, immediately slouching down to get comfortable.

“I feel that,” Emily laughs, nodding, and then she’s patting you on the shoulder before she sits behind you.

Hotch sits across from you, and you try not to think about how this seating chart has become a normal occurrence. He doesn’t seem to mind, however, based on the small smile he gives you.

He’s setting up his laptop and takes out a couple of files from the bag. He then reaches in and places something on the table in front of you. A water bottle and a small bag of trail mix.

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard and not knowing what else to say.

Hotch clears his throat, averting his gaze. “I know you don’t really like hospital food. So.”

You’re suddenly reminded of the coffee incident, where he somehow knew how to make your coffee exactly the way you liked it and continued to do so almost every day since. You can feel Reid staring a hole into the side of your face from where he’s lying on the couch across the aisle.

Your stomach grumbles then, loudly, and you hear Emily laugh behind you. Hotch glances up at you from where he already has a file open. The corners of his mouth just barely quirk up, almost smug. As if he knew that was going to happen.

You wonder when he had the time to get you a snack. It didn’t come from the kitchenette in the jet, having been out of stock of snacks for weeks, and he hadn’t really left your side while you were in the hospital.

“Thanks,” you finally say. You reach forward to open the bag of trail mix. “You didn’t have to.”

Hotch’s eyes soften, his eyebrows relaxed, and there’s concern and something else in his eyes when he says “I wanted to.”

You smile before you can help yourself, ducking your head, and hoping no one else can hear how fast your heart was racing.

You’re hit with the fact that Hotch was thinking of you, planning ahead to get you a snack and make sure you were fed before you guys made it home. You notice the lack of snacks for the rest of the team and try to ignore the thrill that goes through you. It’s like he knows what you want before you know yourself.

Like he’s taking care of you.

You nearly choke on a cashew when the thought occurs to you. Hotch’s head shoots up at the sound, looking alarmed, and it looks like he’s about to get up and hit you on the back when you wave him off. He doesn’t look satisfied until you take a swig from your water bottle and give him a thumbs up. He goes back to tapping away at his laptop, but you can tell he’s still watching you out of the corner of his eye.

It makes sense now that you think about it. He’s made a habit of checking in with you at the end of the day, offering to drive you home if you stay at the office too late. Whenever you check out a location while on a case, he always goes first. He makes sure you’re getting enough sleep, reminding you that you can take time off whenever you want.

You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but ever since The Coffee Incident, you feel another pair of eyes on you more often than usual. Sometimes you would look up and see Hotch staring fixatedly on a particular file or his phone, but you can’t deny the prickling feeling you get on the back of your neck. You’ve noticed your fingertips touching more, sharing looks when the rest of the team argue, knees and feet knocking together underneath tables.

You’ve noticed that not only is Aaron Hotchner, your boss, very handsome but extremely and undeniably hot.

His broad shoulders, his tall stature. His cologne, the way he fills out his suits. His deep voice that’s able to dominate and control an entire room and make you weak in the knees.

“Interesting,” you mumble to yourself. Hotch glances at you with that same concern etched in his face, a question forming on his lips. You smile at him innocently and knock your knees against his underneath the table. It’s easy to find him with the annoying cast on your leg.

He knocks his knees back, gentler than he needs to, and a corner of his mouth just barely lifts.

You are absolutely sure now that Aaron Hotchner has a… thing.

You don’t know what to call the… thing, but there is undoubtedly a thing.

It’s late and you’re the last one in the office. Well, besides Hotch of course, because he practically lives at the office.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Emily asks, JJ on her arm. “I’m sure we can find something for us to do.”

You wave them away. “I’m almost done. Just got at least 2 more reports I need to finish my notes. Promise.”

Emily frowns, but you can see she’s slowly walking backwards to the exit. JJ looks like she’s trying not to tug at Emily’s arm to walk faster. “If you’re sure…”

You roll your eyes. “Go on and have fun with… whatever you guys are going to do. I don’t want to know.”

JJ gives you a wink over her shoulder and you watch as they head into the elevator, a skip in her step. And then they’re gone.

Even though you had just gotten back from the case, it takes you awhile to finish your notes hunching over your desk. It’s quiet in the building, silent besides the faint hum of the air conditioner and your pen scratching at the paper. Your hand cramps a bit and you seriously wonder why this has to be handwritten rather than being in the current century and use a laptop. You’re motivated by the thought of sleeping in tomorrow morning though, which means getting up at 9 instead of your normal 6.

You lean back into your chair, staring at your completed notes. You hear paper rustling from the office upstairs and look up to see Hotch’s door slightly ajar. You suddenly feel nervous being alone with him, as if you haven’ t been alone with him countless of times before. Recently, however, it’s been happening more, and you’re not quite sure how to feel.

You get up from your desk and stretch your back, groaning when you hear a pop. You take a deep breath, imagine your soft bed, gather your reports for the final signature, and head upstairs.

You knock, hear a faint “Come in,” and step inside Hotch’s office, closing the door behind you.

He has his desk lamp on, washing his office and his face with a warm golden glow. He hasn’t even looked up from where he’s writing his own reports, so you take the brief chance to stare.

He’s surrounded by piles of papers; messier than how he usually keeps his desk. His tie is loosened from around his neck and the top two buttons are undone. His sleeves are rolled up and you try not to stare at his thick forearms, the veins in his hands. He grabs a nearby mug to take a sip of coffee, no doubt already cold. Your eyes follow his mouth when he takes a drink, watch the way his tongue flicks out to lick his lips, and then to his face. Where he is watching you with a faint smirk tugging at his aforementioned mouth.

You clear your throat, fighting the blush that’s starting to crawl up your neck. You go to stand in front of his desk, files in hand. “I have the rest of my notes from the Florida case.”

Hotch’s face easily morphs back into his stern and professional look, but you can still see something dance around in his eyes. He takes the files wordlessly, opens one, and reads your notes for not even 5 seconds before he says “You have the names of the sisters mixed up.”

You blink, still trying to fight the nervousness you feel and the warmth pooling slowly at the pit of your stomach as you watch his hands. “Huh?”

Hotch points at the crooked paragraph you scribbled out. “The older sister is named Amanda, the younger sister is Cynthia. You have them mixed up.”

And suddenly the nervousness you felt from being in the same room as your boss, alone and in the middle of the night, is overtaken by sheer embarrassment. You must have been more tired than you thought. “I’m sorry.” You put your hand out for the file. “I can go fix it real quick.”

“It’s fine,” Hotch says, and somehow, you’re not surprised. “I got it.”

You think about the past couple of months and the small gestures he’s been doing for you. Even though you’ve known Hotch for a couple of months now, you can’t quite get a read on him. It’s confusing, he’s confusing. You hate to say that it feels like he’s giving you mixed signals. One second, he’s opening the car door for you when you’re on a case, the next he won’t even look at you when the team is at a bar for an evening. Now this? Offering to fix a mistake you made at work? Something indescribable crawls up your throat and you suddenly feel irritated, upset, and something else.

“No,” you say as professionally as you can despite the rush of blood you can hear in your ears. “I can fix it, Hotch.”

He looks at you then, something like surprise on his face. “It’s just a quick fix, I can do it.”

It’s just a little typo, why won’t he let you fix it, you think to yourself. Maybe it’s the stress from the case you just got back from, how late it was, or something else entirely, but you find yourself unable to stop yourself from saying “Why do you keep doing things for me?”

This time, it’s Hotch who blinks back at you. He puts his pen down and clasps his hands together, looking like he’s ready for a talk. “What do you mean?”

“This!” You wave your hand at him, now not sure exactly what to say. “You keep… doing things for me. Things that I am perfectly capable to do myself, you know.”

Now you realize what that nagging feeling in your throat was— anger. Has Hotch been doing this because of how old you were? Because you were a young and new agent, naïve and innocent and can’t do anything herself?

Hotch just looks at you blankly. You quickly try to read his face; he’s clenching his jaw, his hands where they were clasped are now clenched into almost fists, and his eyes are dark.

“You are perfectly capable,” Hotch says, slowly. “I do know that.”

You huff a bit. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Hotch is silent again before letting out a deep sigh. He closes his eyes, runs his hand over his face, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve just ruined your friendship/professional relationship with your boss. You can almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he figures out what to say.

He smoothly gets up from his desk and is now standing in front of you, leaning against his desk. He’s close, nearly towering over you, and you can almost feel the heat of his body like this.

The close proximity makes you nervous, because this is different than sitting next to each other on the jet or in the car. It’s different because the entire floor of the building is empty and you’re alone in your boss’s office.

He finally opens his eyes, making sure to make eye contact with you. His hands open and then close, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I do these things because I like doing them. For you.”

You stare at him, not sure what to say and feeling overwhelmed at the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling. You feel pleased, shy, giddy, anxious, and overwhelmed.

It makes sense that Hotch likes to take care of people. He’s a leader, a father, and his whole life is about helping those who are in need. You’ve seen it in the way he checks in with everyone, the way he humors Reid with his ramblings or lending an ear to Rossi. You’ve seen it in the way he talks to children and the way he tries to make himself appear softer, almost smaller.

You see it in him now. If it was anyone, Hotch would look stoic or cold, however you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are with the way he’s clearly biting at the inside of his cheek, the tense jaw, and the concerned furrow of his brow.

You’re still not sure what to say, but you know what you want to do.

So, you close the several inches between you and him with one step, grabbing the collar of his pristine button-up, and kiss him.

You’ve clearly taken him by surprise, but he pretends to act otherwise as he gingerly places his hands on your hips and kisses you back.

His lips are soft, addictingly so, and he tastes like coffee when he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip. The feeling makes your knees weak and you think you let out a soft moan, but you’re unable to hear anything over the sound of blood in your ears. His hands, large and hot, roam from your hips and up your back, giving you shivers.

Hotch is the first one to pull away and you instinctively chase after him with your lips before he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure?”

You look up at him, not realizing you had to crane your neck so much to do so and feel that all-too-familiar feeling between your legs that makes you clench your thighs. His lips are already swollen, pretty and pink, the collar of his shirt wrinkled from where you were pawing at him, and his eyes boring into you like he’s going to eat you alive.

“Yes,” you breathe, looping your arms around his shoulders to pull him back in. Hotch goes willingly, almost eagerly.

Hotch kisses like he works—meticulous and focused, however his hands are needy with the way he runs them over your ass, your back again, and your breasts through your sweater. He still seems like he’s being careful, like he’s worried about breaking you. You weave your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull out of pure curiosity, marveling at the way Hotch lets out a groan deep in the back of his throat.

That seems to set him off because now he’s groping you a bit harder, mouth trailing down your neck and peppering kisses in a way that makes you breathless. You can tell he’s refraining from biting and leaving marks, instead making sure to pay extra attention to the spot underneath your ear that makes you gasp and grab at the back of his shirt. “Hotch…”

“Aaron,” he mumbles against your neck before bringing his face back up to yours, noses nearly touching. “Please call me Aaron.”

He’s looking at you like you hung the moon, like he can’t believe you’re in front of him. His face is relaxed, void of any stress, a faint redness on his face, and his hair is so effortlessly messy in a way it makes him look so young and devastatingly handsome.

You nod and move your hands up the nape of his neck again to touch his face, feeling the rough stubble on your palms. “What are you going to do to me, Aaron?”

He groans again and the sound goes straight between your thighs. He suddenly spins you both around until you have your back pressed up against the desk, nearly digging into you. Your breath is knocked out of you, from surprise or desire you don’t know, but then Aaron has his hands at the hem of your sweater. He looks at you, silently asking, and then quickly taking it off when you nod.

His hands immediately gravitate to your breasts, kneading them through the plain black bra you’re wearing. You’re almost embarrassed that it’s so plain, but clearly Aaron doesn’t mind from the way he’s staring at them, thumbs pressing with the lightest pressure against your nipples through the fabric. You feel them tighten, sighing at the soft beginnings of pleasure, and think surely he’s able to feel them even through your bra.

“Fuck,” Aaron curses, and you have never heard him curse and definitely not like this. For some reason, it makes you hotter, and you scramble to bring your hands behind you to unclasp your bra.

And then his mouth is immediately pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, and then onto your right nipple. You gasp and involuntarily arch your back to press closer to him, chasing his warm and wet mouth.

Aaron takes his time with you. He alternates between sucking hard to little kitten licks while his hand is rolling the other nipple between his fingers. You bite your lip in an effort to suppress your moans, trying to keep in mind that both of you are still technically at work. The thought of being caught during sex has never appealed to you, but for some reason, tonight it sends lightning down your spine. You could tell that you were already incredibly wet, probably soaking through your panties, and you spread your legs a bit to relieve some of the pressure. Aaron immediately steps in closer.

You suddenly feel the hot line of his hard cock against your leg through the several layers of clothing and it makes you moan even louder. “Please,” you gasp, nearly clawing at his back.

His mouth lets go of your nipple with an obscene noise and he’s back to pressing kisses against your neck now, soft and slow, as if giving you a second to catch your breath. “What do you want?” He murmurs, voice deep, and going straight to your wet pussy.

And there it is again— Aaron’s need to take of people. To take care of you.

You spread your legs more at the thought, feeling like you can’t breathe.

Aaron hums, stroking his hand along your thigh, and it feels like you’re burning through your slacks. “Is that you want?” The deep timbre of his voice makes you dizzy, especially when he talks to you like that; teasing, like he’s playing with you.

You nod, your words stuck in your throat. You feel the sweat start to gather at your forehead, your chest, and you can feel him staring while you’re trying to catch your breath.

“I want you to say it,” Aaron says before he’s lifting your hips up so you’re sitting at the edge of his desk. He then tucks his fingers in the waistband of your pants but makes no move to tug them down.

You glance helplessly at the door, thanking past you and the thought to close the door. You know there is a low chance of being heard since it’s almost midnight on a Friday, but again, the thought of being caught with your pants around your ankles and your bra off sends a shiver through you.

“Look at me.” And there’s a hand on your chin, pulling your attention back to the older man in front of you.

He looks absolutely wrecked despite all of his clothes being on. You didn’t notice his tie was gone, thrown somewhere in the office. Aaron is looking at you intently, eyes dark from how dilated his pupils were, and you can tell he’s just as affected by the way his chest is heaving up and down underneath his button-up.

“Tell me what you want,” Aaron whispers, his free hand running up and down your thighs. “And I’ll give it to you.”

Your throat clicks when you swallow, licking your lips, and you watch as Aaron’s eyes follow the movement. “Please eat me out,” you say breathlessly, and it almost feels stupid to say until Aaron is surging into you to press his hungry mouth against yours.

“That’s a good girl,” Aaron mumbles against your mouth and you want to melt into a puddle.

He finally pulls down your pants, helping you lift your hips up to take them off. He’s helping you take off your shoes and then suddenly, he’s kneeling on the floor in between your thighs.

You almost want to close them, suddenly feeling shy, until he has his hands on your knees to keep them apart. You can’t see his expressions from this angle, but you squirm when you feel his eyes and warm breath on your core, probably having soaked your panties right through. You wouldn’t be surprised if you soaked through your pants.

He lets go of your knee to trace your slit through your panties and you jump a bit in surprise, moaning nonetheless and grinding your hips up into his touch. You’re sensitive and have been teased for who knows how long, and secretly you’ve always liked getting dirty with some clothes being on. Blame Aaron and his penchant for suits.

And then he’s leaning in and pressing his hot hot mouth against your cunt through your panties.

You gasp, loudly, and your hands fly to the top of his head. That’s all the permission Aaron needs, it seems, as he begins by swiping his flat tongue up you before dissolving into slow languid licks. He’s not exactly touching you where you need him most, but it’s enough for now. He’s messy and you’re starting to wonder if a mix of his spit and your wetness is dripping onto his desk, onto the floor, and the thought makes your thighs shake. You know he’s doing this on purpose to make your panties wetter, and it’s so hot in a way you didn’t know was possible.

You feel him hum against you and you squirm against his hands, mewling when you feel them tighten on your thighs. You secretly hope he leaves bruises.

“Please,” you whisper. As much as you love the thought of him so desperate to get a taste of you, him willing to take what he can get through the fabric, you need more. “Aaron, please…”

He groans, something masculine and guttural, and then he’s moving your panties aside from your wet pussy and delving back in again.

His mouth feels infinitely better like this, and you can feel his tongue swiping into your opening, gathering the wetness and completely avoiding your clit. You whine, grasping at his hair a little harder, and wonder if that’s his smile you can feel against your pussy. You grind against his face, almost involuntarily, and he lets you, even enjoying it based on how he moans and moves his tongue faster, exploring.

He finally moves his tongue to your clit and your eyes nearly roll back at the pleasure wracking your body. You gasp and tighten your hold on his hair. It feels so so good, and again the thought of Aaron being so hungry for you he’s willing to do this in the office, his office. Stern and cold, highly esteemed SSA Aaron Hotchner. Your boss.

“Fuck, Aaron,” you whimper and look down at him on his knees between your thighs. His eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as if he’s just at his desk filling out paperwork or working on a case. Instead, he’s focused on eating you out so intensely, on making you feel so good, he’s so hot.

He opens his eyes at that, as if he could feel you watching him, and they’re a warm golden brown, pupils blown. His hands on your thighs tighten and he shifts from where’s kneeling on the floor. You could see he’s genuinely enjoying making you come apart with his pretty mouth as he flicks your clit ever so gently. You distantly wonder if he’s hard and leaving a stain through his own dress pants.

He gives a soft suck on your clit and your hips stutter, your breath catching in your chest as you feel that familiar pressure start building at the pit of your stomach. And it’s like he can immediately tell, because of course he can, and you suddenly feel one of his thick and long fingers enter you.

“Oh,” you gasp in surprise, eyes rolling back at the primal feeling of being filled. You wish it was his cock, God do you wish, but this is enough for now.

Aaron is still looking up at you and you can tell he’s about to move away to ask if this was okay, if you’re okay, but before he can, you put your leg on top of his shoulder and pull him in. You hope that that answers his question.

And because Aaron is Aaron and can somehow read your mind, he almost imperceptibly nods and puts his mouth on your clit again. His finger starts slow, despite how wet and open you are, as if he’s still teasing you. It’s almost enough for you; the steady sucking of your clit and something thick in your pussy, if he would only move a little faster.

“Harder, please, please,” you beg, unable to stop yourself, nearly babbling. It would be embarrassing if Aaron clearly didn’t like it based on the way he pushes his finger in deeper and harder, his sucking moving into hard licks to your clit.

It was good, so so good, and so intense that you wish you could swipe all of his files and folders off the desk and lay on your back to savor it. Instead, Aaron moves his tongue faster and that tidal wave is getting stronger. You instinctively push at Aaron’s head so you could catch your breath for at least a second because you don’t want this to be over just yet.

Aaron grunts and moves his free hand to your hip, grabbing you hard to keep you in your place. He inserts another finger, and it’s almost too much but it’s also just the right amount of fullness you want at the same time. He’s pumping them in and out of your wet pussy so fast, the lewd noises filling the office, maybe even carrying downstairs.

And then he’s curling his fingers just so, flicking your clit just so, and looking at you with eyes so dark and intense that you finally, finally come.

The shout of his name dies in your throat as you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, and feeling that blissful white-hot pleasure all over. Your pussy clenches around Aaron’s fingers as he keeps his fingers curled inside you. You can feel your hips stuttering, unable to make your mind up on whether to chase the feeling with his mouth or away, but Aaron makes that decision for you as his hand grips impossibly tighter and laps at your clit gently to help you ride out your orgasm.

You’re trying to catch your breath when you feel Aaron give a whisper of a kiss on your cunt, making you jump. He chuckles quietly and you blearily open your eyes to see him slowly standing up, hearing him groan when his knees pop. You don’t even have the mental capacity to make fun of him for it, especially when you see the look on his face as he steps closer between your shaking legs.

His hair is absolutely ruined thanks to your fingers and his eyes are soft with a touch of concern. There’s a near triumphant smug grin on his face, sweet dimples poking out, and the bottom half of his face is unquestionably glistening. He flicks a tongue out to lick his lips and you want him so bad.

You glance down and feel a shiver of pride and hunger when you see the line of his hard cock through his slacks, a wet spot barely visible.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nearly swoon at how low and deep his voice sounds. He uses his clean hand to swipe a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face and tuck it behind your ear. You can’t even imagine what a mess you look right now, face probably flushed and naked on his desk.

You nod, swallowing the dryness in your throat. His smile gets wider at that, if possible.

He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss and hums when you part your lips to taste yourself. The hand that’s migrated to cradle the back of your head trails down to the nape of your neck, gripping you in a way that was almost possessive. It’s hypnotizing and you feel breathless again at the thought of his hand around your throat.

You feel his cock pressing against your inner thigh, so close to where you need him the most, and you reach to fiddle with his loosened tie before trailing it down his chest. You can feel his muscles flexing, his stomach tensing, before passing his belt and pressing your palm against him. “Can I…?”

He groans against your mouth before pulling away, leaning his forehead against yours. You can imagine the veins in his throat popping as he tries not to cant his hips against you.

You’re marveling at the size of him as you run your hand up and down his length. You had a feeling he was going to be big but not this big. Your mouth waters at the thought of him between your lips, hot and heavy, or pulsating in your pussy as he comes inside of you, filling you up. You can imagine his biceps tensing, the veins in his forearms showing, and the way his eyes would close as he chased his own orgasm.

So, you’re shocked and maybe a little offended when you feel Aaron’s fingers circling your wrist to pull your hand away.

“It’s okay,” he whispers against your lips before you could say anything.

“But I want to—”

“Not here,” he says, now rubbing your wrist like an afterthought. “I wanted to take care of you first.”

You huff a laugh, starting to understand now. Something warm unfurls in your chest at that. Aaron Hotchner had always seemed like the type to want to make the woman come first, maybe even multiple times before his own release.

He steps away, adjusting himself in his pants and fixing the collar of his shirt. Your eyes follow the motions, fixated on his hands, and for some reason you’re feeling hot again.

You must have made a noise because Aaron’s head whips up at you, that smug grin that he’s not even trying to hide anymore getting wider. He leans down to pick up your pants and helps you wriggle your panties back up your legs and to your hips. His hands linger on your inner thighs as if he can’t help himself and you notice his breath getting deeper, his mouth parted.

You’re just about to slide them off again, maybe even using your arm to finally slide all the papers on his desk off when he steps away again.

