#i have been going through that pavement part for about a year now

[dat-physics-gal]

You didn't have to call me out like that.

[finelinefae]

flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?" 

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed. 

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed. 

"You're too cute." 

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone." 

She smiled. 

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 

"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

SO LONG, LONDON — lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: a goodbye to the city that gave you everything and nothing. (and the man that gave you everything and nothing.) warnings: angst angst angst, not proofread (please lmk if something's written wrong i love you guys😓) a/n: idk how to say this but lando is the perfect person to write angst about. like dating lando would be the best time of ur life, but when its over, its enough to make u bang ur head on the wall (don't tell me to write a part 2 i cave under yall's pressure and i have my exams coming up😋)

london was known for never being quiet. but that day, the city was absolutely quiet—just a faint hum in the air of the early morning.

you dragged your suitcase behind you, its wheels clicking against the uneven pavement.

streetlights blurred in the mist, golden halos stretching like they were trying to hold you back.

it was the kind of day you used to love once.

you passed a familiar corner, pausing as its fairy lights shined through the mist. the little cafe across the street glowed warmly, even at this hour.

if you closed your eyes, you could almost hear the sound of lando’s laugh, the clink of his coffee cup against the table.

that was your place—your and lando's.

the first place he had told you he loved you.

he had said it casually, like he wasn’t giving you the most fragile part of himself to hold.

"what are you staring at?” you had teased, wiping the layer of coffee that had collected on your lips.

“you,” he said simply, eyes soft in a way that made your stomach twist. “i love you, you know?”*

you remembered smiling, biting back the emotions that swelled in you.

you'd only nodded, whispering “i know.” as if that were enough.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking you from the trance. you didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was. the messages have been coming all night, one after the other, as if he had only just realised that you were leaving.

the city was awake now, slowly stirring. cabs passed by, the occasional commuter rushing past you without a glance. you leaned next to a streetlamp, looking up at the faint light of the sky.

he hates this moment, you thought. lando always hated goodbyes.

“why london?” he’d asked you once, not long after you moved there. the two of you were lying on the couch, legs tangled, his arm resting lazily over your waist.

“why monaco?” you had asked back, smirking when he groaned in mock frustration.

“not the same thing. i’m practically married to monaco,” he said.

you rolled your eyes. “okay. i guess london feels like somewhere you can build something. a life, maybe. i don't know.”

he’d gone quiet at that, staring at the ceiling.

"technically, you're a london boy." you said, breaking the silence.

"why?"

"you just give off london vibes." you stated, "like, if i was going to associate a city with you, it would be london. and anyways, london and lando are almost the same word."

you walked towards a bridge, one overlooking the thames. it was where he had kissed you that first night.

it had started pouring as you halted to a stop to stare out at the city that had given you everything and nothing all at once.

you closed your eyes, breathing the air.

it was a goodbye to london.

and for the first time, you let yourself accept that it meant goodbye to him, too.

your grip tightened on the railing, the cold stone grounding you in an unsaid way.

you used to hold lando's hand that way—tight, like you could anchor him to you, keep him from drifting out of reach.

and for a while, it worked.

but only for a while.

lando was always somewhere else, even when he was with you. his mind on the next race, the next city, the next thrill.

you had given everything you had to pull him back each time, to remind him of the two of you.

he hadn’t asked you to give him anything. not your time, your love, or the best years of you life. but that was the thing about lando—he never asked. somehow, he took without realising.

you were by his side as he flew across countries, to parties, to tracks, to houses that never felt like homes.

you poured yourself into his world until yours felt like a shadow.

there was that tiny flat the two of you shared in london—just you, him, and the possibility of something bigger. it wasn't flashy like the one in monaco, not big like the one in california.

you'd left in the night, without a word, just the hollow echo of a door closing behind you.

it wasn’t dramatic. there was no fight, no dramatic crying. just the dull ache of his absence, like he’d slipped through yours fingers when you weren't looking.

you had hoped that he would ask you to give a reason. that he’d say something. but he didn’t.

lando got all of you. all the bright, reckless moments that you'd never get back.

a couple jogged past you on the bridge, heatedly bickering as they continued down their path.

a few days before the breakup, lando and you had gotten into an argument.

you were sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, staring out at the blurred lights of the city.

he was pacing, the way he always did when he was restless.

“i don’t get it,” lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “you’re acting like everything’s falling apart. like i’m the problem here.”

you looked at him, shaking your head. “you are the problem, Lando. you’ve been the problem for weeks now, and i’m fucking tired of it.”

his face hardened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. “you always do this. you make everything about me.”

"i always do this?" you stood abruptly, scoffing. "are you being serious? you think i'm making everything about you? what about me, huh? you’ve been distant for months, pulling away every chance you get. i’ve tried—tried—to fit myself into your world, to make it work."

he shook his head, “you’re always looking for the exit, aren’t you?”

“don’t fucking do that. don’t try to make this my fault,” you snapped back, voice harsh.

his jaw tightened, knuckles white where he gripped the back of the chair. “you want me to pretend like it’s not? you know what this life is like. you know what i am like.”

your stomach twisted, head shaking slowly. “do you even hear yourself? do you even see me anymore?”

he threw his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. “you always try to make yourself the victim, don’t you? like you’re the only one who’s losing something here.”

“losing something?” you repeated, voice cracking. “lando, i gave up everything for you. everything! i left my life, my friends, my family. i waited in airports, sat alone at tables, smiled when I didn’t feel like smiling, all because i thought we were building something real. and for what? for this? for you to keep drifting away? fuck, i’m tired of pretending that it’s enough to just be near you when you’ve already checked out a long time ago.”

the words hit him like a blow to the stomach, harsher than you wanted them to be. for a moment, he freezed.

you saw it—the flicker of guilt, the realisation that maybe, just maybe, you were right. but he just stood there, the weight of the argument pressing down on both of you, suffocating the room.

that was the moment. the shot that fired without either of you realising it.

and then there was the night you had walked into his monaco apartment late, after a dinner with the wags. it was well past midnight.

he was on the couch, sprawled out in the dim light coming from the glass balcony, an empty bottle of beer resting on the floor beside him.

“lando?” you asked softly, setting your bag down.

his head turned lazily, eyes bloodshot but focused on you in a way that made you suck in your breath.

“you’re abandoning the ship, aren’t you?” he slurred, the words cutting even through his inebriated speech.

“what?” you whispered, taken aback.

“you’re never there anymore,” he muttered, sitting up unsteadily. “no races. no paddock. you don’t want to be with me. you’re... you’re not leaving, right?”

you froze. the irony was almost laughable. how could you be abandoning the ship when you were the silently one going down with it?

“i’m here, lando,” you said finally, your voice tight.

but he didn’t reply. he just shook his head, leaning back against the cushions as if continuing the conversation was too much for him to bear.

you turned away, retreating to the kitchen under the guise of fetching water. but really, it was to hide the way your hands trembled, how your chest ached with a sadness too big for words. you weren't abandoning the ship, fuck, you were going down with it.

now, standing on the bridge in the pouring rain, the memory felt distant, but it still left the same sting. you hadn't even realised how long you’d been standing there, the chill seeping into your weary bones.

the rain made you shiver, wet through your clothes, and you decided it was best to find warmth before heading to the airport. a small cafe caught your eye, its dim yellow lights asking you to enter.

you chose a seat by the window, your damp reflection staring back at you. but as you stared at yourself, another memory tugged at you, pulling you under.

in vegas, the paddock was loud, buzzing with the usual hum of race day, but to you, it was deafening in a way that wasn’t about noise.

kym illman had been snapping photos of the everyone, and when he got to lando and you, he told you both to 'appear more in love'—arms around each other, eyes set on one another, and smiles for the cameras.

but the second kym turned his back, lando stepped away, his expression blank as he moved towards the crew. no glance back, no acknowledgment of you still standing there.

he’d left for the track that morning without so much as a goodbye, and now he didn't even stand by your side for more than a moment.

hours later, you’d see the tiktoks. people talking about the way he pulled his arm away, the way his smile seemed forced. you trended for all the wrong reasons as strangers pieced together the cracks in your relationship from nothing more than a video captured from another angle.

you wished they were wrong. but they weren’t.

and the same truth had lingered that night at dinner. a dinner meant to be casual, a chance to reconnect with friends, but the moment he left the table, you knew it was over.

he’d said he needed to step out for a minute. then it became ten. twenty. eventually, max texted his girlfriend, explaining that the boys had gone to play golf because lando had suggested it.

so you sat there, at a table full of people you barely knew, the laughter and conversation swirling around you. pietra smiled at you once or twice, but it was still never enough to make you feel like you fit in, because you truly didn't.

when the check came, you paid your share quietly and walked back to his apartment alone, heels clicking against the empty streets. you realised you couldn’t keep doing this; couldn’t keep holding onto someone who didn’t want to be held.

there was so much love before everything had turned bitter.

when lando would call you after races, his voice bright and full of life, swearing he loved you like it was the easiest thing in the world. he’d leave you voice notes in the middle of the night, reminders that he was thinking of you even when you weren't there.

his parents used to joke about the two of you getting married, and it wasn’t just them. his friends would tease him, and he’d grin, pulling you close like he couldn’t imagine a future without you.

for a while, you believed it too. you’d pictured it—the altar, the vows, the life you’d build together.

but then, it all changed.

you started waiting for proof that he still loved you, that the spark you once shared wasn’t gone for good. but then the waiting slowly drained you, bit by bit.

and just like that, it was over.

lando and you had a good run—a fleeting moment in life that felt like sitting under the warm sun on a chilly winter morning.

but it ended just as quickly. clouds rolled in and the london rain took over to make you realise that you weren't the one for each other.

one gun dug two graves.

[afrodisiiac]

What's your safe word..?

CW: au!choso x blackfem!reader, pet names, rough sex, p in v, bondage, sadism, masochism, rough oral sex (m! receiving), spitting, asphyxiation… butt play... all in all, this is a pretty rough smut fic... if you aren't into BDSM this isn't for you. (if i missed anything, sawry i suck at warnings ����)MDNI 18+!!<3

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 4.6k+

ꨄ .. dorsí's notes: hey y'all! sorry I took so long! this is my first fic on here but not my first time writing at all... BUT THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING IN A WHILE SO ITS NOT THE BEST AHHHH. SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS OR TYPOS. THIS ONE IS FOR MY CHOCHO SIMPS! HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYS!! oh btw, this fic is based off this choso.

❤︎ song inspiration; Change (In the House of Flies)- Deftones

synopsis: you & choso have been together for 2 years. he's been nothing short of sweet, caring, & attentive to you...even in bed. & while it is going great, there's a part of you craving something more... and little do you know, so is he.

𝑠𝑎·𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑚 /ˈ𝑠𝑎ˌ𝑑𝑖𝑧ə𝑚/ 𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑛; 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠.

𝑚𝑎𝑠·𝑜𝑐ℎ·𝑖𝑠𝑚 /ˈ𝑚𝑎𝑧əˌ𝑘𝑖𝑧ə𝑚/ 𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑛; 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

Rain heavily patters against the pavement outside paired with faint lightning & thunder every so often as you and Choso lay on his bed scrolling mindlessly through your phones. Occasionally, you steal small glances at the shirtless divine being you get to call your boyfriend. While you keep your hands occupied, your mind drifts off into a reminiscence about your 2-year long relationship with Choso. Currently, you feel pretty content and happy with where you all are at... for the most part. Honestly, there's something in your heart that keeps you from being fully 100% satisfied. It's not that he's a bad boyfriend or handles you too rough. Actually, contrary to his looks, he is an extremely sweet & caring man... especially in bed. Part of you wonder if that is the problem at hand; he may be too sweet in bed.

You often wonder what it would be like if he lost all his manners in the bedroom and fucked you through the mattress like you so badly wanted. See, you have never physically gotten into BDSM due to your own fears of being judged by your past partners, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t the least bit of curious nor educated on the world of it. You so desperately wanted to know what it’s like being completely dominated in the bedroom. To be obliterated and overstimulated in the best ways possible. You wonder what if he was finally rough with you in all the ways you wanted... needed... craved. You wonder what if he degraded you while simultaneously praising you for taking all of him like the good little slut you are-

"What are you thinking about, mama?" Choso's deep, sultry voice abruptly brings you back to reality, immediately halting your filthy thoughts.

His soft brown orbs swiftly assess your voluptuous body, noticing your now slightly crossed over legs as you continue to lay in his bed. Nervously, you lock your attention onto your now locked phone screen before you slightly glance over to him, your eyes immediately meeting his… fuck. You have no other explanation for your behaviors besides the truth, so, coming to a quick decision to come clean after contemplating your minimal choices, you release a heavy sigh from your plump lips before pushing yourself into an upright position on the bed and crossing your arms over your well-endowed chest that your soft pink “Hello Kitty” camisole has had nothing short of a tough time fully covering.

"Cho...", you quietly began, "I-I want you to fuck me..." you confess, voice slightly trailing off at the end.

Faintly knitting his eyebrows together and tilting his head to the side, “Is there something going on that you would like to tell me about?”

Bashfully, you reply, “Well, I-... I just want you to really fuck me...”

“Do I not really fuck you every time we fuck,” he quips while sitting his upper half of his body up off the bed to look you straight in your face, a hint of offense lingering in his tone as his jaw softly clenches.

“Yes, baby! Of course you do,” you quickly try to do damage control as you take notice of his offensiveness, “it’s just... I feel as if I want something more...”

“More...,” He presses impatiently.

You uncross your arms from over your chest before looking at your fresh set of nails as you shyly speak,

“... Rough.”

A glint of amusement flashes in his eyes before complete darkness consumes them, you nervously watch his whole entire demeanor change.

With a slight curling of his lips, his now darkly toned voice taunts, “Oh??? Go on, tell me more.” Little did you know, you’ve fallen right where he’s wanted you since the first day he’s laid eyes on you.

“Well,” You look up into his now darkened eyes, “I’ve never actually got into BDSM, but I’ve always wanted to... I hid the desire because I’m nervous of what people might think of me wanting to get handled like that.”

All he does is begin to laugh after you finished your confession to him, a ping of regret instantly rising in your chest. But before you can act on the emotion, the chortling stops and he deeply rasps, “Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to finally come to me about this?”

A deafening silence falls over the room as confusion lingers thick in the air.

“Wh-What do you mean??”

He says nothing as he pushes himself up off his side of the bed and walks around it, stopping directly in front of you. His gaze pierces into your face until your eyes leave his as you can't help but to take in his slighty disheveled appearance; ruffled hair as it flows ever so slightly past his shoulders. His broad, built frame towering over you, prominent abdominal muscles softly contracting with every breath he takes as he is now breathing heavier. Your eyes trail down his inked-up torso before landing on his exposed v-line, gray sweatpants hanging off it, stopping right above his pubic area.

He then extends his hand out toward you, “Come with me, baby.”

All you can do at this point is reach out to his extended hand and take it into your own as he helps you off the bed onto your feet, confusion still very much at the forefront of your mind. His whole demeanor now has an almost sinister appearance to it, and you can't help but to feel a bit of something in your stomach that you cannot quite yet pinpoint as fear nor excitement; maybe it was both?

Cho leads you out of his room and down the stairs until he reaches the door of the basement, you follow behind him curiously. Suddenly, he stops, turns & looks down at you, expression mimicking one of a predator ready to devour its prey.

With a sadistic smirk plastered across his lips, he inquires, “Remember how I told you not to go down in the basement because its my personal area...?”

You slowly nod your head; confusion now shown in the expression upon your face as you two are standing in front of the basement door. Suddenly, four words that you never thought you’d hear rung out his mouth into the thick air between you two.

“… What’s your safe word?”

Goosebumps prickle throughout your whole anatomy as your mind races to produce a good word to use. Your heart thumps against your rib cage as your body temperature begins to rise. With the hitch of your breath, you finally settle on the word, “Peaches.”

All he does in response is nod his head before turning back around towards the basement door. He leans down and quickly types in a code into the electric keypad, prompting the door to open after he does so.

A gentle but glacial breeze suddenly brushes past both your awaiting figures as the door swings open. You look down the dimly lit staircase, fear immediately settling into the pit of your stomach as you see nothing but darkness past the end of the stairs.

“This is it…” you quietly mutter, “My boyfriend is about to fucking kill me…”

From behind you, he releases a dark chuckle while shaking his head before looming over you and commanding, “Go down the stairs, now…”

Your body slightly tense up at how cold his tone of voice is as he has never taken this type of approach with you, and yet, arousal starts to arise with the fear in the depths of your stomach. So, you comply, slowly making your way down the stairs. Choso’s strong footsteps are directly behind you as you descend the staircase together, watching your curvaceous ass jiggle in the matching “Hello Kitty” pajama shorts upon every step you take. Once you get to the bottom of the stairs, you look around the spacious yet eerie room as you are momentarily swallowed in darkness and silence. Just as fear knocks at your chest again, Choso flips the light on, instantaneously leaving you in complete shock as the room comes to life right before your eyes.

Red light illuminates the room, revealing the erotic display before you. You just look around and take it all in; A king-sized bed adorned with crimson silk sheets sits in the middle of the room, the black bed frame clearly is one meant for BDSM as it was built with a sturdy metal and has restraint posts all over it. At the foot of the bed sits a large Kama Sutra chair. You look around at your surroundings; upon one wall a plethora of vibrating toys, restraints, and dildos. On the other wall directly across hung floggers, paddles, and riding crops. Towards the front of the room, you see an “X” cross, hoisted up onto a stage-like platform with a metal bar cage right behind it.

Right when you are about to finally speak, your words get caught in your throat and your body tenses up as you feel him come up behind you, cupping both of your big breast into his large hands, gently massaging them through the thin material as he pulls you flush into him. Your nipples immediately pebble under his touch, earning a small chuckle from him.

“In this room, you will refer to me as Daddy,” he lowly begins, breathing right upon the shell of your ear, “You will do what I say, when I say, how I say because you are my submissive, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Disapproving of your answer, Choso swiftly halts his soothing movements upon your sensitive mounds before snatching the material of your top down, exposing your brown breast to then clamp your right nipple harshly between the rough pads of his fingers earning a loud exclamation of pain from you.

“Yes, what?”

Your brain’s thought process is all jumbled up because just as much as that hurt you, it simultaneously caused a glob of slick to ooze from between your swollen folds into the seat of your panties.

“Mmf- Y-Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” He lewdly purrs into your ear, softly planting rewarding kisses among the shell of it as he removes his hands from your warm body.

“Strip down and get on your knees.”

Your mind is consumed with so many different thoughts as you begin to strip the thin pieces of clothing from your body. While you abide by Cho’s command like the good little submissive you are, he makes his way to the wall with the paddles on it, grabbing a specially made one with a big heart carved out at the end and his initials carved out right above it. The dominant quickly gathers a couple more things from the walls, setting them on the bed before making his way back towards you, smirking menacingly as he takes in your naked form in the kneeling position.

“You are already such a good fucking girl f’me,” he praises as he begins to circle around your awaiting body. You just sit there silently yet completely turned on, hands with your palms facing down against the surface of your thighs as you are waiting for the next step. Choso stops behind you and gathers up your small waist-length knotless braids into a ponytail in his hand before twisting them into a secure bun at the top of your head, tucking the ends under the bun. He moves back to in front of you, peering down upon you with a look of pure lust and approval.

“Go to the bed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rock music lowly play in the background as Cho stands nakedly in front of you a few inches away from the foot of the bed as he admires your current position.

“This is what you wanted so you will take everything I give you and you will fucking love it, yes?” Choso’s tone is especially harsh as he speaks to you. A part of you feels like it is because you offended him earlier. You nod your head as that is the only body part that that you can move since you are now completely restrained with a soft, red jute rope. Your body is in a bowing position as you lay face down on the bed, your arms bound together behind your back in a shabari style while your ankles are restrained to the two posts at the top of the bed, your bare ass and dripping pussy completely exposed. Suddenly, a harsh stinging sensation spreads across your left asscheek as he mercilessly brings down the customized paddle onto your plush globe. A small whimper of pain escapes your lips as more slick seeps from your heated pussy, down your inner thigh. The paddle leaves red welts on your brown skin that begin to form into the shape of the engravings from the paddle.

“Use your words, slut.”

“Yes, Daddy,” your voice teetering on the edge of a moan and whimper as you undergo this humiliation. You questioned yourself as you have never been so turned on in your entire life, in fact, you feel as if the smallest amount of pressure on your bundle of nerves can make you just come right undone… were you just a submissive?

“Look at you, being a good girl… I knew you would be such a good sub for me,” he praises as he stalks to the edge of the bed where your head is resting. Kneeling onto the bed, he grabs your face up by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him through your thick wispy lash extensions. You trail your eyes down his naked frame, licking your lips once your eyes fall upon his hardened dick. It looks so beautiful in all its thick & veiny glory as it leaks a bit of precum, perfectly glossing over his ruby red tip. A smirk stretches across his lips as he intensely watches you.

“Look at you, such a greedy little whore. I’ll give you what you want.”

Swathing one of his hands around the circumference of your bun, securly gripping it in his big hand, Choso wraps his other hand around the base of his dick as he pulls your face to his awaiting appendage by your braids. Instinctively, you allow your jaw to slacken as you prepare to take him in your mouth, but little did you know, that was the absolute wrong thing to do right now. He brutally brings the palm of his hand across your cheek, making a loud smack sound throughout the space. Hot tears spring to your eyes as your face begins to sting but that does not really faze the sadist above you; he is actually leaking more precum. He tightens his grip on your bun before leaning down and talking to you with an even harsher tone. “Did I fucking say you can have it yet? Greedy ass bitch. Look at me. Stay just like this until I say otherwise.”

Now usually, Cho never calls you a bitch even when you have given him the pass. But for some reason, when you hear it now, instead of enraging you, a pathetic whimper falls from your lips. You don’t know what is slowly consuming you from the inside but instead of cowering from it, you openly welcome the newfound sensation. Stretching your tongue out your mouth, you drag the long pink muscle upon the bottom of your cheek, catching a tear that rolled down your now heated face. As you do this, you have secured your half-lidded, lust filled orbs onto Cho’s dominant filled ones. He repeats his earlier movements, eventually resting his sticky tip upon your plump lips before smearing it across them, his bodily fluid coating your succulent kisser as if it’s a homemade lipgloss for you. “Mmm- Yeah look at you, you dirty slut. Such a good fucking slut for Daddy, yeah? This what you fucking wanted, right? Open that pretty little mouth.”

On command, you slackened your jaw, you mouth agape and heavily salivating, ready for your man’s throbbing dick. Cho wastes no time as he immediately stuffs his whole dick into your mouth. You closed your eyes tightly while softly gagging as he forces your head down further onto his dick. His immense length struggles to travel down your tight canal, but once your lips arrive at the base of his dick, you draw your tongue from out of your mouth and caress the surface of it upon his full balls. You quickly open your eyes, locking your attention up on Choso’s darkened expression as tears glass over your orbs. He holds your head in place for a few seconds, pressing your nose into his bushy pubic area, stilling his whole body while looking down at you as you are being bound and gagged by him. He quickly retracts his dick from your mouth, leaving a thick web of spit from his glistening dick to your swollen lips, you heave as you try to catch your breath, never breaking eyesight with him.

“Yeah, look at you. Nasty ass. Stay just like this, ‘m gonna fuck your face.” He commands before reaching both his hands down to roughly grip onto each side of your face as he begins to thrust into your oral cavity, setting a punishing pace as his dick hits your larynx. You can’t do anything but keep looking up at him with your teary siren eyes, saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth as you take everything he gives your throat. As his heavy balls smack against your chin, spit bubbles and foam collect on the sides of your mouth while drool continuously runs down your chin and onto the mattress beneath you both. As he continues to mercilessly rut into your mouth, occasionally smacking the side of your face with the palm of his hand & spewing raw profanities at you, your arousal grows increasingly prominent as your aching walls clench around nothing & more slick glides down your thighs onto the bed. At this point, Choso’s not even fucking your face so he can nut... he just wants to see how pathetic you look as he brutalizes your throat; it’s beautiful to him to see you like this.

“hng- Fuckkkk! Look at you, you pathetic ha- little slut. You love when I use this mouth to my liking, huh?” Your larynx is most definitely bruised but you don’t give a fuck about that—you want him to bruise your cervix next! Your body begins to feels lighter as you continue to experience the right amount of pain & pleasure. You’ve read about subspaces but have never been taken into one. The foreign feeling you felt earlier is now registering in your head as the build up to your subspace. With this newfound knowledge, you want to tempt your dominant even more, seeing as the pain and humiliation he inflicts brings you an immense amount of pleasure. A masochist & a sadist— what a perfect fucking match made in hell.

Choso relents the punishing pace on your mouth as he watches you be taken to a new type of high. A cocky smirk appears upon his mouth as he slows his pace down, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Well, well, well… looks like I have myself a little masochist, huh.” He says before he leans his upper frame over your bowing body and plants several harsh thwacks upon both your luscious asscheeks, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your skull as you give deep, throaty moans along his dick. Tension is now building up in your stomach as your pussy feels like it would explode if he even blew on it. He leans back to his previous position, looking down at your tear-stained face as he slowly ejects his dick from your slobbery mouth. “Sweet little Y/n isn’t nothing but a filthy little slut, huh. You like the way this make you feel, yeah?” He taunts while he has your chin hooked between his index finger and thumb, forcing you to look up at him.

“Y-Yes, Daddy. mmmm” You hoarsely replied due to the way he was just demolishing your throat.

“Tongue out.”

You quickly comply, sticking your tongue out as you await on him. He bends down until he is inches away from your face before forcefully spitting into your mouth and slapping your face once again. Swallowing the glob saliva down your throat, you smile as you are getting pushed closer and closer to that space your body so badly craves.

“What do you say, slut?”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Choso lifts himself off his knees and walks to the top of the bed where your ankles are chained to each bedpost, causing you to be spread like a bald eagle as you are bowing. He settles himself right behind you, a smug grin plastered across his lips as he looks down at your hungry pussy completely saturated & clenching around absolutely nothing. Cho just quietly smiles to himself as he unravels these new revelations about his girlfriend.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

He suddenly delivers 4 powerful blows to both of your globes, resulting in you croaking out a loud, elongated moan while arching your back further, pushing your rounded tummy into the bed. “hngg- Fuck,” you try to lowly murmur, but you were caught by your sadistic boyfriend who deviously smirks as he is now excited to put you through more pain and humiliation for disobeying his orders.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“FUCK, CHO!!! mmmf- PLEASE, IM SORRY, DADD- hnnggg DADDY!” your pleads fall upon deaf ears as he continues to press the hitachi wand against your sensitive bud while it is set to the highest setting. He was relentless with his punishment and enjoying every second of watching your suffering. Every time you were about to cum, he would snatch the wand away and smack his fingers against your sopping pussy, edging you every time until it hurt.

“I deliberately told you not to speak until spoken to and you disobey. Beg me for your release.”

SHMACK! He removed the vibrator and plants another knee-weakening hit to your saturated pussy, tears rolling down your face into the mattress as you are still in the bowing position and bound completely.

“Please, Daddy. I need to cum… I need you inside me now, p-pleaseee…” you slur as you are pleading for your release. Suddenly, you feel Cho’s thumb graze down your honeyed slit, completely coating his digit in your sweet juices. A soft whimper escapes your lips as he is now prodding around at your puckering asshole, pushing his slender digit past the tight ring, sinking it into your forbidden hole. Your body jolts at the foreign intrusion but you welcome it as it feels pleasurable to you. Choso then uses his other hand to slide his middle & ring finger into your aching entrance while simultaneously gliding the pad of his thumb across the surface of your pearl, toying with you. While he chafes his thumb over your bundle of nerves, he moves his svelte fingers inside your gummy walls, scissoring his fingers apart inside of you to occasionally graze your spongy g-spot while he holds his other thumb in your tight hole, sporadically wiggling it inside of you. You release breathy but agitated moans because as the pleasure you feel is quite good— it’s just not enough and he absolutely knows that.

“I said beg, slut.” He firmly states while continuing his soft assault on your weeping pussy.

“Daddy, plea- mmmmf- pleaseee let me cum. Please give it to me, Daddy. I need you in me now baby,” you pathetically beseech.

