#i just say it. on repeat. over. and over. and over again in my head. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nochepsicodelica · 3 days ago

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You and Toji are sitting at a table at a bar, talking about different things that went on throughout your days over some drinks. Toji tells you about how Shiu's been a real asshole lately, because his marriage is hanging on by a thread and he hasn't gotten laid in almost a month. He gives you a look that you interpret as him saying 'thank fuck that's not us' to which you respond with a little smirk.

When it's your turn, you tell him about how the new hire broke the copy machine, knocked over and broke the water gallon for the water dispenser, and crashed into someone, spilling hot coffee all over their shirt, all in the course of one day.

"That poor fucker's cursed," Toji says, amusement riddling his expression as he brings his glass of whiskey to his lips.

"He looked like he really needed a hug by the end of the day," you add, biting back a smile, before you take a sip of your own drink.

"Tell me you didn't," Toji says, taking in the seemingly telling look on your face. "Ma."

"I'm kidding. It's jokes, baby. I have no interest in hugging someone I haven't spoken a single word to."

Toji flicks your forehead, watching with a grin as you bring a hand up to rub the sting away. "Gotta piss, be right back, doll. Want another drink before I come back?"

"I'll wait for you to finish yours," you say, to which he nods before standing up from his seat.

"Be right back," Toji repeats, affectionately setting a heavy hand on your head, before he heads off in the direction of the restrooms.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your socials while you wait. Altogether, Toji was gone for no longer than four minutes, and yet somehow, that was enough time for a rando to pull a chair up to your little table and start a conversation with you.

"Hey," he starts. "Why are you sitting here looking all lonely?"

You turn your head to face the person with the unfamiliar voice, slightly widening your eyes as if to question if he's talking to you. He looks at you with raised eyebrows, awaiting your response. "Oh, i'm not here alone. My boyfriend is in the bathroom," you respond, with a polite smile, before returning your attention to your phone.

"Ah. What kind of man leaves a pretty thing like you by herself in a place like this?" The stranger says, in a tone that almost seems pitiful towards you.

You look at him again and attempt to keep your expression neutral. "He'll be back any second now. He's just taking a piss, i'll be fine. Unless you're here to make things troubling for me."

The man chuckles, entertained by your quick shift in tone. "With a feisty attitude like that and a pretty mouth to keep up, it seems like you want me to get you in trouble."

You furrow your eyebrows, blatantly offended by his inappropriate insinuation. It's disturbing to see how he turned your warning into something sexual.

"I already told you, I have a boyfriend. Try someone else," you respond, no longer hiding your irritation.

Toji scans the room for the table you're sitting at, locating you and who-the-fuck in three seconds. This man looks awfully cozy with you, leaning in close every time he speaks to you, so he doesn't stand around any longer and quickly makes his way back to you and this new "friend".

"You sure you don't want another drink, doll?" Toji asks, sitting down in front of you, again, his gaze darting between you and this pocket square looking man. There's a difference between your demeanor from before he left and now. You clearly aren't comfortable, anymore.

"That's it? That is your supposed boyfriend?" The man asks, attempting to minimize Toji by referring to him as if he's nothing in comparison to himself. "Oh, princess. You see this watch?" He asks, raising the cuff of his sleeve to fully reveal his golden watch. "Four thousand dollars, and that's chump change."

You look at Toji and pull his hand into your shaky one, giving him a forced smile. Toji keeps his eyes on yours as the stranger continues spewing arrogant sludge about how much money he makes a year and how even the luxury car he has parked outside didn't put the smallest dent in his wallet.

"You would have it so good with me, baby," he continues blabbering. His hand goes to your wrist, a gesture that Toji quickly puts an end to by aggressively shoving the man's hand away, your empty glass clattering on the table from the force. Toji would have snapped the man's wrist and twisted his hand off, but he didn't want to scare you with the bloodshed. He feels like he's buzzing from the anger bubbling inside, and surely it won't be long before he acts out.

"Don't fucking touch her," Toji spits, glaring at the man with an expression that would have put him six feet under, if looks could kill.

Your heartbeat is in your ears and your blood is boiling. This man is disgusting for being persistent towards someone who doesn't want him. It's masochism, at this point, with the amount of times that you've made it clear that you're not interested.

The man snorts, snobbishly. "He brought you here, of all places. Even just glancing at him, you can tell this cheap ass place is all he can afford. He'll never be able to give you everything you want, so just come with me, doll face."

You rip your hand out of Toji's grasp and stand from your chair, delivering a resounding blow to the man's already hideous face. Tables and chairs wobble as he tries to keep his balance, but when you quickly strike him again, hard enough to increase the pain you felt in your knuckles with that first hit, you manage to knock him onto the ground.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole. You don't know shit!" You grit out, dropping down to try and land another hit to the man's bleeding face. By now, Toji is behind you, restraining your arms and pulling you back as a small crowd begins to form to observe the commotion.

"Ma, come on. Let's just go."

"Let me dent his fucking face in, Toji," you mutter, writhing in his grip.

The vile man manages to sit up, dabbing his fingertips against his busted lip. Though there is red blossoming on his face, his lips still form an amused, twisted smile. He laughs as he watches you get reeled back by Toji, seething as you are dragged away like a child having a meltdown in the middle of a store.

"Hey-- Hey, I said let's go," Toji says, his tone sharper when you continue to try to break out of his hold to fight the idiotic sociopath.

You take a deep breath and stop, willingly letting Toji take you away from this chaos you created in his defense. His hand rests on the nape of your neck, as he guides you through the stuffy bar and leads you outside to the car.

"Stop pacing," Toji says, watching as you threaten to make the asphalt beneath your feet waste away with every step you take in your heated state.

"Fucking asshole, dickhead, motherfucker." You groan, loudly, furiously, before covering your face with your hands. "It's fine, it's fine," you mumble to yourself.

"Then, stop pacing," he repeats, watching on as you walk the same steps, over and over, as if you're on autopilot. "Ma, eyes. Eyes." His hands go to your shoulders, manually forcing you to halt your movement. "Listen to me. I said eyes."

"I'm so... I can't stand still," you say, weakly.

"Stop looking around. Right here," Toji instructs, lifting one hand from your shoulder and pointing two fingers at his eyes. You release a shaky puff of air and hold his gaze as best as you can.

"Talk when you're ready," he says, following your eyes whenever they derail from his.

You aren't ready soon enough. You feel like your heart is trying to burst out of your chest and the adrenaline coursing through you isn't helping at all. Your hand hurts. Your knuckles feel bruised and they're bloody. The night might be ruined, but you felt your reaction was the only way to release the pain you felt when that nothing started talking the way he did about Toji. All you can think to do is hug Toji to prevent yourself from crying about your cause for attacking the gross man. It's all so much. You've never felt so strongly for someone, to the point where you hit a stranger for insulting them. It's scary how Toji brings that defensive, yet, offensive side out of you.

Strong, heavy arms reciprocate your embrace, keeping your tense body close. You feel warm and safe, his scent and the pressure of his hold managing to slowly calm your unsteady heartbeat. After a few seconds of quietness, you turn your head and rest the side of your face on him, finally prepared to speak.

"I didn't like how he was talking about you, Toji. He was talking shit even before you came back, and I hated it. I hated it so much, that I felt nauseous and if I hadn't done something, I would have been sick."

Toji sighs, not out of disappointment or feelings of that sort, but because you seeking out danger for his sake, was not something he ever wanted to see.

"Doll, you know how much I love you."

This sounds like a layer of sugar preceding a talking to. You're trying not to be nervous before the scolding even begins, but you feel the need to brace yourself, as well.

"I love you, too," you mumble.

Toji knows it. He's known it all along, and the events that transpired tonight were just another way of you proving your love and showing how much he matters to you.

"Want you to look at me," he says, lowering his arms on your back, allowing you to make the space necessary to give him your attention. He offers you a soft smile. "Don't get all fidgety on me after you just ripped a stranger's face open."

"I feel like you're about to yell at me," you say, lowly.

That makes him want to laugh, but he keeps his amusement to a minimum, since you're clearly anticipating something terrible.

"Nah. When have I ever raised my voice at you?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Never, and I won't start now, but I want you to get this through your pretty head... It's not your job to beat people up for me."

"I know, but-"

Toji shakes his head. "Hold on, mama. Let me finish talking, then it'll be your turn."

Your heart feels like it's in the depths of your stomach, but you nod, and allow him to continue talking.

"I'm not mad at you, i'm not gonna yell at you. Just wanna keep you safe, is all. That guy was already a fuckin' weirdo, harassing you like that and trying to get you to go with him while I was right there. I wouldn't be surprised if he was into hitting women, too, if he's so comfortable with making them uncomfortable."

It's quiet while you think of what to say. You don't want this to escalate into something that turns you against each other, when it started out as an act of love. You could argue about how you did this to defend him, but in the end, you know his own need to protect you, will stomp all over your arguments.

"I'm sorry we had to leave, but i'm not sorry for the reason behind it. I don't regret what I did."

"Ma..."

"No, Toji. He didn't even know you and yet he still said things that aren't fair." Your voice quiets down, the beginnings of stronger emotions threatening to outwardly reveal themselves. "He insulted you. He questioned your abilities as my boyfriend when he saw me alone— even after I told him you just went to the bathroom. He judged you superficially, he said you can't give me everything I want and--" you pause, interrupted by a shaky inhale and the painful lump in your throat. "Sorry," you mumble, when the first set of tears roll down your cheeks.

"No, you're alright," Toji says, in response, his warm hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your fleeing tears. There's a small pinch in his brows. Why are you crying? It's something he can't ask you, because he knows that if he makes a big spectacle out of it, you'll end up drowning in your tears and shutting down everything you have to say. He resorts to keeping your cheeks dry and encouraging you to keep talking.

"Go on, mama."

You sniff, before picking up where you left off. "I don't care about all that, Toji. I don't care where we go to spend time together, because we're together. I need you, not for you to buy me things or take me to fancy places. That's not what I'm with you for."

Your heart is beating fast, again, its rhythm no longer controlled by fear or nerves, but instead the focus that Toji has on you. He's good at holding eye contact with you, something that occasionally gets distracting if you become too aware of it. You notice that his expression is softer. Maybe it's your brief flash of tears or the way you are always subconsciously finding a way to indirectly recite some of the reasons for why you love him.

"I love you, Toji. That means I won't just sit around and let someone talk about you like you're worthless. And I know, I know you can handle things like this on your own and you don't need me, but it was hard to listen to that."

You pause, as if to give him a break from your bulldozing heart. Silence takes over the moment, both of you just looking at each other. Toji's speechlessness has you wondering if you spilled too much of your heart out to him. You know some things are better left to be figured out, such as the range of a person's love, and yet you just poured without measure. "You can call me crazy if you want to."

Toji's shit-eating grin is unexpected, but it's definitely a sight that lifts some of the heaviness you feel in your chest.

"You love me," Toji says, still smiling like a doofus. He knows your serious facade will crack if he looks at you like this for long enough. He can already see a shift in the expression of your eyes and the way your lips are pressing together just a little more. He tilts his head slightly, a gesture that pushes you even further towards that pretty smile he wants to see. When you finally crack and give into his charm, you do so with a mutter of 'you're so dumb.'

"I'm glad that's what you got out of my rambling," you say, wholeheartedly and in better spirits. Toji pulls you in, this time, his soothing warmth and familiar scent tangling around you, again. His chin rests on top of your head and his arms secure themselves around you, tightly.

"I'm not gonna call you crazy, ma. It's not what I think. Also, don't go saying things that aren't true. I do need you," Toji says, his voice level kept at an intimate volume, as if there are other people there in the parking lot with you. His words are solely meant for you to hear anyway and getting them to you in this manner ensures that you won't go home with your heart feeling heavy, after a talk that was meant to comfort you.

"You know, I don't care what other people think— and that's not to say I don't appreciate you throwing a few punches for my sake. You're a sweetheart and you care so much, but if it's a stranger saying some unimportant, dumb shit, it takes a lot for it to actually get to me. If it really bothered me, they'd be gone."

"Yeah... I know," you mumble, into his shirt, knowing you would do it again and again— countless times. You loosen your arms around Toji and he does the same, his hands dragging towards your waist after you separate.

"How's that hand?" Toji asks, picking your wrist up before you can even respond. He whistles at the sight of the slight swelling and the dry specks of crimson spotted over your knuckles.

"A little tender," you say, feeling a tinge of fear when his other hand lifts off your waist to feel the damage.

"Looks real good on your pretty hand," he says, dragging his index finger over the protruding bones of your hand.

"Does it?" You ask, your barely there smile falling when you wince at the little bit of pressure Toji applies.

"No," he responds, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the sore area. You wince again when his thumb drags over your skin with slightly more pressure than before. "It doesn't. We'll ice it when we get home, alright?" He lets up on the torturous touching, but keeps your hand in his. The words aren't meant to hurt you. He doesn't mean them and he hopes he communicates that with the way he still opts to hold your hand. Your hands will always be pretty to him, he just can't say that to you, right now. Not if it serves as the smallest bit of encouragement for you to repeat what happened earlier, in the future.

"Okay." You nod.

"Gimme a kiss and we can go home or wherever, if you wanna stay out."

You tilt your head up and wait for his lips to meet yours. It's a gentle brush of lips, but the second Toji's hands start slipping under the back of your sweater and your shirt, you know it's going to be more than a single kiss. You can feel the night's cold wind nipping at your skin, as his hands go higher up, his fingertips reaching just below the hooks of your bra. To your surprise, he unhooks the garment, causing you to quickly press your hands to your chest when the cups loosen, to prevent them from fully sliding down.

"Toji," you manage to utter out during the wave of kisses. You turn your head, receiving a kiss that was meant for your lips, on your cheek.

"Yeah... I think we should go home," he murmurs, against your skin. "Maybe we can rock the car a little bit before we go, hm?" Toji smirks when you let out that flustered giggle he's so familiar with. He presses another kiss to your cheek before you turn to face him, again.

"Okay, but let's not blow it all here. We have a nice and comfortable bed at home. Let's add another good night to it."

You don't miss the way Toji's lustfully lidded, green eyes, keep glancing down at your hands on your chest, or how he's mindlessly caressing your bare waist, under your shirt.

"Alright, ma." He pulls out his car keys and with the press of a button, the car unlocks with a beep and the brief, dull sound of flipping locks. "Get inside."

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luveline · 2 days ago

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If you are still writing for bombshell x Spencer could you write something from early seasons when he had feelings for JJ 👉🏻👈🏻

Hotch told you once that he was tempted to put an automatic lock on the office doors, so that he can lock them when he sees you coming during your working hours.

He has yet to follow through. You slip in through the doors and take a deep breath. It smells like coffee, printer paper, all the same stuff as your own office, but your office doesn’t have Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, or Spencer Reid.

“Neither does this one, apparently,” you mumble to yourself, casting your gaze around the room to no avail. The boys aren’t here.

Emily’s sitting at her desk. She’s new, you’re jealous of her job, but she’s gorgeous. You won’t mind sitting at Spencer’s desk until they get back. “Hello,” you drawl, setting down in Spencer’s chair comfortably.

Emily’s mildly startled. “Hey?”

Spencer’s desk is an explosion. You debate cleaning up for him. What if you put something in the wrong place? It’ll be more annoying than helpful. “How are things?” you ask, pushing Spencer’s chair back, and kicking a leg over your knee, high heel bobbing.

“What?”

You smile at her. Flirting, just a little, but your concern is real. “How are things going, Prentiss? With you?”

“They’re good. Yeah. I just moved into my new place.”

Bless her for not knowing what to do with you. She doesn’t have practice like the rest. “A new place? Where to?”

She relaxes while you talk. Her apartment overlooking Kingman, her cat’s annoyance at the new smells and the long case time away. “Spencer says that cats aren’t capable of holding grudges, but Sergei can.”

“He’s cute, isn’t he? He knows a fun fact for everything.”

Emily sits up. You can see the excitement of a secret in her dark eyes. “He’s adorable. His little crush on JJ is so sweet, I’ve tried to give him some advice but he’s totally stuck on her.” You falter. And Emily, profiler in training, she catches it. Her lips part, startled. “You’re not–”

“I had no idea Spencer had a little crush,” you breathe, sitting up with a smile. “For how long? What about JJ, is she interested in him?” You hug your hands together. “You know, I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“Well, I heard they went to a football game together, but I don’t know when. Before I got here, at least.”

What? “That’s fun.”

“I don’t think it’s serious.”

You tip your head back and the heavens have opened, Derek Morgan’s making his way toward you with a grin and a hand reaching for you. “Sweetheart, where have you been?” he asks. “It’s been weeks, I was starting to miss you.”

You texted him a few days ago about a property nearby for rent, and you had coffee the day after to hear his advice on the area, so he’s just making stuff up. “Hi, Derek.”

You get up and let him hug you. You deserve it. You’re beautiful and fun and smart, and you deserve a handsome man rubbing your arm and telling you he missed you. “How much?” you ask warmly.

“Like a hole in the head.”

Hotch is behind him. And there, the surprise item of the afternoon, Spencer Cheating Reid.

“Hi, Hotch,” you say.