“My place?” He asks lowly. His gaze lingers on your thighs, your chest, and then back up to your face. The desire and want is plain as day on his face.

As if on cue, you hear the familiar sound of a custodial cart next door in Rossi’s office. Your heart leaps in your throat and you push off the desk to scramble and put your pants and sweater back on.

Aaron laughs at that, quietly again, as if they don’t work here and they’re about to get caught doing something they’re not supposed to be doing. Which, you guess, is somewhat true.

But then Aaron is on his knees again, your shoe in one hand and his fingers circling your ankle to lift up with the other as he looks up at you. His eyes are so sincere, sweet, as if he just didn’t give you the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life here in his office.

You smile at him, feeling the fondness grow impossibly larger in your chest, and let him help you put your shoes back.

You can return the favor in his bed.

#god forgive me please im so sorry #i havent written anything in forever and then i write this in a week lol like aight...#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner smut #mine #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine

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afyrian · 26 days ago

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friends to lovers w/ msby | headcanons

m.list

sakusa kiyoomi

- only became friends with you cause you were neighbors - he helped move your couch up to your apartment - you offered to buy him dinner in exchange for more help - after that you would just find each other everywhere - sakusa’s on the elevator when you are - he’s at the same coffee shop - even getting his groceries at the same time - so you start hanging out more - you’ll go watch his games - he’ll beta read your food-based articles - even joining you to try a new restaurant for your blog - the change happened for him first - when you spilled wine on his couch - you were so apologetic, doing anything you could to clean it - fell for you first AND harder - he kept it a secret for awhile - not even telling the rest of the team - (although atsumu found out pretty early on) - only told you when you confessed to him - ‘i like you.. and i appreciate your friendship, i just can’t continue like this’ [you] - ‘i like you too, and i have for a while’ [sakusa]

atsumu miya

- met you at a volleyball game - thought you to be one his many fans - 'you want my signature or a photo? or both?' [atsumu] - 'i'm sorry who are you?' [you] - humbled him immediately - you were there investigating one of the teams for fraud and its connection with a coach - he wanted in on it as soon as he heard - wanting to tell others that he was part of a 'serious investigation' - when really you were just writing for the city's news station - however, you do come to find out that he's pretty good at it - he'd get you interviews you couldn't get before - even chatting to the coach to get him to lie through his teeth - 'pretty good investigator, aren't i?' [atsumu] - 'depends on what you define as good...' [you] - you have a very playful relationship together - meeting up at small coffee shops to discuss it - him getting a shout out at the bottom of your article - you quickly realize your own feelings a few weeks later - he’s laughing about something hinata said and the first person he looked to was you - and there’s a light in his eyes that you realize has been there every time he’s looked into your’s

hinata shoyo

- you met him on a layover out of brazil - you were in another part of the country when your layout took you to rio de janeiro - hinata bumped into you when walking to your gate - ‘i’m so sorry, i should’ve looked-’ [you] - ‘it’s okay! i should’ve been paying more attention too’ [hinata] - as an apology he walked you to your gate - only realizing when you got there that it was his gate too - you talk the enter time you’re waiting to board - he ends up in front of you on the airplane - the two of you chat as everyone gets situated on the plane - just as you’re getting off, hinata hands you a piece of paper with his phone number - ‘maybe we can meet up later’ [hinata] - ‘i’d love to!’ [you] - as you make your way down the aisle, the paper falls from your hand - it disappears beneath a few rows - so you spend the next year wondering what would’ve happened - magically, you run into him again at a coffee shop - ‘hinata?’ [you] - he was ecstatic to see you again - offering to buy your coffee and chat - knowing you had just gotten out of an almost year long relationship, you tell him it can only be platonic - he accepts profusely - as you chat, you start wondering if anything could be there - and you spend a couple months strictly as friends - only breaking that rule when you invite him out to dinner

bokuto kotaro

- prefers being friends before dating - so when he meets you at his favorite coffee shop, he's inclined to learn about you slowly - you just started as a barista and you happily welcome his morning routine - he'll always come in with the intent to try something new - however, he always convinces himself to buy the same thing - 'well we have a new seasonal flavor-' [you] - 'no, no, i think the usual will work today' [bokuto] - until one day when he asked for a baked good and wanted to know if you could hang out during your break - and it slowly became routine for the two of you - you’d talk about everything under the sun - about your schooling, his volleyball, your personal lives - eventually he brings his friends to the shop to meet you - and what cements his budding crush on you is just how well you get along with them all - akaashi to atsumu, you’re able to communicate so well with them - watching you be so kind to them just got his heart beating - and he’s vocal about a lot but he was too nervous to say anything - especially when he didn’t want to lose your friendship - so he only said something when akaashi told him to - telling him that he could ‘totally see’ the crush you have on him

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki

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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

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Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

1K notes · View notes

julietsf1 · 2 months ago

Text

Push & Pull - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Y/N has always kept Franco at a distance, teasing and confident that he’d never give up on her. But when he suddenly pulls away, she can’t stop thinking about him, realizing she might care more than she’s let on. Could it be that he’s been waiting for her to figure it out all along? (6k words)

Warnings: None

AN: Another one for all you hotties! If any Argentinians read this pls recommend me some things to do in Buenos Aires!! I'm visiting next month ^-^ ciao

__________________________________________

The sun hung high over the paddock, its warmth beating down on the sea of activity buzzing between the garages. I walked beside Lando, who is both my best friend in the entire world but also my worst nightmare as his PR rep. I adored him, though. Lando, as usual, was in the middle of an overly dramatic retelling of his latest training session.

But today, I wasn’t paying much attention. My focus kept drifting—not so subtly—toward someone else entirely.

“You know,” Lando said, waving his hand, helmet tucked under his arm, “if you’re hoping for another one of Franco’s smirks, maybe just walk up and wave a banner next time. Save us both the suspense. I mean, you’ve already pulled the ‘hot dress’ stunt last week.”

I flicked my eyes to the right. There he was, standing outside the Williams home, laughing with one of his engineers, completely oblivious to my presence. Green eyes and a beaming smile that could undo me with a single glance.

Lando snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, something about banners or your genius or something,” I muttered, my gaze still lingering on Franco.

Lando shook his head, grinning. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Lando smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, you’ve been sneaking looks the Williams motorhome since we left the garage. Just admit it. You are definitly not staring at James Vowels over there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed, adjusting my sunglasses with forced nonchalance. “I’m just people-watching.”

“Right,” Lando said with a deadpan expression, “because there’s nothing more captivating than Franco ‘green eyes and a fluffy hair’ Colapinto.”

My lips quirked up despite myself, but before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the paddock noise.

“Y/N! Looking for me?”

Franco’s voice carried over the chatter, as smooth and confident as ever. He strolled up with his usual big smile, and despite my best efforts, I felt my pulse quicken.

“Looking for you?” I raised an eyebrow, keeping my tone cool. “Why would I be looking for you?”

Franco grinned, leaning in just enough to make my heart skip. “Because you always do. Can’t resist me.”

Lando snorted loudly, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at both of them. “Pretty sure I’m here for work, Franco,” I said dryly, crossing my arms. “Not to boost your ego.”

“Work?” Franco chuckled, throwing a quick glance at Lando. “Well, if that’s what it takes to finally get some one-on-one time with you, I could use a good publicist.”

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “You mean someone to clean up all the damage you do in your interviews?”

“Something like that maybe,” Franco replied, his grin widening. He leaned in slightly more, his voice lowering a bit. “But if you’re up for it, I bet we could give them something that'll really make headlines, hermosa.”

My heart skipped—he had a way of doing that. Always flirting, always smooth. I could feel Lando’s eyes practically burning holes into the side of my head, waiting for my reaction.

“Bye, Colapinto,” I teased back, tilting my head slightly. “We’re on our way to Alex. Don’t you have to focus on your practice session or something?”

Lando let out a soft, exaggerated “Ouch!” behind me.

"Point taken," Franco chuckled softly. "But don’t worry, hermosa, I’m always around when you need me."

I raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze for a moment longer before shrugging. “Of course you are.”

And just like that, I turned away, flashing a brief, teasing smile before walking straight toward Alex, who was conveniently nearby. I could practically feel Franco’s eyes on me, the way his playful mood shifted just slightly at the sight of me talking to his teammate instead of him.

Lando fell in step beside me, clearly enjoying every second of the interaction. “Wow. Just… wow. You’ve got the poor guy on the ropes, and you’re still playing it cool.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my tone casual but a little too pleased with myself.

“Oh, come on,” Lando scoffed. “He is looking at you the way I look at capri suns while you barely even looked at him when he flirted with you. And now you’re talking to Alex? Cold-blooded.”

I shot him a side glance. “I came here to arrange a damage control golf session for you, Lando. I’m not playing any games.”

“Yeah sure,” Lando said, raising an eyebrow. “You have Alex’s number; you could just text about that. I think you needed your daily dose of Franco this morning.”

I just smiled and waved it off. “It’s just a small bonus.”

“You know, you keep this up, and Franco might actually grow a spine and stop chasing you. Then what?”

“Then I’ll cross that bridge when I get there,” I replied smoothly.

Lando shook his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying, even for me, it’s confusing whether you actually want him or not. Can’t imagine what is going on in his head.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at Franco, who was now back with his engineer, though his eyes lingered in my direction for just a second too long. I turned back to Lando, my smirk still firmly in place.

The post-qualifying buzz was winding down, but I was just getting started. There was just something undeniably fun about watching Franco get wound up, especially when I knew exactly how to push his buttons. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since our earlier exchange, and that gave me all the more reason to turn up the heat.

Oscar was standing near the garage, chatting with a couple of engineers, looking completely unbothered by anything that wasn’t race-related. The perfect opportunity.

With a casual smile, I sauntered over, making sure every move was within Franco’s line of sight. I could feel his gaze burning into me, that sharp, undeniable tension building the closer I got to Oscar.

“Hey, Oscar!” I called, stepping up beside him, all friendly charm and bright smiles. “Great qualifying today. P3, right?”

Oscar chuckled, completely unaware of the storm brewing a few garages down. “Yeah, just behind Lando. He hasn’t stopped reminding me.” He rolled his eyes. “But I’ll get him back tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I said, leaning in just enough to make it look a little too friendly. “But you did great out there. Don’t let Lando’s big mouth get to you.”

Oscar smiled, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Thanks, Y/N. Means a lot.”

I could feel Franco’s attention prickling at the back of my neck, like a live wire sparking just out of sight. He wasn’t making a scene—yet—but I knew him well enough to know that the longer I kept this up, the more he’d unravel.

Oscar, bless him, remained blissfully unaware as I laughed at something he said, placing a hand lightly on his arm. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even notice the deliberate touch, but I knew Franco did. I didn’t need to look over to know that his jaw was probably clenched, his hands likely fisted at his sides, trying and failing to keep his cool.

“Really, Y/N?” Lando’s voice broke through, his tone dripping with amusement as he strolled up beside me. “Oscar? That’s your move?”

I blinked innocently at him. “What? We’re just having a nice chat.”

Lando shot me a knowing look. “Talk to him, sure. But, come on, this is hardly subtle.”

Oscar frowned, clearly confused. “Wait, what am I missing?”

Lando smirked, crossing his arms as he glanced toward Franco’s garage. “Only the fact that you’re a pawn in Y/N’s little game. Poor Franco looks like he’s about to storm over here any second now.”

Oscar blinked. “Franco? Why would—” He glanced in Franco’s direction, then back at me, the realization slowly dawning. “Oh. I see.”

I shrugged, still smiling. “Lando’s being dramatic, as usual.”

Lando snorted. “Am I? Because if looks could kill, Franco would’ve turned you both into toast about five minutes ago.”

Oscar looked between us, still processing what was happening. “You are not setting me up for some weird beef with Franco, right?”

I patted Oscar’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. You’re just an innocent bystander.”

Oscar, ever the polite one, chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, right. Well, I should probably get going. See you guys later.”

As soon as Oscar made his hasty retreat, Lando turned to me, a wicked grin on his face. “You are cruel. I mean, Franco’s been flirting with you for weeks, and now you’re just… torturing the poor guy.”

“I’m not torturing him,” I replied, though my smile betrayed my amusement. “He’s fine.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure about that? He’s got the look of someone who just found out his favorite show’s been canceled.”

I shot a glance toward Franco, and sure enough, he was standing just a little too still, his jaw clenched as he glared in our direction. A thrill shot through me—he was unraveling, just like I knew he would.

“He’ll get over it,” I said, my tone light but full of mischief.

Lando sighed, leaning in with a grin. “Keep this up and Franco’s going to start writing poetry. You might want to give him a break before it gets tragic.”

My smirk grew, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—a thrill, yes, but also a dangerous kind of enjoyment. I liked knowing I had this power over him, but at the same time, I wondered just how far I could push him before he finally snapped.

“You know, one of these days, it’s gonna get messy,” Lando teased, clearly enjoying the drama. “And when it does, I hope you’re ready.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t stop the tiny pang of anticipation that flared up at Lando’s words. “I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Lando quipped, casting another glance at Franco. “Seriously though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this wound up. You’re going to need more than a PR damage control strategy when this all blows up.”

I stole one last look at Franco, who was now pretending to be engrossed in a conversation with his engineer, though his eyes kept darting over to me. The tension between us was palpable, and for a second, I felt the heat of it settle in my chest.

“It will be fine, Lando! Stop stressing so much,” I said confidently, though his warning echoed in the back of my mind.

Lando just laughed. “If you say so. But I’m getting front-row seats when it happens.”

The hotel lobby was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over the elegant space. I strolled in, mentally exhausted from a day of media meetings, ready to unwind. The plush chairs and quiet ambiance promised me some much-needed relaxation.

But of course, things never went as planned when Franco was around.

I spotted him instantly, leaning casually against the reception desk, chatting with a hotel staff member. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on me was unmistakable—like I was exactly what he had been waiting for.

“Y/N,” Franco called out, his voice smooth and rich as he broke into a wide grin. He abandoned the conversation with the staff member and headed straight for me, the playful glint in his eyes making my stomach flip. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Franco,” I greeted, letting my lips curve into a small smile. “You really do seem to be everywhere these days.”

“Can you really blame me?” Franco said with a playful grin, moving closer, his presence radiating that effortless charm that always set my pulse racing, his eyes trailing up and down, taking me in. “I tend to gravitate toward the best things in life.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” Franco corrected with a wink. “Have you eaten yet?”

The question hung in the air for a beat, and I could see the flicker of hope in his eyes. He was practically handing me the opportunity to push him a bit again.

“No, no dinner,” I answered slowly, watching as his grin widened.

“Perfect,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “What do you say we fix that? There’s this incredible little spot nearby—quiet, cozy, great steak. I could use the company.” He paused, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping a little. “Especially your company.”

I raised an eyebrow, biting back the urge to laugh at how effortlessly flirty he always was. He was good, I had to admit that. But I wasn’t about to make it that easy for him. Where’s the fun in that?

“Oh?” I said, feigning interest, though I knew exactly how I’d respond. “That sounds tempting.”

Franco’s grin grew, and he took another step closer, his hand resting on the back of a chair near us, bringing him even more into my personal space. “Most definitely. You, me, good food, and a quiet night… what’s not to like?”

I tilted my head, letting my gaze linger on him for a moment before replying. “Mmm, I don’t know, Franco. It’s been a long day. I might just head to bed.”

Franco’s expression faltered, but only for a second. He recovered quickly, his smirk never quite leaving. “We’ll keep it simple. No grand gestures, no expectations—just good food and a little company.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “I promise I’ll behave.”

I laughed softly, the sound teasing. “You? Behave? I find that hard to believe.”

Franco’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can be on my best behavior... if the moment calls for it.”

I gave him a slow, appraising look, letting the tension build between us. I could see the way his eyes darkened, the slight shift in his posture as he waited for my answer.

“Well,” I drawled, my voice teasing as I leaned back against the wall, “maybe another time.”

Franco’s smile fell slightly. “Another time?”

I nodded, the corners of my lips curling up as I played with him. “Yeah. I mean, you make a good offer, Franco. But I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.”

Franco tried to keep his cool, but I could see the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

“Beauty sleep?” he asked, his voice still carrying that flirty tone, though it was softer now. “You don’t need any of that.”

I smirked, letting my gaze flick up and down him for a brief moment. “Loving the flattery, though.”

“So, dinner tomorrow maybe?” he asked again, hopeful.

My smile turned more teasing as I gently patted his arm. “Another time.”

Franco’s smirk faltered, and he ran a hand through his hair, his confidence slipping just slightly. “You’re killing me, Y/N.”

“Not yet,” I replied, my tone light but filled with playful challenge.

Franco chuckled, though it was clear he was a little defeated. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

“Do I?” I teased, tilting my head playfully. “Goodnight, Franco.”

He watched me go, standing there in the lobby, a little defeated but still holding onto that spark of hope I’d dangled in front of him. I didn’t look back, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire way to the elevator.

As I rode up to my room, the thrill of our back-and-forth lingered. Seeing him lose his mind over me was fun—really fun—but there was something about tonight that felt different. Hurt eyes that lingered just a bit too long. Maybe I was taking it too far.

The next day had been a whirlwind of post-qualifying interviews and pre-race prep, but none of it could distract me from the change in Franco’s behavior. After last night’s playful banter at the hotel, I expected him to keep up the chase. But today, something was different.

No looks, no comments, nothing.

And worst of all? He was very publicly flirting with someone else. Right in the middle of the paddock.

And not just anyone—a stunning blonde journalist with a smile too bright and a laugh that seemed to come far too easily. It wasn’t the harmless banter I was used to seeing from him. No, this was something different. He was invested, leaning in close, saying something that made the blonde practically cling to his every word.

Irritation flared in me, but I did my best to mask it.

“You’re being weird,” Lando remarked, raising his eyebrows as he caught me staring across the road of the McLaren motorhome. “Did you swallow a lemon or something?”

“I’m not being weird,” I snapped, a little too quickly, my eyes still fixed on Franco as he threw his head back, laughing at something the journalist said. “He’s… being weird.”

Lando followed my gaze, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Ah, I see. You’re not used to this, are you?”

“Used to what?” I tried to play it cool but was failing miserably.

Lando laughed. “Used to him not obsessing over your every move.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, I really do not care.”

“I called it.” Lando smirked, leaning against the wall, clearly enjoying himself. “Looks like Franco’s finally had enough of your games.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. Sick of chasing after me? That couldn’t be it. Franco had always flirted with me, always seemed like he enjoyed our interactions as much as I did. And now? Now he was acting like I didn’t exist. Not even a glance in my direction.

I crossed my arms, trying to maintain an air of indifference, but Lando could see right through it. “He cannot be sick of me.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, darling, but it looks like he’s pretty content chatting up Blondie over there.”

I gritted my teeth. “He’s just being polite.”

“Uh-huh,” Lando said, the grin never leaving his face. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

I stole another glance toward Franco, who was now laughing again at something else the blonde said, his hand resting on the bar beside her. The ease of it, the fact that he wasn’t sparing me even a glance, gnawed at me.

Lando chuckled. “Wow. Easy there, tiger. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I snapped, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

“So worked up and jealous,” Lando said with a shrug. “He’s just having a good chat with the sexy Spanish lady, and you’re over here, practically steaming.”

“I’m not jealous,” I bit out, my voice sharper than I intended.

Lando raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. I haven’t seen you this stressed since I my DM’s leaked last year. If you really care, you might want to do something about this before he completely forgets about you.”

My pulse quickened. Leave it to Lando to offer up some brutal honesty. The idea of Franco actually moving on, of him getting over me, didn’t sit right. Not at all. I had enjoyed the back-and-forth with him, the flirting, the tension. But this? No. This was not good.

“And then there’s the padel match yesterday evening,” Lando added, casually tossing out the words like a grenade.

I blinked, confused. “The what now?”

“Franco,” Lando explained, smiling a bit awkwardly now. “He went on a padel date with that journalist yesterday. It’s all over the paddock.”

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “So what? He can play padel with whoever he wants.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Right. Because you’re totally not bothered by the fact that he’s off playing padel and flirting with someone else.”

“I’m most certainly not,” I shot back, my voice sharper than intended.

Lando laughed, leaning in closer as if he’d just discovered the punchline to his favorite joke. “Oh, you so are. It’s written all over your face.”

I clenched my jaw, glaring at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, sweetie,” Lando said, clearly not buying it. “What is it that they say? You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone or something.”

My eyes flicked back to Franco, and I felt that familiar twinge of irritation. He still hadn’t looked my way. Normally, by now, he’d have come over with one of his cheeky comments, trying to make me smile. But now? He was completely engrossed in his conversation with the journalist, as if I didn’t exist.

“He’s just trying to make me jealous,” I muttered, more to myself than to Lando.

Lando snickered. “I don’t know, Y/N, maybe he’s already over you.”

The comment hit me, and for a moment, my usual confidence wavered. I felt the sting of it—not as a challenge, but as something that didn’t sit right in my chest. Franco moving on? That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered, more to myself than to Lando, my voice not as steady as I would’ve liked. I tried to brush it off, but it still lingered.

Lando noticed the shift in my tone, his smirk softening slightly. “Whoa, I was just messing around. I didn’t mean to—”

I forced a small smile, waving him off. “It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting that, I guess.” I paused, then shrugged. “Anyway, whatever. He’ll come around. Maybe.”

Lando looked like he was about to say something else, but I was already walking off, my thoughts swirling with what-ifs. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, but I wasn’t about to dwell on it—not yet.

But the unease lingered.

The day hadn’t gone as expected. Franco spent the entire afternoon being... different. Detached, even. Chatting up what felt like all the girls in the paddock, from catering staff to marshals. Especially that blonde journalist. The thought made my stomach twist in a way I wasn’t used to.

I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I needed to talk about this, and who better than the girls?

As I walked into the small café where I was meeting up with Kika and Alexandra, I took a deep breath. The quiet buzz of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, but my mind was far from grounded.

Kika spotted me first, waving me over with a wide grin. “There she is! Come sit, we were just talking about you.”

I slid into the booth, trying to force a smile. “All good things, I hope?”

Alexandra gave me a soft, knowing look, but Kika, ever the lively one, was quick to dive in. “Of course! But you look stressed. Spill.”

I sighed, glancing between the two of them. “It’s... Franco.”

Kika’s eyes lit up immediately, like she’d just been handed a fresh piece of juicy gossip. “Ah, your fanboy. What did he do now?”