Satisfied with your begging, Choso then unhurriedly withdraws his fingers from your sticky walls, immediately replacing them with his stiff shaft. As he pleasantly stretches your walls, burying himself to the hilt inside your gooey cavern, you can’t help writhing underneath him as you are finally being filled up the way you have been craving, his thumb still occasionally wiggling in your ass. Your mouth is agape and leaking drool onto the bed as he begins to vigorously snap his hips up into you, your walls hungrily clinging onto his dick as you take all his mindless rutting into your sopping pussy.

“hng- Oh fuck! Look at you… taking this dick, mama. SMACK! Look at that ass… that’s it, take it bitch.” He coaxes while rapidly plunging his dick inside you, his bulbous tip kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“MMF- I’m so fucking close, Daddy! Oh my goodness!” you absentmindedly exclaim as Choso fucks into you.

He leans over you and reaches around to rub tight circles on your clit, pounding into you harder, his length stretching you deliciously as he chases his own release. “Take it… take it… take this dick, slut…” he murmurs while plunging into you, his rotund dick massaging that spongy spot inside your pussy. Looking down, his eyes darkening as he watches himself disappear into your body before leaning over you once more, his lips finding the side of your neck as he breathes hotly against your skin. "You look so slutty taking me, baby... haaaa- absolutely gorgeous..."

“AH! AH! MMMM- ‘m gonna cum on that dick, Daddy! Can I cum on this d-dick, Daddy?” Your mind is completely gone as tears pour out of your eyes, you teeter on the edge of your orgasm that is guaranteed to push you into a subspace. His dick throbs intensely inside you at your words, his own climax threatening to overtake him. He removes his thumb from inside your ass before leaning up and using that hand clamp around your neck, leaving you little room to breathe as he begins fucking you harder while he rubs your clit with increased fervor. "Do it... cum for daddy... drench my dick and say thank you..."

On command, you begin to splash your sweet nectar onto his pelvic area, whimpering as chills travels down your anatomy while every muscle in your body slightly tenses up. You tightly slam your eyes shut, furrowing your eyebrows as your clit begins to have a couple of contractions as you orgasm. “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” you strenuously exclaim as a sensation of euphoria rushes throughout your veins as you finish your orgasm against Choso’s length.

His eyes roll back as he feels your pussy clamp down on his dick, your squirting orgasm triggering his own. He deeply growls in ecstasy, his hips jerking as he buries himself deep inside you and unloads his thick, hot ropes of nut directly into your spasming pussy, painting your walls white with every pulse of his dick while feeling your hot liquid spilling onto his skin. He throws his head back while releasing a long, deep groan before leaning up and burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hips softly jerking while he plants soft kisses on your skin as he dumps his seed deep inside you. He continues to stay inside you as you begin to float into your subspace, your body and mind feeling amazingly light as you just exist in an otherworldly place. "My good little slut... that’s right… let it all out.” He coos in your ear as you ride out your intense highs together.

Shortly after he comes down from his release, he leisurely slips out of your sensitive canal before releasing your neck from his hold, leaning his head down and breathing on your leaking pussy. He plants soft kisses on your clit before giving it a couple kitty licks, teasing you once again.

“Wh-??? Cho?” you call out, your voice sounding lighter as you are still floating in your subspace.

“ Shhh,” SMACK! He delivers a forceful hit to your asscheek, “I’m not fucking done with you yet…”

Taglist: @bells-sturn @drowninginships @dreamerofstarlight @izzyshitposts @rejemi @samoankpoper21 @strawbjujutsu2018

BYE BABIESSS SEE YALL NEXT TIME!<3

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 hentaihottee. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[lowkeyrobin]

hi omg!! i just wanna say i love your tmr writing sm!??! but i recently got back into my tua phase so i was wondering if i could request a five x reader fic?

so five meets reader a few years into the apocalypse. reader survived bc they were one of the 43 kids w/ powers but never adopted into tua (i read this wanda!reader fic and those powers were super cool but again whatever you wanna do!!) they survive those 45 years together and join the commission as partners and five takes them back to 2019 with him!? feel free to do this any way you like, maybe even just one part of it but its just an idea i had!!

omg thank you!!! 🫶 ; and yes of course I love this!!!!! ; thank you for requesting, hope u enjoy!

FIVE HARGREEVES ; back to the future

summary ; you meet five, work for the commission, and end up going to 2019 with him to help him save his siblings

warnings ; language, guns/gun violence, sexual innuendos/jokes but I didn't mean for it to be? like idk, how do old people make out 😭

word count ; 1.3k

masterlist

You were immediately compelled by Five Hargreeves the second he stepped into the Commission building. Your eyes were set on him.

He was around what, 58, when you met him? Mentally, at least. You were just the same, old and wrinkly, traveling across the universe of time to keep shit collected.

You quickly learned that he was also born on October 1st, 1989, brought into the world with powers just like you.

He could blink, or teleport, and travel through time with enough given energy. You, on the other hand, harvested telekinesis and energy manipulation.

You were assigned to be partners rather quickly, considering you were both highly powerful and trained assassins. Five wasn't very fond of you at first, clearly having some trouble he needed to work through, which you wouldn't prod him about. Obviously, you kept your distance to not bother him, but made some mental notes about what you'd seen and learned from him.

After a while, he grew more fond of you, but was still clearly struggling with some stuff.

"Five, watch out!"

"Wh-"

You quickly shove him to the side, your hands glowing a pulsing red as you use your telekinesis to throw the enemy soldiers to the side, protecting your partner. They grunt as their heads split open against the pavement, having been thrown by your unforseen abilities.

Five, a hand holding his fedora down, looks up at you in awe. This is the first time he's seen you use your powers, and damn, did you look badass. He merely watches from the sidelines, hearts in his old eyes.

As the men pick themselves up, they rush toward you one by one like this was the WWE or something. You throw the first one away again using your powers, ironically into a large dumpster that closes as he hits the bottom at such force and speed. The two in the back you distract by popping the glass on the lamp posts, one shard hitting one in the eye.

The next who approaches you, you use your hands to take down, strategically placing multiple punches in his face. The last, who wasn't struck by a large chunk of glass in the eyeball, shoots at you. Five, taking notice much before you, quickly blips to you, grabs you, then blips a few feet away to protect you.

You use your telekinesis to grab a hold of his gun, then use it against him, the loud pop silencing the alleyway. You deactivate your powers and turn back to Five, throwing the gun down.

"Thanks"

He nods. "That was cool"

"Complimenting me? Since when?"

"Since now"

It wasn't until you went back to 1989 to help the Handler retrieve another powered kid that you had a deep talk. It was at a bar afterward, the two of you drowning out the deep mental toll all the killing had taken on you.

Five would never admit it, but it had an effect on him, you just showed it more. Having grown up in different environments, you expressed emotions differently.

You sit at the bar, sipping on champagne, dressed in suits like businessmen. Even at two in the morning, you looked prim and proper, with the exception of tired eyes.

"Does it ever get to you?" You ask, "Not just killing, but everything we have to do for the Commission"

He nods. "Yeah." He begins to ramble, being drunk out of his mind as he'd been taste testing damn near every drink the bar had. "Sometimes I wonder what ever happened to my family, if they're okay in the future."

"What do you mean?" You question, never having heard much about his past.

He looks down for a moment before taking another sip of his beverage. "My father adopted seven of us, kids born with powers. We lived together, were trained, and used to fight off evil." He scoffs, "I tried to show him I was powerful enough to do time jumps and ended up stranded in the apocalypse. I was alone for years, and then the Handler found me. I don't know how it started or anything, but I've been attempting to find the correct equation to travel back enough time before it happened to stop it."

You blink, processing the information he just rambled out. "Damn, I'm sorry"

He nods, "I should be able to do it soon, on that next order to kill JFK."

"What about the Handler? What about me? I don't wanna snitch on you or rat you out, I mean-"

He shakes his head. "You'll come back with me."

"What?"

Silence blankets you for a few moments.

"I could use you. Whether it be opening a hole in the space time continuum large enough for both of us or needing you and your powers to stop said apocalypse, you could be useful. You've proven to be so."

You nod again. "Hm"

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

You shrug. "Interesting that you thought of bringing me along in the first place."

"You're smart, you think and process quickly. Your powers could easily outmatch even most of my siblings, even without, your hand to hand combat is brilliant. You're even smarter than me, sometimes"

You bite your tongue, attempting to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Well thanks, Hargreeves"

"It's the truth, Y/n"

"Don't try and flatter me, I have a big ego"

He did, in fact, flatter you, maybe a little too much at that. God forbid that hotel with one bed that you had to share that night to rest before heading back to work. Who knew that old man was so good at romance and kissing? Kinda weird for someone who was stuck in an apocalyptic hell for 40 years.

"Go to bed, Five"

"I'm shocked you're not asking for another kiss"

"Shut the fuck up"

You didn't realize how miserable 1963 really was. From the racism and queerphobia to the overall miserable looking farm life, or maybe it was just Texas. For being so well traveled, you really weren't.

You hide behind a white picket fence with Five, accompanying him to make sure JFK was assassinated. A sniper rifle rests in a case you were carrying for him, the sound of parade music and crowd goers filling your ears.

He looks to you, giving you that sneaky little smile and nod. You set the case down as he does the same with the briefcase, making sure to stay as low as you could beside this parking lot.

You watch as a blue aura squiggles around his hands, another larger hole a few feet in front of him. He stretches it out, creating sparks of lightning, crackles of thunder audible like he was creating a storm to the future. As he gives you the nod, a fire extinguisher lands at your feet, having been thrown through on the other side.

Your furrowed eyebrows are visible to Five, who sighs. You were definitely landing in the right place.

You raise your hands toward the blue storm, a red glow illuminating it as you pull it open further, long enough to settle it, then quickly jump in.

Five grabs your hand, and with one last look, pulls you into the portal back to the future.

You fall to the ground, hair a mess, your suit now too big for your body.

You look up, having landed on your ass next to Five. A group of what you supposed were his siblings, stare at him in awe and confusion. He stands up, brushing the dust from his clothes. He stretches a hand out for you, helping you up from the ground covered in dead leaves.

The siblings, eyes widened and jaws dropped, watch as you both casually walk inside the mansion you landed in the middle of. They were one hundred percent questioning how you were here, where Five had been, and who you were.

But that didn't matter at the moment. What did matter was getting that old man now trapped in his pubescent body some coffee.

[bobluvbot]

someone you loved

pairing: sirius black x f!reader  summary: your relationship with sirius hurt so much, that the only way forward was to forget. wc: 3k a/n: angst angst angst!!! lots of negative self talk and low self esteem, allusions to a bad childhood (not stated directly), implied emotional abuse & cheating, both sirius and reader are going through it.

snippets of his voice echo in your head like a haunting lullaby that doesn’t seem to end. its funny how the mind is known to block out the traumatic memories, but for some reason, yours kept record of the most painful ones that left his lips.

you’re just too much. 

i can’t love you the way you expect me to.

i’m ending this.

i’m sorry, but i can’t deal with this, with you, anymore.

it keeps repeating like a song once loved, now loathed left on repeat, and a stop button might be somewhere but you can’t bring yourself to turn it off. it reminds you of that habit you secretly developed when you had two large bruises on both your knees after a nasty fall, bone hitting pavement. nothing bled, which was a relief to the new babysitter as no bright band-aids would be blatant proof of her lack of attention on the kid she was supposed to keep watch on. blood kept within the skin, nothing left to do but to watch your body slowly take it back. you were curious of how the color changes each day, the angry reds bleeding into dark purples that resemble galaxies that you’d see on your astronomy books. one day spent examining your bruises again, you pressed on the reddish purple one too hard and tears spring up your eyes when the sting hits. but as it lingered and faded, a strange feeling of satisfaction replaced it, and you felt the urge to press on it again, curious to see if the same unknown feeling makes an appearance again. It does, and the fascination as you play in between the lines of pain and pleasure follows you as you grew up. Curious, you once read up on it from those muggle books, where you learn that the body itself releases pain-killing hormones that help relieve the perception of pain, leading to a temporary feeling of relief. 

you knew thinking about sirius’ words will never not hurt, will continue to bury you in a deepening hole that you have to fight to the nails to crawl out of, but you couldn’t stop. 

It gave deep seated satisfaction to that green monster in the back of your mind, responsible for only seeing the negative in each situation you find yourself in. ‘i told you so,’ it says in a tinny singsong voice, clearly pleased with each iteration of sirius’ words and the raw metal stabbing your heart each time.  

it also serves like a constant reminder of your failure. Failure to love like a decent person, failure to be the person that sirius needed, failure to gauge what was too much that the other person drowned without you knowing, failure to protect yourself and your dignity from being trampled on like nothing, and failure to just simply accept the fact that love just wasn’t made for people like you. 

being friends with lily made you forget a lot of things, fundamental parts that you realized so young. you knew better, should have after everything you’ve gone through, but somehow with her, anything seemed possible, achievable, tangible when you’re a kind person. marlene would always say, doing good things meant you can expect to receive good things back from the universe.

and for the most part it seemed to always work that way. you’d witnessed james nurture the simple appreciation he had on lily’s genuine smile at him that eased his nerves while they were in line to get sorted into houses throughout the years, growing as he’d gotten to know her innate kindness and wit, and finally erupting from him like rays of sunlight until he became brave enough to speak it out loud starting fourth year. 

Even though the marauders had acted questionably during their early years of exploring their pranking abilities, james had always been full of love. Never hesitating to share it to those he truly cared for. it took lily years to accept this, and more to gain courage and let herself experience it. 

by 7th year, you never believed a love could thrive like that whilst cradled with such young hands until you saw james and lily do it effortlessly. 

so what part of this could’ve made you think otherwise? 

were you to blame for believing in that fantasy, that something like this could be attainable for someone like you, too? 

you had always housed deep adoration and awe for sirius black, like many others, despite his wild reputation and scandalous rumors that seem to always follow when his name gets uttered.

why? Because he was once the raven haired boy who slipped the trolley witch a few sickles when he saw you return the pumpkin pasty after realizing you couldn’t afford it. 

it had been a gloomy tuesday. the trolley witch was supposed to go compartment by compartment, but the bumbling first years seemed to miss that memo and started piling up close to the cart to see what was being sold that she had to force them all in a line. you were quiet and unobtrusive as you stood patiently in line; which was nothing compared the boys’ raucous laughters and animated chatter behind you. sirius would’ve accidentally pushed or stepped on you if he didn’t see your figure. the train was loud and so was james’ mouth, so excited to be away from his parents and to have his first official Hogwarts friend, but sirius also stood close enough to you that he could hear your stomach grumbling and see your arms crossed over your midsection. he admitted once that he found the gurgling sounds funny (like an eleven year old would do) but he didn’t have the heart to poke fun at you because he remembered he’d hear the same thing from his own when his parents would send him to bed without eating. 

even before your turn, you were already overwhelmed at the amount of food and candy available, none of which sounds or looks remotely familiar to what you’ve had growing up. your heartbeat picked up when you heard loud sighs, feet tapping impatiently (both James) snorting and shushing (sirius), and just grabbed something that resembled bread, quickly apologizing to the witch that gave you a kind smile. you hadn’t eaten anything as you rushed to pack the mismatched, secondhand supplies that the headmaster had sent you, and you were dropped off to the station just in time before the train left. your fingers trembled in excitement to finally eat and in hunger as you fished out your coin purse. It took a few seconds before it sunk in that you don’t have enough to buy your pasty. How embarassing. 

You swallowed your tears back, willing the hateful voice in your head to keep quiet for a minute or two, just enough time to put back the pasty and run to your deserted compartment, where you could freely go to town beating yourself up for your stupidity. Just quick enough so no one will notice. 

It took three deep breaths before the dam opened, for the tears to run uncontrollably down your cheeks. You couldn’t even wipe it off because your hands were still clutching your stomach, trying to ease the growling, gnawing pain. Pathetic.

The compartment door opened and you didn’t even hear someone clearing their throat, only looking up when a hand dropped three pasties, a chocolate frog, and a bottle of pumpkin juice on your lap. Barely balancing it, you looked up to see who took pity on you, but only caught a glimpse of stark raven hair and alabaster skin.

you’d find him later during sorting, squeezed between three boys that couldn’t seem to shut up about what house they thought the other would go. not used to kindness, much less from a complete stranger, you hesitated approaching him. but fate always had a weird way of showing you it does listen to your wishes once in a while and you found yourself later on, scooting a bit to your left to make space for him on the bench of your shared house. you both exchanged a knowing smile, and you’d always remember him like that. The kind boy who gave you a feast even without knowing who you were. 

you’d remember that boy when the pouring rain had finally soaked through your thick coat as you waited patiently for him at madam puddifoot’s on your first Valentine’s day. Despite the fact that he was already two hours late and the cafe would be closing soon, you chose to wait. 

you’d remember that kind boy when some mean ravenclaw girls in class would pick on you for the most absurd things, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you looked back at him desperately for some reprieve, only for him to avoid your gaze and continue to guffaw at something James said, effectively ignoring your existence. 

You once asked him why. It was embarrassing how quick he figured out what you were really asking. In fact, he knew a lot of things: that he didn’t deserve your love (or anyone’s for that matter), that someone as pure and selfless as you shouldn’t even associate with the likes of him, and that he was aware of every single thing he does that shatters you whole. He knew that he should tread this conversation gently, to not let his claws rip further skin more than he already has, but the Black darkness has its way of slithering out of the deep recesses he tries to bury it in. 

Words leave him exasperatedly, like he’s not spouting words that cut through skin. “I’d been clear to you right from the start, of what I can give you and what I can’t. You knew what you were getting into, Y/N. you put this onto yourself.” 

He storms back into his dorm before he could hear your quiet sobs echo through the empty common room. 

—-

lily knew in the back of her mind that this wasn’t just a simple, silly request now, but more of an obligation to her closest friend. 

it’s been three weeks. three excruciating weeks to be handed and given and filled with so much love she didn’t need to ask for, whilst seeing her best friend chip away with the lack of, like a once-bright porcelain doll that was abandoned and exposed to the direct heat of the sun. 

you had finally gone silent by last week, like a shut door. refusing to eat, go to class, speak—- hell, lily bets, if you could also not breathe by choice, you wouldn’t. It’s like youre keeping everything you once had given to the world thoughtlessly, close. Dorcas thinks you were keeping close to heart the mundane things that make you alive, to remind yourself that you still are. She had said, like air to a balloon. lily cried herself to sleep that night, the thought of losing such a fundamental part of her life, you, inch by inch, day by day, in front of her very eyes was a haunting, damning thought. Something that she and you both thought would come so much more years later, with unsurmountable memories, many glasses of champagne and slices of cake, wrinkles and smile lines, more laughter and loving hugs exchanged. 

she had thought the silence was a welcoming sign of change. A necessary step towards acceptance and moving on. she was relieved when your crying stopped, tremors leaving your fingers, and there was a chance again for the redness to vacate the whites of your eyes. She held hope that she and the girls can start working on instilling your light back, hopeful that a few months from now their star can find its way back to its rightful place in the sky and everything could be okay once again. 

Lily looked forward to nights that were filled by snores and shuffling of sheets, not the unmistakable sound of your feet on the wooden floors, misjudging that everyone was asleep, the muffled creak of the dorm room door opening and closing, and your footsteps fading in the dark. She’d wait fifteen to thirty minutes (the longest was an hour or two on the first night) before she’d hear you return, footsteps still light but she could hear the slight drag in each step, almost as if it was taking so much of your might to even make it to the bed. the quiet whimpers would start, followed by muffled hiccups lily knew only happens when you cry too hard. it took so much of her to exercise self-restraint, to keep herself on her own bed and not lay beside you and hug you as if it’s something that could put you back together. 

She has to turn her back on you even if it felt like raw betrayal. 

Because that one time she didn’t, she couldn’t forget the look of horror, dejection, desperation, and pure unbridled embarrassment on your face when you realized she knew what you were up to late at night. She knew you came up to the boys’ dormitory, crawling into sirius’ bed, where you begged and begged for him to take you back, that you’ll be a better more doting and loving girlfriend this time around, that you won’t be too attached this time and will give him the necessary space and time he needs so he doesn’t feel suffocated, that you’ll be anything, do anything just for him to welcome you back into his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear until your throat was raw, and sirius has to physically take you back to the start of the staircase to your dormitory. 

this happened for days and days on end until the boys had to lock their door at night, or whenever sirius is in. 

james couldn’t meet lily’s eyes when he’d ask for her help to keep you apart from Sirius as it would do you no good. they had gotten into a fight because of this, because lily heard nothing but  ‘stop her from making a fool of herself’ and her best friend is the smartest intuitive empathetic kindest witch she had ever met; the farthest thing from a fool. 

But one day those very words came off your lips with a hollow laugh. “But I am a fool, Lily. No one in their right mind would even do half the things I do.” It would be hypocritical for lily to deny sneaking out at night and crawling into your ex’s bed and begging for him to take you back as something of a desperate fool would do. A girl once had chased and pined for Remus during the entirety of fifth year and the things she did to get his attention were laughable at that time. But she didn’t plan to see the same, even worse, done by her best friend, and she still couldn’t wouldn’t call you a fool.

After all, your only fault was that you loved. And that shouldn’t even be a fault because that’s what she did with James, marlene with dorcas, her father with her mother. even someone as selfish as petunia could find love and be loved right back. 

you of all people deserved to love and be loved right back after everything you’d been through, and james would say the same thing for sirius as well. 

but sirius was a complex person, lily could recite this on top of her head from endless times where you stood your ground, defending sirius’ honor like he’d see your great martyrdom and suddenly consider you once again worthy of his love and affection. Before, she knew of sirius as a friend and James’ brother— but she knew more than what she signed up for because you’d fill in the gaps for her when she’d try to beat some sense into you during the unacceptable treatment you’d accept from sirius. 

You’d say with such confidence “he loves me, he’s just going through a lot right now, especially after that howler his mother sent him a few days ago.”

You didn’t have to elaborate, lily remembered that day vividly, not because of the way sirius’ face fell when the howler began its assault had reminded her so much of how she’d react after getting bitter letters from petunia, but because that same day she saw sirius being manhandled by a hufflepuff, both kiss sick and all over each other, into a secluded broom closet. 

It was years worth of push or pulls, of moral dilemmas that would get the outspoken redhead to choke on her words, and dejectedly sweep them under the rug out of your sight. Because the beaming smile and flushed cheeks you’d sport when Sirius murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, the weight on your shoulders dissipating when tucked in his arms, the jump in your step whenever he’d kiss you on the forehead and wish you good luck for the day— Lily couldn’t bear the thought of robbing you with those moments of bliss, even when it’s all done in private. 

So in an empty classroom on a gloomy Tuesday afternoon, she points her wand at you, fingers trembling and tears trailing down her cheeks, but you don’t see any of these. Instead, your beautiful features wear a serene expression that weakens lily’s knees. Oh how she missed her dearest friend. She’d do anything in the world to get you back, hold your hand, and dance with you in the autumn rain. 

So she does the wand movement like she practiced for days and takes a breath. She pictures you and Sirius happily dancing barefoot during the yule ball, your blushed cheeks when you told her about the feel of his lips on yours for the first time, you on sirius’ shoulders as you carried the quidditch cup, both smiling big as remus snaps a picture from the muggle camera, you drifting off to sleep on sirius’ shoulder while your hands were laced as you rode the train back to hogwarts.

Before mumbling the incantation, obliviate.

[cameronspecial]

Rafe and reader - enemies to lovers

Protective!rafe with innocent!reader

She asks her best friends brother for help when she’s in trouble!

Safe In The Arms Of The Enemy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fear of Being Followed and Walking Home Drunk Alone

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Sarah have been best friends for as long as she can remember. Even though Y/N is three years older, they met when she was nine and Sarah was six. The two of them just clicked and they have been thick as thieves ever since. This led to their families growing close together. The Camerons were always so nice to Y/N; everyone except for Rafe. For some reason, he has always been bothered by Y/N and she reciprocates that feeling because his hate provokes her.

The music in Sarah’s room blares through the speakers while Y/N stands in front of the mirror, singing along to “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. She is sleeping over at the Camerons' house to keep Sarah company. Ward, Rose and Wheezie are on the mainland for Wheezie’s spelling bee and Rafe is who knows where. The girls had grown peckish, so Sarah offered to get some pizza, leaving behind her best friend at Tannyhill by herself. “Wish we could turn back time. To the good old days. When our mama sang us to sleep, But now we're stressed out.” Her right hand forms an o as she uses it as a microphone. Her focus is on her own reflection, so she doesn’t notice Rafe’s appearance behind her. He leans against the door frame with his arm above his head. “Wow, you would think with how rich your parents are that they would pay for singing lessons for you after hearing you screech like a banshee,” he teases. 

Her eyes roll in their socket and she turns to face him. She fires back, “Like I care about your opinion. I’ve seen your tastes and I’m glad that I’m not up to your standards.” “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Obviously you are blind because I have amazing tastes.” 

“Nah, I’m not the problem. You are,” she pushes to infuriate him. She steps forward and they are face to face. He crouches down so their eyes meet, “I wish I was the one with the problem because then I wouldn’t have to deal with you. I swear every time I see you at my house, which is all the time, I wonder when you are going to get the fuck out of my life because I hate that you are in it.” 

His words don’t meet his eyes, but she doesn’t notice. Instead, her mind takes the words to heart. A poke attacks her heart and it causes a tsunami of blood to come out. She can’t explain why she takes the word to heart; she returns the sentiment. Nevertheless, maybe she doesn’t feel as strongly as he does because as much as she loathes him, she couldn’t imagine her life without their quipful exchanges. He sees her tight lips and her silent demeanour; guilt flashes through him.

Before he can try to resolve the situation, Sarah passes behind him with a steaming pizza in her hand. “Ugh. Rafe, leave her alone. I would like to eat in peace,” she complains, setting the flat box on her desk. His hand runs over his lips as he thinks. “Fine, I don’t care. Later losers.” 

———

The ending of summer means Rafe and Y/N have to return back to UNC. When she found out he was going to the same university as her (she should’ve seen it coming because Ward is an alumnus), she hesitated to accept her position; however, she figured uni was a big place and the chances of running into him were slim. It has been true for the most part. They’ve only run into each other five times in the two years they have been at university.

She stumbles through the dark street with her head pounding. It wasn’t the best idea to be walking home alone while drunk, except she didn’t want to make her friends go home early. She lied to them and told them another friend was picking her up. Her feet catch on the pavement and a rock skips across the ground. A car passing beside her causes her to jump away from the road. Her inebriated state makes her more paranoid. She lets out a breath when the taillights fade into the distance. Laughter coming from behind her causes her to spin around. She spots men walking in her direction and even though they don’t appear to be looking at her, panic sets through her. She begins to walk faster as her breathing starts to get faster and she decides to run into an alley to hide. Her first thought is to call to help, so she pulls out her phone and dials the first number that comes to mind. “What do you want?” he grunts through the phone. “Rafe, I’m scared. I don’t know what to d-” She hears footsteps coming closer to her and hangs up. A trash can seems like the perfect cover, so she drops behind it against the wall. 

Rafe sits up straight from the couch and stares at the phone. The screen showing that the call has been ended makes him grow anxious. He begins to pace as he tries her phone again. His hand runs through his hair while he replays the fear in her mind. He is sent to voicemail and wants to through his phone against the wall. Another thought comes to mind and he decides against it. 

———

She doesn’t know how long she has been behind the garbage with her head pressed against her legs. She is honestly too scared to move in case those men are still around. It didn’t look like they were following her, but it is better safe than sorry. The alcohol in her system starts to affect her state of consciousness and she struggles to keep her eyes open. A hand on her back causes her to scream and jump back. Her head hits against the brick wall. She grimaces as she brings her hand up to rub the back of her head. “It’s okay, Sweetheart. It’s me, Rafe.” The familiar voice makes her look up to verify his identity. 