“I heard something about you I’d rather not repeat,” he says.

“Hotch, the details were wildly exaggerated, and I was less at fault than you might think.”

“I thought it was entirely your fault.” He shakes his head. “You’re shooting yourself in the foot, doing things like that.”

“Why, what did you do?” Spencer asks.

You falter again. Everyone sees your insecurity: Hotch’s brow furrows deeper than it had been, Morgan pauses, and Spencer, to your panic, holds your eye as the emotion passes. “It’s not worth talking about,” you say, shrugging.

“Try not to do it again,” Hotch says. “Morgan, with me.”

“Uh, Hotch?” Emily speaks up.

“You too, Prentiss.”

He leads a procession up to his office. Morgan throws you a look like he wants to talk to you, but you’ve plastered unaffectedness over the wound again. Why does the idea of JJ and Spencer going on a date upset you? He’s a sweet guy, she’s a nice girl. Is it because you didn’t know?

“You really haven’t been here in weeks,” Spencer says.

“Missed me?”

He holds the strap of his bag. “Yeah, I did.”

What use does he have missing you? “I heard something interesting about you, Spencer.”

“You did?”

He looks shy, pale, and worried. You forget sometimes how he’s not just your favourite dork, he’s a friend. And he doesn’t seem to have very many of them.

Oh, you think, jealousy, you heartless monster.

“The rumour mill says you aren’t sleeping enough,” you say gently.

“I sleep fine.”

You put one kitten heel in front of the other and stay, squinting at him with a teasing suspicion. “That’s not what my informants have been telling me. You look tired, honey. You aren’t sleeping, or Hotch won’t let you?”

“Both.”

He does that playful smiley thing that makes you wanna scrunch his hair in your hands, like he knows he’s made a good joke.

“Your case in Cincinnati sounded tough.”

“Wait,” he says.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Usually. Why?”

“Are you okay right now?”

“I’m fine.” You purse your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just– you– I don’t know, you didn’t seem like yourself. I didn’t mean to upset you, asking about that stuff. It’s none of my business, sorry.”

“How are you feeling about physical touch today?” you ask.

He seems to regard you with distrust, for a few seconds, like he’s worried you’re messing with him. “I’m okay with it,” he says eventually.

You step into his space and touch his cheek gently, fingertip tapping into a beauty mark you often remember only when he’s in your reach. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that.” You drop your hand. “Just having a weird day.”

“Me too.”

Spencer puts his bag under his desk and mentions a video he found on profiling you might like by one of the old Unit Chief’s, SSA David Rossi. You steal Derek’s chair and sit knee to knee with him to watch it, Spencer’s cheeks turning dark with blush in the screen’s reflection.

Can JJ make him blush like that?

—

bombshell fics

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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milktiicup · 3 days ago

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need more of ur scarletella dear lord…. i love how u write mc too <3 could i perhaps request some fluff w our dear mr scarletella? maybe him teaching u words and like. making u say ‘me like you’ or smth HAHAH i feel like he would

probably not the best teacher...!

He places his hand over his heart and says, “Me like you.” You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. “Wait, hold on- are you just sneaking in compliments now?”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ probably not my best work ;;w;; sorry about that

warnings. nooooone at all!

You furrow your brows, and point to the chair. “Table,” you grumble. Mr. Scarletella stares, and stares, and stares. Your mouth tugs into a frown. “Chair…?”

He smiles. You breathe a sigh through your nose. This language learning business was hard… considering it wasn’t even a human language, you’d think you’re doing at least a little okay.

Probably a little below average, realistically.

Mr. Scarletella tilts his head, his dull eyes hinting at the amusement he feels. You scowl. He steps closer, umbrella hanging loosely in one hand, the other gesturing toward the chair. “Chair,” he repeats slowly, his voice deep and deliberate, as if coaxing a child.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “That’s what I said! Chair.”

“Not ‘table.’”

Your frown deepens, and you can feel the embarrassment heat up your neck. “I know, I know! It’s just- you could cut me some slack, you know. Your language isn’t exactly easy.”

Mr. Scarletella crouches slightly, bringing himself eye level with you, his expression softening as his gaze lingers into yours. It took all of your will to not look away. What an intense gaze. Jesus… “You try,” he says simply, the words low and soothing. “Good.”

Your frustration melts, and your shoulders untense. You exhale through your nose- what were you even so worked up for? Mr. Scarletella is the most patient person- monster?- you know at the moment, but he isn’t exactly the best teacher… Mr. Silvair was probably better, and yet, Mr. Scarletella insisted he teach you instead.

And by insisted, he just appeared before any time you were walking into Mr. Silvair’s room and whisked you away. Maybe teleported is a better word.

“Let’s try again,” you decide. You point. “Chair. Table. Wall. Ceiling. Floor… Uhm… lamp? Light…” You frown, but Mr. Scarletella doesn’t interrupt you. You suppose they mean the same thing. You’re not too fussed about that.

Your teacher points to himself. “Me,” he says. He points again. “You.”

You huff. “Me. You. I know that already… Do you think I’m that stupid, huh?”

He hums thoughtfully, a sound that resonates in his chest more than his throat. Mr. Scarletella stands to his full height, looking down upon you with those dull eyes, then with a deliberate slowness, he points to his chest once more. “Me.”

“Yes, I know, ‘me,’” you repeat, mimicking his motion half-heartedly.

He moves his hand, hovering just shy of your chest. “You.”

“Yeah, I get it- ‘you.’ This is basic stuff.” You cross your arms. “What’s the point of this?”

He places his hand over his heart and says, “Me like you.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. “Wait, hold on- are you just sneaking in compliments now?” Mr. Scarletella is silent, and points to you again, as if silently saying ‘Your turn.’ You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “This feels so weird,” you mumble. You mirror him, pointing to your chest awkwardly. “Me…”

He nods approvingly, his umbrella twitching slightly almost as if he can’t possibly wait for those words to come out of your mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek. “…like you,” you finish, the words feeling clunky on your tongue.

Mr. Scarletella’s smiles, his features softening in a way you rarely see. It isn’t one of those creepy smiles that you’re used to seeing- it’s a small smile, a soft one. It’s subtle but unmistakable- an expression of quiet pride. He leans forward slightly, his umbrella tilting to rest against your shoulder and covering you, as if he was caging you in, as if he wouldn’t possibly let you away from this moment. His unblinking gaze meets yours once again.

“Good,” he says, voice as steady and low as ever, but there’s an unspoken warmth in it. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t break the intensity of his focus. If you weren’t in some different world right now, this would totally be the type of moment where people would kiss.

You swallow. Your heart is thudding almost uncomfortably in your chest. “We’re supposed to be practising your language,” you grumble.

“Practice good,” he counters.

You roll your eyes, though it’s mostly to distract yourself from the way your stomach twists at his words. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

His umbrella is back over his head again. He steps closer again, waaaay to close in your personal space- but you don’t think you’re complaining about that, not right now, anyway… Mr. Scarletella’s hand hovers near your cheek, but never quite touching. You can feel how cold his skin is, even without the skin-to-skin contact. “Again,” he says.

“Again?” you reply, feigning cluelessness. The way his lips tug up at the corner makes it clear he knows you’re just stalling.

“Me,” he begins, his hand briefly pressing to his chest before extending toward you, “like you.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re relentless.”

“Say,” he insists softly, his voice coaxing.

Your breath catches. It’s hard to say no when he looks at you like that- calm and unwavering, with just enough patience to make you feel like maybe this whole thing isn’t as ridiculous as it seems. You sigh, your resolve crumbling. “Me… like you,” you mutter again, the words barely above a whisper.

Mr. Scarletella’s reaction is immediate. His dark eyes light up in a way that’s barely perceptible but undeniably there. He steps even closer, his hand finally brushing against your cheek, the coolness of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good,” he says simply, the word carrying more weight than it should.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your ears. “Okay, so we’ve established that I like you and you like me. Can we move on now?”

His thumb grazes your cheek, the faintest of movements. “Not move,” he replies. “Stay.”

You narrow your eyes at him, half-annoyed, half-flustered. “Stay where?”

“Here. With me.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, turning away to hide your face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Mr. Scarletella hums a noise in agreement, completely unbothered. Before you can respond, he takes your hand gently, his grip firm, and tugs you toward him. You stumble slightly, but he steadies you with an ease that makes your heart skip.

“Again,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a tone so soft it feels almost intimate. “Want again.”

You look up at him, and the sincerity in his gaze makes it impossible to argue. With a resigned sigh, you let your hand rest against your chest and repeat, “Me… like you.”

“Good,” he says again, pulling you just a little closer. “Now… stay.”

#homicipher #mr. scarletella #homicipher x reader #mr scarletella x reader #homicipher hcs #homicipher fluff #mr scarletella fluff #mr scarletella hcs #mr scarletella headcanons #homicipher headcanons

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boypied · 2 days ago

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PUT ME IN MY PLACE.

pairings: stepdad!soldier boy (ben) x male reader

summary: ben comes home after a long hard day and catches his slutty stepson walking around in barely any clothes so he decides to punish him.

requested by: anonymous

word count: 935

warnings: smut, face slapping, daddy kink, humillation and super soldier boy special fuck, muscle adoration, stepdad x stepson sex.

Ben takes a deep sigh as he steps inside the warmth of his home, closing the door behind him. He places his heavy bags by the doorway and walks down the hallway into the kitchen, "honey! You home?" He calls out to his wife as he steps into the empty kitchen. "Hello?" He calls out again as he searches around the house, and he opens up your bedroom door seeing you staring at yourself in the mirror, showing off your body. "You're such a faggot" Ben says out loud to you as he leans against your doorframe watching the way your body sways back and forth, he watches the way your tiny shorts hug your ass. You turn around to meet his face, "and you're a shit stepdad," you say with a smug look on your face as you turn back to face yourself in the mirror.

"fucking prick" you mumble under your breath as you admire your body in the mirror, Ben's eyes widen as he hears those words come out of your mouth. He slowly steps into your bedroom, getting closer to you. "What was that?" He says in an aggressive tone as he gets closer to you, you turn away from the mirror to face him again. "What?" You say annoyed that he's still here. "What the fuck did you just say?" He repeats himself as he grips your throat roughly causing your eyes to widen...but not in fear. "I said...fucking prick" you say, making sure to emphasise it so he understands what you've just said. With one hand on your throat and the other he brings up to strike across your face, causing you to let out a quiet moan of pleasure.

His eyes widen. "Did you just...moan?" He says slightly confused as he brings his face closer, his eyes dart down to see the bulge growing in your shorts. A small smirk grows on his face as he strikes you across the face again "h-harder" you mumble out almost in a whisper. "You want it harder?" He asks you softly, causing you to nod up and down. He strikes you across the face harder and more roughly, leaving a red hand imprint on your face. Ben grips the scruff of your neck and pushes your face into the sweat patch of him shirt. "Yeah, that's it. Sniff it, " Ben says as he throws his head as your tongue laps up his sweat. Ben aggressively pushes you against your bed, and he strips off his sweat covered shirt and grips your neck, and shoves your face against his hairy pits.

Your eyes flutter back, and your tongue slides out your mouth to taste his hairy pits. The musky smell was to die for, you continue to lap up his sweat causing your cock to leak so much pre-cum. "d-daddy!" You mumble out between sucking his pits, Ben rolls over on his back, and your tongue leaves his pits and immediately begins to run across his perfectly sculpted abs. "Look at how excited you are faggot" he says in a sultry tone as your hands run over each ab, your tongue sliding down the center of them right up to his pecs. "Mhm," you groan out as you lick the sweat off his abs over and over, licking him clean. "D-Daddy" you groan out in agonising pleasure as your rock hard cock is practically ripping through your shorts as you rub it against his leg.

Ben grips onto you and flips you onto your stomach, putting your ass up in the air. Ben grips onto the hem of your shorts and pulls them down and off your body, "fuck" he groans out as he reveals your jockstrap exposing your bare hairless hole. You bite your lip softly as you feel his hot air hit your hole, Ben spits directly onto your hole, lubing it up. Ben pulls down his jeans and he rubs the tip of his cock against your slick wet asshole. "Fuck. This boy-pussy is going to be so...tight!" He groans out as he slides his thick meaty cut cock inside your hole, feeling you tighten around his length entirely.

Ben pulls out completely and thrusts back in. He watches how his cock disappears inside your hole, he begins to pick up the pace and with each thrust your ass jiggles. He is completely mesmerised by the way your ass jiggles with the backshots he gives you, "fuck" he groans out as he fucks you harder and harder, he leans down against your back and his hand goes down and begins to jerk you off. Edging you closer and closer until you explode all over your creme coloured sheets, it doesn't take long before Ben follows after you and with a couple more thrusts he pulls out and jerks himself off till he finishes over your ass cheeks as you twerk it for him.

Ben pulls away from you and takes a picture of the sigh before him, his stepson ass up with cum shot all over your cheeks. "My best boy" he mumbles to himself as he throws his phone to the side and gently places a kiss on your cum covered ass cheek, "clean yourself up baby" he whispers to you as he walks out of your bedroom and into the bathroom where he hops in the shower to wash the sweat off of him. You use a towel to wipe the cum off your ass and you lay there staring up at your ceiling thinking about what just happened. You can't even hide your smirk any longer.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold

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goldfades · 2 days ago

Note

I feel like we need to have a TikTok trend blurbs I just love the ones you did already.

Like when the reader and Luke is going to bed and he says “goodnight I love you and she says thank you”that one can be good

i love these sm HAHAHHAHAA

the apartment is quiet, the kind of stillness that settles over everything once the day is officially over. you’re in bed, tucked under the covers with the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across the room. luke’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth—you can hear the faint sound of the faucet running and the occasional shuffle of his feet against the tiles.

you’re scrolling through your phone, aimlessly thumbing through videos, when you hear him pad into the room. he’s shirtless, wearing the same old pair of gray sweatpants you always threaten to steal, and his hair’s still slightly damp from his shower. it’s a sight you’ve seen a hundred times, but it still makes your chest do that stupid little flip.

“you on tiktok again?” he teases, climbing into bed and nudging your shoulder with his.

“maybe,” you reply, locking your phone and setting it on the nightstand. “what’s it to you?”

he smirks, leaning back against the pillows and pulling you closer so your head rests against his chest. “just wondering what you’re plotting this time. you’ve been suspiciously quiet lately.”

you roll your eyes, poking his side until he squirms. “not everything’s a scheme, hughes.”

“uh-huh,” he says, voice laced with skepticism but too sleepy to argue further. instead, he wraps an arm around you, his palm warm against your shoulder.

there’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that’s comfortable and familiar. his breathing starts to even out, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you think he’s on the brink of sleep when he speaks up. your phone is already recording, showing half of your face and the curls behind you.

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly, voice low and drowsy. “i love you.”

you pause for just a second—just enough to be noticeable—before answering in the most nonchalant tone you can muster:

“thank you.”

the room goes still.

his hand stops moving, and you feel his chest rise as he takes a slow, deliberate breath.

“...what?” he asks, his voice sharper now, tinged with confusion.

you shift slightly, pretending to adjust the blankets. “i said thank you.”

he pulls back, just enough to tilt his head and look down at you. “that’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

you blink up at him, feigning innocence. “what do you mean? it’s polite to say thank you when someone says something nice.”

his brows furrow, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “but—but that’s not how this works,” he argues, his tone half exasperated, half bewildered. “i say ‘i love you,’ and you’re supposed to say it back!”

“huh,” you say, tapping your chin like you’re deep in thought. “weird. i don’t think that’s a rule.”

“it is a rule,” he insists, sitting up now, the sleepiness completely gone from his face. “it’s literally, like, the rule.”

you bite back a grin, watching as he spirals into full-on disbelief. “are you saying you don’t love me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly at the end.

“no, i didn’t say that,” you reply, stretching the words out.

“then why didn’t you say it back?!”

you shrug, trying to keep a straight face. “felt like switching things up.”

“switching things up?” he repeats, his voice going higher, and you have to physically turn your head to avoid laughing in his face.

“yeah, keeps the relationship interesting,” you explain, patting his hand like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“oh, my god,” he groans, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “you’re actually evil. you’re trying to kill me. this is emotional warfare.”

you finally let out the laugh you’ve been holding in, and he turns his head to glare at you, though the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“i hate you,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “love you too, babe.”

he groans again, but this time he pulls you back into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles.

you grin, snuggling closer. “thanks, love you too.”

“stop saying thank you!”

#luke hughes x reader #nj devils #new jersey devils #hughes brothers #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl fic #hockey #nhl fanfiction #nhl oneshot #hockey fic #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you

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lupinqs · 1 day ago

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN ━━ Swimming in Sin

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.6K

☆ ━ warnings: homophobia, religious themes, mentions of conversation therapy, emotional & physical abuse (it’s not much but if you’re uncomfortable reading it, don’t)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: imma just leave this here

IT’S MONDAY now, and Dani sits in the passenger seat of Paige’s car, the engine off but the faint hum of life around them in the parking lot loud enough to feel present. Students mill about the edges of the lot, but the two of them are hidden away in Paige’s old car. The smell of Paige’s half-eaten sandwich lingers between them, mingling with the faint scent of Dani’s lavender hand lotion.