“It’s not what he did exactly,” I said, picking at the edge of the menu absentmindedly. “It’s more what he didn’t do.”

Alexandra leaned in slightly, her voice calm and curious. “What do you mean?”

I let out a frustrated breath. “He’s been different. Ever since last night. He asked me to dinner, I played with him a little—kept things flirty, but didn’t say yes. And now, today, he’s... ignoring me. He spent all day flirting with that blonde journalist.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, sitting back with a smirk. “So, you’re saying you miss the attention?”

“No!” I replied quickly, but the doubt in my voice betrayed me. “It’s not that. It’s just... I don’t get why he suddenly doesn’t care. He’s been chasing me for weeks.”

Alexandra gave a small smile, her eyes gentle. “Maybe he’s tired of the chase.”

I frowned, not liking the sound of that at all. “Tired of the chase?”

“Yeah,” Kika chimed in, her tone playful but pointed. “Maybe the poor guy finally got sick of working so hard. He’s been trying and trying, but you’ve been making him run in circles.”

I crossed my arms, feeling more defensive than I liked. “He knew what this was. It’s just... fun.”

Kika snorted. “Fun for who? Hard to get gets exhausting after a while, sweetie.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Alexandra spoke first, her voice soft but firm. “Y/N, maybe it’s more than just a game to him. And from what I’m hearing, maybe it’s more to you too, but you’re not ready to admit that.”

I hesitated, the words striking closer to home than I wanted to admit. I’d always enjoyed the back-and-forth with Franco, the way he chased me, how easy it was to keep him on edge. But today? Today felt different. Seeing him flirt with someone else... it bothered me more than it should.

“You think I actually like him?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual but failing miserably.

Kika grinned, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t just like him. You’re jealous.”

I scowled, pushing my hair back as if the action would help me regain some control. “I’m not jealous.”

“Uh-huh,” Kika teased, leaning forward. “That’s why you’ve been stewing all day.”

Alexandra, ever the caring one, placed a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s okay to admit it. Sometimes, these things sneak up on you.”

I looked between the two of them, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. Had I really let it get this far? Was I jealous? The idea of Franco actually moving on, actually losing interest in me, made my chest tighten in a way that was entirely unfamiliar.

“What do I do?” I finally asked, my voice quieter now, the bravado gone.

Kika’s eyes sparkled with excitement, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “Alright, here’s the plan: tonight, we’re going out, and you’re going to look amazing. We’ll remind Franco exactly why he’s been chasing you all this time. By the end of the night, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

She paused, her grin widening. “Trust me, he’ll forget those other girls even exist.”

Alexandra smiled softly. “Or, you could just talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

Kika waved that suggestion off. “Yeah, we’ll get to that part eventually. First, we make him sweat a little.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Kika’s enthusiasm, but Alexandra’s words lingered. Maybe I did need to talk to him. But not yet. Not until I figured out exactly what I wanted to say—and what I wanted from him.

“Alright,” I said, a new determination settling over me. “Let’s go out tonight.”

Kika grinned like she had just won the lottery. “That’s my girl. Franco won’t know what hit him.”

The thought of seeing Franco’s reaction later sent a thrill through me, but there was something else too—something that was still unresolved, simmering just below the surface. For now, though, I was ready to play this game one last time.

Later that evening, the city was alive with music and lights, and I found myself standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the dress Kika had practically forced me into. It was sleek, eye-catching, and made me feel like I owned the night. I had to admit—Kika’s plan to make an impression was already working, and we hadn’t even left the hotel yet.

Kika and Alexandra stood behind me, both beaming with approval.

“Perfect,” Kika declared, crossing her arms with satisfaction. “Franco won’t know what hit him.”

Alexandra smiled softly, leaning against the wall. “You do look stunning, Y/N. But remember—don’t do this just for him. Do it because you feel good.”

I met her eyes in the mirror and gave a small nod. “Yeah, I know.” But there was no denying it—tonight, I wanted Franco to see exactly what he’d been missing. The uncertainty of the day still gnawed at me, but if nothing else, I would remind him who had the upper hand.

“Alright, ladies, let’s go,” Kika said with a dramatic flourish. “The night awaits, and so does your boy.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. Maybe tonight was exactly what I needed—a chance to reset and reclaim my confidence.

The club was packed, the music pulsing through the air as we stepped inside. Neon lights flashed over the crowd, and the atmosphere buzzed with energy. My heart beat in time with the rhythm, a sense of anticipation building.

It didn’t take long for me to spot Franco.

He was standing by the bar, drink in hand, surrounded by a few friends. And, of course, the blonde journalist was there too, her laughter ringing out a little too loud, her hand lingering a little too long on Franco’s arm. But she wasn’t the issue. The only one who mattered was Franco.

Kika nudged me, leaning in to whisper. “Time to work your magic.”

I smirked but kept my focus forward as we passed by the bar, brushing deliberately close to Franco. I didn’t turn to look at him—just a quick glance from the corner of my eye—but I knew he saw me.

Yet, he didn’t move. Didn’t even shift in my direction.

We ordered drinks right next to him, deliberately positioning ourselves in eyesight of Franco. I let my fingers trail across my glass, playing with the straw, while Kika and Alexandra chatted away. The music thumped around us, and the atmosphere was thick with excitement. But still, no reaction from Franco.

Finally, I allowed myself a glance over—just a flick of my eyes—but he was still talking to his group, completely ignoring me. He seemed annoyingly relaxed, easygoing, but he wasn’t focusing on anyone in particular, not even the blonde in front of him. That was a small relief, but his lack of attention toward me stung more than I’d expected.

My stomach tightened with frustration, but I wasn’t about to give up just yet. With a subtle nod to Kika and Alexandra, we moved to the dance floor. If he wasn’t going to come to me, then I’d have to make him notice.

The music vibrated through the club, and I let myself get lost in it, dancing with my friends, feeling the beat in my bones. I moved with confidence, my body swaying to the rhythm, knowing Franco had to be watching. But every now and then, when I glanced back, he was still at the bar—no smirk, no playful look, just the occasional unreadable glance in my direction.

Minutes passed, and my frustration grew. Franco didn’t bat an eye, wasn’t chasing me like he usually did. My attempts to get his attention were falling flat, and the game I’d been so sure of was slipping away.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I muttered to Kika, feeling a flicker of defeat rise in my chest.

Kika gave me a sympathetic look. “Take a breather. He’ll come around.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. I made my way through the crowd, the thumping bass and flashing lights pressing in on me. The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. It felt like Franco was slipping out of my grasp, and the sting of that realization made my chest tighten.

As I reached the hallway leading to the bathroom, my mind raced. Had I pushed him too far? Was this it?

Just as I reached for the door, a hand wrapped gently around my wrist, pulling me back. My breath hitched, and I turned to find Franco standing close, his eyes fixed on mine with a steady intensity.

He didn’t look amused. He looked... focused.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice low but full of that teasing edge I was used to.

My heart raced, my frustration still simmering beneath the surface. “I was.”

Franco didn’t let go of my wrist. Instead, he stepped closer, his other hand resting lightly on my waist. His eyes never left mine, and the heat between us was undeniable.

“You’ve been oddly close to me and my friends all night, hermosa,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. “Staring at me through the crowd.”

I blinked, thrown by his words. “What?”

Franco’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You really think I didn’t notice you? I’ve been watching you since you walked in.”

My pulse quickened, but I kept my tone steady. “You had a funny way of showing it.”

Franco chuckled softly, his hand tightening slightly on my waist. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I was waiting.”

“Waiting?” I repeated, my frustration now mixed with confusion.

Franco nodded, leaning in slightly, his smirk growing. “I knew you cared. All that running around trying to get my attention tonight—it was cute, really.”

My breath caught in my throat as his words sank in. This whole time, he’d been in control. He hadn’t been ignoring me—he’d been making me chase him.

“You—” I started, but Franco cut me off with a laugh.

“I wanted to see you try a little,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “I’ve been trying to get you for weeks, Y/N. Figured maybe if I pulled away, you’d realize what you were missing. And, well... it worked, didn’t it?”

My heart raced, my frustration melting into something else, something like relief. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied.”

Franco chuckled softly, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and something more. “Hmm... almost.”

Before I could respond, Franco closed the distance between us, his hand sliding from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me against him in one swift, confident movement. His other hand cupped my jaw, thumb grazing my skin as his lips met mine with a slow, teasing pressure. The kiss started soft, almost playful, his lips brushing over mine in deliberate, controlled movements, like he was savoring the moment. Then, without warning, the intensity surged, the kiss deepening as Franco pressed me closer, his lips firm and demanding against mine.

I felt the heat radiating from him, my pulse quickening as my fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, twisting it tightly as I pulled him closer. His hand tightened at my waist, fingers digging in slightly as if grounding us both in the moment. His lips moved with a passionate rhythm, his kisses deeper now, bolder, his breath mixing with mine as he tilted my head just enough to angle our kiss perfectly.

My hands slid from his chest to his shoulders, fingers brushing over the firm muscles beneath his shirt as I pressed myself fully against him. Franco’s grip on my waist shifted slightly, one hand slipping to my hip, guiding me even closer. His kisses grew more urgent, his lips parting to allow just a hint of his breath to escape before he claimed my mouth again, the heat between us spiking as the kiss intensified.

I responded in kind, my heart racing as my hands slid into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as I pulled him deeper into the kiss. Franco’s fingers curled against my waist, the firm grip of his hands sending shivers through my body as his lips captured mine again.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Franco’s forehead rested lightly against mine. His thumb gently traced my lower lip, his smirk widening as he held me close, his hands still possessively gripping my waist, as if even now, he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“Took a while, but we got there,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.

My pulse was racing, my mind still spinning from the kiss. I opened my mouth to respond but found myself at a loss for words. My heart thudded in my chest, and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks.

“I—” I stammered, flustered but smiling despite myself. “Maybe... maybe I cared more than I let on.”

Franco’s grin widened, his hand sliding gently from my waist to brush a strand of hair away from my face. “See? Not so hard to admit, was it, hermosa?”

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, my eyes dropping briefly before meeting his again. “Guess not.”

Franco leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead with a light, teasing touch. “Told you—you can’t resist me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I managed, but the blush in my cheeks and the way my voice wavered betrayed my attempt at being unaffected.

Franco’s grin widened as he pulled me even closer, his voice warm and full of teasing affection. “Too late,” he said softly. “But nice try.”

Without missing a beat, he wrapped me tighter in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. After a lingering moment, he loosened his hold just enough to meet my eyes, his teasing smirk fading into something softer, more serious.

“You know I’m not letting you go now, right?” he murmured, his voice dropping with sincerity, his green eyes locking with mine in a way that made my heart skip.

I swallowed, feeling a rush of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. For weeks, I’d been pushing and pulling, testing the limits of our back-and-forth game, but this—this was different. There was no playful banter now, no teasing. Just him, holding me close, looking at me like he had been waiting for this moment all along. It made me question why I ever found joy in keeping my distance from him.

“I think I’d be okay with that,” I whispered, my smile soft and genuine.

#f1 x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto fanfic

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ohbueckers · 2 months ago

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SUIT & TIE. all pressed up in black and white, and you’re dressed in that dress i like. love is swinging in the air tonight, let me show you a few things.

ONE-SHOT! pairing, paige bueckers x reader. notes, another request i got done in ample timing because i’ve been procrastinating the last two parts of what’s my name real bad LMFAOOO enjoy! @patscorner @thaatdigitaldiary thanks baes i needed an excuse to use this picture… warnings, sexual content.

you’re standing near the grand entrance of the gala, lingering behind as your parents moved effortlessly through the crowd, shaking hands and greeting guests. you’d been to many of these events for their business, and yet you always seemed to dissociate. you glance down at the dress you’re wearing—your girlfriend’s choice, of course. it fits you like a glove, the deep color standing out in a sea of black and white. paige had insisted on it, and you’d given in because the way she looks at you in it is worth every second of doubt you’d had when she first showed it to you.

but paige was late. again.

your dad walks up to you, a smug smirk on his face as he sinks his hands deeper into his pockets. “she’ll be here. follow us in,” it was like he could read your mind as he throws his head in one direction, which you figure is the main hall where the night is supposed to start. his arm extends, offering for you to take it, and after a brief pause, you do, rolling your eyes with a half-smile before threading your arm through his.

she had promised to be here after the nike event, swearing she’d make it before the night really started. you understood; between interviews, sponsorships, basketball commitments—she’s been pulled in every direction, and truthfully, you couldn’t be prouder of her. her fame had skyrocketed this past year, and it was safe to say she was booked and busy. in the world of paige bueckers, this all came with the territory.

but tonight, you need her here. it’s your parents’ night, the business gala they’ve been planning for months, and you were happy the location had aligned with her schedule. as much as you’ve gotten used to being the one waiting for paige, there’s something about this evening that’s different. maybe it’s the nerves of being around all these people, or maybe it’s the way you can’t stop checking your phone, hoping for an update.

the minutes crawl by slower than they should, your eyes flitting across the room, searching the crowd for a glimpse of white. as your fingers tap nervously against the side of your glass. the crowd blurs together—tuxedos, dresses, champagne flutes clinking—but no sign of her yet.

just as you think about actually socializing with other people, your demeanor probably giving uninterested to anyone who thought about it, the doors part, and she walks in, all legs and confidence as she shoots that smile at everyone. for a second, you think you’ve imagined her, that your mind has conjured her up to calm your nerves. but no. she’s here.

and she looks damn good.

your heart rate picks up as she clocks you from across the room, that familiar smirk pulling at her lips when she sees you staring. she knows the effect she has on you, on everyone, and she’s not shy about it.

when she finally reaches you, standing just close enough, her voice is low, intimate as she wraps her hand around your hip, and she says, “told you i’d make it, didn’t i?” paige has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. always.

you swallow, glancing at her shoes—a pair of nike’s that she’d probably worn for the shoot. of course, she’d forget to change them after the event. “you were so close to pulling this off,” you tease, nodding toward her feet. “really would’ve had me if you ditched the kicks.”

she glances down, a mock look of realization spreading across her face. “ahh, i knew i was missin’ somethin’. but honestly? i think they make the fit.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile spreading across your lips. “only you would wear sneakers to a business gala.”

she leans in, smirking smugly, her breath warm against your ear as she murmurs, “and only you could make me wanna skip this whole thing.”

your stomach flips, heat rising in your face at the way her voice drops to a dangerous level. her fingers are still gripping your waist like her life depends on it, just a subtle touch, but enough. you should be mingling, keeping up appearances for your parents, but right now? all you can think about is the way paige is looking at you, like she’s already undressing you with her eyes.

she pulls back, just enough to let her eyes trail over your dress—her dress. the one she picked out specifically because, in her words, “i know what looks good on you better than you do.”

she was right.

“you’re killin’ me, you know that?” she mutters, fingers tracing the delicate fabric of the material.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your best formal composure. “i could say the same about you. what’s with the tie?” your hand moves up instinctively, fingers brushing over it. it’s tucked neatly into her white vest, and you’re well-aware of how comfortable you both look right now.

paige’s grin is slow, knowing. “you’ve never seen me like this before, huh?”

you shake your head, licking your lips as you take her in. “no. and i wasn’t prepared. when do those pics come out again?” you’re serious enough to want to commit this image to memory, knowing that the suit, the tie, the whole ensemble might be your new favorite thing.

before paige can respond, you spot movement out of the corner of your eye—your parents approaching. you practically leap out of each other’s arms, standing a little straighter as they stroll over. you felt like two kids in highschool getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to, despite being full-grown adults.

your dad gives a pointed glance between you and paige, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “well, isn’t this a sight?” he says with an undercurrent of teasing that only a parent could manage. “glad you could make it, paige.”

paige flashes her most polite smile, but there’s a faint blush creeping up her neck, spreading to her cheeks. “wouldn’t miss it,” she says, her voice softer and less full of the usual slang she’d use. she’s met your parents plenty of times before, but something about the way they’re looking at the two of you now, has her just a little shy.

your mom steps in, her own smile warm as she subtly nudges paige’s arm. “best behavior, okay?”

you watch paige turn a shade darker, chuckling as the confidence she walked in with slipped just slightly. she clears her throat, glancing down at her shoes before looking back up, all politeness. “of course. i’m on my best behavior.” who was she convincing?

you try to stifle a laugh at the sight of her—paige bueckers, who commands attention on the court and off, suddenly looking bashful under your parents’ orders. you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her like this, and honestly, it’s a little endearing.

your dad claps a hand on her shoulder, steering you both back to the crowd. “let’s get back to mingling. it’s almost time for the toast.”

the night continues, your parents dragging you from one conversation to the next, making you play the part of the dutiful daughter while paige keeps her distance, blending in with the crowd. well, almost. on her journey to becoming a household-known name, she had been stopped for pictures a few times. you catch glimpses of her every now and then, your eyes meeting across the ballroom, and each time, she gives you that same teasing look. you were glad she was here even if you couldn’t spend most of the night together.

then comes the toast, your father standing up to say a few words while the room quiets down, champagne glasses raised high. you’re only half paying attention, focus drifting back to paige like it had been the entire night, who’s already watching you from across the room. she doesn’t need to say anything, but the look she gives you is clear as day—a tilt of her head toward the hallway, her fingers brushing against her tie, sending a message that makes you wonder what her plan is.

meet me in the bathroom.

as your dad finishes up his speech, you wait a few seconds before you excuse yourself from the room, sure not to make anything look too suspicious, although your parents knew you and paige well-enough by now.

the noise of the gala fades as you move deeper into the hallway, the plush carpet beneath your heels muffling your steps. paige is waiting for you just outside the family bathroom, her back leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, but there’s nothing casual about the way she’s eyeing you up and down when she sees you approaching.

“you lookin’ real fine right now,” paige says, her voice low, a little rougher than usual. she brings her hands up, rubbing them together as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling through it. “almost didn’t recognize you for a second.”

you smirk, stepping closer, as you swat her hands down, sick of those stupid rizz hands, although it always worked.. “oh, put it down!”

paige laughs, pushing off the wall and opening the bathroom door for you. “c’mon. lemme show you somethin’ real quick.”

you step inside without hesitation, the door clicking softly behind you, and in an instant, she’s on you. her hands grip your waist, pushing you back against the door, your ass a cushion against the hard surface. and before you can react, her lips crash against yours. it’s hungry, needy, because paige can quite frankly never get enough of you.

her body presses into yours, and you whimper into her mouth, manicured nails sliding around her neck, tugging her closer. “paige,” you murmur against her lips, but that only spurs her on.

she breaks away just enough to flash you a grin, her breath hot against your skin. “what? you don’t wanna?”

you laugh, the sound breathless as she moves her lips to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin in a way that makes your knees weak. “i didn’t think we’d be sneaking around at a gala,” you manage to say between gasps.

paige pulls back slightly again, her eyes locking onto yours, head slightly tilted down due to your height. “it’s not sneaking if they don’t catch us,” she reasons, and you suppose she’s right, but there was also no way you’d say no to her right now when she’s looking like that.

you smile, and her hands slide further around your waist. “c’mere.” she bites her lip, reaching for your wrist as she pulls you toward the sink, spinning you around so your back hits the counter. she hoists you up, and you don’t even have much time to process it before she’s on you again, lips finding yours as she slips her knee between your legs, parting them for her next move.

her hands begin gathering up the fabric of your dress, inch by inch. her fingers trail over your thighs, touch giving you goosebumps, and all you can do is breathe her in as she finally pushes it all the way up so it’s scrunched up at your hips.

she pulls away, lips pink and glossy. “you good?” she whispers.

you nod, barely able to speak as her hands explore you, fingers sliding slowly between your thighs, stroking your skin. “yeah.”

it’s all she needs, really. paige drops to her knees, maintaining eye contact as she positions herself between your legs. the sight of her down there should be framed. it has your pulse racing in all the right ways, and you can barely stand it.

she hooks her fingers around your panties, tugging them down like she’s done a million times before, because she has, and you stare at her with all the awe in the world as she pulls you to the edge of the counter. in an instant, her mouth is on you. you didn’t have much time, and the blonde didn’t plan on wasting it. the first flick of her tongue is slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring you, and one of your hands fly to the sink, gripping it for balance as a strangled gasp escapes your lips.

the other hand instinctively reaches to untuck her tie, pulling on it as the movement brings her closer. she smiles, teeth and all against your clit as she glances up, knowing how much you’re enjoying this. she brings your thighs over her shoulders, grip more rough now as she uses them as handles, having you in the exact position she’d pictured.

the sight of her there, all white suit and tie and sharp eyes, makes your breath catch in your throat. her tongue presses flat against you a few times, switching up the pleasure in a way that keeps you on your toes everytime.

you tug on her tie again, harder this time, making her groan into you, and you feel every bit of it. you can’t help it—the way she looks, the way she feels between your legs, it’s all too much. your back arches as you grind against her mouth, your thighs squeezing around her shoulders as the pleasure builds higher and higher.

“paige, please,” you breathe, your voice almost desperate. it’s a plea, but also a challenge, because you know she’s only going to push you further.

she smirks. “not going anywhere, baby. want more of me?”

she didn’t wait for an answer as she removed one of her hands from your thigh, pulling back just enough to see where her fingers were going. right into you, index and middle disappearing, the slight cold sensation of her rings at the base making your jaw drop lower, to the floor if possible.

luckily, you and paige have had sex in a few public places by now that you’d learned how to keep quiet. but right now, she wanted to hear you more than anything. needed to.

“lemme hear that mouth, too. don’t hold back.” and she meant it, head dipping between your legs once again as she got back to work, fingers moving at the same speed as her tongue.