She sees his mop of dirty blonde hair and his stunning blue eyes stare back at her. She has never been so happy to see him. Her arms wrap around him to pull him against her, “I was so scared. Are they still out there?” She surveys the street once they separate. His hand cups her cheek to check her for injuries; he isn’t concerned about their surroundings. “Sweetheart, there is no one around. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?” He frowns at the last part, following her search with a hard expression to find the person he has to defend her against. She doesn’t find anyone and her shoulder drops in his hold. Her head rests against his chest. Tears begin staining his shirt. His hand laces between the hair at the nape of her neck and he gently scratches her scalp. He knows it soothes her. He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got you. You are safe.” For the first time tonight, Y/N feels safe and she is in the arms of her enemy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[smileysuh]

racer

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You feel like a chew toy caught between two rottweilers, and it kills you to give Jaehyun one last look before turning your back on him, following your brother to his car. Jaehyun is watching you as you get in, and when you close the door, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I know, what a killer race,” Johnny grins, starting his engine. “Could have been better though, he could have actually died.”

tw/cw. car crash/injury, Johnny maybe slightly tried to kill Jaehyun, illegal street racing, protected sex, dry humping, blowjob, hand job, pining, praise, slow sex, slight wrist restraint, admitting you love someone while balls deep, sweet dirty talk, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) Lil Suh, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.7k

🍭 aus. street racer!Jaehyun, star-crossed lovers, secret relationship, step-brother!Johnny, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I watched the new Fast and Furious movie a few months ago and this is the outcome

For something that’s supposed to be illegal, street races are big events. Under the cover of darkness, with the moon high in the sky, it almost feels like you’re at an outdoor party. The pavement is covered in people, and they part like the red sea as your cars slowly dive through, coming to a stop just near the starting line.

“Chin up, Lil Suh,” you step brother’s best friend says, nudging you while people begin to swarm Johnny’s racing car in front of you. “Nothings going to happen to him.”

No one is as confident in Johnny as Donghyuck is, although, it’s not Johnny you’re worried about.

Things have been coming to a head lately between your stepbrother and his supposed ‘arch nemesis,’ a new racer on the scene by the name of Jeong Jaehyun. The past three street races have been inceasingly dangerous, with the two often battling for first even as they rushed over the finish line. Jaehyun had even beaten your stepbrother two weeks ago, and Johnny hasn’t been able to get over the loss, his first in over a year and a half.

You have knots in your stomach, and a sneaking suspicion that something bad is about to happen. To make matters worse, you have a vested interest in both of the street racers. Johnny is family - even if he’s not blood - but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t care about Jaehyun too.

You hadn’t meant to find yourself in a secret fuck buddy style relationship with a racer, let alone your brother’s nemesis… it had just sort of happened, and now, you’re realizing the true depths of the consequences. 

Getting out of Donghyuck’s car, you watch Johnny move to sit on the hood of his own racer, girls swarming him and running their hands over his fresh paint job. The purple underlights always gained Johnny attention, and they’d been his signature colour… until Jaehyun had arrived onto the scene with a similar aesthetic.

“How many other racers are here?” you ask, tucking close to Donghyuck while he guides you to your brother. 

“I think I saw Taeyong’s car when we drove up,” your brother’s best friend notes, although, with so many people swarming, it’s hard to get a real count just yet. 

Besides, Taeyong’s not who you care about. 

Jaehyun’s always had impeccable timing, too impeccable for your brother’s liking, and a familiar rumble in the periphery draws your attention. The swarm begins to part, and Jaehyun’s car slowly rolls up, coming to a stop right next to Johnny’s.

Your brother’s expression had gone from a smile to a scowl, and he watches his nemesis exit the drivers seat. To Jaehyun’s credit, he always nods at your brother. You’ve never been able to ascertain if it’s out of respect for Johnny’s reputation, or due to Jaehyun being a genuinely nice guy, and the time you spend with Jaehyun is always filled with more pleasurable things than questions of intention. 

The car that pulls up behind Jaehyun’s belongs to his own right hand man, a mechanic by the name of Kim Jungwoo. With shiny bleached white hair, and a smile big enough to light up his entire face, the street puppy always draws attention to himself, even though he’s not a racer. 

Jaehyun might not have the liberty to lock eyes with you, but Jungwoo does, and it’s been clear to you for a while now that he knows about what you and Jaehyun get up to behind closed doors. Jungwoo even has the nerve to flash you a wink before going to join Jaehyun on the hood of his car, and the motion isn’t lost on Donghyuck.

“Hate that dude,” your brother’s best friend says under his breath.

“He seems okay,” you sigh, and it’s the most you can defend the street puppy. 

You notice a small man running around, and he leans close to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. Taeil is one of the organizers, whatever that entails, and you’ve always thought it odd that the quiet, well mannered man would even be a part in any of this, let alone one of the people calling the shots.

“Yo, yo, yo! How we doin tonight?!” A loud voice booms through a few speakers placed along the street, and Mark Lee’s familiar way of speaking draws all eyes as the Canadian moves to stand in the bed of his own flashy green truck while everyone cheers.

He doesn’t race anymore, one bad accident had turned him off of the streets for good, but he’s one of the best announcers you’ve ever witnessed, with a talent for rallying the crowd and getting energy flowing.

“I’m gonna need all the racers to move to the finish line, that means you, Doyoung,” Mark grins, and you’ll never cease to enjoy the beef Mark has with the man with red underlights. 

Taeyong, who had also not been in proper place, begins to roll up to stop next to Johnny, although, he never gets an earful like his friend Doyoung. 

“We’re in for a big race tonight, everyone,” Mark announces. “In pink, we have our very own Mister Lee Taeyong!” The crowd cheers. “And in red, as always, Doyoung Kim- boo!” Mark’s the only one booing, and he’s also butchered Doyoung’s name, which always make the racer’s skin flash the colour of his car. “In purple, we’ve got the man of the evening, the winner of our last race, Jeong Jaehyun!” The crowd roars, and you feel the vibration in your very bones. “And last, but certainly not least, also in purple - you should really trademark that, dude - we have the previously undefeated, the one, the only, Mister John J Suh!” 

If Jaehyun’s cheers had been a roar, Johnny’s are like rolling thunder, and he stands proudly next to his car, waving to his adoring fans before leaning down to enter his vehicle.

“Looks like our guys are eager to get this race started, and they can’t be the only ones, lets hear it for our drivers!” 

The good thing about being in a run down industrial section of the city, is that there are no neighbours to bother with the deafening sounds. You can be as loud as you want, and you cheer along with the crowd, which begins to move away from the cars as their drivers start their engines.

“We’ve all been here before,” Mark says. “We know this track. But for those of you who are new… ask a friend because I will not be explaining the route.” No one has ever called Mark particularly thorough in his announcements, but he’s comical at least, and many people chuckle. 

“So what do you say everyone, should we get this show started?!” 

As the crowd erupts, you notice a familiar shorty rushing up to you. 

“Our usual starting girl is out with a cold, but I know just the substitute,” Mark says in the periphery of your mind, and Taeil shoves a flag into your hand, grabbing your arm to drag you forward. “Lets all give a big round of applause for Johnny’s sister, Lil motherfucking Suh!”

You hate this. You hate it so much. 

This isn’t the first time they’ve made you start the race on short notice, and you’d told them never to make you do it again- but somehow, you find yourself being lifted into the bed of Mark’s truck, Hyuck following close behind you. The vehicle is positioned about fifteen meters in front of the starting line, and once you throw the flag, it will lurch into motion, speeding ahead of the cars and giving those of you in the bed the perfect view of the race.

It can be a dodgy position to be in, as one bump can throw you, Mark, or his posse out of the truck- you’d heard about it happening once.

“What do you say, Lil Suh?” Mark pulls you back to his chest, securing an arm around your waist, the only true anchor you’ll have once this begins. “Are you ready to see some real action?”

He holds the mic in front of you, and you find your gaze shifting to Jaehyun’s car as you take a deep breath. There are certain expectations of a flag girl, and you’re a legacy here. You’ll be damned if you don’t make it a show, even if this was unexpected.

“Tonight, our city's best racers are here to fight for number one,” you announce, before focusing in on the drivers revving their engines, as is custom. “It’s up to you four to prove yourselves. Be fast. Be safe. And no matter what happens, don’t fucking lose! Get ready, racers!” You hold the flag above your head, throwing it into the air as you scream “Go!” 

The truck lurches into action, and Mark pulls you tight against his chest, laughing loudly in your ear as you all speed off down the street track. The wind whips through your hair, and Hyuck’s screaming loudly next to you, one hand in the air while he holds on with the other.

It is exhilarating to be in the truck, to be ahead of the cars struggling for first position. It’s the clearest view of the race- but it’s also not where you wanted to be tonight. Johnny’s already being aggressive in his driving, giving Jaehyun little space, and your stomach turns again. 

The cars are quickly gaining on you, and you feel Mark reach back, smacking his hand on the top of the truck to tell the driver to go faster. You let out a squeal of delight, grabbing onto Hyuck when your vehicle lurches forward again, the driver flooring it while pulling slightly off to the side in preparation for the cars to pass.

Maybe you’re overreacting about this, maybe this race will be okay-

Johnny makes a sudden swerve, clipping Jaehyun’s car despite your secret fuck buddy’s attempt to avoid it. Just like that, Jaehyun is skidding, and your heart stops in your chest. At speeds like this, even a touch can send you spiraling, and that’s exactly what happens to Jaehyun. 

“Fuck!” Mark says loudly beside you, immediately pulling a red flag out of his pocket, and you all wait to see what will happen next-

Doyoung had been right on Jaehyun’s tail, and the sudden speed change has him barreling into Jaehyun’s back, lifting the car and causing it to flip upside down- miraculously, Jaehyun lands back on his tires, but both he and Doyoung clip a shopping cart that had been just to the side of the makeshift track.

Wheels skid loudly, a screeching sound that sets your teeth on edge, and both cars come to a skittering halt on the side of the road, with Jaehyun half up on the sidewalk. 

The truck slows down, but both Johnny and Taeyong go speeding past, obviously intent on finishing the race despite the collision. 

You don’t care about winners, you only care about Jaehyun, and you’re hopping out of the bed of the truck before it’s even at a full stop. 

You stumble on the pavement, but as soon as you’re steady, you take off running. 

The sound of your heart is practically deafening as you run the fifty meters to the crash, and you go right past Doyoung, jumping up onto the curb next to Jaehyun’s car to look inside. “Jae!” you scream.

“Shh, Lil Suh,” he groans, reaching for the door handle. He looks a little roughed up, and his lip is bleeding- “I’m okay,” he tries to assure you, but he’s obviously winded as he stands from the car, leaning on the door while you rush to support him under his other arm. 

“Jae,” you say his name again, hand on his abdomen as you hold him up. 

“That fucking brother of yours!” comes Doyoung’s familiar screaming, as he also exits his car, coming around the front to assess the damages.

“Don’t yell at her,” Jaehyun states, straightening a little even as he leans back against his vehicle.

“Since when were you two so fucking chummy?” Doyoung rages, skin a classic tint of red.

“Woah, woah, woah-” Mark has finally arrived on the scene, and he also side steps Doyoung, coming straight for you and Jaehyun. “Dude, are you okay?!”

Hyuck’s behind Mark, and he’s watching you with narrowed eyes as he moves to stand by the red racer, not saying a word. 

You swallow thickly, knowing you should let go of Jaehyun- that if you continue to support him like this, Hyuck will most definitely mention it to Johnny- but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from the street racer, so you force your gaze from Hyuck.

“He clipped me,” Jaehyun says. “John clipped me.”

“Yeah, he fucked you big time, dude,” Mark agrees, and you hear the approach of cars. 

Within eyeshot of the starting line, the mechanics there must have seen the crash, and you recougnize Yuta and Jungwoo’s cars as they pull to a stop a few feet away.

“Jae!” Jungwoo bellows, running over to replace Mark on Jaehyun’s other side. “Are you alright?!”

“I’m fine,” Jaehyun tries to brush it off, but he winces a little under Jungwoo’s grip.

“Your car is fucked, man,” Yuta muses, walking around Jaehyun’s vehicle and eying the damages. 

“That’s really not what he needs to hear right now,” you shoot at the Japanese mechanic who has no bedside manner whatsoever. He holds his hands up in defeat, stepping back.

“The race didn’t even stop-” Jungwoo breathes.

“Johnny wanted to win,” Doyoung states, crossing his arms over his chest and eying Hyuck. “Your boyfriend did this on purpose.”

“Woah, now,” Hyuck laughs. “I get all the pussy dude- how many times do I have to tell you I’m not dating Johnny-”

The two begin to fight, and you ignore it, helping Jaehyun to Jungwoo’s car. The mechanic does most of the heavy lifting as he supports Jaehyun get into the front seat. Then you turn to walk back to Yuta, lowering your voice. “Can you fix his car?”

“I mean…” Yuta sighs, cocking his head to the side. “Sure, I can fix it.”

“Then fix it,” you state, motioning to the tow truck he’d driven up in. “Take it back to your shop, I don’t want to look at it anymore.”

“Shouldn’t I be dealing with Jae on this?” Yuta eyes you suspiciously. “Since when were you two so close, Lil Suh?”

“Just do it, Yuta.” You reach out to touch his arm gently. “Please.”

Jungwoo arrives behind you. “Tow it to my garage,” he instructs. “If we both work on this, we can have it fixed in no time.”

“We gotta get to the finish line,” Mark announces, already on the way to his truck.

“Yes, we do,” Doyoung agrees, and you can see his hand balled into a fist. 

When you look to Jungwoo’s car, Jaehyun returns your longing gaze, but you know that if you drive with him and his friend, it will be as good as announcing to your brother that your allegiance has changed.

With a deep sigh, you follow Hyuck and Doyoung to Mark’s truck, taking your spot in the bed. 

The finish line is only a short drive away, especially with all your drivers flooring it, and it’s hard not to look at Jaehyun and Jungwoo as they drive behind you.

“What happened back there?” Hyuck asks, pulling you to his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he says firmly. “You and Jae.”

The words that come out of your mouth next are painful, and they’re only half a lie, “There is no me and Jae.”

Hyuck studies your face. “There better not be.”

Despite the crash that had occured, most of the crowd seems to be in happy spirits as they gather around the finish line. They move out of the way as Mark’s truck pulls up, and he takes out a green flag, ready to declare the winner.

Two cars come barelling around a turn, moving into another long stretch just before the finish. It’s a flash of pink and purple, but there’s a clear victor, and it’s not even much of a battle as Johnny comes racing over the finish line.

Everybody erupts into cheers, everybody except you. You can’t find your voice, you can only clap while Johnny does a victory donut or two before returning to the finish line where the racers are. 

He gets out of his car with a massive grin, and Doyoung hops out of the truck-

Hyuck stops him, holding Doyoung tight while he rages in his arms. “Let me at him!” Doyoung bellows, but your brother’s right hand man knows better than to allow Doyoung to rain on Johnny’s winner parade.

Jaehyun’s right hand man, however, knows no such restraint, and you watch Jaehyun approach your brother, the crowd parting to let him through.

“Fuck, shit, fuck-” Mark cusses next to you, leaping out of the truck while you follow.

“You clipped me,” Jaehyun states, hands balled into a fists at his side.

“That’s part of racing,” Johnny brushes it off.

“Maybe part of your racing,” Jaehyun growls, “But not all of us are suicidal maniacs like you!”

“Every driver is a suicidal maniac, it’s part of the fucking job.” Your brother rolls his eyes.

Then Jaehyun is grabbing the front of Johnny’s shirt, and the taller of the two is looking down at him with a grin. 

Jaehyun is seething. “If I’d had known we could play dirty like that, I would have knocked you on your ass during our last race!” 

Johnny leans closer to the angry racer. “I’d like to see you try.”

Jaehyun pulls his fist back, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. You find yourself jumping between them before you can even think about it, pushing Johnny back. “Jae, don’t.”

His motion stops, and he looks from you to your brother, swallowing thickly. His hand drops to his side, and Johnny lets out a loud laugh. You see the effect it has on Jaehyun, can see his skin reddening with anger. 

You feel horrible about this. About all of it. 

“I’d like to stay and chat,” Johnny says, “but I’ve got an after party to go to. Winners only. Come on, Lil Suh, I’ll take you on a victory lap.”

You feel like a chew toy caught between two rottweilers, and it kills you to give Jaehyun one last look before turning your back on him, following your brother to his car.

Jaehyun is watching you as you get in, and when you close the door, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I know, what a killer race,” Johnny grins, starting his engine. “Could have been better though, he could have actually died.”

“Is that what you were aiming for, John?” You grab onto the door handle, digging your nails against it to stop yourself from acting out.

“Not particularly. I saw the opportunity to take two birds out with one stone, so I did.” He assesses you out of the corner of his eye. “That doesn’t bother you, does it, Lil Suh?”

“No,” you lie through gritted teeth as the car speeds off to do a victory lap. “I’m not bothered at all.”

“Good, now sit back, and let me show you why us Suh’s are winners in this city.”

You usually like speeding with your brother, he’s a daring driver, and the way he drifts on sharp turns has always been something that brought you delight. But tonight, you can’t find it in yourself to laugh, even while he rolls down his window to let out a howl of victory into the night air.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, skimming the pseudonym contact name you use for Jaehyun. ‘Slip away from the party. Same place as usual. Be there. Please.’

It had been a little difficult to escape both Johnny and Hyuck from the afterparty, with the latter of the two even catching you just as you slipped outside. Hyuck had been smoking, leaning against the wall, and he’d stopped you as you’d rushed past.

“Where are you off to?” He’d asked.

You’d used the only lie you could think of, telling him, “My friend just got dumped, she needs me.”

Hyuck hadn’t asked anymore questions, and now, you’re arriving at the motel you and Jae use as a meeting point. The lobby boy nods at you as you walk past. “He’s in room thirteen.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, tossing him a five dollar bill from your pocket and taking the staircase two at a time to reach the second level. You don’t even bother to knock on Jaehyun’s door, you never do, you simply slip inside, locking it behind you.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and with his shirt off, you can see the full extent of the crash. His ribcage has a nasty bruise, which is visible under the ice pack he’s holding to his skin, and your heart breaks for him.

“Jae,” you whisper, sinking to your knees in front of him to assess the damage. “You need to go to the hospital-”

“And tell them what?” he sighs. “That I got in a car crash? Come on, we both know that could never work. I’m fine.”

You reach for the ice pack. “There could be internal bleeding-”

“Baby,” he catches your wrist, “I said I’m fine.” 

You look up into his dark eyes, and you take a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing. 

“Everything-” you swallow thickly. “I’m sorry for the crash, and for getting between you and Johnny, and for going to that stupid after party with him-”

“He knows.”

“What?”

“Johnny,” Jaehyun says. “He knows about us.”

“He doesn’t know-” you shake your head.

“He does,” the racer insists. “Everyone knows, especially now. Hyuck will tell him about the way you ran to me after the crash. He’s not stupid. He’s gonna know, baby.”

“No one knows,” you say again, but your voice is a whisper now.

“They all do,” Jaehyun tells you. “They see it in the way we look at each other.”

You stand up, gazing down at the beautiful street racer who you never should have even entertained, let alone slept with- “How do we look at eachother?” 

Jaehyun licks his lips, tugging at your shirt. “Like two people who want to rip eachothers clothes off.”

“Is that all?” you tease, lifting your shirt up and over your head so his hands can make full contact with your waist, pulling you closer.

“Like two people who care about each other,” he clarifies, voice near a whisper. “I told you, everyone saw the way you ran to my car when it flipped-”

“I was worried about you,” you insist.

The beautiful racer smiles. “Are you finally going to admit you’re hopelessly in love with me, Lil Suh?”

You scoff. “You wish, Jeong Jaehyun.”

Before he can give you a snappy comeback, you grab his face, pressing your mouth to his gently. He has a busted lip, and he groans, fingers tightening on your waist to tug you closer.

Your knees find the bed on either side of his hips, and Jaehyun lets out another moan of pain as you lay him down against the mattress.

 “Are you sure we should be fucking while you’re in this condition?” you ask, pressing kisses to his throat.

“We’re not fucking,” he says, applying pressure to  your waist that prompts you to grind down against him, feeling the erection in his pants.

“We’re not?” you laugh. “Then what are we doing?”

“Tonight, as cheesy as this sounds,” Jaehyun sighs, “we’re not fucking, we’re making love. And don’t-” he cuts you off before you can speak. “Don’t try to deny it. We both know there’s something here. Something between us. You might still be too afraid to admit it, but I’m not. Not after that crash.”

Who knew a near death experience would make a street racer so sentimental… but you’re not complaining. 

You look down at Jaehyun, and he stares back. You’re not sure what to say, so you say nothing, instead, you kiss him again, hoping that the motion speaks louder than words.

You’re doing your best to be gentle with him, but Jaehyun has always brought a side out of you that’s anything but gentle. These soft kisses are nice though, and he takes your breath away as easily as ever.

Your hands are on either side of the bed next to his head, and you’re trying not to lean on his bruised chest. The ice pack is pressed between your bodies, and the cold sensation is interesting in contrast to his hot lips and the hands that prompt your hips to continue your grinding against him.

Even while your lower halves are both clothed, it feels good to be rubbing against him, to feel how hard he gets from just a bit of kissing. He’s right that there’s something going on between the two of you, something undeniable.

You care about him, more than you ever thought you would. 

Your hand slips between your bodies and you cup his cock, making him moan. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he whispers, tangling a hand through your hair so he can pull your head slightly to the side, gaining access to your throat.

“I want to take your pants off,” you tell him, already beginning to get frustrated by his jeans. 

“Then take them off,” he says simply. “I’m all yours.”

You sit up, gazing down at your brother’s bruised mortal enemy… and then, you begin to work on his belt. 

He watches you silently, and when you slip to the floor, tugging his clothes off, he lifts his hips to make it easier. 

Usually, things with Jaehyun are somewhat rushed, but tonight, you want to give him all your time and attention. He deserves it - after your brother ran him off the road - and his cock looks so pretty in the shitty motel light.

“You don’t have to-” he begins to tell you, but you cut him off.

“I want to,” your hand finds the base of his cock, and you trace your thumb up the vein that runs along the underside of it. “Just relax for me, Jae. I want this.” 

He lets out a shaky breath, but does as you ask, leaning back against the mattress while you bring your mouth to his cock. You start by licking the tip, and your featherlight touch is enough to have him groaning, grabbing at the bed sheets.

He’s so sensitive with you, and you love it. 

It makes teasing him all the more fun, and you continue your small motions, wrapping your mouth around the head while you stroke his length. You swirl your tongue, suckling and earning more reactions from the pretty, bruised man, who’s completely at your mercy.

“Please,” he groans, and that’s all you need to sink your mouth further onto his cock, bobbing your head gently. 

One of his hands comes down to stroke your hair, and his touch makes you want to please him even more. He’s being as gentle with you as you are with him, and you’re not the one all banged up from a crash.

Your drool is dripping on his length, making it easier to stroke him, and you apply a bit more pressure. Jaehyun gasps, hips twitching, and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling of pleasuring him.

Your pussy is throbbing between your legs, and after you’re done working him up like this, you can’t wait to ride him. It’s not often that you’re on top with Jae, but if there’s ever a night for it, it’s tonight.

“So good, baby,” Jaehyun moans. “So good for me.”

His praise has you sucking harder on his cock, and he lets out more sounds of pleasure that go straight to your core.

You continue to work him up with your hand, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can while he struggles below you. He’s gripping the sheets, hard, and you can tell it’s taking a lot of willpower for him not to thrust up and meet you- but Jaehyun’s never been the type for making you choke on his cock, and you realize now that maybe he has cared about you all this time.

As rough as he’s been with you in the past, it’s always been because you were begging for it, and even then, he’s kept a gentleness in his actions-

You do love Jeong Jaehyun, and it’s almost comical that you realize it while your mouth is stuffed full of his cock.

You pull off of him, your hand stroking his shaft while you take a breath. “I need you inside of me,” you tell him.

“No more waiting,” he agrees.

You let go of him, standing up and reaching into your back pocket for a condom before taking off your pants and underwear. “Can you move up the bed a little for me, Jae?”

“Yeah,” he shuffles up the mattress, watching you discard your bra. You’re fully naked for him now, and you straddle his legs, tearing open the condom package and rolling the rubber onto his cock.

Then you lean over Jaehyun, kissing him gently, grabbing him with one hand and guiding him to your core. You sink down slowly, and you moan into each others mouths while he tangles his fingers in your hair, keeping your lips on his. 

Actions most definitely speak louder than words, and the kiss is one that has you even more breathless than before. It’s not like any other kisses you’ve shared with the street racer. This one truly means something, and your pussy flutters just thinking about it.

Jaehyun groans, one hand moving to your hip, and you take it as a sign to move. You begin to bounce on him slowly, revelling in the feeling of his cock filling you up just right.

It’s interesting to be on top, to be the one in control, and Jaehyun lets you have free range in your motions. The hand on your hip isn’t insistent, he doesn’t prompt you to go harder or faster-

Maybe the slowness of it, the deliberate movements, are part of what makes this an act of love, not just fucking. 

It’s not hard, or fast, or rough, but it’s still making your toes curl as you ride him, your lips locked in a passionate kiss. “Jae,” you groan, thighs beginning to burn-

He reads you like the back of his hand, and in one motion, he’s rolling you onto your back. Jaehyun lets out a small wince, and you immediately double check him, cupping his face while he slides the ice pack onto the bed next to you. “Maybe I should stay on top-”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’m okay. It’s my turn to want something.”

“Yeah?” you smile up at him. “And what is it that you want?” 

“I want to make you feel good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your throat, his noze nuzzling your skin. “Want to take care of you. Want to make you cum.”

You whimper at his words, gently wrapping your legs around his hips while he begins to thrust into you. 

“Put your hands above your head for me, baby,” he instructs.

You follow through, and he captures your wrists against his palm, pinning them to the bed. 

For someone who’s just been in a crash, his motions are still quite fluid and rhythmic. His lips continue against your neck, and you gasp when he suckles on your sweet spot.

“If-” you swallow thickly, “If it hurts, let me know.”

“Oh, baby,” Jaehyun smiles against your skin, “Love always hurts. I’m not going to start complaining about it now.”

The word ‘love’ makes you tingle with emotion, and you gasp as he begins to fuck you harder, pressing you against the bed. 

“Can you rub your clit for me, baby? Your mouth felt so good, and I don’t think I can last that much longer,” he admits. 

He lets go of your wrists and without a word of protest, you slip your hand between your bodies, seeking out your most sensitive spot. You release a loud groan at the contact, pussy clenching around his cock, which earns a moan from the man above you.

“Jae,” you whisper, loving the taste of his name on your lips. “You’re so good to me-”

“You deserve it,” he assures you, a hand coming down to your hip, pinning you exactly where he wants you while you work yourselves closer and closer to the edge. 

He’s fucking you harder now, but it still feels like making love, and your free hand reaches to tangle in his hair, pulling him from your throat so you can feel his lips on yours again.

You love the way you’re both moaning freely now, and his sounds only add to your pleasure. 

“I’m close,” you tell him, dragging your tongue across his lip and earning a loud groan. 

“Me too,” he breathes heavily. “You feel so good-”

“Just what the doctor ordered,” you joke, and Jaehyun lets out a small laugh.

“Exactly,” he agrees. “Sex with the love of your life daily, for a week, think you can handle that?”

“Jae,” you whisper. “I’m the love of your life?”

“I’d like to think so.” 

He’s being so soft, so vulnerable, and you wonder how long he’s been thinking about this. 

In your relationships, you’ve always been the first one to say ‘I love you,’ the first one to be in your feels- and now you know what it’s like to be on the other side of that. He’s confident in you, confident in your connection, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you too,” you confess, and it feels so right- none of your other love confessions in life have ever felt like this, and you know it must be true.

Jaehyun groans loudly. “I’m gonna cum, baby, you really know how to sweet talk a guy-”

“I’m gonna cum too,” you tell him, gasping against his lips while you rub your clit harder. 

“Cum with me, baby,” Jaehyun says softly, kissing you while you both reach your highs.

Your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, and you moan loudly together, tongues dancing while your bodies move fluidly, like they were made to move. 

Nothing has ever felt this natural, and your orgasm is all consuming because of it.

Your entire body is tingling with emotion and pleasure, and you can feel that the racer has goosebumps, letting out a small shiver while he fucks you through it. 

It’s as if he’s the very air you need to breathe, and you’ve been deprived for so long- there’s a clarity with him, and everything is all the more intense because of it.

Jaehyun groans as you both come down from your highs, and his motions slowly come to a stop, until he’s simply laying on top of you, lips still pressed to your own.

You kiss for a while more, fingers moving away from your clit so you can tangle both hands in his soft hair, keeping him where he is.

“Stay here tonight,” Jaehyun whispers, pulling away from you to look down at your face.

“Stay here?” you repeat.

“Yeah, stay with me. Please.”

You’ve never slept over with him, never passed out after sex in his arms-

“Okay,” you nod.

“I’m just going to get rid of this condom, and then we can cuddle or something,” he says, in a way that’s almost shy. 