Paige slouches dramatically in the driver’s seat, her legs stretched out so far her sneakered feet almost hit the pedals. Her sandwich sits abandoned in her lap, crumbs dotting the fabric of her sweatpants, and her face is twisted into a scowl.

“I mean, two and a half weeks,” Paige groans, leaning her head back against the seat. “It’s so dumb. No leaving the house, no seeing any of my friends, no hanging out with you. What am I, bro, twelve?”

Dani picks at the edges of the granola bar in her hand, peeling back the wrapper bit by bit. She keeps her voice light as she says, “What’d you think was gonna happen? He just lets you off the hook? You threw a party, Paige—and never even tried to get permission. And you were completely wasted.”

Paige rolls her eyes so hard Dani thinks she might actually sprain something. “It’s not like I killed someone,” she mutters. “And it’s not like I wasn’t gonna clean up after. Besides, you were there to take care of me. He should’ve been thanking you, not grounding me.”

Dani shakes her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite herself. “I don’t think that’s how he sees it.”

“Well, he’s being dramatic,” Paige insists, sitting up now, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks. “Two and a half weeks of this? How am I supposed to not hang out with you for that long? I get separation anxiety!”

Dani shrugs, fighting a smile at the last sentence, though the thought tugs at her too. She’s upset about it, of course she is, but she’d seen this coming. In fact, she’d half-expected Bob to ban her from their house altogether after Saturday. Two weeks of grounding, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t seem so bad.

“You’ll survive,” Dani says, trying to sound casual even though she knows Paige won’t let it drop that easily. “Besides, it’s only two weeks. And we can still hang out at lunch and in Lit every day. And we can FaceTime whenever you want.”

Paige groans dramatically, as if the suggestion alone is an insult. “But it’s not the same,” she whines, slumping back against the seat again. “I can’t cuddle you over FaceTime, Dani. Or kiss you.” She leans over suddenly, draping herself across the center console so that her head lands against Dani’s shoulder. Dani stiffens for a moment, glancing out the window to make sure no one’s looking, before relaxing.

“It’s not the same,” Paige repeats, her voice muffled against Dani’s jacket.

Dani sighs, tilting her head down to rest her cheek against the top of Paige’s head. She feels the familiar weight of her girlfriend pressing against her, grounding her, even as Paige continues to pout. “I know it’s not the same,” Dani says softly.

She shifts, her free hand moving to tilt Paige’s face up toward hers. Paige’s blue eyes, always so clear and striking, look impossibly—and dramatically—sad now, and it tugs at something deep in Dani’s chest. She leans in, pressing a light kiss to Paige’s lips. It’s quick, barely more than a brush, but it’s enough to feel the way Paige melts against her.

When Dani pulls back, Paige lets out a little whine, her lips still parted as though she’s waiting for more. Dani grins despite herself, resting her forehead against Paige’s for a moment. “Only two weeks,” she murmurs.

“Two weeks too long,” Paige mutters, her eyes closing as she leans into Dani’s touch.

Dani chuckles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Paige’s face. “You’ll survive,” she repeats, though this time it feels more like a promise than a statement.

THE DRIVEWAY is quiet as Dani parks, the hum of the engine cutting off abruptly and leaving her in stillness. She exhales, her breath visible in the icy Minnesota night air, and slouches forward for a moment, forehead pressed against the steering wheel. The gymnastics meet had been a long one—nearly three hours of standing, crouching, and angling for the perfect shots. Her back aches, her legs are sore, and all she wants is to crawl into bed and disappear under her blankets.

But there��s homework waiting, a mountain of it she’s been putting off. AP Calculus, a Lit essay, and some editing work for the yearbook photos she’d taken tonight. Dani groans quietly to herself, leaning back in her seat before finally mustering the energy to grab her photography bag from the passenger seat.

The cold hits her immediately as she steps out of the car, sharp and unforgiving, slicing through her sweatshirt and sinking into her skin. She hurries up the walkway, her sneakers crunching against the thin layer of frost on the ground. Her fingers fumble with the keys, and she’s relieved when the door finally swings open, the familiar warmth of home enveloping her.

Dani kicks off her shoes, letting them fall in a heap by the door, and shrugs off her coat, tossing it onto the rack. Her keys find their place on the hook by the wall, and she drops her photography bag by the entryway, too tired to care about putting it away properly. Her stomach grumbles softly as she pads toward the kitchen, craving something quick and easy before she tackles the rest of her night.

But the second she steps into the kitchen, she freezes.

Her dad is sitting at the table, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes already locked on hers.

The look he gives her is unyielding, sharp enough to cut through the fog of her exhaustion. His mouth is set in a firm line, his jaw tight, and there’s a weight to his gaze that makes Dani’s stomach twist.

She knows.

She immediately knows.

She doesn’t need him to say anything. She doesn’t need an explanation. She can feel it in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

He knows about her and Paige.

Dani’s body goes cold. It’s not just the March air still clinging to her from outside, nor the exhaustion weighing her limbs from the long day. This is something else entirely—something that feels like dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, clawing its way up her throat.

She forces herself to meet her dad’s eyes, but it’s like staring into a storm—chaos barely contained behind the sharp lines of his face, his clenched jaw, his rigid posture. He’s keeping his tone measured, his voice low, but somehow that makes it worse. Scarier, almost, than if he were yelling at her.

When he gestures to the chair across from him and says, “I think we should have a talk,” her legs nearly buckle.

Her hands are trembling as she pulls out the chair and sinks into it. She sits on the edge of the seat, stiff and awkward, her fingers finding their way to the edge of the table to anchor herself. It doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real. This isn’t happening—not here, not now. But the look on his face tells her otherwise.

It feels like an out-of-body experience, that the thing she’s feared the worst over the past few months is finally coming true.

“I was talking to Beau’s father earlier today,” Dani’s father begins, his voice cool and detached. “You know—your apparent boyfriend.”

The way he spits the word out makes Dani flinch, her nails digging into the underside of the table. Her heart pounds so loudly she’s sure he can hear it. She doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing.

“I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him since the fall,” he continues. “You know, since he switched companies and we no longer worked together. But today, he told me some very… interesting things.”

His eyes are sharp as they pin her in place, his words deliberate. “Do you want to know what they are?”

Dani can’t respond. Her throat is dry, her chest tight, and the room feels like it’s closing in on her. She can only stare at the table, her fingers now nervously picking at her nails beneath it.

When she doesn’t answer, he presses, his voice dropping to something sharper. “Except, I think you already know what they are, Danielle. So, do you want to tell me yourself?”

Dani’s breath catches. Every instinct tells her to run, to get up and leave before this gets worse, but her body is frozen, glued to the chair. Her father is watching her so intently, waiting for her to break, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can hold it together.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she swallows the lump in her throat and forces herself to speak. Her voice is small, barely audible. “Beau and I broke up.”

The admission feels like a death sentence, but she can’t take it back now.

Her dad’s laugh is cold, devoid of any humor, and it makes her stomach churn. “Yeah, you did,” he says, his tone dripping with disdain. “In November, apparently. Over four fucking months ago, Danielle!”

He slams his fist against the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. Dani jumps, her pulse skyrocketing, and the first sting of tears pricks at her eyes.

“I just…” she begins, her voice breaking, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he repeats, his laughter sharper this time, almost unhinged. “Oh, we haven’t even scratched the surface on that.”

Dani can’t bring herself to look at him anymore. She stares at her lap, blinking back tears, wishing she could disappear.

“You want to know the most interesting thing Mr. Hudson told me today?” he says, his voice cutting through the silence.

Dani doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“He told me that Beau said you broke up with him for a girl.”

The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. He lets them settle, lets them twist like a knife in her chest before he repeats himself, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A girl.”

Paige.

Dani’s lungs constrict as her dad’s words pile onto her like stones, each one heavier than the last. Her heart pounds so loudly in her ears she can barely hear him, but the venom in his voice is unmistakable.

“I didn’t want to believe him. Not even a little bit,” he says, his voice trembling now, teetering on the edge of something raw. He shakes his head, as if trying to erase the very idea from his mind. “I couldn’t help but think to myself that no, my little girl wouldn’t do this—not again. I thought you’d learned your lesson, gotten past these types of things.”

Her stomach twists violently at the phrase these types of things, a wave of shame and dread crashing over her. She can’t meet his eyes anymore. She focuses on a crack in the table, blinking furiously to keep her vision clear. But it doesn’t work. A tear slips down her cheek, then another. She wipes at them quickly, desperate to hide any sign of weakness.

“I thought that maybe the Hudson boy made this up,” he continues, his tone brittle, almost pleading. “To save face, you know? To make himself feel better about the breakup. I refused to believe it because I’ve been so proud of you, Danielle. So proud of all the progress you’ve made.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and it’s like a knife twisting in her gut. She feels the weight of his disappointment like an iron shackle around her neck, dragging her down.

And then he drops the pretense of restraint entirely. “But I came home,” he says, his voice growing sharper, harder. “I needed to figure it out for myself. So I went up to your bedroom and looked around. And sure enough, Beau Hudson was telling the truth. You did leave him for a girl. The same girl you nearly ruined your life for last summer!”

Dani’s breath hitches, panic clawing at her chest as he pulls items off the chair beside him, tossing them onto the table like damning evidence in a courtroom.

A Hopkins basketball sweatshirt. Paige’s sweatshirt. He must’ve found it in her closet.

The printed photo from last week’s state championship, where Paige’s mom had insisted on taking a picture of the two of them. In it, Dani and Paige are standing close, too close, their smiles wide and happy, the kind that only come from people who are comfortable in each other’s orbit. Their shoulders are pressed together, and Paige’s hand is wrapped around Dani’s waist.

A folded note with the initials PB scribbled on the front, the one Paige had slipped into her photography bag last week after practice.

More things follow: a pressed flower Paige had given her after a walk in the park, a ticket stub from the movie they’d gone to see together last month, a journal entry about Paige that Dani had foolishly written—her father must’ve ripped the page from the notebook. It’s all so mundane, these little artifacts of their relationship, but to her dad, they’re something else entirely.

All the air seems to leave Dani’s body as she stares at the pile. There’s no way out of this. None. He’s found everything.

Her dad begins pacing, his hand dragging down his face as his breathing grows heavier. His movements are frantic now, like he’s trying to physically outrun his own fury. He seems to be losing himself, his voice starting to rise, too.

“I thought we were past all of this!” he shouts, octaves echoing off the walls. “I thought you’d learned! I thought you’d grown! But here we are, right back at square one, and you’re still the same little sinner, getting caught up in all this gay bullshit again. It’s disgusting, Danielle.”

The words hit her like a slap to the face. She feels her cheeks burn, but it’s not from anger. It’s from humiliation, from the sheer weight of hearing him say the words out loud, like her existence is something filthy, something shameful.

Her breathing quickens, shallow and erratic, as he barrels on.

“I sent you to camp!” he yells, gesturing wildly as if the memory of it alone should be enough to set her straight. Truthfully, it might. “They told me they fixed you. They told me you got better, that you understood the weight of your actions, the power of God.” He pauses, running both hands through his hair, his eyes wide and wild. “I mean, Jesus Christ, Dani, I’m really gonna have to send you back there. Do you know how fucking embarrassing that is for you? That you’re gonna have to be sent back for a round two because you couldn’t get it through your thick fucking skull the first time?”

“No,” Dani whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears.

Her dad doesn’t hear her—or doesn’t care.

“I sacrificed so much to send you there!” he continues, his voice rising again. “And for what? For you to come back and make a mockery of this family all over again?”

“Please, no,” Dani says again, louder this time, but her voice wavers and cracks.

She can feel herself spiraling. Her hands shake uncontrollably as she grips the edge of the chair, her knuckles white. She can’t go back to camp. She can’t.

The memory of it flashes in her mind—cold, sterile rooms; endless hours of lectures about sin and shame; the suffocating, unrelenting pressure to repent for something she doesn’t even think is wrong. The thought of being trapped there again, of losing herself completely this time, is unbearable.

Dani feels herself sinking, her father’s tirade muffling into a dull roar as the panic grips her fully. Her breaths are shallow, too quick, and the edges of her vision start to darken. She clutches at the back of the chair, trying to steady herself, but the weight of his words is unbearable.

Not again. I can’t go back.

But his voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts like a blade. “Do you hear me, Danielle?” he shouts, slamming a hand onto the counter. “You’re going back. I don’t care what it takes. You need to fucking learn the severity of the sins you’ve been swimming in! I’ll send you on the next flight if I have to!”

The words snap something in her, a thread pulled too tight finally breaking. Her mind drags her back, unwillingly, to that first day at camp.

JUNE 2019

The air inside Mrs. Keating’s office is thick and stifling, a mix of lavender and cleaning solution that seems calculated to force calm. Dani sits in the chair across from her assigned counselor, her shoulders curled inward and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She doesn’t meet Mrs. Keating’s eyes, instead keeping her gaze fixed on the wall behind her.

Mrs. Keating looks calm, unnervingly so. She’s an older woman, her hair pinned back into a severe bun, her glasses perched neatly on her nose. There’s nothing about her that invites warmth or softness.

She’s quiet for a moment, studying Dani like she’s some kind of puzzle to be solved. “Do you know why you’re here, Danielle?” she asks finally, her voice calm and deliberate.

Dani shrugs, her movements small and tense. “Not sure,” she says, her tone clipped.

Mrs. Keating tilts her head slightly, like she’s trying to peer inside Dani’s mind. “You’re here because your actions have led you down a path of sin. A path that separates you from your family, from your faith, and from God.”

The words sit heavily in the room, and Dani shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Her pulse is steady but loud in her ears, and she can feel the way her body tightens at the mention of God. It’s always God with them. Like He’s some weapon to wield against her, not some presence she’s ever known to feel safe or loved by.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Dani says after a long pause. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, but there’s a firmness beneath it.

Mrs. Keating nods slowly, as though she expected the answer. “You believe that because the enemy—the Devil—has planted lies in your heart, Danielle. Lies that make what you’ve done feel natural, even good. But deep down, you know that it’s not. That’s why you feel guilt, isn’t it?”

Dani swallows hard. She doesn’t feel guilt—not about Paige, anyway. There’s guilt about other things, sure. About being sent here. About what it’s doing to her dad, about how she’s made everything so messy and complicated. But not about Paige.

Still, the way Mrs. Keating speaks gets under her skin. It’s calm, calculated. Like she’s dissecting Dani piece by piece and cataloging her flaws for some case study. Dani hates it. It makes her feel small. Exposed.

“I don’t feel guilty,” Dani says, but the words come out quieter than she intended. She’s not sure she even believes them.

“Of course you do,” Mrs. Keating counters smoothly, leaning forward slightly. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. Your father wouldn’t have sent you.”

That makes Dani flinch. Her father. The sharp sting of his disappointment still weighs heavily on her chest, pressing down in a way she can’t escape. His face when he’d told her she was going to camp had been full of anger, yes, but there had been something worse beneath it—something that looked like shame.

He hadn’t even looked at her when he dropped her off.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Dani mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re going to talk about it, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating says, her tone firm but still devoid of emotion. “Because this is the first step. You have to face the reality of your actions if you’re ever going to heal.”

Dani’s hands tighten in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. “There’s nothing to heal from,” she says, more forcefully this time before repeating, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mrs. Keating doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she sits back in her chair, her sharp eyes fixed on Dani like she’s waiting for something. Dani shifts under the weight of her gaze, but she doesn’t break the silence.

Finally, Mrs. Keating speaks. “Tell me about the girl.”

Dani’s chest tightens. She doesn’t look up.

“The one your father mentioned,” Mrs. Keating presses. “The one who led you astray.”

“She didn’t lead me astray,” Dani protests quickly, the words tumbling out before she can stop them.

Mrs. Keating doesn’t react to the outburst. “So you do feel something for her, then.”

Dani freezes, her stomach twisting into knots. She doesn’t know how to navigate this, doesn’t know what answer won’t be used against her later.

After a moment, she settles for, “There’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing. Paige isn’t wrong. What we had isn’t wrong.” Her tone is slightly more argumentative, more confrontational than usual. But she’s been sent to this unfamiliar, scary fucking place so she supposes she has a right to.

“What you had,” Mrs. Keating repeats, leaning forward slightly. “You speak as though it’s in the past. Is that because you already know it cannot last? That it is not sustainable?”

Dani’s jaw tightens, her teeth grinding together. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t trust herself to speak without snapping. She can feel her nails biting into her skin, but the sharp pain is grounding. It keeps her from falling apart completely.

Mrs. Keating takes the silence as an opening. “This is a safe space, Danielle. You can be honest here. Talk to me.”

Dani doesn’t talk to her. She doesn’t talk at all. She looks away, her gaze zeroing in on a jagged pattern on the wood flooring, eyes wide and unblinking. Her eyes burn, but she won’t let Keating see her cry. She won’t give her that satisfaction. She refuses.

Eventually, Mrs. Keating stands, the movement slow and deliberate. She walks around the desk and stops in front of Dani, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Dani stiffens at the contact, trying to shrug the hand off, but Mrs. Keating’s grip is firm. It doesn’t hurt, not quite, but it feels invasive.