“paige…” you breathe, practically squirming as you screw your eyes shut, unable to contain the whimper that escapes. the thrill of being caught, anyone knocking on that door, or worse, actually getting in, only heightens the sensation. “i can’t—”

“good,” she replies, the teasing lilt in her voice making you moan.

with every lick and thrust, she drives you closer to the edge, and you find yourself losing all sense of time and place, wrapped up in the moment with her. your fingers are still tugging tightly on that tie, and you’re sure this is the closest she’s ever been to your cunt, the closest she could possibly be.

you’re barely holding on, body trembling, legs wanting to close as the pleasure only builds, but paige doesn’t let up. she keeps going, curling her fingers up inside you, mouth moving faster, more insistent. your head falls against the mirror, and you can’t stop the soft, desperate sounds escaping your lips as you come undone without much warning. the sounds were enough.

paige doesn’t stop, not even when she’s sure your body has had enough, and your breath comes out in ragged gasps. she keeps her mouth on you, drawing out every last bit come until you’re spent, legs shaking around her shoulders.

when she finally pulls back, her lips are swollen, and there’s a smug, satisfied grin on her face as she runs her tongue over her top lip. she doesn’t say anything, but she stands up, pulling up your panties with her, making sure they hold every bit of the result she’d given you for the rest of the night. uncomfortable, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

and it’d give the blonde a present for when they’d get pulled down again later.

you’re still catching your breath, your fingers loosening from around her now shriveled tie. paige looks at you as if she’s just won a championship, glancing down at her chest as she tries to smooth out the tie, tucking it back in her vest. “good as new,” she mumbles.

you laugh, breathless, shaking your head as you tug her back into you, pulling her in for a kiss. “shut up,” you murmur against her lips, tasting yourself on her tongue.

but before you can say anything more, she pulls back, her grin widening as she whispers, “round two at the hotel?”

you’ll never be able to look at her in a suit the same way again.

#paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers uconn #uconn huskies #uconn #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige x reader #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #wlw post #lgbtqia #lgbtq

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minnesota-fats · 1 year ago

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A fic-lit about Danny working at the watchtower, not as a superhero but as an engineer.

This is based on an prompt I read months ago but cant find where Danny put that he was a halfa on his resume but the hiring manager didn’t pay attention to it and hired him anyway. Rather than that its just Danny working at the watchtower and vibing on break when a tiny Robin finds him in the viewing deck.

—

Danny had been working for the justice league watchtower for a couple of months. He has seen hero’s come and go, paying him no mind and he was absolutely living for it! Unlike at 14, he was just a simple, normal worker—despite being half dead and the next in line for the crown in the infinite realms—he is just a simple mechanical engineer, Danny Nightingale. No one to fight, no one to save, just a big space station that needed someone to help keep it up in space.

And that's another bonus to this job; Space!

He gets to spend his shift up in the stars, looking out at the cold expanse of their solar system. Admiring the earth from a whole new angle, and he is getting paid to do it! Sure he could go into space any time, but being able to spend a good portion of his time here really made his core sing in joy. When he was on break he would wander around the areas he had clearance to go into, looking out every window at every star. Cataloging the ships movement through space with sharp eyes. His favorite place to go is the viewing deck, it was exactly what it sounded like, a place to just go and view that space outside.

It was there that Danny decided to take his break today, the Watchtower was at just the right angle to be able to see the earth from the viewing deck. Danny smiled watching the planet he lived on from afar, this really was the best job he could have ended up with!

A few months back he was having a hard time finding work after college, sure he had all the proper qualifications for the positions he applied for. But due to his medical condition—being half dead with a slow almost nonexistent heartbeat—they all refused him, afraid that his heart wouldn't keep up if he left the atmosphere to board any of the space stations orbiting the earth. To be fair it wouldn't have, he tested it by flying up to the moon and back the old fashioned way. But he couldn't just tell them that; being an ecto entity was still a crime that he was just barely able to get away from at age eighteen.

He came out to his parents once he graduated high school, they reacted poorly. Danny’s mom saw red and tried to kill him the rest of the way, claiming that Danny was just a ghost “piloting” his corpse around. Danny’s dad just stayed silent and watched, but before maddie could really do anything he acted. Jack knocked Maddie out with a strong blow to the back of her head. Danny remembered the hope that he had when Jack did that, but after he looked up at the man that hope died in his chest. The man looked torn, both angry and sad and in a voice lacking any of the familiar warmth said, “leave before she wakes up.” And he turned to pick up Maddie and made his way up the stairs. It was because of his dad that he was able to get away because after that Danny Fenton was declared dead. With the help of Sam and Tucker he was able to make a new identity for himself and go to school. From that day on Danny decided to move on and never look back.

After putting his name out there time and time again he was rejected. It wasn't until he got a letter in the mail saying he had been scheduled for an interview at Wayne tech of all places. He didn’t remember applying there but decided to go anyway, needing some sort of job to get him through. But when he got there he was greeted by Lucius Fox and Batman of all people! Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the dark knight, Danny couldn't help but think the worst. But before he could bolt, Lucius explained that Batman was looking for workers with the help of Wayne Industries for the base of operations for the Justice League—The Watchtower. Turns out all his applications to several different space programs caught the man’s attention. He even explained that Danny wouldn't even need to have a physical or get on a spaceship because The Watchtower utilized teleportation technology. Danny was so excited that he agreed on the spot without even knowing the benefits he would get from working with them. Which—surprising to no one—were a lot of benefits.

Danny was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the soft, almost nearly nonexistent footsteps coming from behind him. Danny turned and saw a child—no older than twelve—wearing a hero’s costume that looked like he was mimicking a traffic light. The kid froze in his tracks when Danny turned to face him, the two staring at each other for a few moments before the kid smiled and waved at him.

“Hi,” the kid beamed at Danny, “I’m D—Robin!”

Danny lifted a brow, “you a part of the justice league?” He asked, not remembering a kid being a part of their team.

The kid shook his head, “No, my guardian is though!” He explained.

“Ah, neat,” Danny said nonshalontly as he turned back to look at the window, “you come to see the view?” He asked.

The kid walked farther into the room and gasped when he got a better look at said view. “Woah—”, he exclaimed, now standing next to Danny.

Danny looked beside him to see the stars reflecting off of the kids' eyes, “cool isn't it? I come here on my lunch breaks," Danny says.

The kid looked at him and then squinted suspiciously, “if you're at lunch where is your food?” He asked.

Danny smiled, “I forgot my lunch at home today,” Danny lied, seeing the stars gave him enough energy to continue going. He usually eats when he gets home.

“Really?” The kid asked with a raised brow.

Danny smiled and looked around to see if anyone else was there, when he saw no one he asked, “do you wanna hear a secret?” He asked. Robin looked around himself as well before he leaned down a bit so Danny could whisper into his ear, “I actually just absorb the energy from the stars to sustain myself.” He explained.

“Really?” Robin asked, looking at him again, trying to gauge if Danny was lying or not.

Danny smiled, “yep,” he said, popping the p, “that's why I got a job here, that way I won’t starve to death.” Danny grins.

“But cant you just look at the stars from earth?” Robin asked, tilting his head.

“I mean, sure,” Danny says with a shrug, looking back out the window, “but this is so much better, isn't it?”

Robin looked out the window, “yeah!” The boy exclaimed, “it's so much clearer up here than in Gotham.” He commented.

Danny smiled and looked back at the boy, “I live in Gotham, too.”

“Really?” Robin asked, “No wonder you come up here,” the boy commented, causing Danny to snort in laughter and it wasn't long before Robin joined him.

“You got that right,” Danny says with a smirk before something dawns on him, “Wait, hero from gotham? I didn't know Batman had a kid?” Robin looked away, Danny could feel his nerves and sadness pass through him.

Danny was about to tell him that he didn't have to talk about it but before he could get his words out Robin spoke up, “My parents died about a year ago… he took me in only recently, he decided to train me when I found out he was Batman,” the kid says looking down at his feet, a glare etched on his face, “i never got to avenge my parents, the murderer had a heart attack before I could even get to him….”

Danny reached out to the kid and placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder, Robin looked up at him—as if remembering that Danny was there with him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Danny says softly, Robin looks away from him. “But I can tell you wholeheartedly, your parents are proud of you and what you are doing,” robin began rubbing at his mask, preventing him from wiping the tears away from his eyes underneath. “Here,” Danny says as he goes to pick up the 12 year old, “let's get you back to the Big Black Bat, I bet he is looking for you.”

Danny sits Robin on his hip and walks out of the room, rubbing circles into the child’s back. They walk together in silence, Robin resting his head in the crook of Danny's neck. “…Thank you,” Robin mumbles.

“Don't mention it kid,” Danny says as he looks around the corridor trying to spot anyone who could help him get this kid to the upper levels, “I know what it's like to lose your parents….”

“Really?” Robin asked, his head lifting off of Danny’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Danny says, “they didn't die, but they basically said they never wanted to see me again.”

Robin gasped, “that's not nice!” Robin declared making Danny laugh again.

“Your right,” Danny agrees as he turns down another hall towards where the zeta tubes were, maybe someone in there could help. “But, now I'm here, having the time of my life with the job of my dreams.”

Robin smiled again, “you could say you're living the HIGH life.”

Danny paused in the hall and started snickering, “that was a good one, Birdy.”

“Birdy?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, your name is Robin, that's a bird, so Birdy,” Danny explained, “its a nickname

“Does that make us friends?” Robin asked.

“Sure, as long as your guardian is ok with it.”

The boy smiled happily, excited at the idea of having made a new friend. The calm was interrupted but Danny’s supervisor yelled from across the room, “Nightingale!” He shouts, causing Danny to jump.

Danny turns to look at the man, “hey boss—” he starts, blocking Robin from the man, not wanting to scare the kid.

“You are late to clock back in! You're not getting paid to sit around with your head in the clouds!” The man shouts.

“Sorry sir, I was—”

“No! You need to get back to work, NOW!” He demanded, “this is a multibillion dollar space station, everything needs to be on a strict schedule!”

Danny sighed, his supervisor hasn't liked Danny from day one. Something about him being “young and nïeve” or something like that; “head higher up into space than we were right now.” At least that's what Danny heard him say about him once or twice.

Danny was about to talk back when something just past his manager caught his eye. It was Batman, walking fast with a look that told everyone to get out of the way. But Danny could feel the worry bleed off the man in waves. Must be looking for Robin, Danny’s mind supplied. Danny sidesteps his supervisor and shouts, “Hey Batman!” To catch the dark knight’s attention. Danny had to restrain his laughter when he saw the look of horror pass on his supervisor's face.

Now with the vigilanties cold glare focused on him, Danny smiled and adjusted his stance to show Robbin to him. “Looking for you kid?” Danny asked.

Robin smiled nervously and waved at Batman, guess he wasn’t supposed to wander off like he did. “Hey B!” He shouts.

Batman’s glare softens so slightly, a regular person would have missed it. However, Danny could feel the man’s previous anxieties melt away into a strong relief. Batman strutted forward and glared down at Danny—despite Danny being taller than him. Danny just smiled and adjusted Robin on him so he could hand him over to the dark knight.

Now in Batman’s arms, Robin tapped his pointer fingers together nervously. “Sorry for wandering off,” he mumbled before his smile came back full force, “but,” he exclaimed, “I made a friend! His name is Danny and he liked my puns! And we both have bird names!” He exclaimed all while pointing at Danny.

Batman looked from the kid in his arms to Danny, “hmm,” he grumbled. A man of few words, Batman nods at Danny.

Danny nodded back, “He’s a good kid, glad I was able to help.” Danny replied. Feeling gratitude from that small gesture alone. Batman isn't the most expressive but being able to read emotions like Danny really helps when talking to people.

Batman turns his head to look over at Danny’s superior, “hmm.” After that Batman turned and walked away.

Robin climbed to sit up on Batman’s shoulder and waved back at Danny, “Bye bird buddy! Have a good day!” He shouts as Batman enters the elevator. The doors closing behind them and leaving the zeta tube control center in near silence.

Danny looked back to his supervisor who looked as pale as a sheet ghost, Danny gave him a shit eating grin and shrugged at him. “I tried to tell ya—”

“Get back to work Nightingale!” He shouts.

“Ok, ok, I'm going.” Danny says, turning on his heels and walking away from the man with his hands held up in surrender.

—

I have so many ideas for this au and if I write more I might post it on my AO3 feel free to read other things I posted on there!

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pitchsidestories · 2 months ago

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long story short II Fridolina Rolfö x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1170

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, we'd love to read your thoughts on the oneshot. 🫶🏻

“Do you have photos of the two of you through the years?”

The interviewer’s question made you smile amusedly. Of course, Fridolina and you had memories together framed in pictures.

Although you were still getting used to the change to now call her your fiancée.

The warm afternoon light which filtered through the curtains of the living room let her light hair appear golden.

They the film crew were working on a small documentary about the Swedish woman. Today the topic was focused more around her personal life offside the football pitch.

“I’m sure we have some. Do you know where they are, love?”, Fridolina looked at you.

“Yes, wait here, I’ll get them.”, you nodded, before getting up to step into your bedroom. It was the coziest part in the whole appartement.

While the rest of it was very Scandinavian and chick with expensive furniture and a lot of warm lights which were carefully selected by your fiancée this was the warm heart of your home.

Your favourite pictures were all in a dedicated box, and you were pretty sure they were rested somewhere on the shelf until you realized your girlfriend, no fiancée you corrected yourself in your mind put it high up there out of your reach.

Unless you could possibly grasp it when you stood on the chair. “Uhm Frido?”, you called for her nervously.

To the interviewer the defender apologized in a polite tone. “Excuse me for a second.”

“What are you doing?!”, she raised her voice, there was a hint of worry in it too.

“You put the photos up there, Fridolina. Why do you have to be so frigging tall?!”, you exclaimed.

“I didn’t think you were that small.”, Fridolina chuckled.

“I’m not small you’re just tall.”, you protested as you lost your balance and were about to fall to the ground luckily the blonde caught you.

“Why didn’t you wait for me to get them down for you? You’re so stubborn.”, she shook her head.

“I thought I could do it on my own.”, you admitted biting your lip.

“Why did you call me then?”, the defender raised an eyebrow, she still held on to you as if you were as light as a feather.

“After I realized how high up it was.”, you answered, twirling a lock of your hair with a finger.

“Don’t ever climb on our furniture again.”, Fridolina asked you to, her voice slightly shaky.

“I promise. Thanks for catching me though.”, you replied, pressing a soft kiss to your lover’s high cheekbone.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”, the fellow football player shrugged.

“Well, you saved my life.”, you said half joking and half earnest.

Fridolina shook her head with a gentle smile as you both walked back into the living room.

“We got the photos.“, you announced happily, presenting the photos to the interviewer.

“Sorry, took a while to get them. Someone must have placed them at the wrong spot.“, Fridolina added. You smirked at the sideway glance she sent your way.

In contrast to her, you weren’t so subtle about it. “That someone was her.“, you explained and pointed your thumb towards your fiancée.

The young interviewer just smiled politely, clearly focused on getting the job done. “It’s fine. Tell me more about the photos. How are they connected to your career?”

You rummaged through the box of photos and pulled out an old newspaper clipping. The photo showed the two of you hugging after a game, Fridolina in a Wolfsburg shirt and you in a FFC Frankfurt one.

“I love this one. It’s the oldest we have together and it’s from a German newspaper. It shows we haven’t always played for the same team.“, you explained.

Only months later you had joined Fridolina in Wolfsburg and the two of you had been inseparable ever since, hitting off your relationship fully.

The interviewer looked at the photo with a thoughtful nod while Fridolina started to look through the box of photos. She happily pulled out another one.

This one was taken on your first day in Barcelona. You both smiled into the camera in your Barcelona warm-up shirts with your arms around each other.

“I like this one. It’s our first one in Barcelona together when we just joined the team.“

You remembered that day. It was a big step for the both of you, joining one of the best teams in the world. But with Fridolina by your side even this felt easy. Looking back, you had to admit that it was one of the best decisions of your life.

“Oh yes. That was a wonderful feeling.“, you agreed.

“And the first time, we moved in together.“, Fridolina added.

You smiled at her: “Exactly.“

Your apartment was small but you loved how it overlooked the city. The balcony was just big enough for the two of you to have breakfast outside in the mornings or to drink coffee together in the afternoon but you wouldn’t swap it for anything else.

“It was a big step.“, Fridolina explained to the interviewer.

She had been the one who had asked you to move in together when you both signed for Barcelona. Shortly after, you asked the her to marry you.

You pulled the matching photo for that memory out of the box.

“So was this one.“

One of your friends photographed you kissing on the beach right after she had said yes.

Fridolinas face lit up: “That’s true.“

After the filming was done for the day and the documentary crew has left you softly tucked at your fiancées sleeve. “Frido?”

“Yes, love?”, she hummed.

“Can you the photos somewhere not so high up?”, you asked her with an innocent smile on your lips.

“Sure., the blonde paused before recognizing that another photo has been added to the box, wait that picture wasn’t here before.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be seen by the camera or the interviewer.”, you told her, your heart pondering nervously against your chest.

“So, you hid it?”, Fridolina raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, you can take a look pretty sure you haven’t seen it before.”, you requested.

Cautiously the Swedish footballer glanced at it, letting out a squeal of pure bliss and joy before clicking her tongue. “How can you put this up there?”

“Oh, you want to keep it down here with you?”, you wanted to know, eyes shining amusedly.

“I want to keep it somewhere where no one can see it. That’s only for our eyes.”, she confessed, pressing the ultrasound picture close to her heart as if the tall woman wanted to protect this from the outside world.

“Do we want to get the autumn decoration out now or..?”, you changed the topic swiftly.

“No, too dangerous. I don’t want you both to get hurt.”, Fridolina declared. The blonde made a promise to herself that she’d always be there to protect the two of you.

A new chapter in your lives has just begun. The rest was still unwritten.

#fridolina rolfo #fridolina rolfo x reader #fridolina rolfo imagine #fridolina rolfö #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #woso community #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #woso oneshot #woso one shot #fridolina rolfö x reader #barca femeni #woso fluff #swewnt #woso blurbs #futfem

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cowboy-heart · 6 months ago

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'interview with a butch' - a fake interview reflecting on butch-femme dynamics! inspired by the amazing piece by @llovely, which you can read here :)

(ID below read more)

[an original, interview-style poem called 'interview with a butch':

when did you know you were butch? I knew by the time I was sixteen, but that’s only when I found the word. I’ve been butch since the day I was born, at least since I was just a few months old and threw an earth-shattering tantrum whenever my mum tried to put me in a dress. (both laugh) your poor mum!

I remember being a little butch knight, chivalrous even before I was double digits. my best friend only lived up the road from school, but her parents were running late and she was scared to do it herself. so I walked her up the hill, her arm linked in mine, pride balancing on my chest. and when I got her to her door, I said that we should kiss like adults do when they say goodbye, and we took it in turns to kiss each other on each cheek. when I walked home I felt something the size of a boulder in my stomach, but I didn’t know what it meant yet, just that there was something about myself that set me apart.

how did you feel with your first femme? oh, man, even for a writer that’s hard to find the words for. (laugh) let’s put it this way: before I had my first femme, I always felt like something was missing in my relationships – not just in the relationship itself, but in me. I felt broken and wrong, unsatisfied and selfish. I thought that maybe I just had too high expectations or something. hell, even with sex I felt like something was missing, like I couldn’t find my own desire.

But then, then I had my first femme. How graphic can I be here? (laugh) as graphic as you want! okay, good!

watching my stomach hang over my harness, long nails in my hips, I felt like I had a second sexual awakening. I felt the most present in my body I’d ever been, and like I could be in them forever. I didn’t feel dissatisfied, or wrong. when their hand held mine and played with my fingers I felt lightning shoot through me. it was like realising I was a lesbian all over again. but even outside of romance, femmes are my friends, my family, my community. talking to femmes, being around femmes, I’ve never felt so seen and loved. I can handle every sharp look, every slur thrown my way, just because my armour was polished by femmes.

do you find your roles restrictive? they’re liberating. I think sometimes people see me and think that I had to fit into this constrictive box, that I disallowed myself to enjoy anything feminine. the reality is that for butches, we find the word we’ve been searching for our whole lives. I can’t even remember finding the word, isn’t that crazy? it felt second nature. it somehow perfectly described everything I’d ever felt, exposed me to a community of people who were just like me outside of my Tory town! (pause)

I think there’s a tendency even in leftist, LGBT spaces to think that masculinity is oppressive, and femininity is liberating and oppressed. but it’s really not like that. we’re punished for deviating from our assigned gender, whether you’re a masculine woman, or a feminine man, or something in between the two. I’ve had gay men try to convince me to let them do my makeup, I’ve had gay women tell me that they’re “so glad” I don’t have ‘toxic masculinity’ like “other butches”. femininity was a cage for me, something I had to imitate to survive the perils of high school, but it was never me. masculinity liberated me, and it’s not inherently toxic. I love to carry the bags, hold open the doors, cry in pride, protect those I love. and there’s nothing like coming home at the end of the day to a sweet femme, ready to rub my tired muscles. man, I’m not good at concise answers, am I? (both laugh) no, but I love it!

what do you think of people who see your relationship as heteronormative? they’re twats! (both laugh) now, that’s a concise answer! no, no that’s not fair. here’s what I’d say to them:

I see it as…a complex gender performance. no, that makes it sound like it’s play pretend. they’re complex gender…expressions, dynamics, play, desire, euphoria. a butch and a femme together is no more heterosexual than a bear and a twink, a top and a bottom. it’s a dance that we know in our bones, like we knew each other in a previous lifetime and we’re just falling back into our favoured rhythm. even every fumble and awkward gesture is a part of it. we fall into sync and into each other, we tenderise each other’s gender, affirm it, and love every minute of it. we’re not two sides of the same coin, you talk to any butch-femme couple and chances are our priori (edit: interviewee meant propositions) are the same but our conclusions are not; we’re the same side of the same coin, just one is the top of the tail and the other is the bottom of it. is that a euphemism? (laugh) take it as you will!

I’m no man, my femme is no woman, and I’m no less butch when I’m wearing a kiss-the-cook apron and cleaning their kitchen, and they’re no less femme when they’re putting together a shelf or driving me to work. To look at us and see a heteronormative imitation of cisgender predetermination is proof of their own lack of nuance – do you think all dogs are boys and all cats are girls, too? (both laugh)

I think in a lot of ways, butch-femme dynamics are inherently transsexual. or, in the very least, good friends of transgenderism. If you can’t see us for what we are then chances are you’ve got your own internalised gender biases to unlearn.

I’ve always been butch to my bones, but when I’m with my baby I’m on cloud nine. I feel desired, my gender revered and loved.

so, what you’re saying is, you feel seen? I do. we see each other and nurture each other. I’ve never really liked being called ‘beautiful’, but when it falls from the lips of a femme, I know that they’re not seeing me as feminine. I feel most comfortable to explore the depths of both my femininity and masculinity with them; I don’t feel restricted to a role.

maybe that’s what people are missing about it: our homes are temples of gender exploration and devotion.

end ID].