You watch him, endeared as he disposes the condom and returns to join you, slipping under the covers and holding out his arms expectantly. You move closer, careful about his injured ribs, and you rest your head against his shoulder while he pets your hair.

“I’m going to tell Johnny,” you say. 

“Really?” 

“Uh huh,” you nod, feeling very confident with your decision. “You just told me you think I’m the love of your life, Jae. We’ve already been hiding this for months, and I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“I don’t want to hide either,” he agrees. 

“So it’s settled,” you smile. “I’ll tell Johnny, and he’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Jaehyun admits. “I thought about it so many times, but I always figured you’d want to keep it a secret from your brother. That guy has some anger issues.”

“Says the dude that tried to punch him today.”

“After he hit me with his car,” Jaehyun points out.

“You have me there,” you concede with a laugh. 

“I love you, Lil Suh,” he says suddenly, and it makes you hold him tighter, tucking your face against his shoulder.

“I love you too…” you put on your Mark’s announcer voice, “the man of the evening, the winner of the last race-”

“I lost the last race,” Jaehyun points out.

“Not to me,” you tell him. “Tonight, I think we’re both winners.”

Jaehyun laughs. “You have me there.” 

Johnny stares at you in shock. “Sorry, I must have heard you wrong,” he laughs finally, “it just sounded like you told me you’re dating my arch nemesis.”

“Do I have to say it again?” you sigh.

Your brother’s smile drops. “You can’t be serious, Lil Suh.”

“I am though,” you say firmly. “I’m dating Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to date street racers?” Johnny stands up abruptly. “They die all the time!”

“Not if you stop trying to kill him!” you shoot back. “Jeez, John, you act as if you’ve never had a girlfriend yourself.”

“I don’t date street racers,” Johnny says, refusing to see the parallel. 

“You know, all things considered,” you sigh, “you’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

“Hyuck warned me this was going on,” Johnny cocks his head to the side. “Said you were the first person rushing to help Jae after the crash. I guess I’ve been processing it all weekend.”

“So you’re okay with me dating your supposed mortal enemy?” 

“I never said I’m okay with it,” Johnny points out. “Look, do I hate the guy? Yes. Is that hate founded on jealousy that he might one day be better than me in a car? Also yes. I just figure, if you’re dating him, you can convince him to get Yuta to change his underlights so they’re not purple anymore.”

“So that’s it?” you ask in shock. “That’s your condition in him dating me? That he changes his light colour?!”

“We all know purple is my aesthetic.” 

“Done, I’ll let him know right away.”

“You think he’s actually gonna change the colour?”

“Of course he’s going to change the colour, this guy loves me, Johnny-”

Your brother blinks at you. “He does?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“And you love him?”

You nod again, looking down.

“Then I’m happy for you, Lil Suh.” Johnny reaches out, setting a hand on your shoulder. “Just promise not to bring any Lil Jeong’s into the world anytime soon, yeah?”

You find yourself laughing, shaking your head at your stupid older brother. “I promise.”

“Good, because if he knocked you up, I’d really start to have problems, even if he does change his car colours.” Johnny assesses you. “You remember what mom always said about condoms-”

“Oh my god!” you scream. “Yes, Johnny! We’re being safe! Holy shit- this conversation is so over-”

“I wouldn’t be doing my brotherly duties if I didn’t make you grossed out. Think of me making that condom comment every time you sleep with him.” 

You’re quick to rush from the room, yelling back, “That doesn’t make things any better!” But you can’t help the smile on your face- you can’t believe that he’s okay with this, that he didn’t punch a hole through a wall-

You think about what Johnny had said, about the jealousy of another driver who could take him on.

Maybe after all of this, they might even be friends. Or, maybe more likely, you’ve simply watched too many Fast and Furious movies. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! There's just something about this Jae- I had so much fun writing this fic

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Jaehyun presses one last kiss to your lips, grinning all the while. Then, when he pulls back, he flattens his hand over your mouth. “If you need me to let up,” he says, leaning forward so he can drag his tongue over the shell of your ear, “just lick my hand. Got it baby?” You nod, already enjoying the feeling of being held down with a hand over your mouth. You really can’t believe you’re doing this in your childhood bedroom with your stepmom sleeping just down the hall- But at the same time, if there was ever a man who would convince you to fuck inhibition and do this, it would be Jaehyun. He just has a hold over you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

cw/ tw. Unprotected/raw sex, sex while her mom sleeps down the hall, inklings of impreg/cum/being full kink, hand over her mouth, pussy/cock touching, praise, orgasm countdown, mutual orgasm, dry humping, aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby, angel.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.3k I teaser wc. 270

🌙 staring. Jaehyun x afab!reader

bonus

It’s the first time Jaehyun is meeting your extended family, at a summer barbecue, and so far, the conversation has stuck to general things like steak preferences and beef versus chicken. However, as you all take your seats at the long outdoor food table, your stepmom finally addresses your boyfriend. 

“So I hear you street race like Johnny,” she muses.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaehyun nods respectfully. “It’s actually how I met your daughter.”

“I guess good things do come out of it then,” your mom sighs, leaning back in her chair, “and please, call me Myoryon or Mama Suh.” She assesses the way Jaehyun sits close to you, his hand holding yours on top of the table. “You two look good together.”

“Thank you, Mama Suh.” Jaehyun smiles softly. 

“She looks happy,” your stepmother continues. “I’ve never seen her happy like this.”

“Then I guess I’m doing my job right,” Jaehyun gives your hand a small squeeze and Johnny lets out a puking sound.

“I’m going to lose my appetite,” your stepbrother warns.

“I already have,” Hyuck nods, pushing his food away. “Not that your cooking isn’t amazing, Mama Suh.”

“It’s alright,” your mom assures him. “I understand jealousy can upset anyone’s stomach.”

“Jealousy?!” Hyuck bellows, and Johnny lets out a loud laugh.

“When was the last time you brought a girl over?” Mama Suh questions, smiling softly even while digging into your brother’s best friend.

Hyuck sputters, tongue tied.

“And how about you, Johnny?” She turns her gaze to him. “If I remember correctly, you’ve called a few times about some arch nemesis being a better driver than you- I assume this arch nemesis is Jaehyun.”

☀️to read the full 3.3k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

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[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 26. home — ✦ (wc: 0.6k)

notes: trying out a bit of a different style of writing ^^ hope you guys enjoy!

cw: online harassment targeted at reader & characters, self-deprecating thoughts

You’re used to this.

Getting criticism and some hate comments here and there is nothing new for you. It's all part of the business in this industry.

And you haven't gotten this far without having gone through a scandal or two. 

Maybe it’s the storm outside your window, or maybe it’s your melancholia. Maybe you’ve always been like this — hungry for more and more.

Attention. Praise. Love. You wanted all of it and more. You needed it more than you needed air.

All eyes are on you, now more than ever. It's been like this for years.

You should be used to this.

You just hate the fact that you have to drag him down with you.

He doesn't deserve any of this.

None of your friends deserve this.

What were you thinking, agreeing to his deal? You threw him to the wolves and put his private life on display, all to fulfill your fantasies of him liking you back. 

It's nothing but a lie anyway. 

You may be used to hating yourself, but it's a different thing entirely to see the world turn against you.

You deserve this. 

With the rain picking up, you should probably get home soon. But to be fair, it wasn’t raining that hard when you went out.

You probably should have listened to Yoimiya when she said to not go out. The pouring rain drenches you from head to toe the moment you step outside. An umbrella would have been useful, but it’s not like you had the foresight to bring one.

God, it’s fucking cold.

Yoimiya and Ayaka have probably told Scaramouche that you went out. And at this rate, he’s probably worried about you. He really shouldn’t be wasting his energy like that. He shouldn’t be wasting his efforts on you at all.

The fact that he’s going on interviews when you know he hates doing them feels like a weight on your chest, a mixture of guilt and self-hatred that manifested as a storm that mirrored the cold, unforgiving rain as you dragged your feet across the wet pavement.

An umbrella covers you, interrupting the ceaseless torrent of rain and your thoughts.

“Idiot,” Scaramouche says. You can barely hear him over the rain. “Why are you out here? It’s late; something could have happened to you.”

It’s hard to look him in the eye, so you don’t bother. “You shouldn’t have come after me. I’m not worth all your efforts.”

Scaramouche furrows his brow, “What are you talking about? Of course you are. Come on, let’s go home.”

The next words are lodged in your throat, but you keep going.

“Break up with me.”

It’s better this way.

“I don’t want you to have to suffer because of me.”

He shouldn’t have to be dragged down with you.

“Even if I bounce back from this, which I highly doubt I will, this won’t be the last time people talk shit about us. Please, Scaramouche. Leave me while you still can. You don’t deserve any of this.”

He’s silent for a moment. Unmoving. You’re bracing yourself for his response when he moves closer toward you.

“I’m not going to leave your side. Not when you need all the support you can get,” Scaramouche says, cupping your face with his hand. His hand is so warm. A welcome change to the cold of the rain. “And I’m sure as hell not breaking up with you.”

“We don’t even know if public opinion will change after your interviews are published,” you argued.

Scaramouche nods. “I know. But I still wanted to try and help you in any way I could.”

Against all odds, Scaramouche presses closer to you and wraps his arms around you. Against all doubts, you bury your face into him. He only holds you tighter.

“You will always be worth the effort,” he says softly. “And even if the world hates you, you have us. You have me.” 

Scaramouche takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. You have a feeling he won’t let go any time soon. You hope he never does.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

my favorite chapter to write by far ^^ hope you guys enjoyed!!

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @nymphxie @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz @saccharine-sucks

[stellar-haikyuu]

no regrets ☆ sugawara koushi x reader

synopsis: before their third year starts, an evening walk changes everything between reader and their best friend, koushi. details: fluff, opposites attract, childhood friends to lovers, first kiss, ~1.7k words, gn! reader. requested by @liquidcatt as part of my karasuno writing event warnings: none! just repetitive use of the title and idk how to write kissing yet LOL

One week before your third and final year of high school, you realize that you’ll soon be experiencing multiple “lasts” before a new chapter of your life begins.

Now, you don't normally care about these things, but you can’t help it when Koushi calls you that evening.

Apparently, he made an impulsive decision to go on a walk, and he now wants your company.

You groan at him through the phone and he laughs. Of course, he knows there’s no real anger behind it. He’s the only person in the world you would drop everything for without a second thought.

“I’m sor-” he tries, but you hang up on him, cutting off his “apology.” Huffing with amusement, you rummage through your closet for something that would keep you warm.

After pulling on a sweater, you let your parents know you’re heading out. They barely glance up from the television before nodding in acknowledgment. It’s been years since they decided that hangouts with your best friend no longer warrant further questions.

The cold wind greets you as you step outside. You shiver a little, but you slowly adjust to the temperature as you wait for Koushi. 

After a few minutes, you hear the sound of footsteps against the pavement. They stop right outside your gate, and you can see the telltale tuft of gray hair peeking out from behind.

“Koushi.” You greet him with an air of nonchalance as you open the gate. 

Your tone has always been a little flat—an unintentional habit of yours. You don’t have it in you to amp up the energy like everyone else does, but your friend has never minded it, even when he is the very definition of sunshine and chaos.

“Heh,” he chuckles sheepishly. “Hope you weren’t too busy.”

You half-heartedly glare at him, which makes him ruffle your hair. In response, you swat his hand away and try to smooth down the mess he’s made.

“You’re just lucky I was bored out of my mind,” you mutter, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and letting the gate shut behind you.

“This is the hundredth time I’ve been lucky.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you do like me after all,” he teases.

Your stomach does a flip. 

Is he onto me?

“Sh-shut up!” You stammer, elbowing him in the side. 

“Ow!” He yelps, clutching at his ribs as if you’ve stabbed him. “Hey, I’ve got volleyball practice soon, don’t give me an injury.”

“You’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his theatrics, watching as he rubs his side in an attempt to soothe the pain. As he pouts and mumbles something under his breath, you brave a quick look at him.

He’s wearing that adorable blue scarf again—well, it’s yours, actually. You lent it to him in first year when he forgot his scarf on a chilly evening. For some reason, you insisted that he keep it, and now he wears it all the time with no fail. 

(His reasoning? “Maybe you’ll miss your blue scarf, so I’m just going to wear it every time we walk together.”

You remember staring at him in disbelief, but internally, you were maybe five seconds away from passing out.)

“Agh. Gosh, why didn’t you go for martial arts or something,” Koushi’s voice snaps you out of your reverie.

“I don’t have that kind of energy.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want my punches to hurt even more.”

“Fair point,” he concedes with a laugh.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, making the sound of leaves rustling much louder. When you glance at Koushi, his expression has shifted. He looks thoughtful, his gaze fixed ahead but distant, as though he’s turning something over in his mind.

“Why’d you call me out here?” You ask.

“Hm? It’s just…” Koushi hesitates for a moment, his voice softening. “We’re almost done with high school.”

The reality of his words hit you. “We are. But hey, I’m a year closer to my librarian dreams.”

“Ha. You’ve never really changed your mind, huh?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “How about you, still wanna be a teacher?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Dead set on it now, actually.”

“Good,” you say firmly. “You better keep your promise to apply to the same school. Don’t leave me to fend for myself in college or at work.”

“You’re not going to die, gosh,” Koushi laughs, shaking his head. “What are you going to do when strangers come up to you in the library to ask about different things?”

“That’s a problem for future me.” You scrunch your nose. Unfortunately, no job is exactly the way you want it to be.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there. But now, there’s one more year ahead of us,” he sighs.

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, brows furrowing slightly. “Is there something wrong?”

“Not really…” He trails off. “I just…I’ve been thinking a lot about how these months will be full of last chances.”

Last chances?

“I guess I couldn’t help but worry about how I need to make every moment count. I don’t want to waste opportunities.”

Oh.

Koushi stops walking for a moment and turns to you. “Am I making any sense?”

You study his expression. The faint lines of uncertainty on his face say enough. “You are. What brought this on?”

“It’s the volleyball team.” He confesses, his gaze flickering downward as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I still want to stay. I still want to go to Nationals. I know that we may not be the best in the prefecture, but…it’s not stupid to hope, right?”

For a few seconds, you think about it. You’re no stranger to hoping for good things, even when it seems impossible. 

You spent your childhood hoping for a best friend, even though most kids never wanted to approach you. Yet, here you are, years later. 

(Now, you’re just holding onto the hope that your feelings for him will be returned.)

“No, Koushi. It’s not stupid,” you reply, despite the subtle ache in your chest.

“Thanks.” His eyes brighten at your response, and you can’t help but let a small grin form on your face.

That’s my dreamer.

You recall how painful it was to see him realize that Karasuno was no longer the powerhouse he imagined. But, the fact that he hasn’t thought of giving up once is a testament to his true strength.

“Well, I just hope we’re lucky enough to get some more first-years.” A puff of steam leaves his mouth. “And I hope Asahi and Nishinoya come back as soon as possible.”

His voice falters slightly at the mention of his teammates. You instinctively reach out to take his hand in quiet support. That incident had upset him more than he let on.

“But no matter what happens, I’ll work hard,” he continues with conviction. “I want to finish this year with no regrets.”

“No regrets,” you echo his words in affirmation. Your heart hammers in your chest.

Should I do it?

“Hey, are you okay?”

What if this is my last chance?

“You’ve been staring for a while.”

What if someone else takes this moment from me?

“Hey.”

Do it. Come on.

“You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

No regrets.

“Koushi?”

“Oh, there! Thank goodness. What happened?” His voice sharpens in concern.

You close your eyes, willing yourself not to chicken out.

“No regrets,” you murmur to yourself.

He blinks at you, taken aback by your cryptic behavior. “Um, yes, that’s what I said.”

“I wanna do that too,” you admit with a steady tone.

“That’s…good?” he replies, but the confusion turns his statement into a question.

“So, to start the year off strong…” You let go of your grip on his hands and take a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Koushi.” You look away momentarily, trying to find the words. “I don’t know when I started feeling this way, but…” 

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and you reach a hand out to tug on his scarf, bringing him closer to you.

Your faces are mere inches apart now; you can feel his warm breath on your face. The fact that he doesn’t protest or pull away gives you the confidence to continue.

“I like you,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips crash into yours. You’re frozen, stunned by the fact that Koushi reciprocated. 

This is actually happening.

He’s kissing me.

One of his hands finds its way to the base of your neck, while the other wraps securely around your waist. His touch is gentle but grounding. It’s almost like he’s afraid to let you go.

You can’t take it anymore. 

The longing you’ve kept bottled inside for years finally explodes.

Releasing your grip on his scarf, you move your hands to the base of his neck instead, pulling him down a bit more. The height difference sends a quiet thrill through your body, leaving you giddy.

You part for a moment to gasp for air, but your lips find each other again. They seem to slot together perfectly, you think, as though you were made for each other.

You sigh at the feeling of shared warmth between your bodies, a stark contrast to the nighttime climate. Carding your fingers through his soft hair, you think about how much you’ve dreamed of spending the rest of your life with him.

No one understands you the way Koushi does. No one gets you like he does. Even when people questioned your friendship dynamics, you both found ways to defy the odds. The realization nearly makes you cry in the middle of this romantic moment, but there’s no way you’re letting Koushi use that against you.

As much as you want this kiss to stretch into eternity, your lungs are starting to burn. Reluctantly, you pull away once more, but this time, your chest is filled with something like peace and contentment.

Koushi rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath. He giggles with pure joy. “So, no regrets? I totally don’t have any.”

There may be last chances, but also hopeful beginnings.

“Yeah, me too. No regrets.”

masterlist

[love4pascal]

I’ll Say, Will You Marry Me?

Joel Miller x F!reader.

A/n: Okay never did I think that after I posted my first fic that people would like it as much as you did. I honestly wrote the first part as a one shot and I had no intention on writing another part but I am so glad that you all have enjoyed it so much that you requested a part 2. SO HERE IT IS!

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, fluff, pure bliss, and these two being stupidly In love.

|Part One Here| |Series Masterlist|

August 23, 2008.

Joel grabbed the last box from the moving truck, walking up the hot pavement and entering the home.

Placing the last box in Joel’s bedroom; a part of you felt like this was a dream, you were dating your best friend and now you living with him?

It felt to good to be true. The most loving and caring man you were once just friends, who now you’ll kiss goodnight.

“Who’s up for some good ol’ hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner?” Joel asked both you and sarah.

“Fine by me, dad!” She yelled from the staircase, on her way to her bedroom.

Joel turning his focus on you now.

“I’ll help you.” On your way to the kitchen to grab the hamburgers and hotdogs.

Joel stood at the back door for a few seconds more, admiring the woman he loved, before he even knew he’d loved her.

And god was he ecstatic to know that he’d get to wake up with you next to him.

-

After eating dinner outside, you, Joel, and Sarah cleaned everything up.

When done with that, Sarah suggested that there should be a ‘Miller movie night’.

Cuddled up with Joel and Sarah under a plaid blanket, watching “Twilight”, which Joel asked manny questions about.

“Wait, so you’re telling me he’s how old?!” He asked Sarah.

“He’s 104.” She says, eyes remaining on the tv.

“Oh.. so he’s just going after a seventeen year old like thats perfectly okay?” He spoke looking at you and Sarah, seeing both of you hysterically laughing at him.

“What? Why are you guys laughing??” He says sitting up.

-

An hour into the movie, Sarah was passed out. You grabbed the remote off the table and pressed the red button, the room went black.

Joel moving the blanket off of Sarah before picking her up and carrying her to bed.

Folding the blanket and placing it in the basket next to the tv stand.

Walking up the stairs to Joel’s bedroom, putting on a Fleetwood Mac shirt you had stole from him and pulling on black pajama pants before finding joel in the ensuite bathroom.

Bare chest and gray pajama pants, brushing his teeth. Coming up behind him and resting your cheek on his back.

“What’s wrong baby?” Running his toothbrush under the facet water before putting the protective cap over the bristles and setting it in the holder.

“Nothing, I’ve just never been this happy.” Laying a kiss on his shoulder.

You catch his smile through the mirror before he’s turning and throwing you over his shoulder.

There’s hushed laughs released from both of you.

He sets you on the bed, leaning down to capture your soft lips in his.

Your legs find themselves around his waist as your hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“Can I take this off.?” He tugged at the bottom of your shirt.

“Yes.” Helping him take off your shirt, the shirt being tossed somewhere in the room.

He unclasps your bra.

He pressed a trail of hot, soft kisses to your neck, his mouth tracing over your skin and down as his mouth finds your nipple.

You moan softly as his lips meet your midriff, his tongue swirls around your skin, making you squirm in desire and need.

Joel briefly removes his lips from your midriff with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva had been left, but quickly broke when your back arched; urging for Joel to continue.

Joel’s warm hands wander down, inching closer to your heated core, you’re getting wetter by the second.

Your hands scamper around, finding solace in Joel’s hair whilst he spreads your folds through your panties. His finger slowly, rubbing up and down. You gasp at the contact.

He continues to rub circles onto your clit, sometimes back and forth — almost tauntingly.

“Honey…Please don’t tease me,” you muttered weakly, getting lost in the near pleasure he gives you.

The chuckle Joel lets out is dark, a contrast to the soft airy kisses he rested upon your plump lips.

“What’d I tell you about patience, darlin’?” Joel murmurs against your pouting lips, he kisses you again, but there’s more force behind it. Your teeth clatter against his as his fingers pick up their pace.

Joel groans as you tug on his brunette tufts of hair. Joel then inserts two lengthy digits into your hole, making you cry out. To who exactly? You’re not even sure. You can’t be, not when his beard scratches your face just right, and his fingers model a ‘come hither’ motion inside of you.

Joel nips your lips before lowering his head to your pussy. He wastes no time in absolutely devouring you. You lay your hands on his shoulders, almost trying to get him closer.

He’s licking and sucking everywhere, all you can do is mewl out to him, letting out several ‘fuck, Joel!’s and even a ‘it feels so good!’.

His nose bumps your clit as he replaces his fingers with his tongue. “H-holy shit Joel! Right there baby!” You exclaim, voice cracking due to the strain.

You tightly wrap your thighs around his head, nearly suffocating him; just the way he likes it. “Baby..Baby! I’m-I’m so…” Your voice gives out, reducing to nothing but a whimper. Joel can tell you’re close.

He then pops back up from your legs, beaming at you proudly as you’re spread out for him.

You whine due to the lack of contact, Joel bends a bit to kiss your shoulder.

“Awe,” he drags out, “Don’t worry, peaches. Y’know I’m gonna take care of ya.” His southern drawl makes you ache for him.

Joel’s hands push down his pants painfully slow, he’s toying with you on purpose, but you love every second.

His thumb hooks around his boxers, allowing him to remove his sweatpants alongside them in one go.

Seeing him completely bare takes away the cold you feel due to the slight chill of the room. He’s breathtaking, you don’t know how else to describe it.

“Yeah? You think so honey?” His grin is nothing short of a cheshire.

You gape at him, not realizing that you actually said that out loud, but before you can think about it too much, Joel’s sliding his pink tip against your folds.

Your chest is heaving, you’re antsy and Joel finds it delicious.

“Y’ready peach?”

“Always.” You reassure with a slight nod.

Then, Joel pushes his cock into you, you swear you can count every inch entering you.

He pulls out almost entirely, then slams back into you. A choked gasp leaves your throat while Joel starts to find his pace.

Your nails find their place on Joel’s back, scratching deeply in satisfaction.

“Y-Yeah..That’s it darlin’. Squeeze me just like that.” Joel manages to groan through his gritted teeth.

His hips slap against yours, and you both are chest-to-chest. He can feel your breasts bounce up and down against him due to the force, and it nearly makes his mouth water.

Joel reaches his hand up, pushing some stray hairs behind your ear, murmuring, “You’re s’pretty, baby.”

“Ha-ah. I’m cumming, Joel!” Your voice remains somewhat hushed, but you can’t help but get louder as you get closer and closer.

“C’mon, peach. Joel’s gotcha, go ahead ‘n give it t’me.” Joel moans at the feeling of you clenching oh so sweetly around him.

Your back arches off the bed, Joel’s arms wrap around your frame to hold you, as you find your release.

You continue to squeeze Joel’s cock as you come down from your high, and you feel him twitch inside of you, signaling to you that he’s close as well.

His head rests in the crook of your shoulder, making it more than easy to whisper to him, “Cum for me baby.”

You feel spurts of his warm seed shoot inside of you as Joel lets out an earth-shattering groan.

He lays on you for a few minutes, regaining his bearings, before flipping down onto the bed next to you.

“You’re incredible, y’know that?” Joel slurs, moving his head slightly so he can get a good look at you. You’re both disheveled and sweaty, chests rising then falling just as quickly.

“So I’ve heard.” You smirk at him cockily, making him chuckle and shake his head playfully.

“Mhm…Let’s get you cleaned up, peach.” He kisses you again then picks you up bridal style, you giggle and hold onto him tightly as he walks you to the bathroom.

December 30, 2009.

“And you’re okay with this.?” Joel was at the edge of his seat fidgeting with the black ring box, it was important to ask Sarah for her permission about proposing to you.

Sarah was Joel’s first priority, he’d never want Sarah to be uncomfortable or unhappy in her own space.

“Dad, you know I love her like how I love you. I’m 100% okay with you asking her to marry you.” She grabs at her father’s hand.

“Plus It’d be nice to have another girl in this house.” She pokes her dad before giggling.

“I’m glad to hear that baby girl.” He pulls his chair closer to hers, engulfing his daughter into a tight embrace.

June 22, 2010.

You and Joel had been dating for 2 years and you couldn’t be anymore happier than you are now.

Your nights in the Miller residence always consisted with either a movie night in the living room, or playing board games before bed.

Tonight consisted of a certain Miller taking you to a fancy restaurant. Joel had told you earlier that morning that Tommy had offered to watch Sarah so that you two could have a nice dinner by yourselves.

.. Without hearing about a classmate who throws pencils across the classroom and is rude to their teacher.

You had gotten home before Joel so you decided to start getting dressed, you wanted time to be able to do your hair and finalize your outfit without feeling rushed.

You and Joel had waited for a reservation at this restaurant for months and you two weren’t gonna be late either.

After picking out a white floral sundress and doing your hair and makeup, you head downstairs to hangout with Sarah as you wait on Joel and Tommy.

30 minutes later Joel was walking through the front door in a new pair of jeans and a white short-sleeve linen button up and a bouquet of flowers.

Followed by the young miller brother who was the babysitter of the night.

“Hey darlin’.” he greeted you with a small smile.

You stand up to meet him halfway, taking ahold of the bouquet.

“Joel these are beautiful!” He smiled, shrugging one shoulder of dismissal of your thanks.

“I knew you said something about these flowers not too long ago, saw a guy selling them near a site I was working at. Couldn’t help but think of you.” You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you so much, Joel Miller.” You smile, before walking to the kitchen and looking for a vase.

Placing the flowers into the vase that now sat of the dining room table, walking back to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured to you, brushing his down your arm as he glanced at the dress you had on.

You’d picked it out for this occasion, the soft white material making you feel soft and beautiful.

“Thank you! You clean up nice too..” you giggled at your tease, giving him a soft kiss to the cheek before taking his hand into yours. You were eager to get to the restaurant; you’d been waiting to try this particular place for ages and finally you had got a reservation."

Before leaving the comfort of your home, you said goodbye to both Sarah and Tommy.

“Don’t do anything irresponsible.” You pointed at Tommy. “I know you’re 26 years old but still, I’d like to come home to the house in one piece.” Before pulling him into a hug.

“Sarah, please watch uncle Tommy.” Sarah laughs at your comment about her uncle.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior!” She giggled and pulled you into a small hug.

Walking over to Joel, who’s stood at the front door.

Sarah runs over to her dad before capturing him is a tight embrace.

“Bye dad, have fun!” She said as he moved her curls behind her ear.

“I will babygirl, be on your best behavior for uncle Tommy, okay? Patting her head.

“Okay dad!” He kissed her cheek and you and Joel walked out the house.

You walked to the passenger side of Joel truck, before Joel approached you, watching as he reached down to open the passenger door for you and held it open, standing back for you to get inside.

“Well thank you.” He grinned, smiling as you got in.

“No problem darlin'. ” softly closing the truck door, walking around the baby blue truck and hoping into the driver side.

The truck engine lightly roaring as Joel started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Soft music plays as you turn the corner and enter the main road.

-

The restaurant is elegant, with dim lighting that casts a romantic glow over the patrons. Soft jazz plays in the background, creating a soothing ambiance

“Name under the reservation.?” The young blonde asked Joel.