“You have a lot to learn here, Danielle Callan,” Mrs. Keating says quietly, her voice unshakable. “But that’s why you’re here. To learn. And you will.”

THE MEMORY lingers in Dani’s mind like a weight she can’t shake, thick and suffocating. Mrs. Keating’s calm voice echoes in her head, the grip on her shoulder a phantom pressure she swears she can still feel. She shakes her head slightly, trying to dislodge the thought, but it refuses to leave.

She can’t do it.

She can’t do it again.

Her dad’s voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp and furious. He’s been yelling for what feels like forever, pacing the length of the living room with heavy, deliberate steps. Every word he spits out feels like a lash against her skin, each syllable steeped in anger, in disbelief, in the kind of disappointment that makes Dani feel impossibly small.

“How could you do this to us again?” he barks, throwing his arms up. “After everything we went through, after everything you went through—this is how you repay us? By… by flaunting it like this? You didn’t even try to hide it this time, Danielle!”

Dani winces at his words, each one sinking into her chest like a stone. She stays seated on the hard chair, her hands balling into fists on her thighs. Her fingernails bite into her palms, the sharp sting grounding her, keeping her from unraveling completely.

He stops pacing suddenly, turning to face her with his hands on his hips. His eyes burn with conviction, his expression a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he demands.

Dani’s breath catches in her throat. She can’t hold his gaze for long, can’t stand the way he’s looking at her, like she’s some broken thing he can’t figure out how to fix. Her eyes drop to her lap, and she shifts uncomfortably in the chair.

Her throat feels tight, her eyes burning with the threat of tears she refuses to let fall. She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t—I…” she starts, trying to force the words out. “I can’t be fixed, Dad. This isn’t something that’s fixable.”

The silence that follows is heavy, almost unbearable. She risks a glance at him, but his face is unreadable now, his mouth a firm line, his eyes locked on her.

So she keeps going, her voice trembling but steady enough to push through. “I didn’t choose to like other girls—like Paige—like that. It just… happened. I was born like this. I’ve had these thoughts since I was little. I can’t be fixed, can’t be changed. The—the ‘gay’ stuff you’re talking about can’t just be prayed away.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Dani thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s heard her. But then he straightens, his expression hardening, and he shakes his head. “You didn’t try hard enough,” he says firmly, his voice like steel. “You weren’t at camp long enough.”

The words ignite something in Dani, something sharp and bitter and raw. Her head snaps up, and for the first time, she meets his gaze head-on, her eyes flashing. Her voice is louder now, trembling with emotion she can’t contain.

“I did try!” she says, standing up as the chair scrapes against the wooden floor. “I tried so hard! I didn’t talk to Paige for months; I completely pushed her away. I dated Beau like you wanted me to. I did everything that was supposed to be right! And I was miserable for every second of it!”

Her voice cracks, and she feels the tears spill over now, hot and relentless. She swipes at them angrily but keeps going, because she has to. Because if she doesn’t, she might never say it again.

“I wasn’t happy that way!” she cries, her voice breaking with the weight of it all. “Can’t you just let me be happy, Dad?”

The tears come harder now, blurring her vision as she stares at him, her chest heaving with every breath. She’s willing him to understand, willing him to hear her, because all she wants—all she wants—is to be happy.

But the silence stretches on, suffocating, and Dani’s heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

Dani’s dad stares at her, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if he’s physically restraining himself from exploding again. His gaze feels like it’s drilling into her, searching for something, as if the right words might pull her back into the version of herself he’s convinced she’s lost.

Dani meets his eyes, even though everything in her screams to look away. They’re both standing now, face to face, close enough that she can see the tight lines of his jaw, the furrow between his brows that only deepens the longer he looks at her.

For a moment, she thinks maybe he’s going to soften, maybe he’ll finally hear her. But then his face hardens all over again, and his voice comes out sharp, slicing through the fragile silence.

“This is a sin,” he snaps, the words like venom on his tongue. “You think you know better than God? You think this is how He made you?” He throws up his hands, his voice rising with every word. “No, Danielle, you were not born this way. You were fine until… until her.”

Dani’s stomach drops. She doesn’t have to ask who he means.

He doesn’t stop. “It’s that Bueckers girl! She did this to you—she’s the one who ruined you!”

“No, she wasn’t!” Dani yells, her voice breaking halfway through. Her hands shake at her sides as she takes a step closer, her eyes wide and pleading. “Dad, no! Everything she did, I did too! There was no… no influence, no manipulation! I’m telling you, this isn’t something you or anyone else can fix!”

But he’s already shaking his head furiously, his expression twisting into something cruel. “It can be fixed!” he shouts back, his voice booming in the small space. “I refuse to watch you go to hell over this! I refuse, do you hear me? You’re gonna go back to that camp, and they’re gonna help you, and you’re gonna stay long enough this time to be saved, I swear it!”

Dani feels like the floor is falling out from under her. “I’m not going back there!” she protests, her voice cracking with desperation. She thinks her nails might be digging so harsh into her that it’ll draw blood. She doesn’t care.

“Oh, yes, you will!” he yells back, his eyes flashing with a fire she’s never seen before.

“You can’t make me!” she throws back, her voice raw.

For all his negative words directed at her, all the screaming and yelling, all the accusations—there’s always been something that’s held him back from ever going past using his words. He’s never dared lay a hand on his daughter. But whatever that something was that stopped him has clearly been thrown out the window.

It’s so fast she almost doesn’t process it. His hand comes down, hard, across her face. The sound of the slap reverberates in the room, sharp and deafening, cutting through the air like a whip.

Her head jerks to the side from the force of it, her cheek immediately stinging, a fiery burn spreading across her skin. For a second, she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand there, frozen.

Her hand comes up slowly, almost instinctively, to press against the spot where he struck her. Her palm is shaking as it touches her face, as if to confirm the reality of what just happened.

She stares at him, wide-eyed, her vision blurring with tears she refuses to let fall. There’s something unfamiliar in his eyes now, a look she’s never seen before, and it chills her to her core.

Disbelief crashes over her like a wave, drowning out everything else. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stands there, her heart pounding in her ears, the sting on her cheek the only thing grounding her in the moment.

For a moment, Dani stands frozen, her mind struggling to catch up with her body. Her breath is shallow and ragged, her chest heaving like she’s run a marathon. Some people freeze in fear, others run. Fight or flight—it’s instinctual. And Dani has always been the kind to freeze up.

But the fear in her now is different, deeper, and it sinks into her chest like a weight she can’t dislodge. It’s not the kind of fear that paralyzes—it’s the kind that propels. She can’t stay here. Not with him like this. Not when she doesn’t know what he’ll do next.

Her gaze darts to the table, where her phone lies just within reach, and she finally forces her limbs into action. Her hand trembles as she lunges for it, but before her fingers can graze the sleek surface, her dad’s hand intercepts her.

“Dad—wait—”

Her words barely leave her mouth before he wrenches the phone away. She watches, helpless, as he hurls it across the kitchen with a furious motion. The phone hits the tile floor with a sickening crack, the sound cutting through her like a blade. Bits of glass scatter, catching the light, and the air feels heavier, oppressive, as if the walls themselves are closing in.

Dani lets out a strangled sob, the sound escaping her throat without permission. She takes a step back, and then another, her hands coming up instinctively to shield herself. Her back bumps against the edge of the counter, and she feels trapped, like an animal cornered by its predator.

Her father’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding. “Do you hear me, Danielle?”

His tone isn’t loud anymore, but it’s worse that way. The quiet intensity of it crawls under her skin and wraps around her chest like a vice. She can’t look at him. She’s too scared of what she might see. Instead, her eyes dart toward the shattered remnants of her phone, then back to the floor, her body trembling.

“Dad, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her throat feels raw, her words choked by the tears she’s holding back. “You’re scaring me. Please, just—just stop.”

But he doesn’t stop. He moves closer, his footsteps deliberate, until he’s towering over her. Dani flinches as his hands reach out, but he doesn’t hit her again. Instead, his fingers clamp down on her shoulders, firm and unyielding.

“You’re going back tomorrow,” he says, his face mere inches from hers. His voice is calm now, too calm, but every syllable lands like a blow. “You’re going back. And you’re staying there until they fix you.”

Dani tries to shake her head, tries to move away from his grip, but he holds her in place. Her tears spill freely now, hot trails streaking down her cheeks.

“I can’t,” she chokes out, her voice cracking. “I can’t go back there. You don’t understand. I can’t do it again.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he snaps, his grip tightening. “Go upstairs. Pack your things.”

His words slam into her like a physical force, and she feels herself crumbling beneath the weight of them. She’s trembling, her knees weak, but she doesn’t move.

“Dad, I—”

“No.” His voice is steel. “Do you hear me, Danielle? Do what I said. Now.”

The intensity in his eyes pierces through her, and for a moment, all she can do is stare back at him, tears blurring her vision. She feels so small, so powerless, her body shrinking under the weight of his anger. The room is suffocating, the air thick and unrelenting.

When she finally finds her voice again, it comes out soft and broken. “I don’t want to go back.”

Her father doesn’t answer. He just stares at her, his expression set, his hands still gripping her shoulders as if holding her in place. The silence stretches between them, heavy and unyielding, and Dani feels herself breaking under it.

Dani doesn’t think; she just moves. Her father’s grip isn’t as strong as his words, and she twists out of it with a force she didn’t know she had. Her pulse pounds in her ears as she spots the keys hanging on the small hook by the door. They’re so close—just a couple of feet away.

She can make it. She has to make it.

Her body acts before her mind can catch up, surging forward. Her dad’s hands grab at her, but she slips free, adrenaline pushing her faster than his reaction time. Her fingers curl around the cool metal of her car keys, and she yanks the front door open in one motion. The air outside is cold and sharp, but she barely notices as she sprints out onto the porch and down the driveway, her socks sliding slightly on the concrete.

“Dani!” her father’s voice bellows behind her, furious and disbelieving.

She doesn’t stop. She can’t. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and the ache in her chest is overwhelming, but her body doesn’t let her pause. The car is right there.

She reaches it just as he does, her hands fumbling to open the door. Her father’s voice is louder now, closer, almost on top of her. “Danielle! Stop this right now!”

But she doesn’t stop. She slides into the driver’s seat, slams the door shut, and locks it in one fluid motion. Her hands are shaking so violently she can barely grip the steering wheel, but she manages to press the ignition button.

Her dad is at the window now, his face red and furious, his voice muffled but still terrifyingly clear through the glass. “This is my car!” he yells, banging on the window. “I pay for it! Get out right now!”

Dani can’t look at him. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, her vision blurred with tears. Her whole body is trembling, her hands slipping on the wheel as she shifts into reverse.

“Danielle!” His fist slams against the glass again, making her jump, but she doesn’t let it stop her.

The car jerks as she pulls out of the driveway too fast, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. She doesn’t care. Her dad’s voice fades into the background as she speeds down the street, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She doesn’t look back. Not at him, not at the house, not at the neighborhood she’s known her entire life.

Her chest feels like it’s caving in, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She’s crying so hard she can barely see, her tears mixing with the streaks of rain on the windshield. Everything feels blurry, distorted, like she’s underwater and the world is pressing in on all sides.

Her mind races as fast as the car. The words he said replay over and over, looping endlessly until they feel burned into her brain. You’re going back. You need to be fixed. I refuse to watch you go to hell.

Her dad’s voice has always been loud, always sharp, but this… this was different. Because for the first time in her life, Dani was scared of him. Truly, bone-deep scared. Not just of what he might have said to her, but what he might have done to her.

The thought of going back to camp makes her stomach churn violently. She can still hear the echo of Mrs. Keating’s voice in her head, those sickly sweet tones that masked something far darker. She can feel the weight of the prayers, the way they crushed her under their expectations, as if forcing her into a mold she could never fit.

I can’t go back there, she thinks, the words looping through her head like a desperate mantra. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

Her fingers tighten on the wheel, and she forces herself to focus on the road in front of her, though she has no idea where she’s going. The streets blur together, familiar landmarks passing by unnoticed. In the back of her mind, she knows she should have a plan, but right now, all she can do is drive.

In an ideal world, she’d go to Paige’s. Paige would know what to do. Paige always knows what to do. But Dani can’t. Paige’s house is too close, just one door down. Her dad would’ve followed her there in a heartbeat, and Paige is already in trouble enough as it is.

She lets out a shaky sob, her shoulders heaving as she turns onto a random street. The car feels too big and too small all at once, the silence inside it deafening. She’s not even sure how far she’s gone, but it doesn’t matter. The tears don’t stop.

Her hands are shaking so badly that she has to pull over, the car screeching to a halt on the side of a dimly lit road. She sits there, gripping the wheel as though it’s the only thing tethering her to reality, her body trembling with the force of her sobs.

Dani feels lost—nowhere to go, nothing in front of her.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #hopkins p fic #take me to church #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wbb #wcbb #uconn #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #wlw #lgbtq #wcbb x reader

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lamiadrowned · 2 days ago

Note

Hey, how are you? Before I make my request, I wanted to say that I couldn't find your rules, so if the content of this request is not to your liking, please ignore it.

Could you please write Jinx fucking her girlfriend several times in a row and the reader ends up squirting?

ty ❤️

*:･ﾟ✧ all night, keep moving

jinx x fem!reader | nsfw

such a yummy request thank you! i’m currently working on a post for my request rules as well as a masterlist, so that should be up soon :)

“just one more, ‘kay?”

that’s a very common lie when jinx gets in this mood of hers– the one where she has all this steam to blow off. it’s never just one more, and to make matters worse, she never goes easy on you, either.

she’s repeated those words like a personal, but very dishonest mantra before the last three orgasms you’d had tonight. it’s no secret that her stamina is unmatched, but you can’t understand how her hand hasn’t already cramped up, or more absurdly, completely fallen off.

her middle and ring finger are thrusting in and out of you at a break-neck speed, sparks that feel like a crack of lightning going up your back each time she curls them into that spot that makes you see stars. the heel of her hand presses harshly into your clit with each movement. she’s on top of you, shirt long forgotten about somewhere on the floor of your room whilst you’re completely naked, and she’s grinning down at you with pride in how much of a mess she’s made out of you.

there’s an odd feeling stirring inside of your belly, somewhere deep and guttural. you arch your back and gasp when she thrusts especially hard, only worsening this unfamiliar sensation.

“jinx,” you cry, grabbing onto her wrist of the hand that is gently holding onto your neck to ensure that you can’t go anywhere. “too much!”

“oh, too much?” she mocks you. “c’mon, but you’re doing so good for me!”

you squeeze your eyes shut, a single tear running down your temple. “s-slow down!”

much to your surprise, jinx obliges this request. she slots her fingers inside of you and slowly continues to curl her fingers in a steady rhythm, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek. “i know, honey. it’s a lot, huh?” she mumbles sweetly, though you know she’s only teasing you. you nod regardless, inhaling her familiar scent in attempt to ground yourself– sweet peas and gunpowder. “don’t think you can take it?”

you whine in protest, grip tightening on her wrist. “i can! i can… i can take it,” you breathe through your whimpers.

“but you just said it was too much?” she feigns confusion as she tilts her head, only to see a couple more desperate tears fall from your eyes. the power she has over you gives her a head rush.

at this point, you have no chance of forming a coherent sentence, so you just close your shaking thighs around her hand in attempt to keep her there. she laughs, but moves her free hand down to spread them apart again, her nose slightly brushing yours. “you’re so fucking cute, you know that? can’t even talk,” she beams. then, her fingers speed up the rhythm of their ceaseless curling, her hand that was previously on your thigh now moving to rub your clit with her thumb. a gasp rips itself from your throat and you arch your back, crying out from the sheer pleasure and shock.

“there we go.” jinx encourages you, feeling your bruised walls tightening around her fingers with reckless abandon. “you gonna cum for me? yeah?”

your moans make up for the words you can no longer find. they bounce off the walls and fill jinx’s ears, a symphony she hopes to hear again and again, because just like you, she knows this won’t be the last time she pushes you over the edge tonight.

that feeling in your stomach builds to a peak that your body can no longer withstand, feeling as if you’ve been set on fire from the inside out. before you know it, your eyes are rolling back into your head, your body is arching into the girl on top of you– for a moment there, you totally black out.

but jinx? she’s sure to watch every second. her smile grows impossibly wide when she feels a splash of wetness against her hand, looking down to behold a sight that only spurs her on further. “look at that! jeez, babe!” she laughs breathlessly, looking up at you without stopping her ministrations.

you squirm and cry and use your hands to try pushing her away after a long few seconds, body burning with the overstimulation of her movements. luckily, she listens, and slows her wet hands down before running them up your waist. you slump against the bed, comforted by her touch and unbelievably exhausted. “i’m– i’m sorry,” you whisper, throat so sore you’ll have to make a mental note to check the bathroom cabinet for cough drops.

“you’re sorry?!” she gasps. then, she moves up to press a sweet bunch of kisses to your tear-stained face. your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks, your nose, and then, your mouth. “that was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen. i didn’t even know you could do that!”