#original poetry #my writing #writeblr #image described #poetry #poetblr #butch #butch4femme #writing #lesbian

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littledovesnow · 11 months ago

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a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #coriolanus snow

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stxrvel · 29 days ago

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disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

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guardarecheluna · 9 months ago

Text

You know, i’ve been your baby since the day that we met. (CEO!H)

Words: 8k

Warnings: Pathetic Fluff, Smut (Praise, P in V, Oral, slight daddy kink)

Summary: Harry is bewitched by her, and he would do absolutely anything to make her happy, even though she sometimes doesn’t want him to.

READ THE FIRST CEO ONE SHOT HERE!

A/N: Hellooo my loves! It's been a little while, but now i'm here with a lil CEO update since you all seemed to enjoy him last time. Please let me know what you think of it, it always makes my day to hear from you!

elle x

It was almost like Harry couldn’t remember a life before her. She had filled the bottomless hole in his heart with her warmth, humour, cleverness and love like it was the most simple thing in the world. Harry had never been so happy.

It’s been just 5 months since that night in Harry’s lounge, where his clammy hands were shaking, searching for hers. Where he bared his heart before her, and hoped, hoped that she’d at least tell him she didn’t hate him. Y/N could never hate Harry. Sometimes, when she comes to think about it, she feels absolutely crazy when it comes to him. Like she can’t believe that he is hers. Like maybe she was made just for him. Like maybe they were meant to meet when she started working for Pleasing.

Harry had kept telling her how hard he fell, that he felt like he was jumping from a plane without a parachute, blindly falling and hoping to be caught in his lover’s arms. Harry fell hard, but Y/N fell first.

Y/N’s interview had went better than she ever could’ve expected. It was just the day before that she was asked to Pleasing’s office to do an interview for a position as a senior creative. She left the interview happy and pleased with herself, but honestly?

She couldn’t tell if it was because she had actually done well for the interview, or if it was the Harry-shaped opening in her heart that was slowly cracking her open. The tall brunette had been so kind to her throughout the interview, even offering her a coffee beforehand.

As her first day a Pleasing came and went, Y/N tried to gather up her things from her new office to head home. It had been a wild day, introductions to new people, online courses to help her with their IT systems and endless and absolutely endless pining for her new boss. She could swear that she had never met anyone like him, and especially not a CEO who acted like he did with his colleagues. Harry had this softness to him, almost feminine at times, but with a strong masculine cologne, broad shoulders and deep, gravely voice. He emitted a light and kindness that was difficult to describe if you hadn’t met him. He was like a magnet.

Y/N was sure that if you were to google the definition of kindness, a picture of Harry Styles would pop up on the first page. Don’t quote her on that, though.

Harry had checked on her multiple times during the day, taken her and a few other colleagues out for lunch as a “celebration” he said. He really didn’t act like any other CEO she had met.

“Hey, are you still here? Thought your day ended at five, you must be exhausted.” Harry was doing a final round in the offices. Y/N was the last one left, just wanting to land back on her feet and feel her surroundings after a long first day. She thought she’d be the last one out, but Harry was there as well. Of course he was. Y/N snapped her head up, looking at him. He had almost scared her with his quiet steps into her office space. “Jesus, Harry, you scared me!” Y/N scrunched her eyes shut, putting her hand over her pumping heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t resist, I didn’t mean to scare ye’ though.” Harry said with a smirk. Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Didn’t mean to, huh? Don’t believe it for a second.” She said, throwing him a suspicious look, but with a smile; she just couldn’t help it. Harry chuckled. “You’ll just have to believe that I’m a kind enough person to not scare away the new employee on the first day, I don’t know what to tell you.” Harry hit back, slight ironic cockiness in his voice.

Y/N just smiled and continued packing up her laptop and the pamphlets she’d gotten from HR, along with a few papers that needed to be signed.

Y/N almost couldn’t look at him without having butterflies erupting in her stomach. Call her stupid, insane, mentally weak, but she could feel a serious crush coming on. Scratch that, it isn’t coming on, it’s already there, burning in her belly and begging to seen and heard.

Or another time, around a month into working for Pleasing when Y/N had knocked on Harry’s office door, almost in tears.

Maybe it sounded dramatic, but getting used to a new workplace, new routines and IT systems; Y/N would find herself frustrated and she hated bothering her colleagues with her questions every 5 minutes.

Y/N knocked on the glass door, her jaw strained and aching with how much she was trying to keep it together.

Harry opened the door, stepping aside. “Hey there, darling. You alright?” He said as he nodded his head to give her a cue to step inside.

He looked so good that day, in one of pristine, ironed suits. The first few buttons were undone, and a fine dusting of hair was peeking out of the shirt as well as the tattoos on his chest that Y/N hadn’t gotten to see the full version of. His lips were chapped, like he had picked on the skin in his anxious thoughts. Y/N swallowed harshly, stepping inside and plopping down on the sofa in his office. “I need your help.” She just said, looking up at him, holding on to her frustrated tears.

Harry could tell she wasn’t her chirpy, flirty and smug self, his heart suddenly feeling gooey and yelling at him to sit down and embrace her.

“Anything, I’m glad you came. What do you need, pet?” Harry said as he closed the door and sat opposite her on another sofa. He was leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“I just…I feel frustrated because there’s so many things I don’t have the hang of yet and I hate being a bother to everyone and asking questions all the time. It’s either that I don’t fucking get it or it’s because there’s suddenly new things and I can’t seem to keep up.” She said, her eyes stuck on the cushions Harry was sitting on, afraid that she’d break if she looked right at him.

Harry was quiet for a good while, anxiety washing over Y/N when he wouldn’t answer. She braced herself for some kind of lashing out. She knew he wasn’t like any other boss, but maybe coming to him with this was a mistake, a showcasing of her weakness that would be the end of her time at Pleasing.

“Sorry…I-“ She started before Harry spoke up.

“Darling, don’t ever apologise. You need to go easy on yourself, you’ve been here for just a month and there’s a lot to learn, you don’t have to do everything at once, that’s impossible. I’m really glad you came to me, of course I’ll help you with anything I can.” Harry said softly. Y/N relaxed into her seat, feeling almost dumb for thinking he’d lash out at her. She nodded, finally looking up at him, to find him searching her eyes and smiling kindly. “Thank you, H, I just, I know it’s a competitive business, and I don’t want to ever let you down just because I can’t figure out fucking excel.” She chuckled.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “As if you could ever let me down.” He said under his breath, almost like she wasn’t meant to hear it. “Let’s get to it, then, come sit down next t’me and pull out your laptop.”

Harry had arranged a small get away weekend for the two of them. Coming up on almost 6 months, they were yet to go on a trip together, and Harry wanted nothing more than some quality time with his girl. His girl.

He had spent two weeks trying to plan everything down to the food they were going to cook, to what activities they could do to keep them occupied.

Harry had booked them a cabin in the woods, by a small lake. It was around a three-hour drive from London, which was perfect for going away for a weekend.

A weekend where it would be just the two of them, no distractions of phones or other people, just them. Harry was so excited, struggling to keep it a secret when all he wanted was to spill all the details and spoil Y/N with insight into all his plans, but he kept his mouth shut.

They had already agreed to spend the weekend together at Harry’s, so naturally, they’d drive home together after work on Friday. Harry was driving, one hand on the wheel, and the other finding Y/N’s over the centre consol. Fingers lightly tracing knuckles and palms while Harry had their playlist on in the background.

Y/N sat up slightly and her eyebrows furrowed when she realized that they were going towards her apartment instead, and not his.

“I thought we were staying at yours this weekend?”

Harry laughed, the plan in his head was turning out just the way he wanted it to. He parked the car outside of her building. “Get out with me.” He said, meeting her when he rounded the car. His hands reached out and gripped her jaw, placing a few small pecks on her pink lips. Confusion was still prominent on her face. “We’re going to go upstairs, and you’re going to pack a bag for a weekend away. I didn’t want to say anything, ‘cause I wanted it to be a surprise.” He smiled. Y/N melted into his touch. “Are you serious, where are we going?” Her eyes lit up with excitement at his words. “Not telling you yet, you’ll find out.” She shook her head at his words.

“You’re so sneaky. And here I was thinking that you couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it.” Y/N teased as she turned on her heel towards her apartment to pack a weekend bag.

The pair had stopped early in their trip to get some snacks at a gas station, just something to keep them awake after a long day at the office. Y/N had taken off her shoes and cozied up in the passenger seat, manipulating her seatbelt so that her back was leaning against the car door. Her feet was propped up on the centre consol as she observed Harry from her seat. Every little hair on his head, his eyes on the road that sometimes glanced over at her, a smile spreading on his face when he caught her looking at him. One of his hands reached for her, hand spreading out over her knee and squeezing it slightly. “What’s on your mind, pet?” Y/N tilted her head. “Like you don’t know.” She laughed and leant back against the door. “Just thinking about how the hell I landed you.” She continued, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks with the words, but still confident. Harry sighed. “You’ve got it all backwards, I’m afraid. You’re so out of my league it’s insane, I’m surprised I didn’t have to beg on my knees for you to date me.” He replied to her, once again squeezing her knee. “Well, let’s be real, you kind of did.” Y/N said as a comeback, clearly remembering the anxious, thinly spread Harry that night almost 6 months ago. “Alright, that’s enough or I’ll drop you off on the side of the road.” Harry replied, faking a threat as he felt the embarrassment of that evening come over him. “You wouldn’t, think you love me a little too much to leave on the side of the road.” She continued to tease.

Of course she was right.

“Harry. Is this all for us, have you gone completely insane?” Y/N looked at him without a hint of amusement behind her eyes as she stepped out of the car to look at the so called “cabin” that Harry had rented out. Thing is, it wasn’t just a cabin. It was a huge, sprawling estate, hidden away from neighbours and curious gazes. It had to have cost him thousands of punds just for a weekend getaway, and even though Y/N appreciated his act of love, they had had this conversation before; the one about money.

Y/N didn’t grow up with wealth, and neither did Harry. But as the years had passed, Harry had gotten ridiculously rich. No prize on either cars or estates phased him, he barely looked at the cost of things, which Y/N had thought was completely insane, even though she didn’t exactly know the extent of his wealth.

The first argument about money that they had, was early on in their relationship, just a month after they’d become official.

It had been Y/N’s birthday.

They were newly in love. It had been a month. They spent all their awake time together, at work, at home, in bed and weekends. Their hearts were blooming, still with that wondrous love in their hearts each time they looked at each other. Everything was easy, bright and happy.

Y/N’s birthday was coming up, and since she didn’t want to make a big deal of it, she had told Harry that they’d spend it with some of their friends. She had also warned him, to not get her anything as a gift. Y/N wasn’t really aware of what the code was when it’s your partners birthday, but you’re a new couple, so to avoid any awkward feelings, she straight up told him not to get her anything.

Harry wasn’t like that though. He knew her birthday was coming up long before she’d warned him. It might’ve even been one of the first things he’d memorized about her after she left her initial interview at Pleasing. His nosey ass couldn’t keep his nose out of her application papers that was clearly stating her date of birth and age.

He had been a little bit taken aback when Y/N told him not to get her anything, because he had already gotten her something. Something that, in his eyes it wasn’t a big present of any sort, just an appreciation for his girlfriend that he loved more than the number of stars in the sky.

“Can I just get you something small? Please, I know you don’t want anything, but it doesn’t feel right, I just want to celebrate you, you deserve it.” Harry had mentioned over the breakfast they were sharing. Y/N shook her head at him adoringly. “Does it really mean that much to you? A get together with you and my friends is more than enough for me.” Y/N reached out over the table and entwined her fingers through his. He was warm.

“It does, I like giving gifts, and it can be something small, I just want to get you something. If you really don’t want to I won’t but I can’t lie and say it won’t break my heart a little.” He admitted to her. So, she agreed. It was just something small, and she found his urge to care for her so badly very sweet.

And Harry didn’t necessarily lie, the gift was indeed small, but it was expensive. Harry had barely blinked at the prize when he’d went to the jeweller’s and picked out a piece that would suit her perfectly. And maybe that was the problem in all of this. Harry had spent so much of his life by now, bathing in money, and it didn’t really matter to him anymore what things cost him, because at this point, he had made more money than he’ll ever be able to spend.

Y/N didn’t have that, she wasn’t, nor had she ever bathed in money. She was like everyone else, budgeting her money to see what she could spend and save, and she quite enjoyed it, she didn’t have too much or too little of anything.

So when she opened his “small gift” on his sofa, amongst his friend on her birthday evening, she could feel her blood burning when she pulled out a beautiful, white gold bracelet with tiny charms linked to it. Amongst the charms was an “H” initial and amongst a few others that she could recognize meant something to the both of them. A collective gasp was spread through the room, and Y/N knows she should be happy, but right she felt almost embarrassed. Here she was, sat with her regular friends and millionaire boyfriend, while he gifted her jewellery worth thousands of pounds. Harry sat beside her, smiling widely and awaiting a reaction to his gift. Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to be ungrateful, she wasn’t, but she needed to talk to Harry about the way her stomach twisted and turned, how her cheeks turned red and how she felt guilty to receive something like this. But now wasn’t the time. Instead, she turned to him with a weak smile and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, my love.” She simply said before turning back to her friends and picking up another gift. It hurt her. She could see the slight disappointment in Harry’s eyes as she put his gift to the side.

It had all turned into something much bigger. Y/N wasn’t handling his apparent wealth and need to spoil her very well, and Harry was just confused. He couldn’t understand in his wildest mind how she didn’t want him to spoil her. He couldn’t understand her anger, her guilt, and her refusal to let him love her in this way. Because that was it. Plain and simple he loved her. He hadn’t dared to stutter those words since their first night together, and she hadn’t either, but he sure felt it. He felt in his his whole body, and he had for an embarrassing amount of time.

They made up, at last, and she accepted his gift after a few persuasive kisses and promises of no more gifts like these. She made it clear to him that she did appreciate his effort, and the thoughtfulness, but she didn’t appreciate the huge amount of money he had spent. Harry listened and took it to heart. He wanted to make her happy, of course, and gift giving was part of his love language, he just had to learn to tone it down slightly.

That same feeling in Y/N’s stomach that she had on her birthday had returned as she stepped out of the car and looked at the huge house in front of her. It wasn’t like he had bought her a whole house, it was just a weekend away, but it’s the principle of him spending that much money on her that made her uneasy.

“Darling.” Harry just said as he looked over to her. He knew from the look on her face that the same as the one she wore on her birthday. Harry rounded the car to stand right in front of her.

“This isn’t a cabin Harry. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, you know I appreciate when you plan things like this but…” her fingers played nervously with her rings, tears feeling like they could escape from her eyes at any moment. “Look at me.” Harry said, his hand coming up to her cheek, thumb grazing softly over her jaw. “It’s not just a cabin, ‘m sorry. And I know how you feel about this but you also have to know how I feel. I feel like I could never give you enough, you deserve everything I have pet, and sometimes that shows with money. I don’t want it to bother you like this, because I love y- …doing this for you. You must accept that I want to do this and that I’ve got no bad intentions, just want to show you how much you mean to me.” He almost let it slip from his lips. It felt so easy. Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t want to fight about money, but being taken care of like this was still so foreign to her that she didn’t know how to handle it. She nodded, and looked up at him with watery eyes. “No more.” She just said as she melted into his body, arms wrapping around his middle and her nose searching for his scent lathered in the neckline of his shirt. “There will be more, I want to give you all of it, pet.” Harry replied. She just nodded into the warmth of his chest.

Overwhelmed was the right word. She didn’t know what to do with all these new feelings of guilt that was put in her, where did they come from? Why couldn’t she just accept that he only did this out of pure adoration for her heart?

They got their bags out of the car and stepped inside the house. From the foyer, she could see straight through the house, with a beautiful lake spread out just a few meters from the house. The water on the lake was shimmering in on the roof, which made the whole house look absolutely magical, like something out of a movie.

The house was massive, white walls and high ceilings with an open kitchen carrying dark wooden details and stone countertops. It was the house of Y/N’s dreams.

They spent the afternoon getting settled in, and going down to the lake to have a splash around. Y/N had discovered a porch swing sitting under the balcony, facing the lake and greenery around it, and if she wasn’t already in love with this place, it only intensified when she saw the swing.

But it wasn’t any old, creaky porch swing, it looked almost like a suspended sofa, blankets draped over it and pillows in the corners.

It was her turn to plan something small for Harry.

As they stood in the burning hot shower after their dip in the lake, Y/N hurriedly scrubbed herself down from the dirt and grime and turned to Harry who looked slightly confused at her erratic behaviour. “You got somewhere to be, pet?” Harry chuckled as she hung up her loofah. Y/N had a mischievous look on her face as she wrapped her arms around his middle. “It’s my turn for a little surprise now. I want you to meet my out the back in 40 minutes, and not a minute earlier, alright?” She said as she reached up and placed a single peck on Harry’s chin. Harry nodded, both his hands coming up to her head, carding through her wet hair and pushing it away from the gentle features of her face, then leaning down and connecting their lips. “I’ll be out in 40 minutes.”

Y/N scrambled to put on her comfortable, yet pretty new pyjamas, and dug out what she needed for her little surprise. She pulled out some candles from the depth of a cabinet in the kitchen, a bottle of wine and her speaker, some fruit for them to snack on and finally, a little gift that she had prepared.

The sun had started to set, a few rays still on the porch swing as she got out. She put the candles in the little lanterns and set up a little table for them, wanting to just have some down-time in the porch swing before their evening ended.

Harry stuck his head out the back door exactly 40 minutes later, a big smile on his face, and his freshly washed curls in a mess on top of his head.

Y/N snapped her head around. “Come sit.” Y/N smiled at him and reached out her hand for him, leading him over to the swing. “You’ve made it so lovely out here, pet. So nice to me, always.” Harry whispered to Y/N’s cheek as he pulled her closer to him. Harry was also wearing some cozy clothes, and through her thin pyjamas, she could feel the heat of his body and ripple of his muscle under his skin. He was home.

They sat down and cozied up with a blanked as Y/N poured them wine. “For you, my good sir.” She said teasingly, reaching him the glass of red wine. As she poured herself a glass, she leaned back into the soft cushion of the swing and into his arms. She was curled up, while Harry had his legs on the ground beneath, softly swinging them back and forth.

“I’m really sorry I was acting like I was earlier. I just have a hard time with you spoiling me like this, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate it, I do, I really do, H.” Y/N admitted as she looked up at Harry. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes studying the lake that was still catching the last few sunrays. Then he shook his head as he caught her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize t’me, pet. I know you appreciate it. I just…I need you to know that this isn’t a one-off thing. I want to be able to spoil you. I also know that I’ve told you all of my intentions with you, I want always with you. I want us to enjoy our life, I want us to explore, I want to…I want to be with you, and sometimes I want to spend money on you. I can’t say that it doesn’t hurt me a little when you reject me like that, but I also understand where you’re coming from.” Harry laid out. Y/N felt her insides twist at his mention of her rejecting him, cause in her head, it wasn’t like that; not at all. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m rejecting you. I want the same thing as you, I just…that I don’t want to…bother you, I think. I don’t make nearly as much money as you do and sometimes it makes me feel like shit because I can’t bring the same thing to this relationship as you can. I guess it’s just something that’s always going to stick with me, but I want to be better.”

Y/N said, trying her best to be vulnerable and let him see her side of things. Harry snapped his head to look at her. “Is that really how you feel? Like you’re a bother to me?” He asked her, genuinely, not accusing her of her feelings, but sounding like he was genuinely concerned and interested in what her answer might be. “I do sometimes. I work for you, and I’m your girlfriend, it’s a bit hard to navigate sometimes, because we see each other so constantly, and I just don’t want you to get tired of me.” Harry nodded at her words, and stayed quiet for a moment. Y/N could see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to put the right words into his mouth. “You don’t ever have to feel like you’re a bother. Ever. I want to spend every moment with you, and I know I am so lucky to get to see you every single day at work. I do all of these things because I care about you, and in a world where money is everywhere and everything, I sometimes don’t think about the value of some things. You say that you bring nothing to this relationship, but I wish I could put into words how wrong you are.” Harry said honestly, his thumb stroking gentle circles over her cheek as he leaned in to connect them in a kiss. “I’m in love with you. I haven’t told you since that first night, but I don’t think I can keep it in me anymore, I need to tell you, all the time. I need you to know that you’re it, f’me. I love you so much, and you’ll never bother me the way you think you are.” He said against her lips, breaths switching between them because they’re close, so close. Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire, she’s blushing, her lower stomach filling with arousal and all the love she feels for him is just waiting to explode out of her like a fountain. So she does the first thing that comes to her mind. She kisses him again, again and again, until they’re out of breath and panting. “I love you, thank you for loving me like you do.” Is all she says, and she can feel him smiling into their kiss. Y/N moves around on the swing, and gently places their glasses back on the tiny table in front of them before pushing harry down to lay on his back. “Need to show you.” She murmurs against his mouth, as he welcomes her wet kisses trailing down his neck, making the hairs on his body stand up. “Yeah? You’re going to show me how much you love me?” He teased, as he let himself be pushed around to her liking. There was just something about Harr’s dirty talk that got her going even more, his velvety, low voice, combined with those forbidden, almost taboo words, mixed with his high praises and promise of pleasure. It was her favourite thing.

Y/N straddled his hips, looking down at him with a blown out pupils and slight smile as she tugged on her top to discard it on the floor. Harry’s hands instantly came up to touch. First smoothing over her belly and ribs until he reached her fleshy breasts, pinching her nipples and gauging her reaction. Her body caved into Harry’s as he touched her, leaning over him, with her breasts right in front of his face. Harry seized the moment, sticking out his tongue to tease her nipples, nipping them and working his tongue over them. A frustrated, pleasured moan came from Y/N as she started grinding her hips on his warm, plumping cock. Harry could feel her warmth through her bottoms, opting to grab onto her hips with his hands to pull her closer to him. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me, pet? Feel how much I love you?” Harry breathed into her hair, kissing her pulse point right under her ear, slightly biting on the earlobe.

“Mmmh” Was all she was able to get out before Harry pushed her away from him, grabbing her hand and rushing off to their bedroom for the weekend.

They barely made it through the door before Harry’s lips were on hers again, hands over any skin he could get to as they got rid of the remains of clothes that they still had on.