“Uh, Joel Miller.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. Which was a nervous tic for Joel that you’d picked up on over the years.

“If you want to follow me this way, I can take you straight to your table.” She grabbed two menus and a specials menu before walking you two outside.

“Ladies first.” He motioned in front of him.

“Such a gentleman Joel miller.” Smiling softly before quickly grabbing at his hand and pulling him behind you.

Sitting down at much fancier tables than the one you and Joel had in your dining room. Beautiful black and gold menus with intricate letters, placed neatly on the table beside the spoon, knife and forks wrapped in nice fabric.

"Can I get you guys something to start with? drinks? maybe an appetizer?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine." the young waitress quickly wrote your drink down on her note pad.

"ill have a glass of water.. oh and can I have a lemon on the side?" Joel anxiously tapping his fingers on fabric covers wood.

"yeah, of course. I'll be right out with your drinks!"

“I heard they have really good steak.” he quirked his eyebrow.

“You’re gonna turn into a steak.” laughing a little too loud for this kinda restaurant, not before looking around to see if anyone was looking at you like you had two heads.

The young waitress, Brooke, which you had read from her name tag, came back with the three drinks.

“Thank you.” the both of you said reaching for the drinks.

“Are you guys ready to order, or do you need more time to think?” it was almost telepathically telling Joel that you were ready to order if he was.

“Yeah, we’re ready to order.” both telling her what you’d want off the menu.

“I'll have the steak, medium rare, with broccoli and mash potatoes.” he says as he hands the menu to the waitress.

“I'll have grilled chicken with mushrooms, and broccoli and mashed potatoes, please.” following what Joel did, and handing her the menu.

“Alright. I’ll get those right out for you both.” Joel watches as the waitress leaves, his gaze returning back to the woman sitting in front of him.

“What are you looking at?” you tease.

“What, can’t a man take a moment to admire how beautiful his girlfriend and best friend looks?”

“Joel Miller, you're a very cheesy man.”

-

After placing the order for the food, conversation engulfed the both of you.

Twenty minutes flew by and food was finally on its way to your table.

The waitress placed the meals in front of you, and waved down another waitress to refill your wine glasses.

The both of you half way done your food, feeling too to finish what was left on your plates.

“Joel this was really nice, I’m really glad we got the chance to do this.”

“Well I'm glad you had a good time, my peach!” reaching for your hand from across the table.

“I got one more thing to show you tonight.” he grinned

“Oh yeah?” You watched as he flagged down the waitress for the check.

After Paying the check, you and Joel walked down what Texans called the ‘Texas boardwalk’, down to the sand to watch the sunset.

You two sat down on the soft but grainy sand, listening to the waves crash together, in blissful peace.

“I feel the happiest I’ve ever been.” Looking at the man beside you.

“That’s weird because.. I was just about to say the same thing.” His chocolate brown eyes are finally finding yours.

“Yeah, that’s so strange? It’s like we’re meant to be or something??” Letting a soft giggle out.

“I want to show you something.” Before even realizing what he said, he was standing up somewhat quickly (old man lol) and grabbing your hand to pull you up with him.

“Of course!” He was pulling you along, whatever it was he was bursting with excitement.

“Joel, baby slow down, whatever it is you want to show me will still be there in a few minutes.” You laugh at his eagerness.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m just really excited to show you.” He slowed down a little bit and you were still kinda jogging.

“Okay we’re almost there but I need to blindfold you.?” He said nervously.

“Okay.?” Closing your eyes as the cold feeling of the blindfold covered your eyes.

Joel grabbed both of your hands to guide you to wherever he was taking you.

“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing ahold of where he tied the blindfold.

“Yes?” He slowly pulled on the blindfold. The millions of candles were making it hard to focus on the big sign that said ‘will you marry me’.

There was Tommy and Sarah standing by the sign smiling all bright.

“You two!” You laughed pointing at them.

You walked closer, the word on the sign finally clicking.

“Are you being serious??” Shocked was the only emotion you had right now.

“Yes baby.” He smiled, getting down on one knee.

“Oh my.” Tears were forming, hands were shaking, your emotions were everywhere.

“Peach, ever since I’ve known you, you have always been the light to my darkness. You were there to help me with Sarah, you were there when I could barely keep the light on, you have been my rock for all of these years. Two years ago when we decided to take our relationship to the next level and start dating was one of the best days of my life. Not much changed, and I think that’s what amazes me everyday. So I’m asking, will you marry me, peach?” He said as he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, before opening the box and pulling out the ring.

“Yes, Joel miller I will marry you.” Tears are falling down your face as you hold your ring finger out, while he slides it on.

Not before he quickly gets up and picks you up, spinning around before pulling you into a kiss.

Joel slowly places you down as Sarah comes over and wraps her hands around both of you.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” She said tears softly falling down her cheeks.

“Thank you babygirl.” You said as you rubbed her back to comfort her.

Tommy walked over to embrace his older brother in celebration.

“Congrats brother, you're finally getting married!” He said, patting his big brother in the back.

“Thank you, I couldn't do it without you and Sarah helping me set this all up.” He smiled at his younger brother.

“Anytime.” Smiling at his brother. “Go back to your kid and your fiancée, I’m gonna load this stuff up in the truck.”

“Alright, holler if you need help!” Joel yelled towards Tommy.

-

After helping Tommy load the stuff in the back of his truck, the rest of the miller family headed home.

You, Joel and Sarah hooped into your pajamas and watch a new movie on the couch.

You cuddled up against Joel and Sarah cuddled up against you.

“Im so happy that I’m gonna be able to marry you.” You said in a hushed tone.

“Weird, I was just about to say the same thing.” He smiled.

And before you all knew it, the whole miller family was peaceful asleep on the couch.

[girasollake]

Can you please write something for Mattheo Riddle with academic rivals and if we get caught I’m blaming you

Tyty <3

✧ mattheo riddle x fem!reader x academic rivals x "if we get caught I’m blaming you"✧

( this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

❁ i love all variations of enemies to lovers hihi, anyway this might have some mistakes which i’ll probably fix in the future

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

You stormed out of the class the moment it ended. You couldn’t stand his remarks and comments on every topic, often resulting in an argument where the teacher had to step in to end it. You huffed and went outside to get some fresh air, Pansy followed your steps and you both sat down on the cold pavement. She took a cigarette out of the box and placed it in between her soft lips. To her surprise, you looked at her and extended your hand flat so that she could share one with you. She saw you smoke like at best - three times, throughout all the years she’s known you. You hated that smell, because whenever you smelt it he was somewhere close.

‘You want-‘

‘Yes.’ You cut her off and she silently placed a cigarette in your hand. ‘Don’t question it.’ You muttered as put the thing between your lips as well.

‘I wont.’ She mumbled as she pulled out a lighter.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke, both the taste and the feeling of smoking made you cough a bit. Pansy kept her mouth shut, but her eyes never left your figure.

‘What?’ You turned to her, still clearly upset.

‘Nothing.’ She sighed and took a puff. “I just think you should pay less attention to him, he sees that this rivalry makes your blood boil and he uses that to get a rise out of you.’

You didn’t reply for a moment, thick smoke slowly escaping your lips.

‘But I can’t let him win.’

‘You have been fighting for the best grades since i can remember, why are you so obsessed about it anyway?’

‘I-.. I don’t know. I just dont want to give him the satisfaction of being better than me.’

She nodded slowly, ‘You comin’ to the party on tomorrow?’

You sighed, ‘Probably not. We have classes on Monday.’

‘And? You have the whole Sunday to study’ She replied. ‘Mattheo will be there, you both need to relax for one fucking night, right?’ She tilted her head and smirked.

‘I still won’t go.’ You replied and took another puff.

‘Ohh come on!’ Pansy whined and she grabbed your arm to shake it roughly. ‘Pleaseee… I dont remember the last time we went to a party together..’

You looked at her and sighed deeply while closing your eyes, ‘I’ll think about it.’

She chuckled, ‘Merlin, you are so easy to persuade.’

‘You want me to say no?’ You remarked and she raised her hands in defense, her lips in a thin line so that she wouldn’t say anything more.

During supper on Saturday the Slytherin party was everything anyone could talk about. The more things you heard about it the less you wanted to go, but the previous day you agreed to Pansy’s request, now regretting it fully. You moved your fork around your plate, sometimes taking a bite of the food but mostly playing with it. As soon as you could exit the Great Hall you hurried to your dorm. After what felt like four hours of looking through your closet, you finally found the most decent outfit for the party. It started at 9 p.m. but you arrived an hour and a half later. After all you said you’d come, not when. You spotted Pansy in the crowd easily, she was currently engaging in a possibly flirtatious conversation with Theo Nott. You liked him, unfortunately, because it meant wherever he was Mattheo fucking Riddle would be close by. This time wasn’t any different. You slowly squeezed your way through the crowd of drunk students and tapped Pansy on the shoulder after reaching her side.

‘Why are you so late?’

‘What do you mean? I thought the party started at 11?’ you replied sarcastically.

‘Yeah, sure you did.’ She jokingly rolled her eyes at you.

‘Hi Theo.’ You gave him a smile.

He gave you a nod and went back to slowly sipping his whiskey. A moment later you felt someone squeezing between you and Pansy to rest their arms on both your and her shoulders.

‘Hello ladies, can I get you anything?’ A chirpy voice asked.

You chuckled, ‘Hi Enzo, nice to see you too.’ You wanted to add you didn’t want anything but Pansy was quicker.

‘Yeah, we both want the strongest thing you have.’

‘Wha-‘ You tried to interfere.

‘Our friend here needs to take her busy mind off of things.’

And with that Enzo nodded in understanding and disappeared into the crowd with a smirk.

‘Pans, what the fuck?’ You raised your voice.

‘Relax, you need a night off.’

You scoffed.

‘If he is having fun then you should too.’ She replied and nodded towards something.

You turned around to see Mattheo on a couch, sloppily making out with some Ravenclaw girl.

‘I’m gonna puke.’ You turned to Pansy. ‘That is not my idea of fun.’

‘I’m not saying you have to hook up with anyone! All I want us to do today is to get completely plastered tonight!’ She pleaded. ‘Please?’

You wanted to reply but before you could Enzo had brought the drinks. Part of you knew this was gonna have consequences, but the other part of you was like fuck it. You sighed and with a smirk took the beverage from his hand, you listened to the second option.

The night was full of dancing and drinking, mostly the second one which led to you sitting in a circle at 1:45 am, playing truth or dare. You were laughing at Fred Weasley’s poor try to do a split when he suddenly gave up and drank his shot as punishment. Then the bottle landed on you.

“So, truth or dare?” He asked you with a cocky smirk.

“Dare.”

To be honest, you would have chosen truth if not the fact that you were already a bit drunk.

“I dare you to go in a closet for 7 minutes with Riddle.” He and George started sneering.

You locked eyes with Mattheo and without thinking replied.

“I’d rather take a shot than spend a second with him alone.”

He scoffed at you, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You picked up your glass and the liquid soon started burning your throat.

On Sunday morning you woke up in your bed, how you got there though - you had no idea. You slowly sat up and felt like your head was going to explode in any moment. Then you remembered why you don’t get drunk, but it was too late to change that. You spent the rest of the day in your bed, away from any noise that would make this pain worse. You tried opening some books to study, but with this hazy mind and eyes not focusing on any sentence you quickly gave up and threw them to the side. After all, not studying for once wouldn’t bite you in the ass, right?

Monday morning was much better, you did your routine and the pain was gone. You quickly hurried to class and sat down next to Pansy just before the clock struck 9:00.

Professor Binns entered the classroom and everyone expected another boring lesson, where he hopefully falls asleep. Instead, he cleared his throat and told everyone to only leave their quills and a piece of paper on their desks. The students started looking at eachother in confusion, Binns had never done any sort of test without announcing it before.

“Today, I want to see how much you lot remember from the last few classes, there will be three questions, answer them briefly. You’ll have 10 minutes.”

Your eyes widened so much you thought they would pop out from the eye sockets. You were screwed, not only you hated this subject because you couldn’t remember much from what Binns was saying but you also haven’t studied because of this stupid party.

Everyone started groaning and trying to bargain with the professor but he was persistent. You scribbled the questions quickly as he was saying each one of them and you realised you don’t know anything.

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself.

You saw Mattheo giggling across the room and writing on the paper. If only you could read his mind and copy the answers, but you couldn’t. You started writing anything that came to your mind, none of it was probably right, but maybe you’d get some points for trying. Unlike Berkshire and Nott who didn’t even write the questions down.

When the time was up all the papers flew directly into the professor’s hand. The rest of the class went by much quicker and as soon as it ended you stormed out of the class.

At the end of the day you found yourself in your dorm, studying whatever you learned that day in class. You picked up your History Of Magic book and started flipping through it in order to write down the correct answers to the questions which you luckily remembered. They turned out to be way complicated than you thought, you were officially screwed. Before reading them you at least had hope Binns would give you some points, now the hope has vanished.

Then, out of nowhere, a crazy idea popped into your mind. You turned to the side to see your roomate sleeping soundly and slowly got up from your bed and went over to the door. Holding your hand over the knob, unsure of your choice, you sighed deeply.

“Fuck it.” You whispered to yourself and exited the dorm.

This was not a good idea and you knew it. But it was better than being worse than Riddle. At least that’s what you were telling yourself as you walked through the dark corridors of Hogwarts Castle. At night it was even harder to find the correct classroom where the professor would’ve kept the tests.

It felt like you have missed the correct room at least 10 times already, this was too hard. You were about to give up when you heard shuffling in the classroom a few metres away from where you stood. The door was slightly agape and there was a soft blue light coming out, someone was surely using lumos. You took a few small steps and remained as quiet as possible, peeking your head through the door you saw someone going through the desk drawers as quietly as they could. The person stood up and when your eyes landed on those messy curls, you instantly recognised him.

“Riddle?” You whispered as you entered the room. “The hell are you doing here?”

He looked up in horror, but immediately relaxed his stance when he saw it was you.

“I could ask you the same question.” He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Looks like we had the same idea. Didn’t think you were one to break the rules, though.”

“What do you mean?” You scoffed.

“You came here to replace your test with the correct answers, didn’t you?” He smirked at you and pointed to the piece of paper you were holding.

“Why are you here?” You avoided his question.

“For the exact same reason, love.” He waved his paper sheet.

“Don’t call me that.” You replied and came over to him. “I saw you giggling in class, surely you must’ve known the answers.”

He shrugged his arms, “I was giggling because I knew I was screwed.”

You rolled your eyes at him and took a look around the class.

“Have you found them, then?”

“I don’t think they are here.” He nodded towards the desk.

You went over to the cabinet on your right and opened the shelfs, finding your tests in the lowest one.

“You are so daft, Riddle.” You gave him a smirk and waved the papers in front of his face.

He scoffed at you and took them from your hand. He started looking for your names and you both successfully replaced your tests.

“I wanted to be better than you and now we are gonna be even.” You sighed.

“I’m always better than you, though.” He replied.

“No you are not.” You hissed.

“Mhm.”

“I’m going back to my dorm. I can’t stand another second with you.” You huffed and started walking away.

Mattheo didn’t respond, instead he smirked to himself, put the tests back in the drawer and started silently following after you.

“Fuck off Riddle.” You whisper-yelled at him when he caught up to you.

“Why do you want to be better than me so much?”

“Just because.”

You didn’t even know why, you just knew you couldn’t be worse than him. This unspoken rivalry had been going on for far too long and you never understood why it mattered to you so much. You stopped walking and looked up at him, even though it was dark you could see his soft features. You opened your mouth to say something when a soft meow echoed through the corridor. Mattheo instantly grabbed your hand and pulled you into the nearest room, which happened to be a small closet full of different jars containing various herbs. You felt his warm breath on your face.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” You whispered.

“Can you shut up for one second?” He whispered back.

“I’m just-“ He stopped you by putting his hand over your mouth.

You heard someone walking next to the door behind which you were hiding. You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, but feeling Mattheo’s warm hand on your face made you even more nervous. You slowly reached up and took his hand away. Your eyes were flickering between the door and each other’s faces. The light from a lamp Filch was carrying shined through the bottom of the door. It lit up the room to the point that you saw your enemy almost clearly. He looked… pretty. Saying you didn’t find him attractive would be a complete lie. You realised how close you were to each other, his body heat making you get goosebumps. This is the closest you had ever been and for the first time you didn’t find him annoying. His eyes were glued to the bottom of the door, waiting for Filch to go past the room. Slowly the light started fading and so did his features you were studying, like the scar on his nose you never noticed. You wondered where it was from.

“I think he’s gone.” He whispered which got you out of the trance.

“Hm?”

“Filch.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” You whispered and turned your attention to the door.

Mattheo kept his eyes on you, little did you know he also felt nervous with being this close to you. He noticed you were still holding his hand, you didn’t let him go after taking it off of your mouth. He changed the position of your hands, interlocking your fingers. It took you by surprise, but you didn’t show any reaction, visibly. He led you through the corridors as you slowly made your ways to your dorms. You were about to let go of his hand and head off to your room when he tightened the grip.

“Guess you fulfilled the dare after all.” He beamed.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“The night of the party you said you’d not spend a second with me and now you’ve spent much more than that.” He smirked.

“Wow, you are so full of yourself.” You let out a breathy laugh and a soft smile grew on your face. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t.” He reciprocated the smile.

You both looked down at your intertwined hands and slowly let go, your hand going back to hanging at your side.

“I still hate you, though.” You said with a smirk and started slowly walking away.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He replied with the same sentence he did the night of the party and smirked at you as well.

“Night, Riddle.”

“Night, love.” He replied and you rolled your eyes at him, but smirked to yourself after you were out of his sight.

The next morning History of Magic was your last class, which meant Binns had probably already graded your tests. He shook his head and said he is disappointed, as only two students got a good grade. You and Mattheo looked at each other and he sent you a wink.

“Stupid bastard.” You whispered to yourself, hiding your smirk and trying to ignore the feeling in your stomach.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

© girasollake 2023

i feel like this is bad .. sorry for the wait guys i am TRYING ..

[darling-i-read-it]

Burns

Charlie Swan x fem!reader, Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap (for both men, both are legal but carlisle is like 223297493 years old so do with that what you’d like lol), burns (second and first degree), doctors office, me knowing too much about twilight 

Author’s Note: IM WRITING A PART 2 RN BUT WANTED TO SEE IF YOU GUYS LIKED THIS <3 I literally randomly had a burst of inspo to write this and i lowkey love it…

Summary: You’re a waitress at the local diner to pay off tuition in the summer. You have a small crush on the chief of police who comes in to get his coffee from you. You thought that was all it was until you met the resident doctor when you have a mishap and now you’re stuck between two incredibly charming men that both have a little crush on you. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Forks, Washington was under a near constant cover of rain. You were aware of it when you woke up in the morning, prepared to see the dreary weather that greeted you through the window. You could smell the rain on the pavement before it came, see it in the clouds as they hovered above. You were always prepared for it, always ready for it. 

Today, the sun was out. Summer usually calls for something more temperate. You found that those days weren’t necessarily unwelcome, but never your favorite. Everyone went outside when it was sunny. You could see people you hadn’t seen in ages. You never made an effort to see them in the first place for a reason. There was an uncharacteristic amount of skin showing. It may only be mid 70s but everyone suddenly acted like the ocean water was a relief to their burning skin. 

You sweat easily, especially in the diner. The Lodge had little to no air conditioning and the sun brought people in droves. Everyone wanted a bite to eat. They all remembered the diner had milkshakes. It was never a great mix for a waitress. 

You turned the corner on your heel, giving a quaint smile to Cora, your coworker. She looked like she was going to melt away. 

“Do you think anyones gonna leave early today?” she asked quietly behind the counter. You shook your head. She had the coffee pot in her hand and was holding it tightly so it didn’t spill. You looked around the packed diner, laughter bubbling from sections where it normally was silent. You shook your head, giving her a sad look. 

“We’re in for one.” 

“I should’ve called out,” she muttered. “You should’ve called out. This place needs us.” You shook your head. 

“You’ve gotta put food on the table,” you reminded her. She had a kid who was going into middle school. You had met her when Cora brought her in, her headphones stuck in her ears and reading some trashy teen novel. 

“Always the voice of reason,” she muttered. “Plus, you gotta pay tuition.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

You were going to college in Seattle but always worked the summers back in Forks. You loved the little town despite its insanity. You found that most of it was quiet, even on louder days. Plus, it was always easy to find a job back home. You were practically shoved the waitress apron when you returned this summer. You had been doing it since you graduated high school, always trying to find something to keep yourself occupied. You were coming upon your senior year in college and the extra money helped immensely. 

“Hey, your boyfriends here,” Cora teased. She pushed herself off the counter to refill someone’s coffee cup. You furrowed your brows in confusion even though you knew exactly who she meant. 

You watched as chief of police Charlie Swan walked through the doors with a clink of the bell above his head. He met your eyes and gave you an awkward half wave, which you returned slightly more enthusiastically. He walked up to the counter, squeezing between the people sitting there. Someone said hello to him and he gave them a nod in acknowledgment. 

“You guys are busy today huh?” he questioned, scoffing. 

“Just a bit,” you admitted. His presence never ceased to bring butterflies to your stomach. Maybe you were harboring a small/not so small crush on the sheriff but you tried your best not to show it. You assured Cora it was just something silly for you to feel as you passed through your work day. Still, her eyes lingered on yours as she went around the counter to greet someone else because she knew you were busy. “It’s the sun.” 

“Brings out all the loonies,” he said. 

“I imagine you’re busy out there too.” He was always scanning around to make sure no one was doing anything wrong. His eyes flicked from you to the people beside him, then back to you. 

“Taking my 15.” 

“Just to see lil ol me?” you teased. Even as the words left your mouth you felt self conscious of them. This time though, he gave a half smile. 

“You make the best coffee I’ve ever had,” he promised. You tried not to get flustered. 

“Well, it looks like you need a double today, Sheriff.” 

“Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you?” You rolled your eyes. He leaned against the diner counter even though there were no seats. You turned around, every other table lost in your mind. Cora would help you out until he left.

“Well Charlie, it might be too hot for a hot coffee. You could’ve gone to one of those fancy coffee shops,” you offered, grabbing a coffee pot. 

“Yeah, can you imagine me ordering there? I have a hard enough time with you.” 

“I think I get what you mean by now,” you joked. You poured him a cup and grabbed three sugars and two creams. “Anything else?” 

“You always this quick with your service?” he questioned, looking at the people down the line who hadn’t gotten their food. 

“I’m just the coffee girl with a pretty smile. I don’t control the food orders.” You handed him a stirring stick as he opened his sugar packets. “Plus, you’re the chief of police Charlie. I don’t wanna get arrested.” He chuckled, a real genuine laugh. 

“I think I’ll let you off for this one.” You smiled at your success. The laugh was guaranteed to be the highlight of your shift. 

“Thanks Charlie.” You turned back to the kitchen which was starting to call things out. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am.” He grabbed some cash out of his wallet. “Keep the change.” 

“You’re my favorite customer Charlie,” you joked at his more than generous tip of 100%. He did a little salute with his finger and raised the cup to you. 

“Go do your job otherwise you’re bound to get more angry customers than I am.” 

You nodded once and bowed out of the conversation gracefully. You grabbed the food from behind you and started to bring it out. Cora gave you a look as you passed her, the smile plastered on your face a clear tell of your conversation. 

“Peach cobbler,” you said to one of your regulars. She was a small old lady who always came in on Saturdays, at exactly the same time. You enjoyed talking with her and catching up on her life. She got the same thing each time and the consistency was something you appreciated. “Sorry it’s been slower today Miss. Heidi. The heat has the whole of Forks out!” She shook her head, brushing you off. 

“No worries at all,” she assured you. “It’s not like I’m not gonna come back.” You shared in her shaky laughter. She picked up her fork just as you were about to leave and pointed it at Charlie. “You making heart eyes at the chief over there sweetheart?” You flushed immediately. Maybe you weren’t so great at hiding it. 

“Maybe. But keep your mouth shut Heidi,” you whispered with a smile. She chuckled. Her eyes lingered on Charlie who was finishing his coffee already. He had started a conversation with the man beside him. Charlie seemed to know everyone in town. 

“Aren’t you a little young for him?” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s perfectly constenting and legal,” you assured her. “I’m plenty older than his daughter if that’s what you’re gonna say.” 

“I was gonna mention.” Her eyes wrinkled at the edges, shaking her head. Her movements didn’t feel like she was disagreeing with you. More so that she was gossiping with a friend, just girls being girls. “He had his heart broken by her mother, you know. He’s a good man.” 

“Is that your consent Heidi? Because I don’t even know if he feels the same way.” Your voice was lighthearted. She grabbed your hand, her saggy skin feeling comforting. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much sweetheart.” You scrunched your face a little and shook off her words. You were still on the clock. 

“Enjoy your peach cobbler Heidi.” 

-

You brushed your hair out of your face. The sun had finally subsided for the evening, giving way for the clouds. You embraced their presence, appreciating the way that the cool air felt on your overworked skin. Cora was still hanging around after her shift, waiting for her husband to come pick her up. You sat on the back steps of The Lodge, watching the trees sway. 

“The air feels so crisp,” you muttered. 

“You say the weirdest things,” she grumbled, laughing. She was leaning against the building. “It’s the trees.” 

“I know.” You were going to leave right after work and finally drive back home but you needed a moment to sit and enjoy the day. It had been a long shift. Cora and you were officially trauma bonded. 

“How was the chief?” 

“Good,” you promised. “Sweet.”

“A guy can be sweet and catch criminals?” 

“He’s assertive,” you argued. When Cora laughed she did it with her whole chest. 

“Honey, you’re down bad.” You rolled your eyes and stood up. Cora’s eyes followed you as you did so, turning back to the door inside the diner. “You’re goin back into that hellhole?” 

“Forgot my phone,” you said. “Also, I am not. It’s a work crush. I’m entitled to one! Just like you like the produce guy!” 

“I do not like the produce guy. I think he’s hot. Big difference!” You rolled your eyes as you opened the door back inside. The heat hit you again, unpleasantly. You had to weave through the cooks to get back to the front. You couldn’t remember when you had put your phone down. You were making a phone call during your break. Maybe you had left it on hte steps outside after all? 

“Hey Jerry?!” you called to the cook in the back.

“What?!” 

“You seen my phone?” 

“No! All I’ve seen are burgers!” You rolled your eyes harder this time and dipped underneath the counter to see if you had put it with the sugars and stuff. You let out an annoyed groan when it wasn’t there. 

You turned too quick and ran right into the closing waitress. She was holding a hot pot of coffee and effectively spilled it all over you. You gasped involuntarily, the feeling of scorching coffee seeping through your clothes. The gasp turned into a seethe as you packed up. You could hear her speaking, the high pitched, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” reverberating off your eardrums. You had dropped coffee on yourself before. All you could think of was that you needed a towel and some cold water. 

You turned on a dime and walked back to the kitchen. You turned on the sink back there and fumbled your hand around for a towel to use. 

“Jerry, towel,” you mumbled, the burning skin now setting into a tingle. He turned his head around and saw you. He started to fumble around. You walked in front of him to grab the towel and just barely lost your balance, causing your hand to fly up onto the table. 

Right onto the stove. 

This time you yelped. The coffee was already forgotten as there was now more of an issue at hand. 

“Woah dollface!” Jerry exclaimed. He grabbed your wrist because you were just staring at your red hand. You had put your entire palm down. You looked up at him, tears staining your eyes from pain, and he brought you over to the sink. 

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he put it under the cold water. It didn’t subside any pain, just added another sensation. “Jerry that hurts!” 

“Hey Y/N, I have your phone in my apron.” Cora came through the door to witness you breathing heavily next to the sink, Jerry the cook practically holding you down. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” he explained. 

“She spilled coffee on me,” you blubbered childishly. You could feel all your body parts at once, like you were on fire. You had no brain power to say anything else. 

“Oh Jesus,” Cora muttered. She rushed forward, grabbing your wrist to look at it. “You gotta get this checked out honey.” You gave her a somber looking face. “I know, I know. I’ll take you. Where’s your car keys?” You reached in your apron with your non burnt hand. It was soaking wet from the coffee. 

“Is she okay?” the waitress asked, sticking her head through the window. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” Jerry said. 

“She what?!” 