“i didn’t either.” you huff out a pathetic laugh, weakly wrapping your arms around her shoulders to pull her down into a kiss. her teeth and tongue brush against your lips, which is one of many signs that she’s nowhere near done with you.

this suspicion is confirmed when she pulls away to start kissing at your neck. you thread your fingers through her long ribbons of hair and hum in satisfaction. “take a breather, alright? i’ll go get you some water. i’ve gotta make you do that one more time before you’re out of commission.” she speaks into your neck, her words sending another wave of arousal through your delicate system.

maybe you could stand to last a few more rounds. after all, there’s no such thing as ‘one more time’ with jinx.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane smut #jinx #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #jinx smut

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harryssyndrome · 2 days ago

Text

Darkness and You | h.s

summery: a late night drive takes an unexpected turn when an handsome stranger takes his place in your passenger seat.

wc: 5.3k || 🌕🌖🌗🌘 Masterlist 🌒🌓🌔🌕

WARNING ⚠️ sexual references, mention of unprotected sex. MINORS DNI! you’re responsible for your own consumption, don’t blame me later. It’s your own choice.

Posted on: November 25th, 2024

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 || TAGLIST IS OPEN!

Surprise lovelies! The first part from serial-killer!Harry series is here and I really hope you enjoy it. 😌 let me know how was it and if you have any ideas for other parts, I just might post some more this week itself. this is my first ever try at writing 18+ stuff tho it’s not really much so I hope it didn’t suck🤭😳 REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

You don’t do this. Any of this. You don’t pick up hitchhikers in the middle of the night. Especially men.

You’ve seen a lot of horror movies and you’ve heard a ton of news stories.

You’re not five. You know what you should and what you shouldn’t do. But you’ve made an array of bad choices tonight so why not continue it?

You don’t know what it was but something compelled you to pull over.

The boy with the curls and those deep green eyes, gets into the passenger seat, a grateful smile on his face. He looks sweet, to be honest.

“Oh, thank you so so much. I’ve been out here for so long. My car just gave out on me and there’s no signal in this shithole.” He says, his English accent very evident as he adjusts his seatbelt. “May I know my saviour’s name?” He asks with a smiles that shows a pair of dimples.

The air is thick with the quiet hum of the engine, and your fingers clench the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. You’re not sure if it’s the cold seeping into the car or the nervous energy building in your chest. Something about this feels surreal, like stepping into a scene you’d only watch from the safety of your couch. Yet, here you are, with a stranger in the passenger seat and an unspoken weight hanging between you.

“Uh, YN,” you reply, your voice more hesitant than you’d like. His accent catches you off guard again, so polished and charming it almost makes you forget the unease simmering below the surface. Almost.

“YN,” he repeats, letting your name roll off his tongue like he’s testing its sound. “That’s a lovely name. I’m Harry.”

Harry. It suits him somehow. Still, you can’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His curls are messy, probably from standing in the cold too long, and his coat looks worn, but there’s a warmth to him. Those green eyes, so striking, carry a sense of ease—like he’s the last person in the world you should be afraid of.

Still, you’re not stupid. Sweet smiles and dimples don’t guarantee safety.

“So… where are you headed?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral while silently calculating how far you are from the nearest gas station or town. Somewhere with people. Witnesses.

He exhales, the sound almost a laugh. “Honestly? Just anywhere away from here.” He runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head. “My car decided to betray me in the middle of nowhere. Tried to call for help, but of course, there’s no signal. Classic, right?”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels forced. Your instincts are at war—one side whispering that this guy is harmless, the other screaming at you for stopping in the first place.

“Well,” you say, trying to sound composed, “you got lucky I came by. Not a lot of cars out tonight.”

“Not a lot of kind people either,” Harry adds, his voice softer now. “I was starting to think I’d be out there all night.”

His words linger in the air, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. Maybe he’s just another unlucky soul, stranded and hoping for a break. Maybe you’re overthinking this. Or maybe this is exactly how every cautionary tale starts.

“So, YN,” Harry says, breaking the silence again. His tone is light, conversational, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. “What’s a girl like you doing out here at this hour? Don’t tell me you’re running away from something, too.”

The question catches you off guard, and your grip on the wheel tightens. “No,” you reply quickly, a little too defensively. “Just… a long drive. Needed to clear my head.”

He hums in acknowledgment, not pushing further, and you feel a flicker of relief. He leans back in his seat, letting his head rest against the window. For a moment, you think he’s going to drift off, but then he glances at you again, his eyes almost piercing in their intensity.

“You’ve got this look,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”

You don’t respond right away, unsure how to take that. “You’ve known me for all of five minutes,” you finally say, trying to deflect with a weak smile. “Bit of a bold assumption, don’t you think?”

He chuckles softly. “Maybe. But I’m pretty good at reading people.”

The car falls into a strange silence again, and you can feel his gaze shift back to the window. There’s something about him—something you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s not just the way he talks or the way he looks at you. It’s the way he feels out of place, like he belongs in a story that hasn’t been written yet.

And for reasons you can’t explain, you let yourself keep driving.

There was some reason he can’t take his eyes off of you, almost as if you’re a rare piece of art he couldn’t help but admire.

“You always pick up handsome strangers in the middle of the night?” He teases with a cheeky smirk on his features.

You glance over at him, briefly, before focusing back on the road. The way his smirk lingers, paired with those dimples, feels both disarming and maddeningly charming. “Not usually,” you reply, your tone even, though you’re acutely aware of his gaze on you. “Just the ones who look like they’ve had a rough night.”

He laughs at that, the sound soft and warm, filling the small space of the car. “Lucky me, then,” he says, his accent turning the words into something smoother, like they carry more weight than they should. “Although, I think the luck might be yours. How often do you get to share a car with a proper English gentleman?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “English gentleman, huh? You sound like a guy who gives himself that title. Let me guess, you also drink tea at every opportunity and say ‘cheerio’ unironically?”

His hand flies to his chest in mock offense, and he lets out a dramatic gasp. “Cheerio? Absolutely not. What do you take me for, a walking British stereotype?”

“Maybe,” you shoot back, your tone playful now. “I mean, you did say your car ‘gave out,’ and who even says that anymore?”

He chuckles again, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “Fair enough. But for the record, I’m more of a coffee guy. And I don’t say ‘cheerio.’” His smirk returns, softer this time, as he adds, “I think you might be the first person to question my gentleman status, though. Most people just take one look at me and assume I’m… irresistible.”

You snort, trying to stifle your laugh. “Irresistible? You really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” he quips, his voice teasing but not cocky. His gaze lingers again, softer now, almost contemplative. “But I’m serious. You’ve got this… way about you. Like you’re completely unimpressed by people like me, and I can’t decide if it’s refreshing or terrifying.”

That catches you off guard, and you shift in your seat, the smile slipping from your face just a little. “People like you?”

He shrugs, the smirk still lingering but now tinged with something deeper. “You know, the ones who talk too much, crack jokes, try to charm their way through life. The ones who should be lucky just to share the same space as someone like you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, a mix of unease and flattery you’re not quite sure how to handle. You keep your eyes on the road, focusing on the distant glow of headlights in the distance. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who just met me.”

“Maybe,” he admits, leaning back in his seat and letting his gaze wander out the window. “But you can tell a lot about someone in five minutes. Like how you’ve got this look in your eyes, like you’re constantly bracing for something to go wrong.”

You freeze for just a moment, his words hitting closer to home than you’d like. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, brushing it off with a casualness you don’t really feel.

“Maybe I am,” he replies, his voice low and calm, like he doesn’t quite believe you but won’t push. After a moment, he adds, almost to himself, “But for some reason, I can’t stop looking at you. It’s like… you’re a puzzle, and I can’t figure out the edges.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you settle for silence, the tension in the car shifting to something strange and unspoken. Outside, the road stretches endlessly ahead, the darkness pressing in on both sides. And for the first time since picking him up, you wonder if you’re the one being read, the layers of your carefully built armor peeling away under the weight of those deep green eyes.

Harry leans back in his seat, one hand resting casually on his knee as he studies you. His gaze, though soft, feels weighted—like he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know you were wearing. After a beat of silence, he speaks, his voice low and curious.

“Can I ask you something, YN?” he says, his tone gentle, almost disarming.

You glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “Sure,” you reply, though the way he says your name sends a faint chill up your spine.

“Aren’t you scared?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Picking up a male stranger in the middle of the night? Alone? I mean, you said it yourself—this isn’t exactly normal behavior.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words triggering the voice of reason that’s been screaming at you ever since you stopped the car. Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and you force a small laugh. “A little,” you admit, though your voice wavers slightly. “But you don’t seem like the scary type.”

Harry’s lips curl into a smile, one that’s almost too perfect—dimples and all. “Well, I promise you, I’m not some sort of serial killer,” he says lightly, his tone almost playful. “Scout’s honor.”

Something about his phrasing makes you laugh, and the tension in your chest eases—if only slightly. “Isn’t that exactly what all serial killers say in the movies?” you tease, glancing at him briefly with a raised brow.

Harry’s smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—a shadow of a thought you can’t quite catch. “Touché,” he says, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze never leaves you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “I suppose it would be the perfect cover, wouldn’t it? A smile, a little charm… make yourself seem harmless enough, and no one suspects a thing.”

The way he says it sends a ripple of unease through you, and the playful smirk he wears only deepens the strange knot in your stomach. You force yourself to stay calm, trying to brush it off. “That’s… a little creepy, don’t you think?” you reply, half-joking.

Harry chuckles softly, the sound low and almost hypnotic. “Maybe. But if I were a killer, wouldn’t I have already done something by now? You’ve got me here, alone, no witnesses. Seems like the perfect opportunity, doesn’t it?”

Your heart skips a beat, and your hands grip the wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening. His voice is still light, teasing, but there’s an undercurrent to his words that you can’t quite place. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to gauge whether he’s just messing with you or if there’s something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“And yet,” he continues, his tone softening again, “here I am, just a guy stranded on the side of the road, grateful for the kindness of a beautiful stranger.”

Your throat feels dry as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to respond. “Well, for your sake—and mine—I hope you’re telling the truth.”

He lets out another soft laugh, leaning back against the seat again. “Of course I am,” he says smoothly. But there’s something about the way he says it—like he knows more than he’s letting on. Like he’s enjoying this moment a little too much.

The road stretches on in front of you, the darkness pressing in from all sides, and for the first time, you start to wonder if stopping for Harry was the worst decision you’ve ever made. Because while his smile is charming and his voice is calm, there’s something about him that feels off. Like the quiet before a storm.

Harry shifts in his seat, his gaze flicking to you every so often, like he’s studying the curve of your profile, the way your fingers tap the wheel, the faint crease in your brow as you concentrate on the dark road ahead. The hum of the engine and the soft patter of the tires on asphalt are the only sounds filling the car now, a strange kind of peace settling between you two.

“How far’s the city?” he asks casually, breaking the quiet, his voice smooth and easy, though there’s a strange undertone to it—like he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it.

You glance at the dashboard clock before replying, “Probably around three hours. Give or take.”

Harry lets out a soft hum, leaning back in his seat, his head tilting toward you as though drawn by some invisible force. Three hours. Three uninterrupted hours with you. It’s enough to make his heart race.

He lets the silence return, but his thoughts are anything but quiet. His mind is a storm of emotions and desires—chaotic, consuming, and entirely focused on you. There’s something about you that’s different. It’s not just the way you look, though your beauty feels like something out of a dream. It’s the way you hold yourself, the sharpness in your wit, the vulnerability you try to mask but can’t fully hide. You’re magnetic in a way he can’t explain, and the more he sits beside you, the deeper his obsession grows.

He watches the soft glow of the dashboard lights reflect off your face, highlighting your cheekbones and the curve of your jaw. He wonders what it would feel like to trace that line with his fingers. To know the softness of your skin. To see you look at him not with the occasional suspicion that flashes in your eyes but with trust. Admiration. Love.

His thoughts spiral, wild and untamed, as his gaze lingers on you. What would it take for you to see him the way he already sees you? Would you ever understand how special you are? How perfect this moment is? You were meant to find him tonight—he’s sure of it. The universe wouldn’t have aligned so perfectly otherwise.

His fingers twitch, his desire to reach out, to touch you, almost overwhelming. But no, not yet. He has time. Three hours to savor this moment, to bask in the glow of your presence, to solidify the bond he’s convinced you’re destined to share.

You’re unaware of the storm raging in his mind, the way his chest tightens with every glance at you. You think the silence is peaceful, and in a way, it is—for you. For Harry, it’s intoxicating. Maddening.

He forces himself to take a steady breath, his fingers curling into his palms as he tries to calm the fire within him. He doesn’t want to scare you, not yet. You’re like a delicate thread, and if he pulls too hard, you might snap.

So, he keeps his voice soft, his demeanor calm, though his thoughts are anything but. He smiles to himself, a small, secret smile, as he stares out the window at the endless darkness. You have no idea, he thinks, how utterly and completely you’ve captured him.

And he plans to make sure you never get away.

As the silence stretches between you, Harry's mind spirals further into chaos. He shifts again in his seat, the seatbelt digging into his chest as his thoughts race uncontrollably. His green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and then to the empty backseat, a dark thought taking hold of him. It's ridiculous, he knows, but the image is vivid, almost too vivid to push away-the two of you tangled together in the small space, your back arching against the leather as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

The idea sends a heat rushing through him, and he clenches his jaw, forcing his gaze back to the road ahead. But it's no use. His thoughts keep circling back, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself. The way your lips curve as you speak, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the faint scent of your perfume that fills the car—it's driving him mad. You're so close, yet just out of reach, and it's enough to make him want to explode.

He imagines it so clearly: the way you'd look beneath him, your head thrown back, your lips parted in a gasp as he claims you. The sound of his name spilling from your mouth, a mix of moans and screams that would echo in his ears forever. The thought of marking you, leaving his fingerprints, his bruises, his everything on you-it consumes him. He wants you to be his, entirely his, in every possible way. To make sure no one else could ever have you, touch you, or even think of you the way he does.

His breathing becomes shallow as the lust builds inside him, threatening to take over. His hands clench into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms as he fights to regain control. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. You're driving, unaware of the wildfire burning inside him, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this perfect moment.

But his eyes betray him, flicking back to the rearview mirror, imagining again how easy it would be. The backseat seems like it was made for this-for you. He could pull you back there, coax you into his arms, and let his hands explore every inch of you. He'd take his time, memorizing the feel of your skin, the way your body reacts to his touch. You'd look so beautiful, so utterly perfect, with your cheeks flushed and your voice breaking as you beg for more.

Harry exhales sharply, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He turns his head slightly, stealing another glance at you, and it only makes things worse. The way your lips press together in concentration as you drive, the way your fingers drum softly against the steering wheel-it's enough to make him want to lose control.

He shifts again, trying to adjust himself discreetly, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. His lustful thoughts are a storm, loud and demanding, drowning out every ounce of reason he has left. He's trying to distract himself, to think of anything else, but it's no use. Every thought keeps looping back to you-your voice, your scent, your body, your everything.

You glance at him briefly, catching the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his eyes, but you brush it off as nothing. To you, he's still the stranded, grateful stranger, polite and charming, sitting quietly beside you.

But Harry's chest tightens as he fights the urge to act on the consuming need inside him. His teeth graze his bottom lip, his mind racing. He's never felt like this before— this overwhelming obsession, this uncontrollable desire. And it terrifies him. But it also excites him, in a way he can't even begin to describe.

For now, he forces himself to stay still, to keep his hands in his lap and his voice calm. But his thoughts? His thoughts are far from calm. They're filled with you, with every possible way he wants to have you. And the longer he sits beside you, the harder it becomes to stop himself from making you his. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably his.

Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, a casual curiosity in his tone that makes you glance at him briefly. “You don’t have a boyfriend yet, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. You keep your eyes on the road, trying to process his words. “How did you know?” you ask, voice light, though you can’t quite place the reason why it feels like an oddly personal question.

Harry shrugs slightly, a devil-may-care smile curling on his lips. “Just a guess,” he says nonchalantly. “No man in his right mind would let a gorgeous girl like you be alone at night for this long. Either that or you’ve got a terrible taste in men.”

His words hit you with an unexpected warmth. You laugh, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, trying to hide the flutter of something that rises in your chest. It feels like he’s teasing you, and yet there’s a charm in his tone, something alluring and carefree that makes it hard not to feel a little… flattered.

“Terrible taste, huh?” you reply, half-joking, your eyes flickering back to him. “Well, maybe I’ve just been too picky.”

Harry’s smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his green eyes. He leans forward slightly, his voice low, as if sharing a secret. “Maybe I can be your new boyfriend,” he suggests, his tone playful but with a teasing undertone that makes your pulse quicken. “Save you from your bad taste?”

You laugh again, this time more freely, the sound light and natural. “Oh really?” you reply, shaking your head with a mock skeptical smile. “You think you could do a better job?”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you, a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he’s sure he’s exactly what you need, even though you’re not quite sure how to respond. “I mean,” he says, his smile widening, “you wouldn’t know until you tried, would you?”