“Wanna taste…wanna bite.” Harry said to her skin, moving down the bed as he placed wet kisses down her sternum, belly, until he reached her mound. Y/N panted heavily with just the feel of his hands and kisses on her skin as she tangled her fingers through his locks to see his face properly. “Please.” She mewled when he teasingly places feather-light licks and kisses on her inner thighs and mound. “Be good, you’re going to get it, but you have to be my good girl, okay?” He said in reply to her mewl and her hands trying to steer her towards where she wanted him. “I’m good, I want to be good.” Y/N replied absentmindedly. And just as she was about to complain again, she felt his hot tongue inside of her, licking broad licks from her opening to her clit. Shivers of pleasure rippled through her body as he pleased her with his mouth, sucking, nipping, licking, and massaging wherever he could get to.

“You taste like heaven baby, so sweet for me, always.” Harry said as he came up for air. “More, please, H” Y/N said the moment his lips left her. She could feel herself getting closer to her that cliff of pleasure, just about to fall off when he detached. “I know, pet, you’re so close yeah? Could feel it on my tongue. Want my fingers too?” All she could do was nod, frustrated and writhing around in the crispy sheets. “You know I need your wor-“ “Yes, yes please, please do anything” She interrupted him in desperation, her hazy mind not caring about her manners at all. “Good girl.” Was all Harry said before diving back in with his mouth and fingers, instantly feeling her clench around his fingers as he curved them, poking the squishy island of pleasure with the tips of his fingers. Y/N moaned out as she got close, closer to the edge of her orgasm, raising to her elbows so she could see him. His eyes were closed as he worked his magic on her.

“I’m coming” Y/N airily moaned as her whole body tightened and she let herself fall over the cliff. Harry continued to work her through the waved of pleasure, prolonging her orgasm for as long as he possibly could.

Y/N in her post orgasm haze shot up from the sheets, pulling Harry up to her as she kissed him. She could taste herself on his lips, residual wetness around his mouth and chin transferring onto her skin. It was so hot. Without another word, she rolled him over, straddling him once again, like out on the swing. She sat right over his hard length, not yet putting him in as Harry had a lazy, smile on his face, pupils blown out in arousal and pleasure. Y/N put her hands on Harry’s chest, feeling up his muscles and dragging down to his toned stomach as she started moving over his cock, wetting him with her own arousal.

“Pet, Shhi- I’m not going to last if you grind on me like that.” Harry said as he fixed his eyes on hers, a little wrinkle of strain between his dark brows. Y/N said nothing to him, continuing to slick his cock with her wetness with a playful smile and moans of pleasure leaving her lips every time the head bumped her clit. Harry’s hands took a firm grip around her wrists as he sat up.

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you? Thought you’d want it slow and sweet tonight, but I guess I was wrong.” Harry said in a harsh tone, although Y/N could see straight through him. “Doesn’t matter, just want you to fuck me. You always tease me so I thought you’d have a taste of your own medicine.” Y/N replied sassily with a scowl on her face, but a sparkle in her eye that gave her away immediately. “You…” Harry chuckled as he pinned her down on the bed, giving himself a few cursory strokes before lining himself up with her. “Tell me, pet. Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll give it to you” Harry mumbled into her neck, kissing and sucking on her salty skin. “Mhh, I love you, please get in me” Y/N whimpered out as she reached down in between them, trying any and everything to get him inside of her. “I love you too, pet, tell me again” He spluttered out, kissing her lips as he finally sank in to her, groaning int her mouth. A wave of relief flooded over Y/N, her desperation for him finally calming down as he poked and prodded at her insides with his cock. Harry picked up his pace, giving her deep, long strokes with his hips as Y/Ns legs wrapped around his body.

Missionary was a classic for the two of them, people found it boring and plain, but for Harry and Y/N, it was their preferred position. Easy access to one another, being able to touch, look, and swallow the other’s moans as they chased their highs. Few things were as romantic for them as missionary. And don’t get this wrong, they are the couple to explore new positions and find other ways to pleasure, but they always returned to this. There was something so raw and pure about it, and they couldn’t get enough.

Their foreheads were stuck together, panting into each other’s mouths as Harry hooked her legs into the crease of his elbows, allowing him to hit her at a new angle. “Baby” Y/N moaned out from the change in angle, his cock hitting her spot head on as he continued to work into her. A layer of sweat was building on his chest and shoulders from the strain of chasing their pleasure, and Y/N wanted to lick it off. He looked so good like this.

“I know, I know it feels so good, pet, I feel it too. You’re the best I’ve ever had, should never let you leave my bed.” Harry praised her in response as he kissed the sides of her face, looking at her blissed out expression. Y/N could feel her orgasm approaching again, and Harry could tell, letting go of one of her legs and reaching down between them to touch her. “H, I’m going to come, please, keep going” She mewled underneath him, trying to chase his movements with her hips as she threw her head to the side and into the pillow. “I’m coming pet, so fucking weak for you. Want it inside, want me to fill you up, baby?” Harry replied with a raspy groan, and that, that made Y/N tip over yes. Her orgasm wracked through her body, her nails digging into Harry’s biceps as she let out sounds of her pleasure. “Inside, please, Daddy, I want it inside.” She encouraged as her eyes glazed over, fixing her eyes on his as she knew he was right after her, wanting the most out of his orgasm, just as he did to her. “Shit- pet you’re playing dirty, Daddy’s gonna come for you, I-“ Harry groaned as he let out pathetic little whimpers. His hips stuttered, burying himself deeper inside of her and catching her lips in a messy kiss, warm tongue sliding over hers. She could feel her lower stomach, warm with him, chuckling and pushing the hair out of his face as he collapsed on top of her completely.

Her nails started raking through his hair and down his back as they basked in the afterglow of their intense sex. Harry placed a gentle kiss on her collarbone and put his head on her shoulder, looking up at her. “I wish I had more words in my vocabulary to tell you how much I love you, I feel like I love you isn’t enough.” Harry spoke genuinely in a low tone. “Write me a book, yeah?” She chuckled as she tried to settle into the moment and enjoy it before having to detangle from each other. “Don’t joke about that, might as well happen, you know.” Harry laughed as he detached their sticky bodies rising from the bed. “C’mon, my love, quick wash up and then sleep.”

Y/N laid there looking at his outstretched arm, completely bare for each other as her heart pumped with pure love and adoration for the man in front of her. She took his hand, and they stumbled into the shower together.

Y/N was awoken by a harsh light in her face, and Harry sitting up on the edge of the bed. He put his phone to his ear, and she could hear him talking lowly on his phone. Casting her a glance and then leaving through the door as to not disturb her sleep.

She could hear him out in the hall.

“I don’t know what to tell you, I can’t….i can’t do anything from here, I’m away for the weekend…No…Well you’re going to have to fix It in some way, call Niall, I’m not available. All I ask is one weekend in quiet and you idiots can’t even do that. Fine. Call Niall and head of security at IT and figure it out, yeah? Bye.”

Y/N listened curiously in her cocoon of blankets, what time was it, why did they need him now?

Harry stepped inside once again and lifted the blankets. Y/N couldn’t really tell if it was anger or worry on his face. “I’m sorry I woke you up, pet. Some idiots at the office don’t know how to handle their job. Let’s go back to sleep.” She could tell he tried his best not to let anger spill out on their conversation, and she felt bad for him, always having to be available and never catching a break. This job would be the death of him some day.

“You’re alright, baby. It’s not your fault. What did they need you for?” She tried with a gentle voice, welcoming him into her arms as he settled in bed and turned off the bedside lamp. “There’s been some kind of security breach in one department, and someone is trying to leak personal data and now they want a ransom to not leak the data and get out of our systems.” Harry sighed. Jesus. “There’s nothing I can do, but they’re calling in head of IT and security to have a look at it, it’s happened before, but hopefully it’s just a scare. Didn’t want to wake you up though, I’m sorry,” He continued, obviously feeling defeated and helpless in the situation.

“I’m sure there’s a way to make it up to me.” Y/N tried as she placed gentle kisses on his jaw and neck, and she could feel Harry instantly relaxing and smiling at her wording. “Yeah? Tell me and I’ll make it up to you.” He let her lead him on, feeling her hands playing with the elastic of his boxer briefs. “Guess.” Harry shook his head in adoration as he pulled down his boxers and took her underwear off in the same movement, getting in behind her and pushing inside of her. No preparation was needed. Nothing got him harder when he knew she wanted him.

“Fuck, it hasn’t even been two hours and I’ve already missed being inside of you.” Harry admitted with a sigh as he entered her again.

It was lazy, raw and desperate sex, in the middle of the night. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her, having her in every way imaginable. And he kept thinking about his life from over a year ago, when he had no idea that she, the love of his life, was about to enter into her life. And even if it was just something small, like having sex to take the edge off from the day, Harry couldn’t imagine anything else for his life as they fell asleep cuddled up to each other, leaving no room for work or security breaches to enter his mind. It was just them.

Back at work, a few days later, Lydia, Y/N’s co-worker and close friend smiled suspiciously at Y/N as she prepared her desk for the workday,

“There’s something up with you, and I can’t tell what it is.” Lydia wiggled her eyebrows with an interrogating look on her face. Y/N blushed slightly, but tries to keep a straight face through the conversation, having a sip of her morning coffee. “I’m an open book.” Y/N tried to play, but she could tell that Lydia wasn’t buying it. “You. Me. Meeting in Atlas in 5 minutes. We need to have a MEETING.” Lydia pressed, gathering her things and rushing off to the free meeting room to have a pretend meeting with her best friend. Y/N rolled her eyes and went after her. She could never keep anything from Lydia. She just knew stuff without knowing. Of course, the whole office knew about Harry and Y/N getting involved, but they kept in on the low.

“Alright. Spill the beans, all of them, right now.” Lydia said immediately when she closed the door and plopped down in a chair opposite of Y/N. Just as she was about to answer her, Harry walked by on the other side of the glass. He glanced inside, smiling his brilliant smile and sending her a quick wink before he was off. Y/N looked up with a smile spreading over her face, just from that small interaction. Lydia didn’t even have to turn around. “It’s him, yeah?” Y/N nodded, eyes stuck on the glass where he had just walked by. “I think I’m going to marry him.” Y/N said as she kept looking through the glass. Her heart grew every time she looked at him. If this wasn’t love, then she didn’t know what was.

And Lydia just burst out laughing, a true belly laugh, like she hadn’t heard anything funnier in her whole lifetime. “Babe, tell me something I don’t know. I’ve never seen two people as dumb in love with each other as you two. I’m sure there’s going to be a ring on your finger in the next year, but probably tomorrow if Harry got to have it his way. Plus, you two wreaked of “I just had the best sex of my life” the minute you stepped into the building”

Y/N just blinked at Lydia, blushing at her comment. She hadn’t heard anyone talking about them like that before, and it made her heart grow three sizes. Was it that obvious to everyone? Even Harry?

“Really, you think so?” Y/N replied with a watery smile. Lydia looked at her with a smile. “I know so. There’s absolutely no doubt. I’ve known Harry for about three years, and he’s never been like this, ever. It’s like a different person, I’m telling you- “. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, both Lydia’s and Y/N’s eyes flying up to see Harry at the door. “Hello ladies, I was just wanting to borrow Y/N for a quick second.” He tried to be professional, bless him, but the smile overtaking his features revealed him. Lydia smiled at him. “Of course. No funny business, Mr. Styles.” She teased him with a smack on his arm as she left the room, turning around when she was behind him and staring at her intensely, “I TOLD YOU” She mouthed to her.

Y/N chuckled, rising from her chair and meeting Harry halfway around the conference table. “What a pleasure, Mr. Styles, what could you want me for, huh?” Y/N teasingly smiled as she stepped into his embrace. Harry looked down at her with nothing but love in his eyes, his thumb grazing her cheek as she leaned into his touch, “Just wanted to ask the lady if she would like to have dinner with me, tonight. Was thinking about making my famous curry, and I’d like for you to be there.” Harry continued with his little act. “Well, my good sir, I would really like that. I’ll see you later, then.” Y/N replied courteously as she began walking out; but not before Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her back into him. Both his hand on her face, gently passing his fingers through her hair and picking at stray pieces of hair, lovingly. “I love you, be good, yeah?” He said in a way that made her lower stomach flutter with arousal. “I’ll be good. I love you.” She replied before he attached his lips to hers in a long, soft kiss. A few more pecks for good measure, and then she turned around and left, a glimmer in her eye.

Harry stood glued in his spot, completely besotted with her and everything that was her. “I think I need to marry her.” He whispered to himself as he shook out of his daydream, to continue his workday.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist #ceo!harry #ceo harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic

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russo-woso · 6 months ago

Text

So high school || Leah Williamson

warning smut 18+, fingering, semi-public setting?

Based on this request here. Thank you for the idea :)

Summary Your relationship with Leah brings you back to high school

You and Leah had been dating for just over seven months and to say it had been the best time of your life was the biggest understatement of the century.

With the stress of your degree, constantly writing new songs for your album and dealing with the responsibility of adult life, it was Leah who brought back the fun in your life.

To the current day, you've always, and always will, say that your relationship with Leah was a high school relationship.

It was as if every time you looked at her you felt, well there's no better way to describe it other than just high school.

The day you met Leah at an event, was the day that changed your life forever.

Leah, being the confident captain she was, asked you on a date before even saying hello.

Wanting to take a change from your normal over-thinking self, you agreed.

When you said yes, you thought you'd go out for dinner with her, get bored of her and never see her again.

What you didn't expect was to end up seeing her again the following night and then again and again.

Leah made you forget about the stress in life, instead, making you realise the fun and adventures in the world.

You went from wearing a frown to wearing a smile every second of the day.

You were so happy with living like you were back in high school to the fact you purposely went out of your way to make it as fun as possible.

I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you

Leah had just played her first match in nine months against Reading and had managed to bag an assist, which made your heart swell with pride.

To make the match even more memorable for you and leah, you'd purchased a cardboard cut out of Leah's face.

After the final whistle blew, Leah was the first one you searched for throughout the crowd of players on the pitch.

When you clocked her, you noticed the confused look on her face as she searched the crowd for you.

As soon as you took the mask off, a smile appeared on her face as climbed over the railing to get to you.

You enveloped her in a bone crushing hug before grabbing the back of her neck, pressing your lips on hers.

"I'm so proud of you, Le." You whispered repeatedly in her ear.

"It's all because of you, baby. I couldn't have done it if it wasn't for you."

and I'm high from smoking your jokes all damn night

"I had to do this interview with the little girl I was on about and she asked if I had a joke and only one came to my head. Why was cinderella bad at football?" Because she ran away from the ball." Leah told you over FaceTime and you let out a small giggle, finding the joke genuinely funny. "I love your laugh."

"You make me laugh and you like it. Good combo, that is."

"We are a good combo, aren't we?" Leah asked and you agreed, a small laugh escaping past your lips.

"Tell me more jokes." You suggested and Leah agreed, telling you every joke she knew.

Leah didn't care how many jokes she told that night, the jokes made you laugh and that's all that mattered.

I'm watching American pie with you on a Saturday night, your friends are around so be quiet, I'm trying to stifle my sighs

It was Leah's turn to host team bonding but messing up the dates for your movie night with her, meant Leah had you knock on her door with a confused look on your face.

“What’s with all the cars? Throwing a party without me?” You joked as Leah stood there with an even more confused expression.

“Baby, what are you doing here? Not that I don’t want you here, it’s just I thought our movie night was tomorrow.” Leah pointed out, quickly pulling you in for a hug and kiss.

“Oh, I thought it was tonight. Maybe I got the days wrong. Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, love. It was me who got the days wrong. I remember talking about it being tonight. I’ve got team bonding tonight. We’re just about to find a movie to watch. Come, it’ll be fun, and it means I get cuddles. The team love you anyway.” Leah got excited and guided you inside. “Guess who decided to surprise us.” Leah announced to the whole Arsenal squad.

“Guess who got her days mixed up.” You teased Leah whose cheeks turned a red colour.

The girls all said hello to you as you took a seat next to Leah at the back corner of the living room.

After about half an hour of arguing over what movie you were going to watch, you all agreed on American Pie, some of the girls not watching it before, and some of them loving the film.

At the beginning of the film, Leah rested her hand on your lower thigh but as the film continued, Leah’s hand got higher and higher.

“Leah, stop it.” You warned, moving her hand lower down.

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” Leah murmured against your neck. “They won’t see or hear. Look at them all, they’re too busy watching the film.”

Leah’s fingers slide down into your underwear, her fingers teasingly circling your clit.

“Le, that feels so good.” You whisper into her neck.

You looked up to double check that nobody was watching and luckily, no one was.

Leah then dips her fingers into your pussy, making you let out a muffled moan into her neck.

It was only quiet because you stopped yourself but you made sure to not move your head from Leah’s neck.

“Faster, le. Please.” You muttered, her slow pace torturing you.

Leah listened, speeding up her movements.

“Fuck.” You whispered, a sigh leaving your mouth.

As your orgasm approached, your moans and sighs began to get pushed so Leah came up with another plan.

“Kiss me, baby.” Leah muttered, your lips colliding as she swallowed your moans.

Leah started curling her fingers as they entered you, bringing you closer and closer to your high.

“‘m gonna cum. Please don’t stop, le.” You begged, breaking the kiss before Leah brought you in for another.

After swallowing all your orgasmic moans, leah pulled away, grinning at you.

You caught your breath before showing an identical one back.

Once more, you looked around the room to see that everyone was oblivious to the fact Leah had just given you an orgasm.

“We should do that again sometime.” Leah suggested and you nodded.

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?, It's just a game, but really

Leah had been sat down to do a TikTok for the England TikTok page.

The media team explained that she was going to do a few filters, not a lot, but enough for the fans to be content.

One of the filters happened to be kill, kiss, marry.

Leah smiled to herself, knowing that she hadn’t played the game since she was in high school.

Pressing the record button, the filter started and she was given three celebrities.

Taylor Swift, Britney Spears and Y/N Y/L/N.

“This is easy this is.” Leah laughed, not even having to think about her options.

You and Leah and announced your relationship quite early on.

Well, you hadn’t officially announced it.

When you started attending Arsenal matches with Leah, and Leah started attending your shows, fans assumed you were either friends or there was possibly something between you both.

It wasn’t until you won a Grammy for best album, that Leah was so proud, she planted a kiss on your lips before you went up to collect it.

Since then, the fans had guessed you were a couple.

“I’m gonna go, kill, Britney Spears. Kiss, Taylor Swift. Marry, Y/N.” Leah said, looking past the camera to see Kiera laughing.

“She might as well be married to Y/N. So loved up them two are.” Kiera joked and they both laughed.

Get my car door, isn't that sweet? Then pull me to the backseat

“Thank you for tonight, baby. I really needed a break.” You said to Leah as you walked out the restaurant.

With all the songwriting and studying for your final exam, Leah thought it would be nice to take you out for dinner.

Due to the popularity you both had, it was hard to find a place to go when people would constantly swarm you, however, one restaurant quite close to Leah’s house, had a separate room that was used for private events but they allowed you to use it.

“You deserve a break, love. You’ve been working so hard on your songs and your exams. I think I should take your mind off it all.” Leah sent you a playful smirk as she opened the back seat car door.

Leah helped you onto the back seats before climbing over you.

Within seconds, Leah’s lips were on yours and you were both scrambling to take your clothes off.

Breaking the kiss, Leah’s lips travelled down your jaw and into your neck, soothing sensitive hickeys from the night before.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re mine.” Leah told you, pressing kisses to your neck.

“I’m all yours, le. No one ever had me, not like you.”

You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

“I don’t understand this. I mean I do, but then I try the equation and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.” You explain to Leah who rubbed your back comfortingly.

“You’ll do it, baby. Stop stressing. Come on, talk me through it and I’ll try see where you’re going wrong.” Leah suggested, taking a seat next to you.

“Le, you’re kidding. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle. Not the other way round. I mean you’re clever, baby, but I think you’ll freak when you see the equation.” You slightly giggled at Leah’s confidence, but she had that cocky look on her face so you allowed her to look at it.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” Leah admitted once you turned the textbook to her, a full page on the equation. “I’ll stick to football.”

“Good choice, baby.”

Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto

Leah was sat playing FIFA with Georgia, Kiera and Lucy whilst you were laid on the bed, next to Leah.

They had been playing all evening and now into the night, which annoyed you, because Leah had said you’d be doing something else.

“Le, how long until it’s finished?” You questioned, getting impatient.

It didn’t help that Leah had mentioned it multiple times throughout the day so it had been on your mind all day.

“Not long, love. I promise — Kiera, defend. We’re going more defensive.” Leah says, talking to Kiera through her mic, before pressing button after button on the remote.

“Le, please hurry up.” You whined, impatiently, as Leah looked at you with a saddened look.

“Baby, I promise, as soon as it’s finished. Five minutes left.” Leah told you, but you wanted her now, not in five minutes.

You moved from your original place to straddle Leah’s lap.

Leah’s eyes grew at your plan and although you thought she would continue the game, she pulled her headset off, muting herself before pulling you down into a kiss.

You could faintly hear Kiera, G, and Lucy asking where she’d gone, but you were so focused on Leah and what she was going to do, that you couldn’t hear them.

The kiss turned desperate and before long, the both of you were desperately ripping each other’s clothes off.

Leah connected her mouth to your hardened nipple, swirling her tongue around it.

Your hips bucked at the feeling, as you entangled your hand in Leah’s hair.

“Feels good.” You mumbled in pleasure before Leah moved onto your other one.

As Leah continued to suck hickeys on your body, her fingers made their way down to your pussy, gently circling your clit.

“Fuck, Le.” You breathed out, the pleasure you’d been waiting all day for, finally feeling evident.

“All mine.” Leah mumbled into your neck, her tongue moving over a fresh mark that she’d left.

“All yours.” You repeated as Leah’s finger made their way inside you.

“My girl. Only I get to touch you like this. No one else.” Leah stated, her fingers thrusting in and out of you.

“I’m close, Leah. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum for me, love. Cum on my fingers.” Leah whispered in your ear as you clenched around her fingers, a moan leaving your lips along with a chant of Leah’s name.

“I love you so much.” You told Leah after you’d calmed down.

“I love you too.”

“I feel like I’m in high school after that.” You laughed and Leah agreed as you both looked at the TV to find Kiera, Lucy and Georgia all still playing fifa. “I feel so… high school every time I look at you.”