Cora put her hand on your back, leading you out the door. You took deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. You were fine. You were gonna be fine. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “You have to g-”

“I’ll have Steven do it,” she said. Her husband. You gave her a look of pure thankfulness as she helped you into the passenger seat of her car. 

“I really don’t have to go to the hospital over this,” you tried to say. 

“I know you don’t. But I think it’s safer than waiting.” You put your head against your headrest. 

-

Cora dragged you by your free arm to the front desk. She was the one who gave your name and your information as you stood beside her, holding your hand. You looked like a mess, given the coffee all over you. You were sure this could all just be fixed by some water and ointment from the store but Cora insisted. 

She rambled on about how a family member hadn’t gone in for a burn and it ended up being more severe then they thought, damaging below the skin. Her words were not comforting. 

Eventually they called you back to be looked at. You sat on an exam table with a thin paper on top. A nurse had come in to check on you and give you something for your hand while you waited for the doctor. 

You were in a row of beds. Cora pulled the curtains aside to give you privacy. 

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” you said. 

“They don't get to know all your business. HIPAA or whatever.” You squinted. 

“I don’t think-” 

“Ladies.” Carlisle Cullen stepped through the curtain at the open side. He was holding a clipboard, a charming smile plastered on his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. “Y/N, I hear you burned your hand.” You nodded. 

“And her chest,” Cora muttered. She must have noticed Carlisle’s looks as well. Or maybe she just noticed your reaction to him. You cleared your throat. 

“I had coffee spilled on me.” 

“No, you should check it out. It’s bad.” You gave a look. Carlisle’s smile remained, shaking his head. You had heard of him but never had a reason to come out and see him. You wouldn’t even call this a valid reason. 

“Sounds like an awful case of bad luck.” You nodded. “Can I take a look?” He sat on a spinny chair and pulled it towards you. You extended your hand to him. 

“I’m gonna go call Steven,” she said to you. You nodded. She patted your back, her eyes lingering on your doctor even as she left. Carlisle held your hand in his, gently looking it over. You looked down at him. 

“A stove did this?” 

“Yeah. It was dumb,” you promised. “I lost my balance looking for a rag for the coffee burn.” 

“And that’s okay?” You nodded. 

“I think. I mean, my hand feels way worse,” you assured him. 

“Your friend seems to think otherwise.” 

“Cora’s dramatic by nature.” He laughed gently. 

“Well the stove fought back.” He wheeled backwards towards the table beside your bed. “It looks like second degree burns on your hand. I’ll send you home with some ointment for it and you’ll wanna wrap it up so that you don’t get it caught on your clothes or anything.” You nodded. “I’ll wrap it for you first, show you how to do it.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He stood up and fumbled in the desks drawer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check on the coffee burns?” He glanced back at you. You looked down at your shirt. It had mostly gotten your stomach. You could still feel pain there, probably driven by the fact you never got to clean it off. 

“If you think it’ll help?”

“Stomach burns are interesting just because of their placement. It’s harder to wrap them. I think it would be beneficial for me to make sure they’re only first degree, if anything.” You nodded. You would listen to him read the phone book. 

“Okay.” He walked back over. Before even touching your shirt he made eye contact with you. 

“Only if you’re comfortable. I can wait till your friend comes back if you want me to.” You shook your head. 

“I’m okay!” you promised. You cleared your throat and grabbed the hem of your shirt. You carefully lifted it up over your torso, holding it just above the wet spot. Carlisle’s eyes went down to your body. 

“You said the hand hurt more?”

“By far.” 

“Can I touch you?” Please. You cleared your throat again. 

“Sure.” He put an icy hand on your hip, lightly brushing your burn with his thumb. 

“How much does that hurt? Scale one to ten?” 

“Five.” He applied more pressure. 

“Now?” 

“Seven. Your hands are really cold, which could be worsening the effects,” you joked. He chuckled, his lips turning up a bit. 

“Sorry about that.” He backed up a bit. You put your shirt back down. “Those are first degree burns. It only hit in some spots. Should feel numb or touchy for a couple days. You can put the ointment there too but you shouldn’t have to wrap it up.”

“The hand needs it.”

“The hand needs it,” he agreed. He had put some stuff on the counter, which he now took in his hands. He squeezed something out a bottle and put a bit of it on his finger, taking your hand back in his. “Let me know if the pressure is too much.” 

You watched him, your free hands fingers curled under the bed you were sitting on. He gently covered your hand, using such a light touch that it was like he was barely there. 

“You’re good at this.” 

“It’s my job,” he said, smiling. “Are you from out of town? I don’t think I’ve had you in here before.” 

“Just lucky,” you quipped. “I go to college in Seattle too so I’m usually out there.” He nodded slowly. 

“Fancy.”

“The drive back is beautiful.” He nodded slowly. His hand lingered on yours as he examined his work. “So is this town.” 

“Do you work at the diner?”

“Yeah! That’s where I got this beauty.” He scooted back, grabbing the bandages.

“I think my son’s seen you there. He’s graduating high school in a year and likes his seclusion,” he explained. 

“Son?” you asked. 

“Edward.” 

“No, I’m just stunned you have a child. You look far too young,” you said, laughing incredibly. He grinned sheepishly. You tried not to think of him being married or the lack of ring on his finger. 

“He’s technically my foster son,” he described. 

“I see. Do you do it all on your own?” You winced. That was aggressive. “I don’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head, completely cool. “Yes, they’re all under my care. I haven’t found the right one quite yet. Plus, she’d have to take on more than a couple stragglers with me.” His eyes flicked up to yours. They met for a moment longer than they should have. You had to look away. 

“Sounds like a task.” 

“It’s definitely not for everyone.” He tightened your bandage. “There. I’ll send you home with some of this, it’ll be sent to wherever you get your prescriptions.” He stepped back from you. “Try to be careful around stoves next time.”

“Yes sir.” He gave you one more look, a kind hearted smile and then was on his way. You followed him until he was gone out of view. You were glad he hadn’t checked your pulse because you were sure it was beating out of your chest. Cora came around the corner. 

“He’s too old for you too,” she said. You laughed dryly, shaking your head. You could practically still feel his touch on your hand. So gentle. 

“You’ll learn to get used to it,” you teased her. She rolled her eyes. “Were you waiting out there the whole time?” 

“Wanted to give you and Doctor Dreamy some alone time.” 

“You’re such a wingwoman!” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Sheriff.” 

Part 2

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 28

Warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of cheating, betrayal, heartbreak, break up's

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader | mentions of Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve goes down memory lane.

Word count: 4.8k+

series masterlist

-

Steve is pacing around his dark room, feeling restless and dejected. His house is empty, no one but him occupying the empty and lifeless spaces. It’s quiet – despite the TV being on in his room, it’s quiet, too quiet. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time, so lonely and sad. 

He blames it on the previous night, when his backyard was filled with life and laughter, when you were here, when you sat beside him, laughed at his jokes, talked to him. 

He blames it on the leather band that is now adorning his right wrist, the words that are engraved into it, taking him back to a better and much easier time, when you were still children, when you were still friends, when the pain wasn’t anywhere near yet. 

He blames it on the perfume that now lingers on the shirt he had worn last night, you hugged him when you said goodbye and he couldn’t find it in himself to wash it yet.

He blames it on the box that is standing beside his bed, the one that Nancy had found on the night of their breakup. 

He blames it on the guilt and the regret he still feels so deep inside his soul. 

Every time he is with you, he gets taken back to the night he had made the biggest mistake before it skips to the night back in December, when he shouldn’t have let you go, when he shouldn’t have let you let him go.

Every time he is with you, he can’t make sense of what was going on in his head when he decided to throw it all away, when he decided to break your heart. He didn’t want her. He never did. He wanted you, it was always you. But he was afraid, so deeply insecure that he let his fears guide him. He always searched for your dark side, not seeing that there wasn’t one, that it was him, only him and his dark thoughts – you would leave him sooner or later, right? You would leave and find someone better. And, you would forget all about him. You would realize that you never loved him as much as you thought you did. You would forget all about him. He would be nothing but a faceless memory. Steve couldn’t bear to stand that thought, so he left first, thinking that that would be easier. It wasn’t. It isn’t. 

He stops pacing and for a moment, he looks out the window, watching the rain crash harshly onto the pavement in his driveway. Lightning surges through the sky and thunder rumbles loudly. He takes a deep breath, eyes following the rain drops slipping down the window. 

He wonders where you are, right now. 

Are you alone? 

Are you with him? 

He almost wants to laugh at the irony. Around this time, last year, these were probably your thoughts. 

Is he alone? 

Is he with her?

He can hear your voice, those questions that must’ve gone through your mind when he started skipping date nights with you to spend time with her. When he stopped calling you, every night. 

Now he thinks about you. 

About you with Eddie. 

He saw the way you looked at him when he talked about the girls he had been with, he saw the way your eyes flashed with pain, the way you looked so crestfallen for a moment before the anger crossed your face. For a brief moment you looked at Eddie the way you looked at him on Halloween night. 

It made him realize something that he kept ignoring desperately. 

Steve knew that there was more than friendship between you and Eddie. He knew that Eddie fell for you. He was hoping that you wouldn’t fall for him, but you did, it happened long ago, already. You were blind to it and Steve didn’t want to see it. 

And now he can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been torturing him since last night. 

Despite all the things that happened between you both, despite the distance and the months of silence before you let him back into your life – Steve still had hope that he would get another chance with you. Maybe it was his delusions that kept telling him that, maybe it was his heart that kept feeding him with hope because after all this time, it is still yearning for you. Or maybe, it’s the lingering touches and the looks you are still giving him, the energy between you both, the love that has never gone away. 

The hope inside of him dwindled the second he saw the betrayal in your eyes, last night. 

Sick of his feelings and his thoughts, he decides to distract himself by cleaning his room. He turns off the TV and turns on the music instead – Back to the old house by The Smiths starts playing. 

After taking a look around his room, he starts off by taking the sheets off and throwing them into the washer.

He gathers all the magazines that are laying all across his desk, and walks over to his bookshelf, he throws the magazines into the box that he keeps on the lowest shelf. His eyes fall on one of the books that he has yet to give you back – Pride and Prejudice. He must have read the book five times already, reading it makes him feel closer to you. He remembers all the times he walked in on you with your nose stuck in that book, you really loved it and he really loved watching you read it – how your eyes lit up, how your brows would furrow and your lips would curl into a smile. 

With a sigh he tears his eyes away from it. 

He wipes down the desk and his nightstand next, ignoring the picture of you, him and Robin that he had framed a while back. He pays no mind to the box on the floor or anything else that reminds him of you and for a few minutes, it works. 

He organizes his closet, throwing out clothes that he no longer wears. The old shoeboxes on the ground that hold memories from his childhood and early school days. He doesn’t dare to peek inside, knowing that there will be reminders of a friendship he once had with you – a friendship that could never come close to the one you have now. 

He dusts off the shelves, puts new sheets on his duvet and his pillows, vacuums the carpets and throws out the trash.

He looks around his room, sighing when he looks at the clock – 1am. He isn’t tired, not even close to it, and all he can think about is you… still. He runs his fingers through his hair and sits down on his bed. 

The storm has passed but it’s still raining and Steve feels restless, just as he did all day. He looks at the pile of clothes that he has yet to put away into a box. A jacket that he hasn’t worn in years lies on the very top. His brows knit together and his eyes flash with curiosity when he notices the white paper that peeks out of the pocket. 

He gets up and walks towards it, leaning down, he reaches for the folded paper. He turns it around, a smile appears on his face when he recognizes your handwriting. –  For Stevie 

Without even hesitating to, he unfolds it and walks back towards his bed, sitting down. For a moment, he stares at the words on the paper that you ripped out of your notebook – the one you always carried around, the one you had written all your little poems in, the one you had used to write him little notes during class, the one he gave you when you were fifteen. He got it at a bookstore in Indianapolis, when his parents took him there for a weekend. The pink leather and the cherries adorning the little book reminded him of you, he had to get it. 

He licks his lips, a sad look flashing across his face when he realizes just how old the note is. It’s from October 1982. 

Remember when I told you that I’d be much more popular than you someday, Stevie? Well, guess who just got accepted into the cheer team! 

It’s only a matter of time before I become cheer captain – make some space, King Steve, I am so stealing your crown and your throne. 

P.S. Thanks for convincing me to go to tryouts! You should finally take me to one of those parties you always go to! :) 

His lips curl into a smile, he remembers that day, he remembers it so well.

You were beaming at him when you passed him that note, your eyes were shining, your smile was big. You were so excited and he was too, he was excited for you. He remembers the note he wrote back to you. 

Make some space? You’re getting your own crown and throne, honey. What’s a king without his queen anyways? 

P.S. Are you asking me out on a date? Isn’t it my job to ask you? :)

He remembers the way your cheeks flushed, the way your eyes widened and you started blushing. You blinked as you stared at the note. The way you turned to look at him with a shy smile on your lips, while he looked at you with a smirk on his face – as though he wasn’t freaking out on the inside. His heart was racing and his stomach churned at the thought that he might have overstepped. He liked you, he always liked you and he was always afraid to mess things up with you, to ruin your friendship by taking the leap and just kissing you the way he always wanted to, by asking you out on a date, by asking you to become something more than just a best friend. He wanted you to be his – even when you were nothing but clueless little kids, he wanted you to be his princess. 

He wonders if you kept that note – if you kept any of the notes he had written back to you. Or if you threw them all away when he broke your heart and dumped you like you never meant anything to him. 

He kept them all, every little note that you had written to him, he kept it. 

He folds the note back together and puts it on his nightstand before he gets up, walking towards the box that holds all your belongings, he sits down on the ground, not looking into the box just yet. 

He knows he shouldn’t do this, he knows he shouldn’t rip open old wounds, he shouldn’t let them bleed again. He’s been hurting enough already, but he can’t help it – he wants to go down memory lane, he needs to. 

He looks at the collection of polaroids first, the ones of you before your relationship, when you were just best friends. He picks out the one of you, just you. You in your cheerleader uniform, a green scrunchie in your hair, an excited look on your face as you hold up the pom poms and smile into the picture that he had taken of you. 

He remembers the way his heart was fluttering in his chest, the way it skipped a beat when he saw you in that uniform for the very first time, the way you hugged him and thanked him over and over again for convincing you to join the team – only because you loved the green uniform so much. It makes him laugh, you really liked the uniform more than you did cheerleading itself – nonetheless, you were the best cheerleader on the team, the best cheer captain. 

He blinks as he stares at that picture for a long time – you looked so happy, so carefree. Not a single bad thought was on your mind, your heart was still so full of hope and love, your eyes showed nothing but pure joy. Your heart wasn’t broken yet. 

He can’t believe that he was the one to take that happiness away from you. 

His eyes well up with tears but he blinks them away, putting the picture down. 

The next picture is one that you took of him when he wasn’t paying attention, he was wearing a christmas sweater, his face covered in flour, his brows furrowed, he looked concentrated as he was decorating christmas cookies – Stevie, December 1982. You drew hearts around his name. 

With sadness in his heart, he continues to flip through the pictures that you both had taken over the years. Some of them make him smile, some of them make him want to cry. 

The note he finds next takes him back to the night when he had first kissed you.

It was one of the best nights. 

The snow was falling, you were both smiling. Your hand was shaking not from the cold but from all the excitement. 

He had taken you home after your first date – he gave you everything, he could. He did everything to make your very first date a perfect one, a special one. He took you to Enzo’s, and now that he thinks about it, he understands why the elderly couple who sat at the table next to you were giggling and looking over at the two of you as they talked in hushed whispers, you were both so young to be at a restaurant like that, but it was nice, it was perfect. You were both in your own world, unaware of anything that was going around you. 

He should have never left that world. 

You looked at him like he was the best thing that was ever created. You looked at him with stars in your eyes and a smile that never looked happier than it did that night. You leaned into his touch when he cupped your cheek, you giggled when he removed that snowflake that landed on the tip of your nose. 

He felt so happy that night. His heart was so full of love. He couldn’t stop staring at you. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. 

He didn’t want to do it on the first date, he wanted to wait. But he couldn’t. Not when his heart was screaming at him to finally do it, not when you looked at him like that, not when he felt like it was the only thing he was ever meant to do. 

You were standing in your driveway, inching closer and closer to each other and then, he kissed you. 

He kissed you under the falling snow. 

And it was perfect, it was everything. 

The start of something beautiful – before he ruined it all. 

Quiet sniffles sound through the room, the music stopped playing a long time ago, the rain is still falling, just like his tears that start to roll down his cheeks as he continues to read your notes, tracing every word written. 

The notes and letters from the start of your relationship are so filled with love, happiness that shines through simple words, sentences that make his heart soar and hurt so badly, at the same time. You were happy with him, and you loved him, you truly loved him. He can even feel it through old letters and pictures. 

Was there ever a reason to doubt you? 

Was there ever a reason to doubt the love you had for him? 

Was there ever a reason to think that you could ever leave him? 

No. 

Truly, there was never a single reason for him to believe that you would ever hurt him, that you would ever leave him.  

You gave him your everything, even on your worst days, you gave him more than you should have. You gave him unconditional, undying love. You made him happy and smiled through your own sadness when he wasn’t feeling well and you continued giving even when he was taking so much from you. 

And as the months had passed, the words on the ripped out pages began to sound more desperate. Sadder and more heartbreaking as you begged for his love, not knowing that Steve had left the little world you got stuck in. While you were still holding onto something that had died, he was already in a whole different world – one of hatred and self loathing, one that led him to ruin something that was once so dear to him. 

Something that started with a true romance, a love so pure and real turned into something cruel – false promises, empty words and lies became his and your reality. He held your heart and he kept ripping it apart, piece by piece. He hurt you so badly. He accused you of things that you had never done, he gave you the cold shoulder whenever his dark thoughts fed him lies about you, he treated you so unkindly. 

And yet, you never loved him any less.

You still looked at him with love in your eyes. You still searched for his touch, for his warmth. You still wanted him around, even on days when he had been nothing but cruel and awful to you, you still wanted him. You just wanted your boyfriend. You just wanted him to love you and he did. He really did but even through his selfishness, he could see how the light was fading in your eyes, how sadness was a bigger emotion in you than happiness was, how the love you had for him was making you miserable because all he did was hurt you and all you did was love him. 

And then, she stepped into his life and something in him changed. 

They met up at the library twice to study. The third time he took her to the diner and then the coffee shop downtown. By the fifth time, he had sneaked into her room but that was long after the project was over. 

The miserable feeling that he caused himself wasn’t there whenever he was with her. She made him smile again, she made him laugh and she made him forget – she distracted him and blinded him from all his pain and guilt. She distracted him enough for him to stop calling you to say ‘goodnight’ or ‘I love you’, something that he would’ve done weeks before he had met her. 

You never knew about the things he had done. You never knew that he was sneaking around with her behind your back. He would tell you that he was with Tommy but in reality, he was taking her out to diners and the movies, he would take her back to his place – sometimes the phone would ring and he would ignore it, he knew it was you, no one else ever called. He ignored the awful feeling that was nestled deep inside him, he ignored his heart that was screaming at him, he ignored, risked and sacrificed everything for a moment of bliss with Nancy – as though she or anything else could ever make him stop thinking about you. 

You were unaware of everything that was happening behind your back. While he was loving on another girl, you were writing love notes to him. 

He never touched her, he never kissed her, he never cheated on you, but what he did was just as bad. He betrayed you, he broke your heart and he dumped you while you were still holding onto him. 

You kept loving him. You kept slipping notes into his pockets, into his books, into his locker. You were longing for his love, for his touch, for the affection he had once given you. And you never let go of the hope that he would love you again. You kept trying and trying to take things back to the way they were before. 

But you were losing him to a girl he didn’t even love. 

Steve feels nauseous, his stomach churns as he stares at all the things in front of him, all the love notes, all the pictures, all the things that belong to you. He takes a look at what he ruined. 

How many nights have you spent crying while he was out there wasting time with her? 

He hates himself, he hates himself so much. 

He remembers the notes you had written to him when he was already seeing her. He remembers the way your face fell when he didn’t unfold the paper right away, the way he normally would have done. He remembers the look in your eyes and the way your smile fell. The way you kept sneaking glances at him during class, waiting for a note back, only to find out that that was the beginning of the end. 

He didn’t write you any notes anymore. 

But you kept writing them. 

You kept looking at him with love in your eyes even when he was doing nothing but make you cry. 

You kept kissing his cheek and whispered ‘I love you, Stevie’ whenever he dropped you off at home, not knowing that Nancy sat in the passenger seat, all the nights before. 

You kept trying. 

And he kept ruining. 

Tears stream down his face, falling down onto the note that he is holding in his hand, staining the paper and the ink. He feels the regret, the guilt, the pain of what he had done to you, as though it just happened. 

He felt sadness and guilt before, but never like this. He had never allowed himself to feel it all. 

Now all he can think about is how much he truly hurt the person that meant everything to him – that still means everything to him. The only one he truly loved. 

He is not the same person he used to be. He is not a foolish boy anymore. He wouldn’t hurt you like this now but he can’t undo anything. He can’t take things back, he can’t make it up to you, no matter what he does, no matter what he tries to do, he can’t make up for the things he had done to you. 

Through his tears, he looks at the last item in the box, an old magazine. He takes it out, eying it through his blurry vision. He flips through the pages, about to throw it on the ground before him when something falls out from between the pages, landing on his lap. 

He sniffles, frowning as he looks at the folded paper – another note. Unlike all the other ones, he doesn’t seem to recognize this one. He had never seen it before. Dread rushes through him. 

You always hid the notes in obvious places – this one isn’t very obvious. This was your magazine. 

He turns it around, his name is written on it, just like on all the others, but he can’t remember reading it. 

Did you put the note into the magazine, hoping that he would find it someday? 

Did you even put it in there or did he do it himself because he no longer cared about the words written to him? 

He wipes his tears away, taking slow but steady breaths as he unfolds it, noticing how much bigger this note is than any of the other ones he had read. His heart starts beating faster as his eyes skim over the letter. 

His throat feels tight, his chest feels heavy – a part of him doesn’t even want to read it, it’s in the past, it shouldn’t matter anymore, right? …. But it does, it still matters. 

So, after a few deep breaths he starts reading. 

I’m sure you’re sick of these notes and letters, it’s been a while since you wrote one back to me, it’s been 6 weeks actually. I don’t know why I even bother anymore, you don’t even seem to want them. I’m pretty sure that you don’t even read them anymore. You used to be so excited about them, now you just don’t care anymore. I don’t even know if you still care about me or us. 

You don’t talk to me as much as you used to. I never know what you do or where you are. I keep leaving the window open for you, hoping that you’ll come but you don’t, you never do anymore. And I can’t look away from the fact that something has changed between us. I tried to look away, I really did because I didn’t want to see how your eyes no longer search for me but for her. I kept ignoring things, I kept telling myself what I wanted to hear and closed my eyes to what was happening in front of me. I kept holding onto the past, onto the love you once had for me, I kept holding onto the promises you had made because I wanted to believe that you wouldn’t lie to me but you changed, we changed. 

But maybe this is just me overthinking, maybe nothing is wrong, maybe you still want me, maybe you still love me. I hope you do. I hope you still love me, Steve. I don’t want to live in a world where we aren’t together. 

I hope that you will tell me that you still love me. I hope that you will hold me again the way you used to. I hope that things can go back to the way they were before. 

If you’re reading this, I love you. 

Steve’s eyes are red and bloodshot already but the tears won’t stop falling, the sadness spreads inside of him like a sickness. His heart feels so heavy in his chest. 

A sob threatens to fall from his lips when he reads the date on the back of the note. 

October, 30th 1984 

You wrote it the day before he broke your heart. 

You wrote it knowing that you were losing him. 

You wrote it in hopes that he still loved you and that he still wanted you, not knowing that he would shatter your heart a day later. 

His heart never felt heavier than it does now. It’s hurting and bleeding, not for himself but for you. 

All he can think about is the look on your face, the pain and the sadness in your eyes, the absolute heartbreak. 

But he also remembers the acceptance. You didn’t question him. You didn’t ask him to repeat those words. You didn’t ask ‘why’. You only nodded at his words and said ‘okay’ and that was it. He never understood it. He understands it now. 

That moment was when you realized that you weren’t overthinking, after all. That there was something wrong. His words, his lies confirmed your words on the note.

He shattered a heart that was already broken – a heart that he kept breaking for months and months, only to crush it completely at the very end. All the tears you have shed, all the sadness you had felt, all the pain he had caused – he was making you suffer. 

His tears keep falling on the note, ruining the ink on the paper. 

With shaky hands, he drops it on the floor and he buries his face in his hands, allowing himself to let go and cry. He wishes that he could think of better moments. He wishes that he could go back to that night and change it all. He wishes he could go back to the night of your first kiss. 

The night when the light in your eyes still shined, the smile that played on your lips, the wind that blew through your hair, the way you looked at him, the way it felt to kiss the love of his life. 

That moment was so unlike the one on Halloween, last year. 

He didn’t only break your heart, he also broke you. 

And yet, you are still here. 

You are still here. 

You never left. 

You always stayed, no matter what. 

No matter the fights, no matter the pain, no matter the betrayal and the heartbreak. You are still here. 

You stayed. 

And you never planned on leaving.

Tears roll down his cheeks, the sobs fall from his lips, his body is shaking from sadness and anger, self hatred and pain. 

Right now, he wants nothing more than to feel your touch, to feel your arms around him, to hear your soothing voice, to hug you and hold you and never let go, but all he can do is wrap his hand around the wristband on his right arm and hold it against his chest – the only thing that makes him feel closer to you. He wouldn’t deserve to feel your touch. He doesn’t deserve you. He never did. 

His world comes crashing down when that realization hits him so harshly. 

He was trying.��

He was ready to fight for you, he was ready to fight for a second chance. 

But the only right thing to do is to let you go, the way you asked him to months ago when you said goodbye to him in your driveway. 

He knows it is the right thing to do and yet, he can’t fight the feeling in his heart that still longs for you. 

A heart that will always long for you. 

-

tagging friends & mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @hellfire--cult @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfirebunnyxx @succubusmunson @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @chrissymjstan

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ CHEMTRAILS OVER THE COUNTRY CLUB ♡·˚

— [♡] ; When you're facing the fallout of a forbidden romance with Toji, he comes back to pick up the pieces ｡°. fushiguro toji

tags: dad's best friend, fem!reader, forbidden romance, angst, healing, second chances, age gap, a bit ooc toji but not too much!

wc. 5.3k

Toji Fushiguro was back in town after three long years. You could still remember the day he left, a cool spring morning, the sun just breaking through the clouds as your father embraced him, clapping his back like old times. You were younger then, eyes wide with admiration, secretly hoping he would look at you differently one day. But he never did. Not until now.

When Toji first returned, you felt a pull in your chest, a desire you couldn’t shake off. He was different—broader, rougher around the edges, yet those same eyes lingered on you a little longer now. It didn’t take long for the first stolen kiss. It was late, just outside your father’s house, and you could barely breathe as his hands cupped your face, his lips crashing into yours like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Every touch since had been electric—secret, urgent, dripping with the tension of everything that could go wrong.

But it had to stay hidden. Your father trusted Toji like a brother, had been talking about his return for weeks, thrilled to finally have his best friend back. And all the while, you and Toji exchanged knowing looks, hands brushing in the hallway when no one was watching, a shared understanding that this thing between you was becoming impossible to ignore.

It all came to a head the night of the party. The house was packed with family and friends, laughter ringing out, music playing in the background. You had spent the evening avoiding Toji, knowing that even a glance would betray what was going on between you. But as the night wore on, you found yourself outside in the quiet, leaning against the railing of the porch. That’s when Toji came out, his eyes dark and full of the same need you felt.

"We shouldn’t," he whispered, but his lips found yours anyway, desperate and hungry. His hand trailed down your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, only the heat of his body and the thrill of the risk.

But neither of you had heard your father step out behind you.

"What the hell is going on here?"

His voice was ice, and you froze, the blood draining from your face as you pushed Toji away. But it was too late.

Your father’s face twisted in rage as he charged at Toji, fists swinging with an anger you had never seen before. Toji didn’t fight back. He didn’t even raise his hands to defend himself, just took the blows as if he deserved every single one. His jaw was clenched, eyes flicking toward you even as your father’s fist collided with his face again.

"Stop it!" you screamed, tears spilling down your cheeks. "Dad, stop!"

But your father wasn’t listening, his anger blinded by betrayal. You were trembling, unable to breathe as you watched Toji take hit after hit, blood streaking down his face. He never struck back, only stood there, shoulders tense with guilt, eyes filled with something between regret and longing.