The playful banter between the two of you continues, the tension that had briefly been present starting to dissipate, replaced by a light-hearted connection that feels easy and natural. But beneath the surface of the conversation, Harry’s thoughts still swirl with that same obsessive desire. He’s enjoying the game, enjoying the way you laugh, the way your eyes twinkle when you tease him back. But deep down, he’s already picturing what it would look like if he were your boyfriend. How it would feel to have you close, to make you his—completely, entirely, and without question.

For now, though, he lets the teasing continue, enjoying the playfulness between you, and the undeniable pull he feels toward you. But he knows, deep down, that this is only the beginning. This is just the start of what’s to come. And he’s more than willing to wait for the moment when you’ll be his.

Harry’s smirk widens as you teasingly reply, “Maybe.” He can’t help it; his pulse quickens at your words. He’s always been good at reading people, but with you, everything feels like an exciting game—one he’s eager to win.

He leans in a little, his arm stretching out to rest on the console between you, positioning himself closer. His breath hitches slightly as he catches the scent of your perfume again, the warmth of your presence filling the car. He’s trying to remain casual, but he can’t help it; his thoughts are moving too fast, pulling him deeper into the haze of attraction.

“Give me some hope at least, moon flower,” he says, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “Let me know I’ve got a shot.”

His eyes never leave you as he waits for your response, and when you tease him back, saying, “Okay, you do. You have a shot at it,” Harry’s grin stretches across his face, almost too excited for his own good. It’s as if he’s won something. Something he can’t quite put into words yet, but it feels like a step toward getting closer to you.

He sits up straighter, a surge of confidence overtaking him. His gaze moves over your figure with a deliberation that makes your stomach flutter. The way his eyes drink in the details of your face, your body, makes you feel… noticed. Seen.

“That’s one hell of a boost for my ego,” Harry says, his voice dripping with a mix of playful arrogance and genuine admiration. “I’ve got a chance with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s flattering, but there’s something else in his look—something deeper, something more consuming than mere compliments. It’s as if he’s claiming you in some unspoken way. His eyes linger a little too long, and though he’s trying to be playful, there’s a certain hunger there that catches you off guard.

A part of you wants to laugh it off, but another part of you… well, another part of you can’t quite deny the effect his words have on you. The way his confidence oozes, the way he seems to have you completely captivated even when he’s just speaking casually.

You force your gaze back to the road, but the tension between you both feels different now. It’s charged, electric—filled with unspoken possibilities. Harry, however, doesn’t let up. His eyes keep studying you, as if trying to decipher every little detail about you. His lips curl into a smile that’s both triumphant and knowing.

The atmosphere in the car shifts. The lightness of the teasing still hangs in the air, but there’s a deeper layer now—one that feels almost like a promise. Harry’s made it clear: he’s not here for just a simple ride. He’s here to win your attention, your affection, to make sure you know exactly how much he wants you. And as he watches you, he knows he’s already made his mark on you in some way, whether you realize it yet or not.

The air between you thickens, charged with the energy of his words. Harry's voice lowers, almost like a secret. "This might sound crazy since I hardly know you," he says, his gaze flickering from your face to your lips, then back to your eyes. "But I really, really want to kiss you."

The intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, sends a rush of heat to your chest.

Your heart skips a beat, then races faster than before. You know it's reckless, impulsive, but it's as if something deep inside you is responding to him, telling you to act, to do something. But before you can process the surge of emotions, your foot slams down on the brake pedal without warning.

Harry's eyes widen, his body thrown forward by the sudden stop. His hands instinctively grip the console as he stumbles against the force of the car halting.

"Jesus!" he exclaims, his voice laced with shock, his pulse spiking.

You breathe shakily, your hands still gripping the steering wheel as the car finally comes to a stop. The silence in the car is thick with anticipation. Harry's heart is racing, not just from the sudden stop, but from the way you're looking at him now-there's something different in your eyes. Something that mirrors the craving he's been feeling.

When the shock of the stop wears off, Harry turns to you, his breath coming in quick bursts. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you.

"Why the hell did you stop the car like that, love?" he asks, his voice rough, his brows furrowed in both confusion and curiosity.

Your eyes lock with his, and something shifts. The walls you'd both been playing behind-teasing, joking-begin to crumble. His question hangs in the air between you like a challenge. But then, without saying another word, you lean toward him. A glint of something darker passes over your face.

"Because I wanted to do this," you whisper, and without waiting for any further hesitation, your lips crash into his.

The kiss is immediate and intense, born out of the tension that's been building ever since he first got into the car. His lips are soft but urgent, pulling you closer. There's no room for uncertainty anymore; only the heat of the moment, the heat of his body pressing against yours, the heat of desire crackling between you both.

Harry responds eagerly, his hand reaching to cup your jaw, fingers threading into your hair as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a pulse of warmth straight to your core. His kiss is fierce, as if he's been waiting for this moment just as much as you. His tongue brushes against yours, a soft, tantalizing pressure that makes you lose yourself in the sensation.

For a brief moment, nothing else matters-the world outside the car, the consequences, the lingering doubt. All of it fades away as you both succumb to the pull of each other, driven by something stronger than logic or reason. The kiss feels like a release, the pent-up tension from the entire ride coming to fruition in one passionate, desperate embrace.

When you finally break away, your breaths are ragged, both of you still close, your foreheads resting against each other. Your pulse is wild, your heart pounding in your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way he looks at you now-his eyes dark with desire, filled with a hunger that matches your own.

Harry grins, a satisfied, almost predatory look crossing his face. "Well... I guess I got what I wanted," he murmurs, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks.

But you know this isn't over. The tension between you both is only just beginning, and neither of you can walk away from it now.

“God, you’re so hot,” Harry mutters against your lips, the hand not on your face sneaking down to your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing the flesh through your jeans. He’s getting drunk on you, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. He’s never before felt this way, it’s like something in him has snapped in half, the primal and possessive side of him awakening. He doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss gets more heated, the sweet gestures replaced by desperate and hungry ones. Harry’s fingers dig into your thigh almost possessively, his head tilting to deepen the kiss even more.

His tongue runs over your lower lip, begging for entrance.

As soon as you grant him access his tongue immediately pushes inside your mouth, exploring every inch of your wet cavern hungrily. It’s as if he wants to devour you. His hand moves up from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer, trying to get the most possible body contact.

“You’re driving me insane, princess…” Harry mumbles against your lips, one hand now gently gripping your chin, holding you in place. He’s practically addicted to the way your mouth feels on his, you’ve unleashed something primal in him, something he has trouble controlling.

“Your car is like.. a perfect spot for this, love,” Harry comments, his lips moving off of yours, down to your jawline. He begins kissing the skin there as he speaks, “Plenty of space… dark, private… you should park somewhere. I bet your backseats are really comfortable.”

There was no denying that he get want he wants and you’re now his… and this is just the beginning

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sturniolohouse · 11 hours ago

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dad!matt blurb - reader comes home to matt supporting june's new obsession with dogs.

"Matt... what are you doing?" I ask as I emerge from the hallway before spotting June sitting on our bed, flailing her tiny arms in a oversized hooded dog towel.

"Mama's home!" Matt beams at June and she squeals, the hood slipping over her eyes before he gently adjusts it, making sure the ears sit right.

I stare at them, trying my best to keep a straight face. "I leave the house for a couple hours, and you’ve turned our daughter into a dog?" I deadpan, half-serious, leaning against the doorway,

"Don’t pin this on me," he says with mock seriousness. "This was all Junie's idea. She picked out her new towel,"

"Picked it out?" I repeat sarcastically, putting all my stuff down. "Matt, she's eight months old." I point out, trying not to laugh when I see the hood swallow her head again.

She looks so happy, her little legs kicking like she's having the time of her life.

Matt shrugs, still grinning. "Look, she loves it, I couldn't resist." He sits next to her on the bed.

Ever since Junie met Madison's dogs, Presley and Toast, she's been obsessed with dogs. Seeing them play together had her laughing hysterically. Plus, they're so good with her, so patient. Now, even when we go on our daily walks in the park, her face lights up at the sight of every dog we pass.

Matt can't wait until we go back to Boston so she can see Trevor again with her new-found love of dogs.

I shake my head, walking over to them and get a closer look at our little "puppy." She looks up at me with her big blue eyes, babbling happily, showing off her bottom two teeth.

"Do you like it Junie?" I ask her as she reaches for me, tugging on my shirt to lift herself up.

"Mamamamama" she mumbles, standing up with her grip on me. I instantly place my hands on either side of her incase she loses balance, even though she'll fall right on the bed if she did.

Matt watches proudly, his eyes wide, "Look at you go, kid," he praises, moving to stand behind me, hands on his hips.

"Good job, baby," I encourage her, laughing when she squeezes her eyes shut and tosses her head back with excitement. She's nearly falls back on her bum but I steady her, keeping her close to me. Her towel falls away and I see her clad in a new matching puppy print PJ set.

I smirk and look to Matt, "Let me guess...she picked this out too?"

"Nope, that one was all me." He says proudly.

She's been standing while holding onto things recently. The first time she did it was actually around Chris a couple weeks ago, and he nearly lost his mind.

Matt had driven Nick to the warehouse to work on a project and Chris stood back to give me a hand watching June as I got my own work done in the old podcast studio.

When I heard him call my name frantically, my heart dropped, thinking the worst. But when I came downstairs, I found him frozen on the couch, arms out, eyes wide and staring at Junie, who was standing up, gripping the arm of the couch for balance.

"She's never done that before, right?" He laughs in shock, grabbing his phone out to film as my hands cover my mouth.

I shake my head, "No... Junie, where did you learn that? You're making Mama nervous," I said, half-laughing, slowly making my way toward her as she smiles at me without a care in the world.

"I swear on my life, I looked away for less than a minute. She was just playing with her toys on the mat and the next minute she's standing." he recounts, still in shock and I sit down on the floor next to June who moves immediately to my lap.

"Guess we gotta get to baby-proofing," I joke, biting at June's hand playfully when she reaches for my face.

When Matt got home and heard what happened, he was so mad he missed it. He tried everything to get her to do it again—putting her toys on the coffee table, the couch, even trying to get her to stand while holding his fingers. But each time, she'd just plop right back down, giving him a cheeky grin.

She always manages to stand whenever we're not looking—almost as if she knows how much we want to catch her in the act.

But today, I guess she's ready to be a show-off.

She bounces a bit on her little legs and looks over at Matt, her face bright with excitement. He praises her softly, his voice full of pride, and she giggles in delight, soaking up every bit of the attention.

"Standing before you even crawl... you gotta slow down, June-bug." I say to her playfully, as she looks between Matt and I.

"She's about ready to walk," Matt says, letting her grab his finger for more balance.

"Don't say that," I murmur, a pang of bittersweetness in my chest as I watch them. "She's my baby."

"She'll always be your baby," He reminds me softly, kissing my forehead. I scoop her into my arms at that moment and smother her cheek with kisses, squeezing her tight to me.

Then, to my surprise, she scrunches her little face and sniffles, leaning forward to sniff at mine, just like Presley always does to her.

I burst into laughter, my head tossing back, "Oh my God, Matt, did you teach her this?"

Matt chuckles, hands in the air in mock defense. "I swear I didn’t! I think Presley’s just rubbing off on her."

I giggle, but wince as Junie decides to tug at a fistful of my hair.

I'm going to be bald by the time I'm 24.

"Hey, hey, easy kid," Matt says softly, stepping forward to help.

He gently pries Junie's surprisingly strong grip from my hair, his face twisting with a mix of concentration and sympathy as he carefully untangles her tiny fingers.

"She's got a real talent for that," he jokes, gently rubbing the tender spot where my hair was tugged.

I huff, adjusting Junie on my hip after sweeping my hair onto my other shoulder, far from her reach.

Junie babbles in response, her tiny hands smacking against my chest, gripping my necklace instead. Matt takes the opportunity to lean in and blow a raspberry on her cheek, making her squeal with delight and let up her grip on my necklace. Her giggles are contagious, and I find myself laughing along with her.

"You’re a little menace, kid." I tease, kissing her on the top of her head. "A cute one, though."

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #dad!matt #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolohouse

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38livesalone-has3cats · 1 day ago

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Too Early-- Konig(cod) x reader SMUT

a/n: omg omg hi !!!! this is my first smut ever so pls be nice i'm doing my best !😭😭😭 pls send in requests i need ideas and whatnot(should i make a masterlist/what fandoms i'll write for ??)

summary: the morning after Konig comes home from deployment, you wake up in bed alone >:(

**reader is also in the military and has a working dog named percy ! he's mentioned like twice**

word count: 3.3k

tags/tw: smut, basically porn w very little plot, switch!konig + switch!reader, reader has fem body parts, oral(m and f receiving), face-sitting, 69, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, light choking, mating press

You wake with a frustrated huff.

The bed around you is empty and cold, no Konig(your lovely fiancée), and no Percy(your perfect four-legged partner). You sit up and rub your eyes with a loud yawn.

You can hear your dog's nails on the tile as he sprints towards the bedroom. You let out a sleepy chuckle as you watch him launch himself onto the bed and climb up onto you. “Oh- god-” You laugh, petting and roughhousing with the dog for a bit. After that, you get up and pull on some shorts before stretching and letting Percy lead you to the kitchen- where Konig is standing and making some breakfast. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns down the music he had playing.

“Ah, guten morgen, mein shatz.” He offers you a small smile.

“Good morning.” You huff, wrapping your arms around his waist and shoving your face into his back. Konig doesn’t react, continuing to use the stove. “What is the matter?” He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You always wake up so early.” You complain, no real malice behind it. He simply chuckles. “Are you hungry?” He offers as he turns off the stove. “What’d you make?” You let him go and hop up on the counter. “Just some eggs and bacon.” He shrugs. He puts everything on a big plate before setting it down and turning back to you. “You hungry?” He repeats, putting his hands on either side of you on the counter.

“Not yet,” You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I jus’ woke up, unlike someone.” You tease, bumping your nose against his. Konig lets out a huff and brings his hands up to your lower back, where his fingers flex and trace shapes into your shirt(his shirt). “Maybe next time I’ll wake you up instead of sneaking out of bed to make you breakfast like a good verlobten.” He pouts, his breaths mingling with yours as he speaks. “Nooo-” You try to shake your head but he presses his lips firmly to yours, effectively shutting you up.

You make a noise against his lips as one of his hands cups the back of your head, the other gripping at your hip. You let out a breathy laugh when he pulls back for air, “I love you.” You sigh, tangling your fingers through his long hair, pulling out the little hair tie to release his auburn locks.

“I love you,” He parrots, letting his head fall down to your shoulder, “I missed you.” He noses along your neck and you laugh again, bringing your hands to his chest to push him away. “Konig! That tickles.” You continue to laugh as he lifts his head up, a big grin on his face.

“I am just having my fun, liebling.” He says, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Mmm, you’re having too much fun- it’s too early.” You manage to get out between kisses. “No such thing.” He says before moving his head down to mouth at your jaw and neck. “I’m barely even awake.” You murmur, your hands now gripping his shoulders. One of his hands suddenly reaches between your thighs and rubs his fingers along your clothed core, making you jump away from the sudden intrusion. “You feel awake to me.” He says simply, a smug look on his face.

“Konig.” You mean to say it in a chastising way but it comes out more as a whine. “Yes?” He mumbles, shoving his face in your chest, nosing the valley of your breasts over your shirt. His fingers press harder against you and you shift your hips forward slightly, your mouth dropping open.

He starts tracing slow circles over your clothed clit and you grab the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his long hair. “I want to taste you.” His voice is low, needy.

“Please.” You let one of your hands tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. That’s all he needs; he makes a pleased sound and pulls back just to pull your shorts and underwear down your legs. You lift your hips slightly to make it easier and he drops to his knees, letting the clothing fall to the floor.

Suddenly, Percy is headbutting Konig and trying to play- sending the 6 '10 man stumbling onto his ass. You let out a laugh as Konig regains his balance, “Lauf.” You instruct the dog through your giggles and he runs out the doggie-door to the backyard.

Konig lets out a huff, ignoring the ruined tension in the room; he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder before pulling you to the edge of the counter. “Hey- easy-” You grip onto the counter to prevent yourself from slipping off. “I am getting impatient.” He says, a pout on his face as he presses kisses on your inner knee.

“I can see that- oh, f-fuck-” You barely get the sentence out before Konig is shoving his face between your legs. Your body jolts away from him on instinct, but he keeps his firm hold on your thighs, keeping you close so he can lap at your clit. Konig grumbles as you close your thighs around his head; he simply turns to nip at the soft flesh there and you yank them apart. He quickly latches back onto his target and you let out a high-pitched whine, digging your heel into his back to push him closer. “Konig- holy shit!” You cry out, letting your head fall back and exposing your neck.

Konig takes the opportunity of you looking away to shove a finger inside your hole. You gasp, straightening up and reaching down to grip his hair with one hand. He curls his finger once, twice, then inserts two more- all while his tongue continues its work on your bundle of nerves.

It’s all becoming too much, and you pant wildly while your heels continue to press into Konig’s back- needing more, more, more. Konig lets out a chuckle against you and you groan, “Come on, Konig, please-!” He knows what he’s doing, the asshole. Finally, he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, massaging your g-spot as he does. You let out a loud, high-pitched whine and he doubles down on your clit, sending you quickly tumbling over the edge.