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #woso smut #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut

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russellsppttemplates · 7 months ago

Text

Straight from the heart (Lando Norris)

It takes a bad race for Lando to notice how much he has neglected your relationship, and he can only hope he can fix it

Note: english is not my first language. I was fighting the other piece I was writing so I jumped to this one and I did something a little bit different (* cough cough * longer) and see how it goes! I'm not sure how good this is (or how much you will want to kill me), but I promise this has a happy ending!! 🥹🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: relationship struggles, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

The result on the screen was not the one you hoped. Lando had a wonderful race, but a mixture of bad strategy calls, dark rain clouds appearing on the sky with only a couple of laps left to finish the race and the wrong tire compound made him lose a good number of places, cars overtaking him in the last seven laps.

"Is the race over?", you mother asked as she stepped inside the living room, carrying the curtains she had left out to dry and proceeding to hang them back in their place.

"Yes, just now", your father said as he adjusted the volume on the TV, "let me help you, darling", he offered, getting up and standing beside your mum in case she got out of balance.

"Are you going to call Lando?", your mother asked once her squinty eyes read the position he had finished in. Even though the prescription glasses were on the table, she insisted she didn't want any mishaps after she accidentally dropped her last pair while she was gardening and one of your younger cousins found a rusty frame a couple of months later when he was over.

"I'm not, I don't think - he's flying back tonight and the timezone is so different, I don't want to bother him", you blurted defensively, making up excuses as you went along with your answer, "he's doing the interviews, and I'm sure the debrief will be long and torturous - he will need his rest to fly back", you stated as you got up, "I have to check on the project I handed in on Friday, the professor said he would post the grades around this time and if we want to appel, we have to do it right away - I'll be in my bedroom".

The subject was an open wound that stung everytime you so much heard a mention of it, let one having to seem completely okay with it when it ripped through your heart.

The calendar on your wall is full of stickers, both with notes, urgent matters and things you couldn't forget. It's the last stretch, you tell yourself, one more week and then it's done and you'll have a well deserved break.

A knock on your door catches your attention as you reply with the allowance to let whoever is on the other side in, "is something wrong?", you asked. Lately, the negative side of your mind was the first one to speak.

"That's what I want to ask you - that conversation we just had downstairs was not your usual self", she sighed as she pointed to the living room, "I've noticed you haven't mentioned him much, but I don't want to intrude or offer my help because I know you don't like meddling", your mother looked for your eyes before you could fully focus on the wooden floor.

"Things have been rough between us lately", you sighed, "Lando is keeping me at a distance, and I don't know the reason why, mum", you shrugged, "I don't know if it's because I've known him all my life and the comparison is so profound, but it seems he only cares about racing and his friends, and I'm nowhere in the mix. We rarely call eachother, no texting - I know the triple headers are intense, but all I got from him were reactions to my stories and a little video from Max where he's in it and said something to me", you recalled, "I can't be the only one making an effort, can I? Either he realised where this is going and we catch it while we can, or I don't know where this is going, I don't know where we're going".

Your mother's heart broke as she saw you allow the tears you had held on to fall freely, your sleeves bunched up on your hands to wipe them, "and have you talked about this? A long, grown-up and serious conversation?", she mused.

"We have barely been with eachother, mum!", you whispered shakily as more tears got caught on your throat.

"Couples go through phases, darling - do you think me and your father was all smooth sailing?", she tried to get you to smile as she brushed your hair while she hugged you, "you need to talk to eachother, seriously and let it all out, nothing is off limits because that's how you'll get to where you need to".

You kept your head on your mother's chest, accepting her comforting hold despite being an adult. A mother's hold was truly the best.

You hoped she was right and this was something that would pass. A rough patch that you and Lando would work through a look back on with a sense of accomplishment.

This wasn't how you and Lando end, is it?

Max and Lando headed for the plane as soon as they left the race track, having made prior arrangements to had their luggage there waiting for them once they arrived. Max was the first to sit down and get himself comfortable on the seat, texting his girlfriend to let her know they were leaving.

"Y/N hasn't called or even texted me, nothing", Lando mumbled, "didn't she watch the race? Doesn't she know that I need her?".

Max weighed in the good and the bad that his next few words could do. He could either be honest and encourage his best friend to finally come to his senses, or keep covering the lie and perpetuate the suffering and miscommunications.

"This is not how I wanted to do this - truth be told, I never wanted to have to do it", Max rambled off.

Lando was quick to notice that there was more to it than just this instance, "you know something - she's my girlfriend, Max, if something is happening, I deserve to know", he said in an antsy tone.

"Are you really so blind to it? Have you not noticed it yet? Damn it, Lando, I've been on your side, trying to clean it up and now I'm questioning it", Max declared as Lando only grew more confused.

"What am I missing Max?", Lando snapped, even catching his own self off guard at the reaction he had.

"Mate, think about the last couple of months and whether or not you have been a good boyfriend, or even the boyfriend Y/N deserves", Max offered.

Lando wasn't expecting that answer or point of view.

The last couple of months roll through his memory as if he's watching a movie and when he tries to select the moments he spent with you, he finds himself struggling to gather any at all. He can't remember any of the times you spent together, and considering his memory isn't that bad, it could only mean those moments didn't even happen. Thinking about it, he can remember the last time he held you in his arms, just the two of you.

"Fuck!", Lando shouted, punching the arm rest.

"Glad you figured that one out almost all on your own", Max tsked, "do you really think you deserve any interaction from Y/N? Thought so", Max muttered. He didn't like the situation his friends found themselves in, and he certainly didn't feel any joy in the words he told Lando, but the truth wasn't always easy to hear.

"Seems Y/N doesn't think so either", Lando mumbled, "do you know anything? Has she told you anything?".

He wasn't sure he deserved to know, but he needed to.

"The last time I spoke to her she didn't say anything - you know how Y/N doesn't want to bother anyone with her things and getting information from her is harder than solving the world's problems -, but P and her talk here and there", Max reasoned, "she obviously won't tell me all the details but from what I can tell, Y/N has really taken a toll because of this, P is always quite upset whenever it comes up", Max offered. Quite upset wouldn't cover it, so much so that, unbeknownst to Lando, the last couple of time Max's girlfriend couldn't join them for their plans was an orchestrated excuse from her to avoid being in the same room as the McLaren driver.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!", Lando groaned into his hands, "how could I not realise this was happening?".

"You want the honest, blunt truth?", Max asked and Lando nodded, "I know it's your job, but lately, it's all been about racing, and I think you've neglected Y/N ", Max offered.

McLaren had a one hundred and eighty degree turn lately. From struggling to get their cars in the points, the team had managed to turn things around to the point where P5 and P8 was considered a bad weekend for them.

With the new signings, Quadrant had grown exponentially and it had naturally drawn him to spend more time on it, and it seemed to have alienated everyone in his life that wasn't directly a part of those.

It wasn't intentional, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt. And by the looks of it, the person Lando loved and cared about most was also the one he hurt the most.

They both sat in silence as the British drive thought about all of it. Things got so good that he didn't look back, he worked his hardest and gave every piece of himself to the cause and the new territory he was paving. Being on the podium was a common feature for him, and the race win was there, up for grabs and he wanted it. Yet, he had been dazzled by it and had let himself fly higher, his characteristic "both head and feet on the ground" posture no longer present and resulting in a degree of neglection for the things and people thay mattered to him.have always been important to me.

"How did I push away the most important person in my life and I'm just now realizing this?", Lando asked, not really expecting an answer, but rather to let out all the frustration that boiled inside him, anger soon following at his late realisation, "what's worse is that I've only come to realise this because you had to tell me - stupid, stupid, stupid".

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, mate, and frankly there isn't much I can, but look on the bright side: now you have a chance to fix it", Max tries to comfort Lando.

"What if it's too late? What if Y/N doesn't want to be with me anymore?", Lando voicesd his deepest fear. What if the anger had finally got to you and you wanted to call it quits?

"Wouldn't you be able to understand that? I don't think that is the case - I've never seen two people who love eachtoher more than you two, it's as disgusting as it it lovely most times. And even though she might feel angry or hurt, I believe she has it in her to forgive you", Max states.

"I hope you're right", Lando sighed as he tapped his phone, his finger hovering over your contact.

"I wouldn't do that", Max chirped, "you should rest before diving into anything about that topic, and today has had too many emotions as it is. Tomorrow is a new day for you to think about it", he advised.

With his head on the headrest, Lando went over everything that occupied his mind, allowing the heavy sinking feeling to settle in. To a degree, he deserved the discomfort he felt. Shame, guilt, frustration, remorse, embarrassment, overwhelm, sadness.

What if he had destroyed the thing that made him the happiest? If I managed to single out the person who loved him for him?

Lan 🧡

Hello. You were probably expecting a text or a call, but the last few days haven't been easy and I needed to ground myself a little. We really need to talk, Y/N. Do you think we can grab lunch today?

It irritated you how quick your heart was beating the minute you saw who sent you the text after you submitted all the projects that you had left. Battling an inner fight of whether or not you should answer it, you decided to so it. Rip the band-aid off, Y/N.

To Lan 🧡

Hello... We do urgently need to talk. I'm on my own today - where do you want to go?

Your tone was cold and unusual when you compared it to the older messages, filled with hearts and the pet names you had for eachother.

We can go to that café by the marina, the one with the paninis you really like.

Yes, we'll meet here at one pm.

Do you want me to pick you up?

No, I'll walk.

Your sunglasses are good enough to hide the nervous gloom on them as you walked to the marina. There is no script or guideline to go about this lunch other than honesty and finally admitting everything you were feeling. It could go either way and, truth be told, you believed it would go down the way it was supposed to.

Stepping on the wooden path to the small café's outside area, you looked for the boy whose arms were where you used to feel safe.

Lando chose a table that overlooked the water, the warm sun shinning and bringing out the blue of it. It would be a big conversation, and while the café wasn't crowded, he never knew how things could pan out so he went for the most demure spot.

When you take a proper look at him, it surprises you. His eyes are not shiny like they usually are - there's a dark hue surrounding them along with sadness.

"Hey", you utter out to grab his attention.

The moment he faces you, you feel naked despite the summery dress you have on. All vulnerabilities exposed for the person who knows you best and who can read you like the back of his hand.

"Hello, hi", Lando cleared his throat, "how have you been?".

Setting your bag on the chair, you shrugged, not ready to engage in casual chit chat.

"Do you already know what you are having?", he wondered.

"The italian panini and iced tea", you mumbled after looking at the menu he handed you, "have you ordered yet?", you mused before calling the waiter to do so.

The silence between you after the waiter left the table was painful and hard to digest. You avoided looking at his colourful eyes - once you did it, breaking down would be in an instant.

"We really need to talk, Y/N", Lando says.

"Do you want to go first? Or shall I?", you asked bitterly, accepting his silence.

The waiter comes back with your orders. The café doesn't have a big menu and it's mostly empty, so the service was quick, "I hope you enjoy it - Bon appétit!", he interrupted the tension filled moment.

"I recognise I need to apologize to you for all the things I did without realizing it an-", Lando was cut off by you.

"Let me stop you there before this derails", you stated, "I'm here to have a serious, grown up conversation, so I'm not going to sit here and listen to dusty and beaten up childish excuses".

If the ground could sink him into it, Lando would've accepted it gladly.

"It's a start that you have realised that something was wrong, but you can't excuse yourself like that, Lando. Not when this situation has taken proportions that you can't fanthom - you can't get away with being sorry for not noticing what you were causing", you argued.

Lando gave you a nod, "I'm still not sure about all the things that led us to this point and what it entails, and that's why I wanted you here. I don't want to be blind to it anymore - I want to get all of it so all the pieces make sense in my head. You probably won't believe it, Y/N, but I'm so lost in this. I feel like I've lived a parallel universe for the past couple of months", Lando added all in one go.

"When did your feet come back to the ground?", you mused, "when did you feel like maybe things weren't the way they should be?". The curiosity was killing you, and the answer could very well do the last stab.

"When I lost all of those places in the race", Lando gulped, "I expected you to call and to hear your comforting words, and they never came. Max was the one to bring my mind to the matter", he admitted and you could see he was the opposite of proud of his own actions, "How I've been the worst boyfriend in the world and how I deserved that you didn't call - hell, I'm not even sure if I deserve that you're here today and willing to listen to what I have to say".

It's difficult to maintain a tough appearance and pretend that his words don't affect you, but alas, you keep your armour on.

"That afternoon was a struggle for me, Lando. I wanted nothing more than to call you and hear your voice, silence your cornerns and negative thoughts, let you know that you're the best driver out there and that a bad race doesn't define you. That it wasn't your fault and that you shouldn't beat yourself up because of it, that I was still so proud of you and how you handled things and that nothing could keep me from shouting to the rooftops. But you didn't deserve it, my dignity has been punched by your actions day in day out for the past couple of months and I couldn't take it anymore".

"I need you to hear things from your side, I need to know your perspective so I can understand what I did wrong and if I'm able to fix it still", Lando asks desperately.

"We should start from the beggining then", you laced your hands on top of the table after taking a bite of your panini, "I think it was at the end of the last season - at the time it didn't seem like it, but looking at it now, it was the start. I even took some time off and travelled with you so we could enjoy your break, then I came back for university. It's never easy, I know, but up until then we never had any issues with it - even if it was a bloody run, we made time for eachother. Then, you barely texted, let alone call - but all relationships hit rough patches and I thought that it was ours. Then Christmas came around and we finally felt like us again, there were no work or uni commitments, and it was bliss. After that, life happened again and I couldn't find a way to spend time with you - there was always a Quadrant video to film or a meeting or some event. You, Max and Martin went to Bali, and despite the fact that I didn't have any exams and could easily do university stuff remotely - like I do everytime - you didn't even think to ask me if I wanted to go or if I had planned something for us in the first place. I just took it for granted that you would spend it with me, but when P showed me the photos I looked like a fool and an ungrateful friend and girlfriend because I stayed back, Lando. I never felt so humiliated. Max had his girlfriend and you didn't, you ignored me as if I didn't matter to you", you breathed out. Ruminating was one thing, talking about it out loud was another. The latter angered you less and hurt more.

"I'm sorry", Lando murmured and you were quick to shoot it down.

"I don't need you to apologize now, Lando. What I needed was for you to make a decision then, one that considered me and what I wanted", you sighed, wiping a stubborn tear that got out, "after that, I just watched you pull further and further away, and I tried to get closer, work things out, but you wouldn't let me in. You floated and floated and I stayed here, both feet glued to the ground as I watched you go higher and higher. You were never like this, letting things get to your head wasn't something you ever did, but it happened. You alienated me in such a way that for this triple header, I didn't hear your voice once unless it was from the TV or the McLaren social media. You only wanted to call when you needed comfort, and it hurts that it took Max to help you see things the way they are", you state as tears fell uncontrollably down your cheeks.

Apart from your earlier bite, both wooden serving boards look full and no one made a move to go further.

"You told me time and time again that you would always be there for me, but when I was the one needing a cuddle and reassuring words, I was all alone in my bedroom, crying because of you. When you said you'd be there for me, I guess you failed to account for the fact that you can't protect me from yourself.. Because what hurt me these past couple of months was you", you declared, sniffling and, finally, looking into Lando's swollen and tear-filled eyes.

The tears Lando has been holding back fell. He was angry with himself, at how he had done the one thing he promise not to do to you. He made you hurt, he was the reason you were in pain and he couldn't keep you from feeling it.

"I wish I could tell you there was a reason behind it and that it all has some justification, but there isn't and I can't lie to you. I was propelled from the results and the promise that this could be our year - my year - and everything else faded away. I know it's not any help, but I'm not proud of what I did, and definitely not proud of the way I made you hurt - I wish I could turn back time and do it differently", Lando confessed.

"I needed you, Lando", she bit back.

Lando couldn't find any words after that and once you began eating the now cold panini, he followed your movements, granting you the quietest meal you ever shared with him. Lando was playful, loud, cheery and giggly on any other day. As much as it nagged you that your words were the ones to dim that light, you had to put yourself first. Someone had to.

"Can we walk along the marina?", Lando asked once you finished eating, earning your nod to his surprise.

You both get up, Lando paying for your meal at the front before you left the establishment. You walked along, looking at the luxurious boats and yachts before you found a part of the wall that you was comfortable enough to sit on, remaining in silence as you watched a couple of people unlock their yachts and sailing away.

Lando wanted to say something, to prove to you that he was sorry and that he still loves you more than anything, but the fear of saying the wrong thing and hurting you even deeper was not something he wanted to risk.

"You're going to break up with me, aren't you?", Lando voiced the biggest worry on his mind since he left his apartment.

"I walked here, so I had time to think about all of this, and all I could think was that I was going to meet you there, be reminded of all the pain you made me feel, and then we wouldn't see a solution to this. And on my way here, it got harder because I passed by the shop where we always go for croissants, and then that park where I tripped and you carried me home because of my bruised knee even though I could walk just fine, the bench where that lady asked if Mila was our daughter when your brother visited. And when I arrived at the café and saw you, I knew there was no way I could do it", you half smiled.

"I struggled to see what was happening, and I didn't see what was clearly in front of me, and I know I can't undo all of the crap that I've made", Lando pointed out, "but I can say that I love you, Y/N. I love you even more than when I asked you to be my girlfriend, which I never thought was possible, but everyday I love you a little bit more. I know I won't be able to love anyone the way I love you and, honestly, I'm not sure who I am without you, because I've turned into a person I don't recognise anymore and I'm afraid that if I don't have you around, this is the real me, and I don't like it. You make me a better person - since day one! I'll love you forever, but I also understand that you don't need this pressure in your life and that you want us to be over. I deserve that", Lando mumbled.

As much as the idea of not being with you hurt him, he knew it didn't equate to the pain he caused you hence why he deserved it if you dumped him.

"You're making it so hard", your groaned rubbing your temples, "It would have been so much easier if you had told me that you didn't care about this, that you didn't care about me anymore".

"That's never going to happen, Y/N", Lando assured you.

"It would be so much easier if I told you to fuck yourself off, wouldn't it?", you chuckled and Lando got to see a small glimpse of the world's best smile, "but I can't do it - I do think, though, that we need to take some time, for both of us to work on our own things", you suggested.

"I get it, you can have all the time and space you need, Y/N", Lando nodded, "would it be too much to ask if I asked you for another shot?", he wondered as you quirked an eyebrow, "I know you just asked me for some time, and I'll give it to you, but I'm not going to let you entertain the thought that I don't care about you or that I don't love you any longer. I'm still the same person you met all those years ago and I want to remind you why you fell in love with me in the first place - if that's even the case", he blurted, "please".

"Slow steps, okay?", you mused with a small small.

"Is it still the case?", Lando picked up where he left off, "are you still in love with me?".

"If I wasn't in love with you and if I didn't love you, trust me, I wouldn't be here", you smiled, squeezing his hand in yours on top of the warm stone.

Over the last couple of days, you felt lighter. University was finally over for the semester and you could rest, and the whole situation with Lando was better. Even though it hurt to tell him all of those things and see his reaction, and even if Lando still had a lot to make up for, you had to admit you didn't expect to feel like this right away. The right path was being trailed and you couldn't feel more at peace with it.

So far, he kept his respectful distance, which didn't mean that you didn't know he was there. Two days after you met him in the marina, Lando sent you a bunch of flowers to your doorstep, your mother being the one to bring them up to your bedroom since she was arriving from work as the delivery man was about to knock on the door, smirking when she saw who it was from.

You were getting ready to go out for a picnic with Lando. The sunny day invited you to go out and Lando seemed to think the same, sending you a quick text with the location and plan ideas.

"Where are you off to?", your mother asked as she noticed you looking for your hat, "you look very nice, dear".

"Lando invited me for a picnic", you offered her a smile despite the butterfly feeling on your tummy.

"I'm glad you're working things out, Y/N - I know how much you care about him. And even if he hurt you, he's doing the work to get you back - a lot of men would just give up, but not Lando", your mother nudged. She always liked him despite her initial concerns when he moved up the racing ladder and the toll it would take on you. For a brief moment, she was upset that she had been right, but she never lost the hope that the young man dating her daughter would fight for them and for her. For you.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be out, but if I'm not home for dinner, don't worry too much", you added, waving at her before closing the door.

You drove yourself to the park, politely declining Lando's offer to pick you up. As you followed the directions, you spotted Lando under one of the trees, seemingly battling with the corner of the picnic blanket.

"Hey, need help with that?", you called as you approached him, noticing his flustered face at getting caught.

"Hey! It's fine, it's fine", he dusted off his shorts, "I didn't fold the corner properly, never mind iron this", he grumbled.

"We're going to sit on it, I don't think we needed it ironed", you smiled, setting your small backpack on the blanket and occupying the space that wasn't covered with glass containers and pape bags, noticing the logo of your favourite bakery and the sweets shop near Lando's apartment.

"So, I baked these - who knew my oven works, hm?", he joked as he pulled out some granola bars that smelled delicious, "Jon did give me the recipe, but I made them! He says they don't have any harmful raw ingredients in them so there's no danger if they're not cooked properly".

"You could've told me to bring something too", you sighed, "you had all this trouble and I'm just going to sit here and eat it", you reasoned.

"I think we've gathered that I deserve all this trouble, even though I didn't mind doing it - I think I finally get it when people say they find baking relaxing, even if I just threw some oats and syrup on a bowl with nuts and chocolate", Lando shrugged.

You smiled at his antics, "this looks lovely, Lan - thank you", before you grabbed a paper napkin to grab the food.

Lando's heart did a little backflip at the pet name - when he thought about it, he can't remember the last time you called him anything other than his name.

He wiped the thought away as he noticed you get one of the paper bags, "It was no trouble, but I did have to make sure the lady at the pastry shop knew I was the next in line because there was this lady, you should've seen her, she was, like, eighty? I don't know, maybe more than that, and she was very posh and very proper and she was trying to cut in line! Then she started saying something in French and I was like 'no can do, madam! I need to get these croissants for my girlfri- for Y/N because they're her favourites' - I bet she wanted to get them first but I did!", he dramatised the scene, earning your loud laugh. How much he missed that sound.

"Seems like it was a little troublesome, though", you teased. Inside your chest, your heart beat fast at his efforts.

"You're worth it", he smiled before taking a bite of the granola bar, "not to toot my own horn, but for someone who eats pre-prepared meals, this is amazing! Try these!", he offered, forming a shell with his hand before he brought it up to your mouth.

For anyone else, this would be just another set of cute behaviours, but for you, it carried a sense of intimacy you hadn't felt in a while. Taking a bite of it and chewing, you had to admit the balance of the nutty taste and the chocolate was on point, "it is good, Lan! You should make granola bars more often - might even make a side business out of it!", you smiled.