"Get out of here," your father finally spat, stepping back, his chest heaving as he pointed toward the street. "Get the hell out of here, and don’t come near my daughter again."

Toji glanced at you one last time, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just turned and walked away, blood dripping onto the pavement, his broad back disappearing into the night.

You stood there, sobbing, fury bubbling up inside you. "How could you do that?" you shouted at your father, voice breaking. "You don’t get to decide who I care about!"

"Care about?" he barked back. "That man—he's been seducing you behind my back!"

You shook your head, tears falling harder now. "I wanted it. You don’t understand, Dad. I—"

"I don’t want to hear it." He cut you off, his voice hard but broken. "He’s gone, and that’s the end of it."

But it wasn’t the end for you. It couldn’t be. Not with the way Toji had made you feel, not with the way you had needed him. The night stretched on, the echoes of your father’s anger fading as you stared down the street, hoping that somehow, Toji would come back.

But deep down, you knew he wouldn’t.

The house felt hollow after that night. The laughter and noise from the party had long since faded, leaving only a tense, uncomfortable quiet that weighed on you like a suffocating blanket. You had locked yourself in your room, the door shut so tightly that even the world outside felt distant. The darkness of the room was soothing in its isolation, a retreat from everything that had shattered in a single moment.

You couldn’t face your father. Not after the fight, not after what he had done to Toji. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Toji walking away, blood dripping from his lip, his eyes so full of guilt that it tore something deep inside you. And your father’s voice, still ringing in your ears—his anger, his betrayal. How could he understand?

Days passed, and you barely noticed. You hadn’t left your room, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even showered. The world outside had become a distant memory, reduced to the muffled sounds of your father moving through the house or the occasional knock on your door that you ignored.

"Please," his voice would come through the door, softer than you’d ever heard it. "Just come out and eat something."

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The ache in your chest was too much, a heavy emptiness that spread through your limbs, making it hard to move, hard to breathe. The bed had become your only refuge, the sheets tangled around you as you curled into yourself, trying to find warmth in the coldness of everything that had happened.

You missed him. More than you could admit, more than you thought possible. The memory of his touch lingered on your skin, the way his lips had felt against yours, the way his hands had held you like you were something precious, something he needed. But it was gone now. All of it. And all because your father couldn’t understand.

A soft knock came at the door again. You ignored it, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

"I’m sorry," your father’s voice came through, barely audible. "I shouldn’t have done what I did. Please, just talk to me."

But you stayed silent, tears slipping down your cheeks as you buried your face in the pillow. Talking wouldn’t change anything. Nothing could change what had already been broken.

You heard him sigh on the other side of the door before the sound of his footsteps retreated, leaving you alone again in the quiet. The loneliness felt like it was sinking into your bones, but you welcomed it. It was better than facing the reality outside that door, better than pretending everything could go back to normal.

Time passed in a blur, and the exhaustion that clung to you was overwhelming. You didn’t care that you hadn’t eaten in days, that your hair was a tangled mess, or that the air in your room had grown stale. None of it mattered anymore. Not without Toji.

The days bled into each other, the walls of your room feeling like they were closing in. Your body ached from lying in bed for so long, but the weight of everything made it impossible to move. The darkness had become your constant companion, the silence your only comfort. Each breath felt like an effort, as if you were trapped under the heaviness of your own thoughts.

Your nails, once long and neatly kept, were bitten down to jagged edges. You hadn’t even realized you were doing it at first, but now the skin around them was raw and red, angry welts forming from the constant gnawing. Each bite was a small release, a way to keep your mind from spiraling further into the pit of despair that had taken root inside you. The pain was grounding, but it didn’t last. Nothing did.

You barely noticed the footsteps outside your door anymore, the occasional knocks blending into the background noise of your misery. Your father had stopped trying to get you to come out days ago, though you could still hear him sometimes, pacing outside your room or talking quietly to himself. His presence was more of a ghostly figure now, a reminder of the fracture between you that neither of you seemed capable of mending.

You stared at your hands, the torn nails a stark reminder of how far you had fallen. Each broken piece felt like a reflection of what was happening inside you—destroyed, unraveled, unable to be fixed. The thought of Toji walking away, bloodied and silent, haunted you. He hadn’t looked back, hadn’t fought for you. And that was what hurt the most.

Another knock on the door. You didn’t respond, just like you hadn’t for the past few days. But this time, there was something different in the air, a tension you hadn’t felt before.

"Someone’s here to see you," your father’s voice came, hoarse, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

You stayed quiet, too drained to even muster the energy to refuse.

There was a brief silence, then a heavier knock. "It’s me."

Toji’s voice cut through the fog in your mind like a blade, sharp and unexpected. Your heart lurched, the pain in your chest flaring up all over again. You thought you had wanted to hear from him, to see him, but now, with him just on the other side of the door, it felt like too much. It felt like opening a wound you hadn’t even begun to heal.

But still, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

"Please, just… just talk to me," Toji said, his voice low, almost pleading. "Your dad… he’s worried about you. Hell, I’m worried about you."

The tears were already forming in your eyes, the overwhelming emotion making it hard to breathe. You bit down on your already torn nails again, feeling the sting of the raw skin as the tears slipped down your face. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to stay away. That’s what you had resigned yourself to—his absence.

"Come on," he pressed gently. "At least let me in for a minute."

You didn’t want to let him in. You didn’t want to face him, to confront the mess that had been made, the shattered pieces of what you thought might have been something real. But the sound of his voice was too much, too familiar. Your hand moved on its own, reaching for the door handle, your body trembling as you slowly twisted it open.

Toji stood there, tall and silent, his eyes soft with concern as he looked down at you. His hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes casual, like he had just come from his own place, but it was the weariness in his face that hit you the hardest. He looked just as broken as you felt.

Your father stood a few steps behind him, watching with an anxious expression, but he didn’t say anything. He just gave a small nod to Toji before walking away, leaving the two of you in the tense silence of the hallway.

Toji took a step forward, his gaze flicking down to your hands. His expression tightened when he saw the state of your nails, the angry red skin that lined your fingertips. "You’ve been…"

You pulled your hands back instinctively, hiding them behind your back. "I’m fine," you whispered, but your voice cracked, betraying the lie.

Toji’s face softened even more, and without saying anything, he stepped into your room, closing the door behind him. The room felt even smaller now with him in it, his presence overwhelming in a way that made your heart race. But it wasn’t just that—it was the way he was looking at you, as if you were fragile, as if you might break at any moment.

"You don’t look fine," he murmured, his voice deep and quiet. He reached out, his hand gently brushing the side of your face, his thumb grazing the corner of your lip in a gesture that was achingly tender.

Your breath hitched, the tears coming harder now. "Why did you come?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"Because I couldn’t stay away," he said, his voice full of the guilt that had been hanging between the two of you. "And because you need to hear this from me—I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you."

Toji stood in the dim light of your room, taking in the state of everything. It wasn’t just you that had fallen apart; your surroundings mirrored the chaos inside you. Clothes were scattered on the floor, books and papers tossed haphazardly across your desk, and your bed was a mess of tangled sheets. It looked like a battlefield of emotion, each item a casualty of the war waging inside your heart.

He swallowed hard, his chest tight as he looked at you. You were curled up in the corner of your bed, still clutching your hands as if hiding the raw, bitten skin would make the hurt go away. Your eyes, red and tired, avoided his, staring blankly at the floor.

Toji sighed softly, stepping closer. He wanted to fix this, to fix you, but he knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as cleaning a room or brushing your hair. This was deeper, more painful. But he could start with the small things, with the things he could control.

"Let me help," he said quietly, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the room.

You didn’t respond at first, your body still tense, shoulders curled inward as if you were trying to shield yourself from the world. But after a moment, you gave a small nod, the smallest sign of trust. Toji took it, knowing it was more than he deserved.

He crouched down in front of you, carefully taking your hands in his. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing over the raw, irritated skin around your nails. "You shouldn’t have done this to yourself," he murmured, his voice soft, almost scolding, but filled with concern.

You glanced at your hands, shame flickering in your eyes, but Toji shook his head. "It's alright," he reassured, giving your hand a small squeeze before letting go. "Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?"

Toji stood and started moving around the room. It wasn’t in his nature to fuss over anyone, but for you, he did. He picked up the clothes scattered on the floor, folding them with rough, but careful hands. He straightened the books on your desk, pushed your chair back into place, and even tossed a few forgotten wrappers into the trash. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference. Slowly, your room began to look less like a disaster and more like a place where you could start healing.

You watched him the entire time, your gaze softening as he worked. There was something almost surreal about watching Toji—someone so strong and untouchable—doing something as simple as folding your clothes. It was comforting, in a way, seeing him take care of the little things when you couldn’t find the strength to.

Once the room was back in some semblance of order, Toji turned back to you, his eyes landing on your hair. It was tangled, knotted from days of neglect, falling in disarray around your shoulders.

"You need to brush that out," he said, a hint of his usual gruffness returning.

When you didn’t move, still staring down at the sheets, Toji hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, grabbing the brush that sat on your nightstand. He wasn’t exactly the type to play hairdresser, but he could see how much you were struggling, how much you needed someone to take care of you, even in the smallest ways.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, positioning himself behind you, the brush in his hand. "Hold still," he muttered, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be doing this.

You sat frozen for a moment, unsure, but as the brush began moving through your hair, gently tugging at the tangles, you found yourself relaxing. Toji’s movements were slow and careful, as if he was afraid to hurt you. He worked through the knots with surprising patience, never once pulling too hard.

The rhythm of the brush moving through your hair became soothing, a small distraction from the storm inside your mind. Toji was silent the entire time, but his presence was comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It was as if he knew that words weren’t what you needed right now, that just being there, helping you in these small ways, was enough.

After a while, your hair was smooth again, the tangles gone. Toji set the brush aside, his hand lingering for a moment as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike him, that it made your heart ache.

"You look better," he said quietly, his voice low and rough. "More like yourself."

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his for the first time in what felt like days. There was something in his gaze, something soft and unspoken, that made the weight in your chest lift just a little.

Toji stood up, stepping back from the bed and taking a deep breath. "Come on," he said, his voice returning to its usual firmness. "Your dad’s been worried sick about you. Let’s go talk to him."

You hesitated, the thought of facing your father making your stomach twist. You weren’t sure you were ready to deal with everything that had happened, but Toji’s steady presence made it feel a little less daunting. He wouldn’t leave you to face it alone.

Toji walked over to the door, pausing as he looked back at you. "You don’t have to say much," he said, his tone softer again. "Just… let him see you. Let him know you’re okay."

You took a deep breath, pushing yourself up from the bed. Your legs were shaky, weak from days of inactivity, but you managed to stand. Toji stayed close, his presence solid, grounding you as you moved toward the door.

With one last glance around the now-neat room, you followed him out, the weight on your shoulders just a little lighter. You weren’t sure what would happen next, but with Toji by your side, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you could start to put yourself back together.

The walk down the hallway felt longer than it ever had before. The quiet hum of the house seemed heavier, as if the very air was weighed down by the tension that had built up since that awful night. Each step you took felt unsteady, not just from the days you’d spent locked in your room but from the weight of what awaited you at the end.

Toji walked beside you, his hand hovering near your lower back, close enough to feel his presence, but not quite touching. He was giving you space, but you knew he was there—steady, solid, ready to intervene if things got too rough.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw your father sitting at the dining table. He was hunched over, his hands clasped tightly together in front of him, his knuckles white. His eyes were red and tired, deep circles etched beneath them. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and you realized, with a sharp pang of guilt, that he probably hadn’t.

The moment he saw you, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His eyes widened in a mix of surprise and relief, but there was something else there too—something darker, deeper, that made your stomach twist.

“Thank God,” he breathed, his voice strained, almost breaking. He took a step forward, but then hesitated, his eyes flicking to Toji before returning to you. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if you’d come out.”

You stood there, frozen, not sure what to say or how to feel. Part of you wanted to rush into his arms, to let him hold you and tell you everything would be okay. But another part, the part that had festered in your room for days, was still so angry—at him, at the situation, at everything. He had been the one to drive Toji away, to shatter everything, and you weren’t sure if you could forgive that just yet.

Toji, sensing your hesitation, cleared his throat softly. “She’s alright,” he said, his voice low but firm, cutting through the silence like a blade. “She just needed some time.”

Your father’s eyes flickered between the two of you, the tension thickening in the room. He was still trying to process everything, still grappling with the reality of what had happened between you and Toji.

“I’m sorry,” your father said suddenly, his voice cracking with emotion. He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but… seeing the two of you like that…” He trailed off, his gaze shifting to Toji with a mix of resentment and guilt. “I just—he’s my best friend. I never expected…”

Toji stepped forward, his expression hardening. "I didn’t handle it right either," he admitted, his deep voice unwavering, but with a hint of regret. "It’s on me too. I should’ve—” He paused, glancing at you before continuing, “I should’ve thought about what this would do to her. To you."

Your father let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. He looked older than you remembered, worn down by the weight of what had transpired. “I was scared,” he confessed, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Seeing my daughter and my best friend... it just felt like everything was falling apart.”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. The anger that had once burned inside of you was still there, but it was softer now, dulled by the exhaustion of the past few days. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “But it wasn’t just Toji’s fault. I wanted it too. I—”

Your father raised a hand, cutting you off. “I know,” he said, his voice strained with emotion. “I know it wasn’t just him. I just… I can’t help but feel like I failed you somehow. Like I should have protected you from all of this.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to blame himself. It made the knot in your chest tighten, the ache in your heart grow sharper.

Toji, standing beside you, crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself back, trying not to escalate things.

“I don’t need protecting,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m... I’m sorry that this hurt you, Dad. But it’s my life. My choice.”

Your father’s eyes softened, his anger seeming to melt away as he took in your words. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It was clear that he was struggling, that part of him wanted to argue, to fight, but another part—the part that loved you—was beginning to understand.

“I just want you to be safe,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to be happy.”

Toji glanced at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, but there was something in his expression that told you he felt the same way. He hadn’t wanted this to end in chaos, in broken families and shattered trust. But it had happened, and now the pieces had to be put back together.

“I know,” you replied, your voice gentle but firm. “But I need to make my own choices, even if they’re not the ones you would have wanted for me.”

Your father nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I just… don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you promised, stepping closer to him. “But I need you to trust me.”

The silence stretched between you all, heavy but no longer suffocating. It was a fragile peace, but it was a start. Your father exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping as he accepted the reality of the situation.

Toji shifted beside you, finally speaking up. “I’ll leave, if that’s what she wants,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “If it’s better for her.”

Your father looked between the two of you, his jaw tight. He was torn—torn between his desire to protect you and the knowledge that you had already made your choice.

But when he finally spoke, it wasn’t anger or rejection that filled his words. It was resignation. “I don’t want to lose either of you,” he muttered, rubbing his hand across his face again. “But this... this isn’t easy for me.”

Toji nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “We’ll figure it out.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a sense of unity in the room. It wasn’t perfect, and there was still so much left unsaid, but it was a step forward. You felt a strange sense of relief, like the weight that had been pressing down on your chest for days was finally starting to lift.

“Alright,” your father said, his voice breaking the silence. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

It had been a few days since that tense confrontation, and though things weren’t exactly back to normal, the weight between you, your father, and Toji had begun to lift. The house felt quieter, more at ease. You had started to heal, both physically and emotionally, though the scars from the fight still lingered.

This evening, though, there was something different. You stood in front of your mirror, brushing the last few knots from your hair as you prepared to leave the house for the first time in days. The thought of spending time outside, with Toji, no less, brought a flutter of nervous excitement to your chest, something you hadn’t felt in a while.

Your father stood in the doorway of your room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He didn’t say much as he watched you, but you could feel his presence. He had been quiet ever since that night, his protective instinct still there, but softened by his understanding that things had changed. That you were making your own choices now.

“You sure about this?” he asked after a few moments of silence, his voice low and careful, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Yeah,” you said softly, smoothing down the fabric of your shirt. “I think I am.”

Your father’s brow furrowed, and he sighed, stepping into the room. “I know you’ve made your decision, but…” He hesitated, glancing toward the hallway where you knew Toji was waiting downstairs, likely awkwardly shifting on the couch, unsure of his place in this delicate balance. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you assured him, turning to fully face him now. “I know things aren’t… perfect yet. But I’m trying to move forward. I think we both are.”

Your father nodded, running a hand through his hair in that familiar way he always did when he was anxious. “He’s waiting downstairs,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s still weird, you know. Seeing him here, after everything.”

You smiled faintly, stepping closer to your dad and wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened at first, but then relaxed, his arms coming up to hold you gently. “Thank you,” you whispered, pressing your cheek against his chest. “For giving us a chance.”

He let out a shaky breath, patting your back gently. “Just… don’t let him screw this up.”

You laughed softly, pulling back to look at him. “I won’t let him,” you said, your voice more confident now. “And if he does, you’ll be the first to know.”

With a final nod from your father, you grabbed your bag and headed down the hallway, your heart racing as you neared the stairs. You could already feel the tension in the air, the awkwardness that had settled between Toji and your father still palpable, even if neither of them acknowledged it outright.

As you descended the stairs, you spotted Toji sitting on the edge of the couch, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he stared at the floor. He looked uncomfortable in a way that was rare for him—like he wasn’t sure if he should be here, or if he was overstepping his bounds just by waiting for you.

When he saw you, though, his expression softened, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You ready?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, as if he was trying not to disturb the fragile peace that had settled in the house.

You nodded, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you at the sight of him. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Toji stood, towering over you like he always did, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was still rough around the edges, still the man who could take down anyone in a fight without blinking, but there was something more vulnerable about him now. Something you knew he had only begun to show because of you.

As the two of you made your way toward the door, you could feel your father’s eyes on you from the kitchen. You glanced back, catching his gaze. He didn’t say anything, but there was a look in his eyes that spoke volumes—concern, yes, but also acceptance. He was still uneasy about all of this, but he was trying.

Toji hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the knob as if waiting for some unspoken permission. Your father’s presence loomed in the background, a silent reminder of the tension that still simmered beneath the surface.

“Take care of her,” your father said finally, his voice low but firm.

Toji turned to face him, his expression serious as he gave a small nod. “I will.”

There was a beat of silence, and then your father spoke again, softer this time. “And take care of yourself too.”

Toji’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, but he nodded again, understanding the weight of those words. It wasn’t just about you anymore—it was about him too, about making sure this fragile new beginning didn’t shatter before it even had a chance to grow.

Without another word, Toji opened the door, and you both stepped out into the cool evening air. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the street, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you could breathe again.

As the door closed behind you, you glanced up at Toji, who was still tense but trying to relax. “You okay?” you asked softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours.

He looked down at you, his expression softening as his fingers intertwined with yours. “Yeah,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay.”

And for the first time in days, you believed him.

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[alwaysmicado]

No broken hearts

8.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 6

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, public sex, fingering, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, Joel being a menace, pet names, degradation/praise, pregnancy (not reader), heavy drinking, reader hurts her hand, blood, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: After Joel fucks you against a gas station wall, you run into an old friend. A bottle of wine and a smashed mirror later, you make a late-night call from your bathroom floor. A/N: I'm so excited about this part!! There's so much going on in this one: kinky sex, wine, reader confronting her past, Tommy, and some good old angst (I had to, okay?). Not to worry though, reader laughs through the tears...kind of. Enjoy and let me know me what you think! 🖤

more public sex ・Laura ・last part・ masterlist ・ AO3

It’s Saturday, the heat’s cranked up to ‘inferno’ and you’re so prepared to just kick back and have a relaxed, blissfully lazy night in.

Your day so far has unfolded in a symphony of self-indulgence: finally tackling that book that’s been giving you the side-eye for a year, getting green with some new kitchen herbs, and breaking a sweat with yoga in front of the TV. Your soul feels rejuvenated already. 

The only thing missing now is the perfect dinner to munch on while you sink into your sofa, get comfy, and dive into a Netflix marathon. You already have all the ingredients for your favorite pasta dish at home, you just need to get the essential partners in crime: a nice red—or three—and some snacks. Lucky for you, there’s a gas station a few minutes down the block from your place and the weather’s all sunny.

So, you throw on a comfy shirt, some shorts, your trusty worn-out sneakers, grab your bag, and head out.

Stepping outside, you’re met with a wave of heat that wraps around you like a snug, invisible blanket. The air feels thick and sticky, a relentless sun beating down with an intensity that turns the pavement into a makeshift oven. It’s the kind of hot that makes you think of ice-cold drinks and the cool water in the gym pool.

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips as your mind wanders to the last time you had the ingenious idea to cool off in there, but just ended up hotter and more sweaty. 

The entrance bell jingles lightly as you push open the gas station door, a subtle melody signaling your arrival to the air-conditioned oasis, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat outside. Fluorescent lights hum above, casting a cool, artificial glow on the neatly arranged shelves. You catch the clerk’s eye, a charismatic smile on his face as he takes you in. His gaze, appreciative and lingering, meets yours with a playful spark.

You offer a polite smile in acknowledgment as you make a beeline for the wine section. The cool chill of the fridge greets you, and after a contemplative moment, you choose a robust red with an intriguing label. You always choose your wine depending on the aesthetic of the label. Bonus points if it contains an animal. 

With the wine securely in hand, you turn your attention to the snack aisle, your eyes scanning the colorful array of options. The shelves are stacked with a tempting variety of chips, candies, and treats. You settle on a mix of savory and sweet delights after evaluating your options carefully. If there’s one thing you take seriously, it’s your snacks. 

Wine? Check. Snacks? Check. More wine for good measure? Check. Approaching the counter, you’re met with a friendly grin from the clerk, a handsome face with a name tag that reads “Chris”.

“You find everything alright?” he asks, his tone dipped in a hint of flirtation.

“Yeah, I think I got everything I need,” you say, putting everything on the counter for him to scan.

“Good choices. Looks like you’re in for a great night.”

You chuckle, handing over the cash and putting everything in your bag. “You gotta treat yourself sometimes, you know?”

Chris hands you your change, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. “Well, if you ever need someone to share that wine with, you know where to find me.”

You offer a nonchalant smile, shrugging off his subtle advance. If you weren’t set on being alone tonight, you’d entertain the idea, but alas, you stay the course. And yes, that’s the only reason. You’re not still thinking about the polaroid or Joel’s words — If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you — and why would you? It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good one!”

Exiting the gas station, the door closes behind you with a jingle, and the oppressive heat engulfs you once again. The air is thick with humidity, and despite the forecast promising rain, the sky stretches above in a flawless canvas of unbroken blue. It’s a serene sight, almost too serene, leaving a lingering sense of anticipation, as if something is about to shift. 

Shrugging off the uneasy feeling, you prepare to walk back home, reaching for your sunglasses to shield your eyes from the unrelenting sun. But just as you’re about to put them on, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Need help with those, gorgeous?”

How?

How does he manage to appear seemingly out of thin air wherever you go?

“As if there weren’t enough sleazy guys hanging around gas station parking lots already,” you sigh deeply and turn around to find Joel leaning casually against the weathered brick wall, arms crossed, biceps bulging, his face bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

An amused grin spreads across his face as your eyes meet. He looks effortlessly handsome in his jeans and brown t-shirt, his dark hair perfectly framing his face, the grays in his beard illuminated by the sunlight.

“You think I’m sleazy?” he flashes his irresistible smile and tilts his head in curiosity.

“I dunno, Joel,” you scoff and shake your head in mock annoyance. “Some people might consider lurking behind a run-down gas station to pounce on the next best woman that steps out pretty sleazy, you know? Just a heads-up in case you’re planning on spending the night here. I hear mace is pretty unpleasant.”

Joel snorts, his eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners. “Hey now, I’m not after the next best woman,” he tuts, the look in his eyes changing subtly as his gaze lingers on yours. “But you already know that.”

His tone of voice catches you off guard. Your face heats up and you look away bashfully, unsure how to respond. 

Joel eyes you curiously, expecting your trademark smart response, but you stay uncharacteristically quiet. He takes you in carefully, appreciating your side profile and the way your shorts hug your thighs. You look so beautiful in your casual outfit, so beautiful without even trying. Always.

The unbearable urge to hold you close, to feel you, to smell you, to show you how beautiful you are to him, takes over his body and mind within a split second.

“C’mere, darlin’.” 

“Why?” 

He rolls his eyes and tries to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “Get your tight little ass over here or watch what happens.”

You sigh deeply and shuffle towards him, acting like it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world, like your panties aren’t already damp from his command alone. 

As soon as you’re within reaching distance, Joel grabs you by the arms and pushes you against the wall on the back of the gas station, caging you in with his body.

“Careful, fuck,” you hiss when you hear the wine bottles hit the wall, but Joel ignores you, too busy kissing your neck greedily while groping your chest.

You let your bag slide down onto the floor as carefully as possible, trying to take advantage of the last few seconds of clarity you have left before Joel’s touch shuts your brain off completely. 

“How do you always smell so good?” he mumbles more to himself than to you, his lips trailing sloppy kisses up and down your neck, and along your jaw. You shudder at the sensation, surrendering to the heat of his breath, the electrifying caress of his scruffy beard, and his rough hand massaging your breast. You’re putty in this man’s hands and you love it. 

“You know there’s a—mmm, that feels so good—there’s a security cam pointed directly at us?” you whisper between soft moans.

The parking lot is all fenced in by hedges, but you’re still outside in broad daylight. Plus, the camera.

“Don’t care,” Joel whispers into your neck, then pulls up your shirt without skipping a beat. You laugh at his nonchalance and just hope that there’s no live feed broadcasting your…impropriety. There probably is though. 

Coming here for late-night snacks or tampons when you ran out was super convenient, but what can you do.

Your pussy wants what it wants.

“God, I love your perfect tits,” Joel leans down to suck one into his mouth while massaging the other with his calloused hand. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, running your hands through his soft hair and arching your back as he licks and sucks on your soft skin. 

He releases your tit with a pop when he’s had his fill, but not before biting down on your nipple harshly. “Ow, Joel!” you cry out and shove at his chest, but he just smirks at your adorable tantrum, pressing your hands against the wall over your head, his intense gaze locking with yours. 

“Such a delicate little princess,” he taunts you with a chuckle, pressing his bulge against your core so the rough fabric of his jeans rubs your clit perfectly. You furrow your brow and whimper at the feeling, instinctively moving your hips to get the most friction. 

“You like that, baby?” he rasps before pressing his lips on yours in a messy, needy kiss — the type of kiss that leaves you breathless and lets you forget who you are. 

“Uh-huh,” you moan into his mouth, swirling your tongue around his, so far gone already that you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you right now. As if reading your mind, Joel lets go of your wrist to slide one of his hands down the inside of your shorts and panties, groaning against your lips when he can feel how wet you are.

“Goddamn, angel,” he chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll never get tired of you being a complete whore in public.” 

Joel lets go of your other wrist, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, tilting your head up, so he can look into your glazed-over eyes. “You keep those beautiful eyes on me,” he orders as he starts drawing tight circles on your clit with his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure. You nod and can’t hold back your moans this time, feeling your muscles tense and your thighs tremble with every movement of Joel’s hand. 

“You want more, baby?” he asks, eager to feel your pussy around his fingers, and to prepare you for his cock as well as possible given your time-sensitive situation. 

“Please Joel,” you moan, your breath quickening, “I want you.”

Satisfied with your answer, the pleading look in your eyes and the wetness seeping out of you, he slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, curling and pumping them while continuously stimulating your clit with the heel of his palm. You dig your fingers into his broad shoulders in response, needing an outlet for the pleasure building up inside you since you can’t moan as loud as you want. His dark eyes never leave yours, reveling in the facial expressions and noises he can draw out of you.

One of your hands wanders from grasping his shoulder to gripping his bare arm. You let your nails dig into him, not caring that you’re leaving marks. Joel doesn’t seem to mind either as he keeps going, his eyes locked on yours. 

“God, you’re gorgeous, baby,” he whispers, upping the pace and adding a third finger to work you open some more. “Fuck, that’s it,” you groan as you feel yourself getting close already, your walls constricting around Joel’s fingers, making it hard for him to move. 

“You better not come until I tell you to,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing just the right amount. You’re so close that you almost come instantly when the diminishing flow of oxygen to your brain intensifies every sensation.

Joel can see the desperation in your eyes, can feel the pure need in your quivering body, can smell your arousal on your skin. His cock is straining painfully in his jeans and grinding against your hip only relieves so much tension.