Your fingers pull and yank at his hair while your thighs tremble around his head as you ride out the waves, slowly coming down as his lapping subsides. He breaks away, looking up at you with a goofy grin, the bottom half of his face shiny with your juices. “I swear, you taste even better than I remember.” He says excitedly, practically giggling.

You laugh along with him breathlessly, pushing on his shoulders as he climbs up and tries to kiss you. “S-stop! You’re all gross!” You laugh, your shaky arms unable to hold him back as he rubs his cheek against yours. You let out a loud yelp, groaning at the wet feeling on your face. “You’re so gross!” You pout, wiping your face with the t-shirt you're wearing.

“I think we have gotten much more “gross” before, have we not?” Konig raises an eyebrow, a goofy smirk on his face; his accent and what he’s implying sends another rush of arousal straight between your legs. You cringe at his words as he scoops you up, his hands under your thighs- your bare core brushing against the front of his sweatpants.

“Would you like to continue this here on the counter or in our bed?” He asks, but he’s already walking towards your shared room. “You’re not really giving me a choice.” You huff, letting out a laugh as he tosses you onto the bed. “I like it here more.” Konig shrugs simply, reaching to pull his shirt over his head as you scoot toward the edge of the bed, grabbing at his waistband.

Konig runs his large hand through your hair as you pull his sweats and boxers down in one go, exposing his long, hard length to your eager eyes.

Konig takes a deep breath in as you pump his cock a few times, watching precum start to leak from his pretty red tip. “Scheiße.” He mutters, tugging on the roots of your hair. You grin up at him before taking him in your mouth.

You focus on the head for a few moments, swirling your tongue around and then suddenly taking him deeper. He hits the back of your throat and your nose hits the patch of hair that rests above the base of his cock. Konig makes a strangled noise, his head falling back as he groans. “H-ah, you are feeling- you feel so good, engel.” He pants, starting to match the bobbing of your head with small, careful thrusts of his hips.

He knows how big he is-he isn’t stupid- so he knows to be more careful during oral- no matter how often you whine and tell him it’s okay.

Konig’s grip on your hair tightens and his panting turns to whines and whimpers. “Ah, gott, you must stop. Ah- I am going to come, bitte- I cannot take it-” He’s frantically begging, his cock twitching with the effort to keep himself from cumming.

You pull off his cock for a moment, looking up at him with a smug smile- Konig whines, but he’s relieved. “Thank you, danke, liebling.” He pants, taking a moment to wipe the drool from your chin with his thumb. “I wanted to taste you.” You pout, and he chuckles, tilting your chin up as he leans down.

You meet him halfway, rising off your hands as his mouth meets yours. You groan into his mouth as his tongue forces its way into your eager one, you reach up to grab onto his pecs- groping and tweaking at his nipples. He chuckles against your mouth, sending a fresh wave of arousal down between your legs.

“You are so needy today, shatz. What do I do with you?” He murmurs as you playfully nip at his bottom lip. “I think you should lay down and let me have some fun.” You suggest, letting your mouth continue to travel down his jaw and neck.

The air in the room shifts. “Should I?” Konig hums- testing the waters. His fingers tighten around your waist significantly as you dig your teeth into his neck.

“Go on.” You murmur, pressing a smooch over the bite to soothe it. Konig makes a small noise of content, nodding as he moves away from you to lay down comfortably on his back. “You comfy?” You ask, your hands finding their way to his thighs where they squeeze and grope at the taut muscles there. “Mhm, yes schatz.” He agrees quickly, moving to sit up on his elbows so he can watch you.

You open your mouth, letting a glob of spit fall onto the head of his cock. Konig inhales sharply, and you watch his cock twitch with a playful grin on your face. “Keep your hands at your sides and don’t move or I’ll stop, okay?” You look up to meet his eyes and he nods, “Ja, yes- okay.” He moves his arms to his sides and lays flat on his back. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and squeeze it a few times to watch how his body reacts. His abs tremble slightly as he grows more desperate.

You pull your hand away from his cock and watch as he closes his eyes and takes in a deep inhale. “Be good for me, alright?” You hum, crawling up the bed so you can swing your leg over his face so you're straddling him.

“Scheiße, can I hold you, engel?” Konig asks quickly, his breath fanning against your core. The feeling makes you clench around nothing, and you decide to be nice to him. “Alright, fine.” You agree, and his hands immediately shoot up to grip your thighs. They swiftly start to slide up and grope any part of your body he can reach as he waits for you to take a seat.

You intertwine your fingers with his, stopping his hands from moving any further; “Keep ‘em here or they’re going by your sides.” You put his hands on the tops of your thighs, where he experimentally squeezes a few times. “Yes, schatz.” He murmurs.

“You know the rules.” You hum, lowering yourself onto his face before he can mumble a response. He gets right to work, lapping at your pussy eagerly.

Konig must not be in the mood to be punished today, because he does exactly as you ask of him- his hands don’t move from their spot, his hips stay glued to the bed, and he doesn’t tease. He steadily works you to your climax, his tongue fucking into your hole as he tilts his chin up to press it against your clit.

The friction of his stubble and the feeling of his tongue has your thighs trembling and you press your hips down harder against his face.

You unabashedly moan as you continue to grind onto his face, his tongue making little shapes over your puffy clit. “So good- you’re so good, Konig.” You whine, leaning forward to grab at his hard member. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, making him cry out against your core.

You bob your head quickly up and down his cock, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. “Fuck- fuck, schatz.” Konig’s deep voice is muffled by your core as he starts to unravel.

You grip onto his thighs, massaging and lightly scratching at them as you hollow your cheeks. Tears fill your eyes at the stimulation on your clit and the fullness of your throat. You pull off of him for a moment to catch your breath, stroking his cock with your hand as you pant; “I’m close, you wanna cum with me? Hmm?” You ask, keeping up your brutal pace with your hand.

He mumbles something you can’t quite make out, but you can feel him nodding against you, and he continues to eat you out with a newfound fervor. You figure that’s good enough of an answer, so you take him back into your mouth with a groan- making quick work to bring him to the edge again.

You don’t even have time to warn him before you're cumming hard against his face. You barely notice the way your juices drip down his face onto his neck and the sheets below him because his warm seed shoots down your throat. You choke for a moment before you swallow, pulling off of Konigs cock to cough and catch your breath.

Konig pays no mind to you or the fact that he just came, he licks up any juices on your thighs and cleans up your pussy until you're whining at the overstimulation. When you've had enough, you clamber off of him, letting yourself lay on your back as you come down from the high.

Konig sits up to look down at you, a dopey grin on his face. “Thank you, mein schatz.” He murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss quickly becomes more heated.

“I love you.” You manage to get out between the rough prodding of his tongue. “I love you.” He pants, his eyebrows furrowing as he nips and sucks on your jaw.

“Can I take you? Please, liebling.” He whines against your skin and you trail your fingers through his long hair. “Please.” You nod eagerly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips against your own. He wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance; immediately shoving himself completely inside with a relieved sigh. You moan out, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders as you recover from the sudden intrusion.

“Konig.” You grumble in warning and he quickly drops his head into the crook of your neck, letting you adjust to his size. “Sorry- sorry, engel. You just feel so good. So good, mein engel.” He rambles, mouthing at your neck as he waits for the okay to continue.

He holds himself up on his elbows, his fingers playing at the skin of your sides that he can reach. You run your fingers up and down his shoulder blades as you make him wait a little longer. You clench around him a few times, making him whine loudly in your ear, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Please, liebling- let me make you feel good.” He begs, running his teeth along the side of your neck, where he bites softly every so often.

“Okay, go ahead, Ko- fuck-!” You can’t get the words out before he’s slamming into you at a brutal pace, keeping his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

You cry out, one of your hands grabs at his hair while the other grips his bicep for dear life. “A-ah, schatz, you feel so gut. Y-you- du gehörst zu mir.” He continues to ramble as he desperately rams his cock into you. “Konig, please-” You whine, pulling his face to yours to press your lips to his.

The kiss quickly devolves and Konig pulls back so he can grab your leg at the back of your knee, pressing it to your chest so he can press deeper inside you. You throw your head back and moan; Konig is quick to wrap his free hand around your exposed throat.

He squeezes lightly a few times, the sensation sending a rush of fresh arousal between your legs. “G-god, you’re so good for me, Konig. Always make me feel so good.” You sigh, brushing some of his stray hairs from his sweaty forehead.

Your words seem to send a burst of energy through him; he pulls your ankles up onto his shoulders and puts his hands on either side of your head to pound into you harder. The sound of skin slapping is quickly covered by the sound of your combined moans as you two barrel towards your climaxes. “I only want to be g-good for you- verdammt.” Konig whimpers against your skin as he drops his head against you- focusing solely on slamming his hips into yours.

“Please, let me cum, engel. Ich brauche es- I’ve been good.” He continues, one of his hands slipping between your bodies to messily rub your puffy clit.

You can barely think- let alone speak- so Konig continues begging and whining against your skin as you get closer and closer to your release.

You realize he’s waiting for you to answer him so you try to hold back your orgasm to reply to him; “I- shit, Konig-! Yes, yes, yes- cum for me, please. I’m so close.” You babble incoherently, grabbing his wrist to keep him rubbing at your needy clit. “F-fuck-!” Konig cries out loudly, your words sending him tumbling into his climax. The warmth of his cum, his steady thrusts, and his harsh fingers on your bundle of nerves send you right over the edge after him.

Konig works the both of you through your orgasms before collapsing next to you with a small smile on his face.

“I love you, mein liebling.” He murmurs, pressing kisses to your cheek as he patiently waits for you to come down from your high. “I love you, Konig. Thank you, baby. You did so well.” You murmur, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He seems to grow brighter at that, his smile widening as he leans forward to nip at your bottom lip. “You wanna go get me a rag so I can clean up?” You hum, pressing your lips against his a few times before he can answer.

“You think I am done with you, schatz?” The wild look in his eyes and that stupid grin have a familiar burn growing deep in your belly.

ITS FINALLY DONE !!!

holy shit this has taken me literal months to write i'm so sorry😭😭 as i mentioned before this is my first smut so it was so awkward for me LMAO hopefully it'll get easier in the future

thank you for reading !!!! <3

#drabbles #fanfic #fluff #cod #konig cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #konig x reader #konig x you #konig call of duty #konig x y/n #konig smut #kortac #smut

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postracehair · 2 days ago

Text

say again

george russell x reader | 3.9k

three times george curses. or, a beginning, a middle, and a future.

cw: george cursing. a few scrapes and a little bit of blood, some kissing, and a love confession to boot.

a/n: this kind of ran away from me, especially in the middle but every time george russell says fuck an angel gets its wings. written ages ago but posting in honor of Las Vegas.

---

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

The door buzzes and you let yourself into the building.

You've only been here a few times, but a match day spent with your coworker and some of her friends is better than sitting on your couch alone, right? Wine and cookies in hand, you trudge up two flights of stairs to her flat. By the time you reach the landing, you can already hear the chatter and the TV.

No one seems to hear your knock so you push the door open and gingerly step in. The kitchen is on the other side of the flat, and you assume everyone is somewhere between there and the television.

But when you pass the living room where the TV actually is, there's just one guy on the couch. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees watching a penalty get called.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he says to no one.

You snicker. He whirls around. "Hello," you say.

"Sorry," he says, standing immedietly. Wow, he's tall. "Sorry, hello."

Oh, and he's familiar. You know him, kind of. He's -- god, he races cars, right? Shit, what is his name? Your coworker has social connections you barely understand so it's not really a surprise to find someone who is probably famous in her flat.

"It is just you, then?" you ask. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Dressed in jeans and a team jumper, his casual outfit is at odds with the severe cut of his jaw, his cheekbones. He just looks expensive.

"No," he says. "No, everyone is putting plates together. I'm afraid I might be the one most interested in watching the match."

"Not going well?" you say lightly.

He rounds the sofa, hand out. "Could be better," he says. "I'm George."

You readjust the items in your hands to shake his and tell him your name. He repeats it, and you smile.

"Let me go put these down," you say, "and then, um. Do you want some company, George?"

Honestly, you're not sure where that came from. But, though you came here to escape the smothering loneliness of your own flat, something about him makes you want to stay here rather than go into the kitchen with everyone else.

"'Course I do," he says. "I promise to tighten up my language. Won't do for that to be my first impression."

You wave him away though your cheeks feel a little hot and head for the kitchen.

Your coworker brightens at seeing you and takes your hostess gifts with ease.

"The match is on in the other room," she tells you, "but most of us are drinking in here."

"I saw," you say. "I met George."

She hears something in your tone that turns her expression something between amused and calculating. "You did, did you?"

You just nod, loading up a plate with the various nibbles. "How do you know him, anyway?"

She shrugs. "Oh, you know." No, you don't, but she plows on. "What did you think?"

"Taller than he seems on TV," you mutter. "But very polite. He shook my hand."

That gets her to laugh. "Oh, of course he did. Well, don't stand around in here with us. Go chat up a Formula 1 driver!"

George is back on the couch when you return, arm stretched over the back of it, brows furrowed.

"Has anything exciting happened?" you ask him, sitting down with a perfectly responsible distance between you.

He grimaces. "Nothing good. Wolverhampton, bless 'em, are quite bad."

That might explain why no one is watching this match with him, but you keep that to yourself.

"I see," you say, solemnly. "But loyalty is loyalty, I suppose, if they're your club."

"Exactly," George says. "It's suffering but it has to be done." Someone on the screen triggers a free kick and George leans in until it's over. He starts talking about one of the players being traded, or his contract being renegotiated, or something. You nibble on your plate and just watch. He's animated, this man. Fringe falling over his forehead the more he gestures, blue eyes wide and serious. It's all very endearing.

"Sorry," he says suddenly. "I'm being so rude. You don't want to hear about all of this, do you?"

You smile at him. "I don't mind. I came over for some company more than anything else."

He sinks back into the couch a little, hand running through his hair again. "Well, lucky for me that you did," he says.

Your face feels hot and you don't want to mistake this for flirting if it's not. He is a world-famous athlete, after all, but here you are on the couch next to him. "Lucky for you, indeed."

He laughs, delighted.

OH, SHIT!

This is not how you saw your life going, but maybe that's just the nature of it. Big moments happen just the same as small ones and we have to handle them regardless. The trajectory of your life shifted just a little bit when you sat down on someone else's couch to watch a football match with a stranger.

Because that stranger -- George -- is now much more than that. He asked for your number that day before he had to leave earlier than everyone else, and has been speaking to you ever since. Texts, phone calls, FaceTimes. And, when he's not driving hundreds of miles an hour halfway across the world, he likes to spend time with you.

They're dates, you know they are. But things are still casual, immensely so. Coffee, dinner, long walks through the park. It's probably past due that you ask him what he'd like out of this, but your friends tell you to just have fun for the time being. You've learned a lot about him in the last month or so, both from him directly and by doing your research.

You'd watched a few Grand Prix before meeting him but not with any kind of rapt attention. Now, obviously, you watch with purpose. See him zip around the track, read his radio messages, hope desperately that he'll be alright. He's a big mix of things, George Russell. Witty but determined, thorough but reactionary, polite but intense. You want to keep getting to know him on a personal level and measure that up to how he appears to the world.

Today, you're on one of those long walks. George is recounting the last race at your request. It's always more interesting to hear him talk about what happened than watching it, though you're really growing to love that part, too.

It's a bit chilly and he's got a scarf on in addition to a nondescript hat pulled down low over his eyes. You're used to this by now, though you wish you could see his face more fully.

"And then -- well, I'm sure you saw this bit -- he turned right into me like I wasn't even there!"

"But you avoided it," you remind him. "I saw that, too." A cold wind blows down the path and you shiver a bit.

"You alright?" he asks. "Nippy, huh?" He stops walking and turns to you, his huge hands coming to rest on your shoulders before he rubs them up and down your arms.

"A bit," you agree, a little breathless. God, you really need to talk to him about what this is. You're thinking about him all the time, which is a bit of a nuisance, as you're not sure he's feeling the same. But, a small voice in your head tells you, you can't be too far off in thinking that it might be based on the way he's looking at you right now.

Even under the cap, you can see the soft set of his brow, the way his eyes are shining. The gentle quirk up of his mouth. What would it be like to kiss him? Would he let you?

George stops his warming efforts, catching your hands in his. "Better?"

All you can do is nod. He grins, looking a bit too pleased, and starts walking again, you in tow. This is something else you've learned about him -- he really can be a cheeky bastard. He must have more than some idea as to how he affects you and enjoys it. It's somewhere between a game and a challenge.

You're thinking about ways you can get him back, ways you can flirt mercilessly. His hand is in yours and he's half a step ahead of you when suddenly your fingers are ripped from his and you find yourself on your hands and knees with a gasp.

George is immediately there with you.

"Oh, shit," he says. "Are you alright?"

"I--" You're a bit too stunned to say anything. George rarely curses, which is funny given how you met, but it unsettles you a little bit as much as it warms you. "I think I tripped?"