"Charles has some ice-cream, there's alcohol from the other guys too - me? Granola bars", he smiled, eating the rest of it and looking at you. He would never be stupid again. He would never take you for granted. Never ever.

The conversation flowed once you started eating, mainly pointing out the new swings in the park or the pretty blooms that were showing up, and even though you weren't acting like you would had it not happened, it was comfortable and Lando had definitely put some effort into this.

"Thank you for this, Lando", you smiled after you helped him clean up the supplies, making sure he wouldn't have any spills and trouble taking the rest home.

"It's alright, really", Lando mumbled as blood rushed to his cheeks, "it wasn't much, but I wanted to make sure you remembered I'm still in and that I love you more than anything", he smiled, closing the basket and getting up with it to walk back to the car, "which actually brings me to an invite I want to make you", he went back to mumbling again.

The invite was a risk, he knew it. After all, it was the reason that got your relationship here in the first place. Yet, he wanted you there and he thought it would be good. Adding to it, it would be the way that he could make sure he was able to see you as it would be a busy day.

"What is it?", you asked as you walked with him.

"The day after tomorrow, we're going karting - Max and P are coming over for a few days, they arrive tomorrow - and I was wondering if you wanted to join us", he invited, "I know it's not the best environment to be in given al-", he started rambling.

"I'd love to go, Lando", you assured, touching his arm confortingly, "I might need a ride though, if you don't mind doing the detour", you pointed out.

"It's fine, of course we'll pick you up!", he smiled, happy and excited at your answer.

"That's me", you nodded to your mother's car, unlocking it with the key, "thank you so much for this, Lan, I appreciate it a lot", you smiled, raising your stance so you could kiss his cheek, "will you text me the details when you know, please?".

"Yes! Absolutely!", he gave you a big smile again, "until then, Y/N!", he waved.

As Lando walked back to his car, there was an extra spring up on his step, a new found energy and a smile that insisted on not disappearing from his lips.

Little by little, he was slowly getting you back.

"Why are we going this way?", Max asked as Lando took the first exit on the roundabout, "isn't the track that way?".

Lando couldn't contain his smile, "we're going to pick Y/N up first".

Max and Pietra exchanged a look before rhe blonde woman spoke up, "you finally came to your senses?".

"P!", Max scolded.

"It's alright, Max - she's not wrong", Lando added, "but yes, I have, and I'm working on it, respecting her but making sure she knows how much I regret it, how sorry and how bad I feel that it happened and how I'm trying my hardest to make sure it does happen again", Lando turned around once he stopped at the red light, "Thank you for looking after her when I didn't, P. I know you have been a good friend to her, so thank you for that", he added.

"She didn't deserve what you did to her, but I'm happy you figured it out and that you're working on it - I don't say it too often, but if you two ever broke up, I would consider that true love isn't a thing, what you two have is something else entirely", she smiled.

"Excuse me?!", Max dramatised, "what did you just say?".

"Did I lie, Max? Who was it that came home in a nervous fit without any fingernails because they bit all of them off after Lando realised what happened? The same person who couldn't even sleep because of it? Who was it, hm?", she quesioned her boyfriend.

Lando chuckled at his friends, thinking that they really had been made for one another, "you two make me look like the sanest person inside this car", he shook his head, pressing the pedal and turning into your street.

There you were, the person he was sure was made for him too. Your outfit was simple, consisting of black jeans, black trainers, a shirt sleeve polo and a cardigan on your arm.

"Hi guys!", you greeted, getting inside the car and kissing Pietra's cheek before putting your seatbelt on.

"Why don't I get a kiss?", Max pouted.

"Because you stink, that's why", Lando chirped in, "all ready to go back there?", he mused, sending you a wink from the rear view mirror.

Blushing, you nodded before looking at Pietra again, accepting her hand in yours as she gave it a squeeze. For the whole drive to the track, you engaged light conversation, mainly listening to the plans they had for the clips they were filming before they raced eachother since you and P would happily drive around in the karts just to pass the time.

For the first segment, you stayed on the stands, watching the team get the equipment ready.

"How have you been, Y/N?", Pietra asked as she handed you a bottle of water she had gone to her and taking a sip of her own.

"I've been well - university is finally done with and I can actually have a thought that doesn't involve it", you giggled, "and Lando is home", you offered.

"Now, I wasn't going to be so blunt, but that is the subject I wanted to get at", she raised her eyebrows playfully.

"He's... Goodness, he's Lando again, my Lando", you sighed happily, "surely, it still stings a little and we need to work through our issues, but we're trailing our way through them. Learning our ways together - it's a bit like falling in love again and it's such a good feeling", you blushed at your admission, "it's doing us well and we're going with it, and not out of it", you smiled.

"Y/N", Pietra cooed, "you have no idea how make that makes me! It's so good to see you so happy and hopeful", she squeezed your arm, "I was ready to avenge you on him, by the way, Max did us both a favour in telling him, because I was sure what I wanted to do to Lando was considered a crime and I'm a good person", she raised her hands defensively.

Once the boys were done, Max waved at you to come down and meet them, giving them the time to get your equipment ready.

"Come here, I need to make sure you don't fly out of your kart this time", Max called his girlfriend after she was fully equipped to go on the single seater.

You finished the makeshift hairstyle before you looked for the helmet, finding it in Lando's hands, "come here, big head, I'll help you put it on", he smiled.

As you approached him, you could see his sudden nervousness at having you so close to him, hands setting the helmet on top of your head and then pulling in on, "Look who's talking", you mumbled quickly before it was all the way in, his fingers gingerly touching your neck as he did the strap buckle.

"All good for our speed daredevils?", Max joked, getting an instant slap from Pietra before he got up.

"Does it feel safe, Y/N?", Lando checked with you, making you wiggle a little to make sure you were strapped tightly enough, making you flash his two thumbs up.

"Ready, set, go!", Max yelled before you and Pietra went off, happily driving on the track despite not extracting the full potential out of the kart.

"You and Y/N seem well", Max offered as him and Lando took a break before they joined you back at the track.

"I don't think I'll ever stop feeling this guilt on my chest, it's like a weird weight that sits here and gets heavy every now and again", Lando explained, "but I think we're going in the right direction, and I'm going to spend every day of our lives making sure it never happens again. Y/N will never doubt my love or affection for her. I just want to make her happy now that she knows I know how much I screwed us up".

"I'm proud of you, man", Max tapped his back.

"You're what?", Lando asked, a little flustered at his bestfriends words.

"I'm proud of you, Lando - you're dealing with this in such a good way! I'm not saying I doubted you would, but seeing you actually do it and make it happen in such a grown up, loving and accountability filled way makes me proud of who you became. As much as I joke about it, what P said in the car was true - you and Y/N are it. Whenever I think about what endgame is, you two are the first thing that comes to mind", he admitted.

"Thanks, mate", Lando replied earnestly.

After a couple of laps from you, you saw the boys joining you in the track, making you assure that whenever they lapped you, you made a Mario Kart like noise, always managing to get a smile and a headshake from Lando and Max.

Once you were done, Max and Pietra volunteered to take all of the supplies back to the storage room.

"Did you enjoy your day, Y/N?", Lando asked as he approached you.

Surprising him, you nodded before you hugged him, "I haven't been this happy in a long time", you cuddled him, letting your head rest on his chest and letting yourself feel enveloped by his arms after the initial shock wore off.

"I'm glad", Lando uttered out before he composed himself, "I just want you to know that I could fulfill all your dreams and that there I'll never do anything to hurt you again. I'm well aware of all shit I've done and put you through, and how accountable I am for it. I just want to make you happy", he chuckled, "I don't want anything else in this world other than to make you happy, to show you how much I love you and that I want make this work, I want to make us work", he let out in such a serious and intense tone that you could feel a knot forming your throat, "you were my first love and I want you to be my last, Y/N".

"Lan...", you gasped softly, "I know it hasn't been good for you, but I just need a little bit more time to put it behind me, once for all", you added.

"I know, and that's alright", he mumbled against the top of your head, "I just wanted you to know that it is coming straight from my heart - everything I do, I do it for you", plucking up the courage to press a kiss there.

You closed your eyes and basked in the feeling, "two Bryan Adams references in the same sentence from the guy who used to DJ? You impress me, Lando Norris", you giggled and teased him playfully, feeling the rubble from his own laugh on his chest.

"I'll make sure to impress you everyday that we're alive, Y/N Y/L/N", he promised.

And he intended to keep it.

Lando invited you to his apartment for a cosy night in, thinking the plans over and over while he waited for you to arrive.

The delivery service was faster than he expected so he wrapped the takeout boxes in all of the kitchen towells he had so they would help retain the heat while you weren't there yet.

The whole apartment was tidy, he had your favourite blanket on the sofa and the TV had your favourite shows ready to stream in the background as you hopefully shared a comforting meal.

Your acceptance to come to his place made Lando feel very pleased with the way you were trailing in your relationship. He had been able to correct his mistakes and make you happy again. Even though there had been moments where he seemed to forget, he now knew that you had always been and will always be a priority in his life. He had never been in love with anyone else, and he was sure he would always be in love with you until his last breath.

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts, heading up to the door to open it, "Hello hello! Come in", he gestured as you stepped inside, pecking his lips on the way - a few days prior, you had kissed him out of nowhere when you went to the bookshop and you swore he looked like a cartoon, all wide eyes and blushy cheeks.

Lando assured you you wouldn't leave the house and it would be just the two of you, so you hadn't bothered to put together a proper outfit, opting to wear a pair of leggings and an old Quadrant hoodie.

"I wasn't sure if I should bring anything, so I stopped by the sweets shop to get some of these hard candies, apparently they're very trendy now", you giggled sweetly as you set the bag on his hands so you could take your trainers off.

"You didn't have to, but thanks! We'll do a taste test after dinner - which is here by the way", he guided you to the living room.

Unravelling the mountain of kitchen towells, he had you sit down before he opened the containers, handing you a plate after you chose a bit of each of the dishes he ordered, "thank you, Lan", you smiled, sitting criss-cross on the sofa and waiting for him to do the same before you started eating.

"These are really good, have you tried them? They're new on their menu and when the guy explained it to me, I thought you'd like it", he pointed to one of the bite sized pieces.

"They are! They're not too heavy on the seasoning and they're really nice when you dip them in this sauce - try it!", you offered him the small cup.

"Is this going to be like the time you made me dip my spring rolls in that other sauce you claimed was the best thing in the world?", he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just try it, Lan!", you insisted, getting one from your plate, dipping it in the sauce and taking it up to Lando's mouth, your hand under the chopsticks in case some of it fell on his clothes.

Lando chewed it before nodding and humming in satisfaction, "is it good", he admitted with a smile after he wiped his lips.

Once you finished eating, you helped Lando bring everything back to the kitchen, saving the leftovers on his fridge, washing the plates and putting them away.

"You didn't have to help, I could've done it myself", Lando nudged before he laced your hand in his and pulled you back to the living room, "do you want to watch something?", he asked.

"There's this new Disney movie I haven't watched if you're up for it - or any of the shows we usually watch, I'm not picky", you answered quickly.

"Disney it is", he smiled sitting down and resting his arm on the back of the sofa, hoping you'd sit next to him and cuddle him.

You shuffled around before grabbing the fluffy blanket, pulling it over your legs and tentatively closing the distance between you, taking the plunge and taking a spot on his chest.

Once the movie was playing, Lando's arm dropped to wrap around you, lulling you closer to him and rubbing your arm.

"I can hear you thinking, and I'm sure you're not thinking about that little goat", you nodded to the screen.

"I'm watching the movie, I swear - and he's quite funny actually! He's also Mila's favourite character, at least he was last week", Lando chuckled, "but I was also thinking about us", he admitted.

"You were?", you turned to look up at him, wanting to know more.

"You do know I will apologize for what I did until the end of our lives, don't you?", Lando reflected out loud.

"Lando, stop it, it's forgiven and forgotten", you offered.

"Is it really?", he asked, a small smile breaking his way into his lips.

"It is, it's behind us now", you kissed his clothed chest.

"I will never forget it, though. It doesn't matter how many times you tell me to forget it or that you've forgiven me", he let out a shaky sigh, "I don't think I will, I hate myself for what did to you, the hurt that I caused you".

"Lando, let's not talk about it right now - not now, not ever. It's a part of our story, yes, and we learned from it, but I don't want to to remember every day. We are good now, and I don't want you to torture yourself with something that is out of your reach and that you can't change", you told him sternly, now sitting back against the sofa so you can face your boyfriend, "Promise me we won't mention this again, Lando".

"You're right", Lando agrees, "Okay, you're right, I promise, Y/N", he stated with a smile.

Your delicate lips peck his quickly before you go in for a second kiss, longer and more intense this time, and you both got lost in eachother.

You couldn't change what happened, but you could learn from it and work everyday to make sure it never happened again.

Lando was crazy about you, about who he was when was with you and how you made him feel, and you felt the same way about him.

"I love you, Lando", you smiled after you pulled away, resting your forehead in his.

"I love you forever, Y/N", he whispered, sealing his promise with a peck and bracing himself, "I'm never taking you for granted, and maybe this is a big gesture and I'm not sure how much this fits our new way - new patch? It's not a patch if we want it to last forever, right? - anyway, I would like to ask you to move in with me", Lando stated, "it doesn't have to be tomorrow or right away, we'll do it when you're ready! I just- I spend so much time of the year away as it is, and I don't want to cut the short time even shorter when it comes to you, so this way we'll be together for a bit longer - even if it's just at nightime and we can intertwine our legs or I can warm up the bed for you", he rambled on and you were sure he wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"Hey, hey! Lando, baby", you cupped his face with your hands, "look at me", you smiled as you straddled his lap, your thighs on each side of his and keeping you from fully sitting on him, "good now?".

"Well, since you're already there - sit, please", Lando added before he allowed himself to stress about your answer.

"I don't want to squash you", you mumbled.

Laying his hands in your thighs, he pulled you down, "I said sit down", he spoke sternly despite the playful glint on his eyes, "it's my home after all, I get to make the rules".

"Oh, I thought it was our home, but maybe I misread th-", your playfulness was cut short as your boyfriend flipped you around, your back hitting the soft sofa cushion with a yelp.

"You're moving in? For real?", he asked.

"Yes, baby, I'm moving in", you cupped his cheek, pulling him for a kiss, "I love you".

"My love, I'm going to spend everyday reminding you how beautiful, how strong", he started kissing your face with every word, "how kind, how amazing, how sexy, how hot, how smart, how kind, how incredible you are", he stopped just above your lips, "how all mine you are - I love you Y/N, forever", before he kissed your lips.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 angst #ln4 x reader

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trans-axolotl · 2 months ago

Text

content note: this post talks about eugenics, incarceration and institutionalization, and violent ableism

tangent from that post because i didn't want to start writing an essay on someone else's post and this is about a conversation i had irl this month, not intended as a reply to that post. but i actually feel very complicated about the idea of whether or not we should be pushing for more "accessibility" in jails and prisons and psych wards and institutions. i put that word in quotes because i don't think there is ever a way that being incarcerated is actually accessible to our bodies and minds; it is a disabling experience on so many levels. i'm not going to list out all the reasons why on this post; i've made so many posts talking explicitly about the harms of institutionalization before and i don't want to do that again right now. Talila Lewis has given several interviews about ableism, incarceration, and disability that are really worth reading and go more in depth into what that violence looks like. Liat Ben Moshe has also given another interview about disability and incarceration that goes over many of the same topics. given that these places are intense sites of violence towards disabled people, it feels difficult for me to claim that they could ever truly be accessible in any meaningful sense of the word.

what's also true right now is that institutions and prisons are incredibly inaccessible for physically disabled people in particular. i've been arrested with a wheelchair, i've been institutionalized with a feeding tube on top of that as well, i've been held on medical floors for psych treatment before, and i know very well exactly how bad it is. i've watched myself and so many other physically disabled people almost die in these places because of sheer neglect. i have physically disabled neighbors who were killed in these places. it is so dangerous for physically disabled people who are locked up in these places, yet at the same time, often psych wards are so inaccessible that physically disabled people just can't even be admitted because wards refuse to take people with mobility aids, medical devices, specific types of medication or care needs, if you have some kinds of terminal illness, and on and on and on.

what's also true is that when these places are so inaccessible that many physically disabled people are excluded and unable to even access them in the first place, it doesn't mean that we then somehow access other types of care instead. it just means that we're also discarded and left to die. this also is a really similar dynamic for a ton of other marginalized groups that get excluded from psych care--many of my comrades who are people of color have also experienced this same type of denial of care. initially i think that can seem like a confusing contradiction--how is it that psych wards are locking up some people up against their will but refusing to take in other people? but when you start thinking about the underlying logic at the core of these systems, it makes sense.

psych wards operate under this idea that madness must be cured by any means possible, up to and including eradication. institutions are a way of disappearing madness from the world--hiding us away so that we don't disturb a sane society, and not letting us free again until we either die in there or are able to appear like we've sufficiently eradicated madness from our mind. preventing physically disabled people from accessing inpatient treatment is operating under the same assumptions--except that this particularly violent convergence of ableism is happy to just let us die, both because it eradicates madness from the world and because they view our lives as unworthy of living in the first place. eugenics is still alive and well in the united states and it's still fucking killing us; both inside institutions and outside of them.

i would never tell someone that they're privileged for getting institutionalized--i think that would be a cruel thing to say to someone who has just survived a lot of violent ableism. and at the same time, our current systems of mental health care are set up in a way where not being able to access inpatient care can be a deadly logistical nightmare. there are some partial hospitalization programs that have such a long waiting list that you can only really get in if you just got an urgent referral because you're getting discharged from inpatient care--how the fuck are physically disabled people supposed to access those programs? if you need meal support for your eating disorder 6 times a day and the only places that offer that are residential treatment in a house with stairs, what the fuck are you supposed to do? if noncarceral outpatient forms of treatment like therapy, support groups, PHP programs, peer support funding, etc etc etc are often prioritizing people who have recently been discharged from inpatient care, how are you supposed to access any type of mental health care at all? (to be clear i know that not all forms of outpatient care operate in this way, but a lot of state run/low cost programs that accept Medicaid/Medicare operate in that way, and i've seen it cause enough barriers that i know this is a very real problem.)

so when i think about what it would take to actually ensure that physically disabled people can access mental healthcare, there's a lot that comes up for me. on one hand, so much of my work is about tearing down institutions and ensuring that no one is forced into these places to face that type of violence. on the other hand, so many physically disabled people need care right now, and we have to figure out some way of making that happen given the current systems we have in place. i will never be okay with just discarding physically disabled people as collateral damage, and any world that we're building needs to be one that embraces disability from the beginning.

i keep thinking about the concept of non-reformist reforms that gets talked about a lot in the prison abolition movement. the idea behind non-reformist reforms is that usually, reforms work to reinforce the status quo. they're usually talked about in liberal language of "improvement" and "human rights", but when it comes down to it, they're still giving more power to harmful institutions and reinforcing state power. an example of a reformist reform is building a new jail that is bigger and has "nicer" services. or when the cops in my city tried to get funding for more wheelchair accessible cop vans. these are reformist reforms because when it comes down to it, it's still giving more money and legitimacy to the prison system and increasing the capacity to keep people locked up--even when people talk about it using language about welfare for prisoners, that's not actually what's happening. having more wheelchair accessible cop vans would be dangerous for the disabled people in my city--it's helped us out a LOT that it's so difficult for the cops to arrest multiple wheelchair users at once.

non-reformist reforms are the opposite of that--they're reforms that work to dismantle systems, redistribute power, and set the stage for more even more dramatic transformations. They're sort of an answer to the question of "what do we do right now if we can't go out and burn down all the prisons overnight?" Examples of a nonreformist reform are defunding prisons, getting rid of paid administrative leave for cops, shutting down old prisons and not building new ones, etc. they're steps we can take right now that don't fully abolish prisons, but still work to dismantle them, rather than making it easier for the system to keep going.

so, when we apply this to the psych system, what are some nonreformist reforms that could help make sure that all disabled people are having their needs met right now? Some ideas I'm having include fixing the problem of PHP/outpatient care requiring referrals from inpatient, increasing the amount of Medicaid/Medicare funding for outpatient mental health care, building physically accessible peer respites that allow caregivers to stay with you if needed, increasing SSI/SSDI to an actually liveable rate, creating more disability specific mental health resources, support groups, care webs, and a million other things we'd probably need to actually get our needs met. non-reformist reforms for people in psych wards right now might look like ensuring everyone has 24/7 access to phones and internet, ensuring that disabled people have access to mobility aids in these spaces, making sure that there's accessible nutrition for people with dietary restrictions and/or feeding tubes, and more.

when i see people saying that we need to ensure that psych wards or prisons are made accessible it makes me feel nervous. i worry that the changes required to do that wouldn't actually provide care to disabled people, i worry it would just make it easier for increasing numbers of disabled people to get locked up and harmed all while people claimed it was a success story of "inclusion." i worry that it would just continue to cement carceral treatment as the only option for existing as a disabled person, and that it would make it harder for us to live in our communities, with the services and adaptations we need. when i think about abolition, i'm always thinking about what can we do right now, what do disabled people who are incarcerated and institutionalized need right now, what can we do right now to ensure that everyone is surviving and getting their needs met. i'm not willing to ignore or discard my incarcerated disabled comrades in the moment because of my dreams for an abolitionist future, i'm always going to support our organizing in these places as we try to survive them.

overall i guess what i'm saying is that i think making inpatient psych care accessible would require dismantling and fundamentally destroying the whole system. I can't imagine a way of doing that within the current system that wouldn't just continue to harm disabled people. and that as a psych abolitionist i think that means we have a responsibility to each other right now to fight for that, to understand that physically disabled people not being able to access mental health care is an incredibly urgent need. I refuse to treat my MadDisabled comrades as disposable: our lives are valuable and worth fighting for.

i'm also going to link to the HEARD organization on this post. They're one of the few abolitionist organizations that does direct advocacy and support for deaf and disabled people in prisons. if you or one of your disabled community members ever gets incarcerated in jail/prison, they have a lot of resources. donate to support their work if you can.

#personal #psych abolition #survivingpsych #ableism #psych ward tw #eugenics tw #disability justice #antipsych #antipsychiatry #prison abolition #i just have a lot of thoughts about this all the time. it makes me so mad how often the answer to things is just #'we don't care if disabled people live or die.'#and how many systems are set up based on control. coercion. fear. instead of care

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