He needs to fuck you – badly. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises you, the vein on his neck pulsating. “Come all over my hand, baby, let me feel you.” He keeps his eyes on yours as he feels you tensing even more, trying your hardest to keep quiet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you choke out as the tension finally snaps and your pulsating walls clamp down around Joel’s fingers. 

“That’s it, baby, you’re so fucking hot,” he pants before loosening the grip on your neck and pressing his lips on yours in a hungry kiss, absorbing all of your moans while you ride out your high on his hand. Your hips stutter as you try to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible, and you grip Joel’s hand in your pants to hold it in place while you do so. When you feel yourself come down again, you release his hand and let your head fall back onto the wall, your chest heaving.

“Still think I’m sleazy, hm?” Joel nudges your nose with his, the grin on his face too wide, too cocky, too irritatingly beautiful. 

“You’re such a dork,” you chuckle breathlessly, wiping away sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. “And yes, very much yes.”

“Oh, really?” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his wet hand, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb slowly. “Says a lot about you then, doesn’t it, angel? Getting off on some sleazy guy’s hand behind a gas station.” 

You can’t stop the grin spreading on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck, your gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips and back again. You’re whole body’s aching for him to finally fill you up. 

Joel takes you in for a moment, a tender smile on his lips, loving how you look at him with your big, needy, glazed-over eyes, like he’s the only thing that matters to you — like he makes you happy. He knows this moment is fleeting, delicate, precious, so he holds onto it for as long and as tightly as he can.   

He kisses you, hard, desperate, pressing you against the wall with his body, moaning into your mouth. Your hands explore each other’s bodies feverishly, grabbing, pulling, mapping the contours of shoulders, necks, backs, while stealing each other’s breath. 

When you can’t take it anymore, your aching pussy screaming at you for relief, you move your hands down Joel’s belly hastily until you arrive at the waistband of his jeans. You look into his eyes as if asking for permission and he nods quickly, his cock twitching at the thought of finally being inside you.

He helps you open the button and zipper of his jeans before quickly pulling them down together with his boxer briefs to free his cock and balls. He lets out a labored breath when you spit on your hand and start jerking his cock, your left hand massaging his balls a little harsher than you usually would.

Joel’s strangled groans let you know that he’s loving every bit of it.

“You keep that up—fuck, that feels good—and I’m gonna come all over your shirt,” he chuckles against your lips, grunting when you increase the speed of your strokes. “Turn—oh shit—turn around for me, baby.”

You do so eagerly, and Joel loses no time pulling your shorts and panties down in one swift motion, exposing your ass and pussy to the light breeze that’s dancing through the air. You lean against the wall on your forearms, arching your back a bit, and wiggling your ass in anticipation. 

With one hand guiding his cock through your wet folds a few times before nudging your entrance, Joel presses his other hand against the wall to better brace himself. When he’s sufficiently coated in your juices, he pushes into you slowly, watching in awe how your body swallows his cock inch by inch. You whimper a little too loudly at the delicious stretch, unable to keep quiet now that you’re feeling him inside you. 

“Shh, I’m not even halfway in, angel,” he purrs, tracing your neck with his lips. “Be a good girl and shut the fuck up.”

He then pushes all the way into you in one harsh thrust, immediately clasping his hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. You ball your hands into fists and close your eyes, getting lost in feeling him deep inside of you. 

You moan softly into his hand as Joel keeps thrusting up into you, his strokes rough and desperate. “Feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans, leaning back a bit to watch your ass jiggle with every snap of his hips.

You whimper and clench around him as a particularly deep stroke brings about a more intense wave of pleasure than before. Joel smirks and leans his head in closer to you, his lips grazing your ear. He removes his hand from your mouth, wanting nothing more than to hear your pretty little noises unfiltered. 

“You liked that one, huh?” he growls into your ear, his husky voice making you shudder. “Uh-huh,” you nod eagerly, desperate for more.

He adjusts his grip on your waist and uses his new leverage to pull you back onto his cock harshly, allowing himself even deeper access to you. You respond immediately, the frequency of your whimpers and restrained moans increasing.

“Faster,” you gasp.

Joel responds with a groan, but he obeys happily, picking up the pace. You hum contentedly as you can feel your second argasm building deep inside you, the tension winding tighter and tighter, climbing higher and higher with every calculated movement of Joel’s hips. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure and reach back to grip his forearm.

Beads of sweat run down his face and back as he tries to hold off until he’s gotten you there again. Luckily, he doesn’t have to hold out too much longer, as it only takes a few more hits to your G-spot to send you over the edge. 

“Let go, baby, I got you,” he rasps into your ear, desperate to feel you fall apart one more time. “Thaaat’s it. Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

He talks you through your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your walls clamp down on him, and waves of pleasure course through your trembling body. A cry begins to wrest itself from your throat, but Joel turns your head and presses his lips on yours just in time to keep you from being too loud. You kiss him back feverishly, the taste of him an intoxicating blend of urgency and tenderness.

He lets out a low, guttural groan against your lips as he finally lets himself go, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warm cum.

“Fuck me,” he pants breathlessly as he lowers his head, nestling it between your shoulder blades, soaking up the feeling of being this close to. He trails the nape of your neck with his nose, taking in your scent, and pressing a few soft kisses on your hot skin before pulling out of you.

You both lean against the wall with your backs, still gasping for breath as you continue to come down from your highs. Joel’s the first to break the silence, turning his head and gently rubbing your arm.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me one of these days.” 

You giggle and lift his hand to press a kiss on the back of his hand. “There’s worse ways to die. Plus, I’d give a helluva eulogy.” 

“Oh yeah?” he gives you a soft smile before taking some tissues out of his back pocket and handing them to you.

“Mhm,” you nod while cleaning yourself haphazardly. “The title: Eight firm reasons why I was happy to know Joel Miller.”

He snorts and looks at you with his jaw dropped in mock offense. “Why are you the way you are?”

“What? It’s gonna be cute and I’m gonna do a whole powerpoint presentation and everything,” you say as you pull your pants and panties back up.

He sighs deeply and pulls you closer by your waist. “I’ll take it. If you promise to wear that little dress you wore when we met.” 

You put your hands on his chest and look into his eyes, his heart beating steadily under your palm. “Its a deal. Now, will you finally tell me what you’re really doing here? Or was I right all along?” 

“I’m actually working today,” he chuckles, clasping his hands behind your back. “We’re remodeling a guy’s house a few blocks down the street, and I just came here to fill up the gas tank, not thinking about anything until I saw my favorite pair of legs.”

“Charming,” you scoff, cocking an eyebrow. “What a gentleman you are.”

“Would it help if I said that I also saw my favorite smile?” 

“Well, yes. But it’s okay,” you smirk. “Can’t blame you for noticing these babies. They’re pretty great.” 

Joel nods in agreement, leaning in to draw you closer and slowly kiss up and down your neck, his hands flattening against your spine. You close your eyes and hum at the sensation of his soft lips meeting your sensitive skin, letting yourself sink into his embrace and feel the reassuring touch of his hands.

He smells like home.

“You wanna come over later?” you ask while softly scratching his scalp. “I got some primo wine that I’d graciously share with you and I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but my pasta’ll knock your socks off.”

“Hmm, that sounds wonderful, darlin’,” he murmurs into your skin without stopping his kisses. “But I can’t tonight.”

“Oh?” you pull away from him far enough to look into his eyes. “What important business does Mr. Miller have on a beautiful Saturday night? No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re gonna play bingo at the senior center. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Very funny, you little brat,” he rolls his eyes and pinches your butt playfully. You grin at him, but furrow your brow slightly when you notice a subtle change in his eyes. 

“What?” 

“I’m, uh,” he clears his throat, “I’m actually going on a date.”

Your face falls. “Oh,” you say quietly.

“It’s not–” he cuts himself off before putting his hands on your arms, squeezing them gently. “We could meet up tomorrow if you want.” He gives you a hopeful smile, but you don’t hear him. 

“Darlin’?” 

“Huh?” you look at him, confused. Your chest feels tight.

“Are you free tomorrow? I could cook for you. And not to toot my own horn, but I look pretty damn good in an apron.” 

“I got plans tomorrow,” you say, taking a step back to pick up your bag. You grip the handles so hard your knuckles turn white. “How did you meet?” 

“Tommy set us up ‘cause he thinks I don’t get out enough,” Joel sighs, shaking his head slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Smartass gets married and thinks he suddenly knows everything.”

“Tommy set you up,” you repeat, your left eye twitching. 

“Yeah, and she’s nice, so I figured why not.”

“Yeah, why not,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“What are your plans, sweet–”

“Are you going out or…?”

“There’s this gin bar she really likes, so we’re going there. Sounds fun from what she described.” 

“Didn’t peg you as a gin drinker,” you scoff, absently kicking the cigarette butt in front of your feet.

“Yeah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “trying new things is good sometimes.”

“I bet,” you nod.

“Darlin’, I–” Joel trails off when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He exhales deeply, his brow furrowed. “Tommy. I gotta get back,” he murmurs regretfully. “Can I drive you home first?”

“No, thanks,” you shake your head. “I need to run a few more errands and you surely wanna take a shower before you, uh, before you go out.” 

His gaze lingers on you for a few seconds before he nods, “Okay, sweetheart. But promise to call me if you need anything, hm?”

“Will do, Joel,” you close your eyes when he cups your face and kisses your forehead. 

“Be good, okay?”

“You know me.”

He winks at you, gets in his car, and you watch him drive away.

-----

With your sunglasses on, you put one foot in front of the other as you make your way down the street. Going straight back home isn’t an option, so you decide to stroll around and indulge in a bit of window shopping until you don’t feel your heart in your throat anymore. It’s annoying as fuck.

Feeling Joel’s cum pooling in your panties isn’t helping either. 

“What did you expect,” you murmur to yourself as you come to a halt in front of your favorite antique shop. Opening a bag of chips, you start eating one after the other while perusing the pieces on display. Kind of like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s — just much less classy, and much more covered in crumbs. 

You exhale deeply and let your thoughts wander.

This shop means a lot to you. You got the lamp on your nightstand from here a few days after moving into your apartment. It was expensive, but Tommy encouraged you to get something special, something that would remind you of how far you’ve come and how this was your start into a new life. He was right. You love your lamp and what it stands for. 

Maybe, one day, you’ll finally splurge on that one little glass figurine of a sleeping fox you’ve been eyeing for so long. It’s pretty pricey and, at this point, you appreciate that it remains a special treat, something to anticipate and savor when the right moment comes.

You put the half-eaten bag of chips back and haphazardly wipe your fingers on your shorts before deciding to move on. There’s a thrift shop you’ve wanted to check out for a few months now, so you quickly check in Google Maps where it is, then walk in that direction.

You don’t get too far, though. 

Just as you turn the corner, you hear a voice call your name. It slices through you, sending a chill down your spine, stopping you dead in your tracks. You never expected to hear that voice again. Paralyzed, unable to run away, you gather your courage and take a deep breath before slowly turning around.

Your heart stops when you see her. She looks…different.

She walks towards you briskly, her dress billowing and fluttering with each step, a nervous energy evident in her movements and her smile. 

“Laura.”

“I, uh– hi” she says, her voice slightly shaky. “Would you, um, wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

There’s a dark cloud in the sky.

-----

“I’m visiting a friend for the weekend,” she tells you, deftly adding creamer to her coffee. “It’s so nice here. Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“I do, yeah,” you say, your hand planted firmly on the wooden table next to your cup.

The gentle hum of conversations in the small coffee shop blends with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee — an atmosphere that you’d usually enjoy, but feels claustrophobic right now. You feel like you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“It’s such a lucky coincidence that we ran into each other,” Laura continues, a soft smile on her lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your new hair.” 

“I’ve had it for a while,” you respond curtly, avoiding direct eye contact. 

“Well, it suits you,” she says softly. As she absentmindedly caresses her little bump, your eyes fixate on the subtle movement.

“How far along are you?” you ask with a tight-lipped smile, still unable to meet her gaze. 

Laura’s features soften further, grateful for your question about her pregnancy. “I’m eighteen weeks and thr– no, four days today.” 

“How are you feeling?” you circle the rim of your cup with your finger, your leg bouncing continually. 

“Oh, um, I’ve had pretty awful morning sickness up until a few weeks ago. It’s, uh, it’s been fine apart from that. I’ve had lots of help, thankfully,” she tells you, taking a sip of her coffee. “My mom got clean about a year ago—unbelievable, I know—and Simon’s been doing good as well. He, um, he got a job at his dad’s firm and we’ve moved into a house with a garden. There’s a forest nearby and I’ve seen all sorts of animals already. You’d absolutely love it.”

She reaches out to you, her hand gently touching your arm as she notices your grip tightening around the cup. “Beanie?” The nickname and the warmth of her touch make you flinch.

“Please look at me,” she whispers, her request carrying a weight of emotion that transcends the simple act of looking at her.

You bite your lip and reluctantly meet her watery eyes — eyes that were once the embodiment of home for you. You’ve tried so hard to let go, to get over your pain, to heal. But now that you’re looking into Laura’s pleading eyes, it feels like you’re right back where you started, the pain in your chest resurfacing like an old wound, a dull ache that intensifies with every beat of your heart. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” she chokes out, reaching across the table again to take your hand in hers.

“Laura–”

“I’m sorry every day, Beanie. I can’t take back what I did and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I–I just miss you so much.” She wipes away her tears with the napkin on the table. “I miss you.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this right now?” you ask with raised eyebrows, searching her face and pulling your hand out of hers. 

“I–yes,” she sniffles into her napkin. “I’m so happy I ran into you, I really think it was meant to–”

“You know what, Laura?” you sigh, fed up with this charade. “Just spare me, okay? I’m over you pretending that you care even the least bit about me. This,” you gesture with your hand around her face, “this whole innocent act you’re putting on right now, it got old three years ago. I was blinded enough to believe it back then, but that version of me is long gone, dead. So, if you’re just here to try and manipulate me into feeling sorry for you, I got bad news for you.”

“That’s not–I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m so incredibly so���”

“How dare you even say that you’re sorry?” you hiss, unable to grasp how a person can be this deceitful. “You’re not sorry for what you did, Laura. Come on, admit that it was the best thing you ever did and that you go to bed every night being proud of yourself for it.”

“Beanie, please,” she whispers. “I am sorry and not one day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. I–” she cuts herself off and takes a sip of her coffee, her hand trembling terribly as she sets it back down. “I know I was a horrible friend to you and that I hurt you, I do. Please believe me.” 

You turn your face away and exhale deeply. Why is this happening? 

“You were more than my friend, Laura,” you say quietly. “You were my sister. The only person I confided in, the one I fully trusted.” You ball your fist on your thigh, the physical pain of your nails digging into the flesh of your palm helping a little. “To this day, I haven’t told anyone else why I cut ties with my family or how I broke my hand. I only ever told you. Because you were there for me. Because that’s what we did — be there for each other.” 

You hear Laura sniffle, but she’s seemingly got enough decency not to interrupt you. 

“I told you what was going on with me and Simon and you fucking took that and jumped into bed with him. You broke my trust and lied to my face for months.”

You rub your temple, closing your eyes for a few seconds.

Laura says your name gently and you reluctantly turn your head to look at her. Her eyes are red and tearful, her hand trembling as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I should have told you what was going on, I know I should have. I was such a coward and then–then I just didn’t have the guts to do it after you told me you were–”

“Don’t,” you sharply lift your index finger and glare at her. 

“Look,” she exhales, a pained expression etched on her face. “I can’t take back what I–what we did. It wasn’t fair to you and I can assure you that Simon feels bad about it, too. Especially for not being there, you know, in the hospital.”

Is she for fucking real right now?

“How do you still think this has anything to do with Simon? I don’t give a shit about what he did or didn’t do. I didn’t trust him for a second while we were together. He’s an asshole who’s never gonna change, but you–“

You’re startled by the tears running down your cheeks, wiping them away quickly with your hands. You hate her for making you cry. And you hate her for giving you this pretentious empathetic look. 

“I was bleeding to death and couldn’t reach you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anger as your eyes pierce hers. “I tried Simon, too, but deep down I expected him not to care about me actually dying. I was just surprised that you didn’t care either. Don’t you dare look away right now. You need to hear this. I–I saw my life flash before my eyes before they put me under and the only thing I saw was you. You, Laura. My body was dying and the only thing my stupid heart cared about was to see you one last time.” 

A hiccup interrupts you, momentarily breaking the flow of your words. 

“I was scared to death and you weren’t there. I fucking needed you and you weren’t fucking there,” you whisper. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for not being there that day. Please, believe me, I am. It just–” she runs her hands through her hair, a new set of tears rolling down her wet cheeks. “I was so fucked up back then. I–I tried to get love from wherever I could and then I saw all your texts and calls too late and I didn’t know what to do. I was so overwhelmed with everything and didn’t know how to be better or how to help you. I’d give anything to be able to go back and change that,” Laura sobs, her voice barely intelligible.

Pathetic. 

“Why didn’t you reach out to me once in the past three years, then?” 

She takes in a deep breath through her nose, then exhales through her mouth before wiping her nose with her wet napkin. “I had to get my own shit together,” she murmurs defeatedly, “and that wasn’t easy. I dunno what to tell you other than I’m sorry that I fucked your life u–”

You abruptly get up from your seat, the chair protesting with a loud creak against the floor. You pay it no mind, nor the heads turning to look at you. All you can hear is your blood rushing in your ears, and all you can see is the woman who broke your heart. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you spit at her, leaning on the table and glaring into her eyes. “You don’t have the power to fuck my life up. My life’s been fucking great since I got rid of all the people trying to drag me down with them. I’ve never been this fucking happy before, so fuck you and your sorry apology. I don’t fucking want it or need it.”

You grab your bag and rummage through it for cash. “I feel sorry for you, Laura,” you murmur before walking past her and tossing a twenty-dollar bill onto the table in front of her. 

“Why?” She doesn’t look at you. 

“‘Cause you have no idea what you’re in for,” you laugh mirthlessly and shake your head. “You really believe he’s gonna be there for his kid and stay with you?”

“Yes.” 

“What in the world would make you think that,” you ask incredulously.

“Because we’re married,” she blurts out, turning in her seat to look up at you. 

You feel your soul leaving your body, hovering over you and watching your lifeless body standing there – shocked, paralyzed, heartbroken. 

“What did you just say?” you whisper, your words barely audible.

“We got married after we found out I was pregnant.”

You’re about to say something in response — how can you be so stupid, why would you bind yourself to that man, you know what he did to me — but your eyes fall onto her bump before finding her gaze again, and you decide to keep your mouth shut. It’s no use. She’s made her decision. 

“Good luck, Laura,” you turn around and make for the door. “You’re gonna need it.”

You welcome the rain that pours onto your face, washing away the fresh tears that roll down your cheeks. It doesn’t bother you that a car honks at you when you cross the street without looking. It also doesn’t bother you that your clothes are sopping wet and sticking to your body within a few minutes of your legs carrying you back home. You’re not allowing yourself to feel anything right now.

You’d break if you did, so you keep it together.

Until you walk by the gas station.

-----

“You’re not that trashy,” you murmur to yourself just as you’re about to drink straight out of the wine bottle.

Instead, you shuffle into your kitchen, get out your fanciest wine glass and pour yourself a generous amount. Your drenched clothes cling to you like a second skin. If you cared, you’d take them off to not end up with pneumonia, but the discomfort is soothing somehow.

You eye your sofa, but shake your head. You can’t sit on it like this, especially not with red wine in your shaky hand. You’re still coherent enough to care about materialistic bullshit like your pretty sofa. Priorities, right?

The wine goes down smoothly and the bottle is empty in no time. 

It’s not enough to stop the heaviness in your heart or the suffocating thoughts and images flooding your mind, though. You’re helpless in halting the relentless surge of them as you find yourself bent over the kitchen sink, fingers gripping the cool edge of the countertop, your head bowed low between your tense shoulders. Your eyes are shut, and your breaths come out short and ragged.

You see Joel leaning against a wall, beer in hand, looking a bit lost among the other housewarming guests happily chatting. That is, until you step in and your eyes meet. The spark in his eyes and the soft smile he gives you make your heart flutter. You talk about your lives, you flirt, you laugh, you go outside for fresh air, he lends you his flannel.

Your first kiss feels so familiar it hurts.

He wraps his arms around you and you wrap yours around him, pulling him close, clinging to him as tightly as possible. Your heartbeats synchronize and his warmth envelops you in a soothing embrace. You lean your head against his chest. You feel at peace.  

“I could never be with someone like you,” he whispers, his nose grazing your ear. He kisses your cheek softly, his hands running up and down your back soothingly. 

“What?” You lift your head in shock and look into his eyes. They look different. 

“You’re broken, darlin’,” he says softly, his eyes showing genuine pity. “I could never love you.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead. 

“No one could.”

The mirror shatters, shards of glass scattering like stars across your living room floor.

11:26 p.m.

You sit on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest with your left arm tightly wrapped around them, your head resting on your knees as violent sobs wrack your body. You’re not really sure how it happened, or why, but it did.

The bathroom is filled with beeps as you wait anxiously for the call to connect, blood steadily dripping from your right hand.  

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whisper desperately.

“Darlin’?” you finally hear a raspy voice respond from the other end of the line.

“She’s fucking pregnant, Tommy,” you sob into the phone, your slurred words barely intelligible.

“Hey, hey,” he says with a soothing voice, laced with concern, “who’s pregnant?”

“She’s fucking pregnant and she ma–married Simon and now they’re the perfect fucking family,” you slur, your sobs making it hard to get out what your jambled brain is telling you to say.

“Where are you, sweetheart?” you hear Tommy’s soothing yet firm voice in your ear.

“Ho–ome,” you sob, “on, um, bath–bathroom floor.”

“Did you take something?”

“Jus’ alco–hol,” you sniffle. “Wanted to, um, stop my stupid brain.”

“Alright, darlin’,” he says calmly. “Can you tell me what you see?” You look around with unfocused and tearful eyes, trying to focus on your spinning surroundings.

“Can see the sink and my, uh—fuck, it’s bleeding,” you hiss as your bleary eyes try to focus on your bloody hand. 

“What’s bleeding?” Tommy asks, his eyes widening in shock, as he immediately sits up straight and quietly exits the bedroom so as to not wake his sleeping wife. 

“Jus’ my, uh, hand I think,” you mumble, moving your injured hand in front of your face, then looking around if you can spot blood coming from anywhere else on your body.

You can’t hold back a chuckle when you remember why you got a bloody hand.

“Listen to me,” you hear Tommy’s uncharacteristically stern voice. Did he sound like this when he was in the army? “I need you to turn on your camera and let me see your hand. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I– wait a sec,” you mumble and finally press the video call button after a few clumsy attempts. 

You change the direction of the camera, so it shows your hand and not your face, and you try your best to hold your phone as steady as possible with your trembling left hand.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy gasps at the picture you’re presenting to him, shock and concern etched on his face. He expected a scrape or maybe even a cut that was bleeding a bit, but he wasn’t expecting this. Your whole hand is stained with dried and fresh blood, your knuckles are bruised, and there’s a two-inch cut on the back of your hand that’s gushing blood.

“What?” you giggle deliriously at his shocked face. “‘S not that bad, issit.” 

“How did it happen?”

“Punched a mirror.”

You don’t tell him you punched it a second time when it was already broken, and that’s why you cut yourself so badly. 

“I’ll send Joel over to help you, okay? He lives closer to you than I do.”

Your brain has never sobered up faster than at the thought of Joel seeing you like this. 

“No,” you shout into the phone, startling Tommy and yourself alike. “Please, please don’t tell Joel, please. I–I’m fine, I’m sorry I called, I’m so fucking sorry, Tommy,” you start sobbing again. “He’s on a date,” you blurt out, “and I– please, Tommy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Hey, hey, shh,” Tommy tries to calm you, glossing over how you know about the date. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not telling Joel and you don’t need to apologize, sweetheart.” He gives you his signature smile — the smile that made you feel safe the first time you saw it.

“Can you clean the wound yourself if I tell you what to do?”

“Mhm,” you answer, placing your phone on the floor and wiping your nose on your wet shirt.

“Alright, very good,” he coos. “Do you think you can get up and look for a first-aid-kit in your medicine cabinet?” 

His words take a few seconds to register in your brain, but you manage to understand them and get out a quiet “Yeah”. You look up at the mirror cabinet above your sink before shifting your weight to get up. When you automatically put your weight on your right hand, you cry out in pain.

“What happened?” you hear Tommy’s concerned voice. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

“‘S okay,” you groan, clutching your wrist with your left hand, a new set of tears making their way down your cheeks.

“Tell me when you got the kit.”

You get up slowly by pulling yourself up by the rim of your bathtub, then hold on to the sink with your uninjured hand. You take a few deep breaths before opening the cabinet door, looking for the first-aid-kit. Fortunately, it’s bright red, so you see it fairly quickly.

“Got it,” you mumble loud enough for the speaker on the floor to pick it up.

“Okay, darlin’,” Tommy says softly. “Take the kit and open it. Tell me if you can see the gauze.”

“Mhm, can see it.” 

“Alright, now run your hand under cold water first. When most of the blood’s cleaned off, you press the gauze directly onto the cut. You understand?”

“Yeah, got it.” You turn on the faucet, hissing as the cold water irritates your cut and all the scrapes on your fingers and knuckles. Your blood pools in the sink, mingling with the water, creating a macabre dance of crimson tendrils that gradually dissolve and swirl away.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, sitting back down, your left hand firmly pressing the gauze onto the cut. You close your eyes and shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Tommy,” you whisper. “For dragging you into my bullshit. Again.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he coos. “You know I’d always drop everything to help you.”

“But that’s so fucked up, Tommy,” you blurt out. “You shouldn’t have to help me ‘cause I just can’t get my shit together. You got your own life to worry about and you got the most wonderful wife in the whole world and I’m this fucked up little gremlin calling you at night ‘cause I punched a fucking mirror like a kid having a fucking temper tantrum. Why the fuck would you put up with that?” You inhale and exhale deeply. “Sorry for my language.”

He can’t hold back the genuine laugh escaping his lips. 

“What the fuck, Tommy,” you try to say in your most offended voice, but it’s kind of unconvincing since now you can’t hold back your own laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, clearing his throat, “but you’re being ridiculous. Get it through that thick skull of yours that there are people who genuinely love you and care about you. I don’t have to be there for you; I want to.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” you murmur, wiping your nose on your shoulder. “For everything.”

“You wanna talk about what happened today?”

“It’s, uh,” you sigh deeply, “it’s been a strange day.” You look at your injured hand and suddenly feel beyond exhausted. “I think the bleeding has stopped.”

“That’s good. Let’s continue, then, hm?”

He guides you through applying antiseptic to the cut and all the little scrapes on your knuckles and fingers, and through bandaging your hand correctly. 

“Can you move every finger?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you rotate your wrist?”

“Fucking hurts, but yeah.”

“You’ll go see a doctor tomorrow, so they can give you an x-ray and make sure the wound is clean, you hear me?”

“Mhm, will do.” 

“Now, go to bed, sweetheart. Your back’s gonna thank you tomorrow.”

You drag your feet to your bedroom, phone in hand, turn on your bedside lamp, then suddenly hear Tommy say “There she is!” when you accidentally change the camera direction.

You laugh defeatedly and shake your head at his beaming smile as you plop down onto your bed. “Can you believe I punched a mirror? So dramatic, my god.”

Tommy chuckles and looks at you with adoration. You look like a complete mess with your disheveled hair, cracked lips and blood-stained shirt, but all he sees are your eyes and the smile on your lips. He wishes you‘d be kinder to yourself. But he knows better than to push you. He’s confident you’ll find your way. 

“I’m gonna turn the camera off, okay?” you murmur. “Don’t want you to get nightmares.”

“Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful little gremlin I’ve ever seen.” 

“Hey, you’re supposed to be nice to me right now,” you pout, eliciting a chuckle from Tommy. Turning off the camera, you let your phone fall onto the bed. You strip off your pants, panties and socks, shrug off your shirt and grab a fresh one from your drawer.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Could you, um, could you stay on the phone with me?” you ask as you put on a new pair of panties. “Just for a bit?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. You just close your eyes and go to sleep. I’m here.” 

You slide under your covers, turn off the lamp and close your eyes. 

“Tommy?” 

“Yes, honey?” 

“Thank you.”

-----

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