"Let me see your hands," he says, gently tugging at your wrists with his long fingers. He sucks on his teeth when he sees your palms. "Not too bad, but a little scratched."

You rearrange yourself so you're flat on your bum, legs in front of you. Your hands might be alright but your knees are another story. The fabric of your jeans isn't ripped but you can see the bloodstains already.

"Oh," you say. You look up at George, feeling a bit pathetic. "This is embarrassing."

He scoffs. "No, it's not," he says. "I do think we should get you cleaned up, though."

"We can go to my place," you suggest. The sting sets in a little more, but mingles with your chagrin and you just set your jaw. "Help me up?"

"Brave girl," George says. He presses his lips to the base of your wrist and stands, tugging you up as he goes. "Have you got first aid things at your flat?"

You nod, running through the contents of your bathroom in your mind. It occurs to you that George has not been to your place before, and you did not mentally prepare yourself to bring him there today.

George gently says your name. "Let's get a cab, shall we?"

It takes no time at all to flag one down. George removes his hat in what you can clearly see as an effort to get the cabbie to hurry along a bit, but it seems to work. He takes one look at you, one more at George, and steps on it.

"Let me get your belt," George mutters, making quick work of the buckle.

"I don't think I've ever worn a seatbelt in a cab in my life, George," you reply. He just pats your thigh.

"Think we've had enough injuries for one day, don't you?"

George and the cabbie chat about the race season, about how hot it really is in Singapore, about one of George's recent podiums. He keeps you tucked into his side the whole time -- he's ignored his own seatbelt, you notice -- hand on your thigh. You keep your palms turned up on your knees and wonder how on earth you got here.

The city flies by and you lean your head on his shoulder. You can feel something shifting between you, something clicking into place that wasn't entirely settled before. It's scary, it's exciting, it's big. It's something you're going to have to talk about.

George pays the driver in some large bills and helps you out of the cab and up the steps of your building.

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Front right pocket of my jeans."

"Pardon my reach," he jokes, and lightly rests on palm on your hip and slides the other into your pocket to find them. He tugs the keyring out and winks at you before unlocking the door. Up the stairs, into the flat. Shoes toed off, coats on the hook after George helps you out of yours.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," you tell him. He clicks his tongue.

"We don't want blood on this nice coat of yours, do we?"

You roll your eyes. George glances around your flat and smiles. "This is very you."

Dishes on the counter, the pillows a mess on the couch, your books and trinkets on every flat surface -- you suppose he's right.

"Thank you?" you say. He taps your chin with his knuckle.

"It feels like a home, I mean." Your cheeks feel warm and your heart sighs. God, the things he says.

"Oh," you breathe. "That's kind."

"And does this home have a first aid kit?" The reminder brings the dull sting of your scraped skin back to the forefront of your mind.

"Bathroom cabinet," you tell him. George nods.

"I'll get that. Why don't you change into something loose so I can get to your knees?"

In your room, you tug carefully tug on some sweatpants, mindful of your palms, and let yourself marvel at how today has gone. You expected to have George here someday, but certainly not like this. Will he want to see your bedroom? You shove some dirty laundry into the hamper and thank past you for making the bed this morning.

"I think you should sit on the counter," George calls. "Whenever you're ready."

You pad out to meet him in socked feet. It's quite the sight, him in your kitchen. He's bent over your sink, washing his hands. His sweater has been tossed over a chair and you can see the lines of his back under his t-shirt.

"Do you need help getting up?" he asks. You nod. Together, you get yourself on the counter, making you about eye level.

"Hello," you say. His hat is gone, too, so his fringe falls across his forehead in slightly curled strands. When you've cleaned yourself up, maybe you'll work up the courage to run your hand through them.

"Hello yourself. Right hand, please." You hold out your palm and George gets to work. He cleans it, getting all the bits from your skin, and then uses an alcohol wipe.

"Do you have a special interest in first aid, or something?" you ask to distract yourself from the sting. His thumb strokes your pulse point as he works.

"I guess you get beat up a bit in karting when you're young," he says. He wraps one palm in gauze and moves onto the other. "I suppose i just like knowing how to take care of people."

"God," you groan. "Is there anything wrong with you?"

He looks at you then, hair falling into his blue, blue eyes. "Oh," he smirks. "Plenty, darling." He finishes up on your other palm and holds it in his for a moment longer than you expect. Then he slowly brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the bandage.

You might gasp, You're not entirely sure, eyes glued to his lips like nothing else exists. Then he kisses the other palm. Your gaze flicks up and George is looking right at you.

"Knees," he says, voice a little hoarse. "Alright?"

"Alright," you breathe. You stick one leg out just to see what he'll do. You're learning that he rises to the occasion, and that's exactly what happens. He cups your ankle, places your foot on his thigh, and slides your sweatpants up above your joint.

"That's gnarly," he says, breaking the tension. You laugh and tap his leg with your other foot. "You ready?"

"I'm ready."

He makes quick work on it. One hand on your calf, the other gently cleaning and bandaging. The silence is comfortable, familiar, though you've not been in this situation before. It's not until George is almost done with your other knee that he speaks.

"You know," He says, lightly. "If you wanted me to touch you, all you had to do was ask. The tripping wasn't entirely necessary."

"George!" you gasp. He squeezes your calf.

"I'm just saying, darling."

He ties off the gauze and rolls down your pant leg. You widen your knees and he steps between them immediately, hands resting gently on your thighs. It's absolutely electric -- going from shy, appropriate touches to being in your flat together, his hands all over you. How are you going to go back?

Maybe you can't.

George's eyes rake over your face. You inhale his exhales, feeling them on your lips. His pupils dilate.

"What is this, George?" you whisper. His fingers press into your thighs a little harder.

"Well," he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What would you like it to be?"

"I don't know," you say, honestly. He is not dissuaded, does not back away. He must know that this is hard for you -- his life is so different from yours. As it is, you avoid social media so you don't see pictures of you splashed across gossip accounts. It's impossible to totally stay away from it but you try, because you really like being with him.

"Shall I tell you what it is for me?" George says.

You nod.

He cups your face in his hands, thumbs stroking the delicate skin under your eyes.

"Every second I am not with you I am thinking about when I'll see you next," he says. "I store up things to tell you and take photos to show you and I have a bag full of things I've bought you but been too afraid to give you. Beautiful things, things that remind me of you."

"George--"

"I worry about fucking up your life," he continues, and you fall silent. "This is a lot. I am a lot. My life is not simple, and you've already seen that. But I want you in it. I want you in it however you want to be there, though I have my suggestions. I promise that if you let me, I'll treat you so well, because you deserve everything, and --"

Your heart is going to explode if he goes on any longer, so you close the gap between you and kiss him. Finally.

It's just the press of your lips against his for a few seconds, your eyes fluttering shut, before George catches up to what's happening and angles your faces a little bit to make it deeper. Your bandaged hands rest on his elbows and you swallow a sound from deep in his throat, something that lights a fire in your belly.

"Blimey," George says, leaning your foreheads together.

"What, no curse for me?"

His eyes sparkle and he wrinkles his nose at you. "Fuck," he says. "I've been thinking about that for weeks."

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "That's more like it."

BLOODY HELL

What the fuck was that? Is he serious? Keep focused, George. This is fucking ridiculous. Head down.

It's a bad day. Not as bad as it could be -- George does not end up in the wall. But he ends up way further down the pack than he should, barely scraping together a few points. It's the car and everyone knows it. The bouncing, the drag, the understeer. A showing far too poor for this late in the season.

And George is pissed. It's not often that you see him this way -- he's fairly levelheaded, even when things get tough. Something about him causes conflict to lull, things to fall into place, but even that can't fix the silver arrow.

You slip out of the garage during the last lap to sit in his driver's room and wait.

This isn't your first race. Far from it, by now. Things got official halfway through the season after that day in your flat, and you've been coming to as many as you can. It's a rush, really, to see him work. Scarier than anything, but when it's good? It's amazing. You love the energy of the garage and everyone seems to have taken to you, too.

So much so that they know to send George right to his room before the media pen so you can calm him down.

You sit on the bench and wait.

He comes in, closing the door firmly but never slamming it, and sighs. All the tension melts from his body and he looks defeated. Sweaty, annoyed, and defeated.

"Hello," you say, lightly.

He smiles wryly. "Shit day, huh?"

You love how George looks after a race. Hair a mess from his helmet, skin beaded with sweat. He unzips his race suit and lets it hang at his hips and you can see the outline of his muscles through his fireproofs. It's genuinely swoonworthy, even with his visibly bad mood.

"Are you alright?" you ask. He shrugs, rolls his shoulders, and winces.

"Bloody hell," he curses. "My back is killing me."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he says automatically. "You're perfect just as you are."

It's a reflex he has -- not to ask for things. You're still working it out, poking and prodding to find the cracks. Maybe, with time, he'll loosen this grip he has on his desire to make your life as comfortable and wonderful as possible without thinking of himself. There are moments when it's best to just let him fuss, but right now you think you can push back a little.

"George," you sigh. "Come on."

He hides his face behind a sweat towel for a breath, then tosses it aside. "Alright," he says. "Just sit with me for a bit."

You scoot over on the bench and he flops next to you, head back against the wall and eyes closed. His hand fumbles around for yours, pinching your thigh when he overshoots, which makes you laugh. He cracks a smile and opens one eye just enough to see your grin before settling back into his rest.

He breathes deeply, fingers entwined with yours. The line of his jaw is pronounced in the awful lighting of the room and the shadows under his eyes look worse than usual. A few more races and then he can rest. What will you do in the off season? Maybe a vacation. Hopefully a vacation. You imagine George in swim trunks on a beach somewhere, dozing in the sand. Rubbing sun tan lotion on his back and his shoulders and his nose, reading books for hours until he convinces you to run into the water. Lazy days on a balcony or in a bed with all the windows open, never being far from each other --

Someone knocks on the door.

"Christ," George mutters. "Let's ignore it."

"You need to go to the pen, darling," you whisper back. He squeezes your hand and presses your legs together.

"Just a few more minutes," he says. "Eventually they'll just come in."

"If you say so."

You press a kiss to his tacky cheek and lean your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

George takes a deep breath. "I love you," he says.

The words stretch into the silence that comes after, the moments it takes for you to process it. They fill the small room, sneak their way into your bloodstream, your lungs, all the way to your heart.

Part of you is waiting for the follow-up. I know it's too early, I know it's a lot, You don't have you say it back. But George doesn't deal in excuses. He feels it, so he says it.

You lift your head to look at him and find him already staring at you. Not expectant, just looking to look.

"I love you, George," you say.

He grins bigger than you've ever seen, bigger than after your first kiss, than the days when he's on the podium.

Someone knocks on the door again.

"Oh, piss off," he mutters and leans in to kiss you.

#george russell x reader #george russell #george russell fanfic #gr63 x reader #f1 fanfic #gr63 #my writing #fic: say again

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plutotheplum · 6 hours ago

Text

Blush Wine

zayne x fem!reader

summary: a pressing personal issue has you turning to zayne in desperation. he is a doctor, after all.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, masturbation, finger-sucking, vaginal fingering, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, confessions

wc: 5.5k

a/n: just a cutesy little idea i had ^^

also on ao3!

“There’s something wrong with me.”

Your words leave you in an exasperated sigh, head tipping back as you stare at the ceiling of Zayne’s office, feeling utterly exhausted.

Zayne hums and the creak of his chair has you looking over at him, brows furrowing when you see he’s already begun to stand, the eartips of his stethoscope in place as he moves towards you.

“Zayne?” you say, huffing out a breath when he presses the stethoscope to your chest, “Zayne, no- not like that.”

“A cold?” Zayne murmurs, gazing down at you scrutinizingly, “I told you to be careful in the rain.”

“What?” you sputter, shaking your head, “no. No, it’s nothing like that.” You squirm a little in your chair, cheeks flushing lightly with embarrassment. “It’s- It’s more personal .”

Zayne stares down at you blankly, draping his stethoscope around the back of his neck. Your fingers tap against the edge of his desk agitatedly and Zayne catches the nervous tic, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Personal?” he echoes, raising his brows.

You nod, biting your lip nervously as you sneak a glance up at him. Zayne stares back at you sternly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I was going to see a gynecologist,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing further, “but- but you seemed like a better option.”

He tilts his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

“What exactly is the problem?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, casting your eyes downwards.

Zayne lets out a sigh, his finger coming out to tap against your forehead gently. “Tell me,” he coaxes, fingers brushing through your hair for a brief moment before pulling back. “It’s the only way I can help you.”

“I can’t-” you begin, nails digging into your palms. Your voice is a soft hiss when you speak again. “I can’t cum !”

Zayne’s grip on the edge of his desk falters when he hears your words, a choked sound masked as a cough leaving him. You peek up at him shyly when he clears his throat only to find that Zayne’s usual facade of cool indifference has returned.

“I see.”

The only sound for the next several minutes is the tick of the clock in Zayne’s office. You play with your fingers, already regretting your decision to come here.

“Is that it?” you ask finally, “you see ?”

“I’m thinking,” Zayne replies, his hand scrubbing over his face. “Why did I seem like the better option?”

“Because we’ve known each other for years, Zayne!” you say frustratedly, “I figured- figured you might have some valuable input, you know, as a doctor and- and a friend.”

“I see.”

You glare at him when he says those two words again.

“Have you tried clitoral stimulation?”

You nearly choke on your spit when Zayne says that. He sounds so methodical, so disinterested that it almost annoys you again, but when Zayne stares at you expectantly you realize he’s only trying to help.

“Yes,” you mumble, picking at the loose strand of your sweater, “doesn’t work. I tried my fingers too, but I can never cum.”

Zayne hums thoughtfully, his gaze dragging over you before glancing off towards the clock.

“This Friday, I’m off.”

Your brows furrow, unsure what he meant by that.

“I don’t have work on Friday,” Zayne repeats, “neither do you. I’ll come over, examine you and see what I can do.”

“ What ?” you blurt out, “what do you mean examine me?”

“I have to see what’s wrong,” Zayne replies bluntly, shifting on his feet, “I can refer you to a gynecologist if you’d prefer that instead.”

Truthfully, you’d prefer neither. It doesn’t help that your mind conjures up the image of Zayne spreading your thighs apart, his focused gaze trained on you enough to send a rush of heat coursing through your body.

“It’s fine,” you say finally, standing up, “you can come over. I’ll- I’ll let you get back to work.”

Zayne nods, opening the door for you to leave. “Drive safe.”

You’re long gone when Zayne lets out a shaky exhale in the privacy of his office. He scrubs his hand over his face, his cheeks flushing as he remembers the way you had blurted out your problem .

Zayne tugs at the knot of his tie, loosening it in an attempt to try and quell the sinful thoughts that were flooding his mind at that very moment.

You were going to be the death of him.

You don’t know what to do with yourself when Friday rolls around.

It’s too hard to sit still, each of your actions jerky and agitated as your mind runs through the potential implications of this entire situation.

Zayne drops in around midday, the ring of your doorbell making you hesitate as your fingers curl around the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to lie and tell Zayne that everything was fine.

The doorbell rings again and you open the door tentatively, peering up at Zayne.

“This isn’t really necessary,” you begin but Zayne shakes his head, stepping inside your apartment before locking the door behind him.

Silence passes over you both and Zayne stares at you for a moment longer, his gaze dipping over you.

“You’ll need to show me,” he murmurs, his fingers loosening the tie around his neck.

“Show- show you?” you echo, cheeks beginning to flush with embarrassment, “Zayne, you can’t be serious.”

He hums, moving to sit down on your couch, his thighs spreading slightly as he gets comfortable. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent an indecent noise from spilling out when you see how good he looks.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” he asks bluntly.

“You’re being inconsiderate,” you retort, but his words seem to do the trick, making you move towards him.

You turn to sit down next to him, but Zayne’s fingers are curling around your hips, pulling you down onto his lap instead. A surprised squeak escapes you, body squirming as you try to move off of his lap. Zayne holds you in place, his chest pressing against your back, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Z- Zayne?” you yelp, voice pitching up.

“Show me.”

You turn your head incredulously to find that Zayne’s gaze has darkened, his eyes boring into yours intensely.

“Do you do this with everyone?” you murmur, shaky fingers reaching down to pull your shorts down, leaving you only in a shirt and panties on Zayne’s lap.

“No,” he replies, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Only you.”

You spread your legs, your fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties to circle your clit.

“I- I feel as though you want this,” you whisper, tilting your head.

“I do,” Zayne confesses. “I have, for-” he lets out a long breath, watching the way your fingers move in your panties, “for years now.”

“Oh.” You let out a stuttery, little breath, heart soaring at his words. “So have I.”

Zayne hums, his lips brushing across your cheek fleetingly. His hand reaches out, stopping your movements, pulling your hand free from your panties.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” he says quietly, the pads of his fingers pressing against the fabric of your panties, rubbing gently. “Let me.”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers digging into his forearm as he rubs a little more, his svelte fingers flexing against your clothed cunt. Zayne taps your hip after a moment and you lift your hips for him, letting him pull your panties down.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs, fingers gliding through your folds, “that’s good.”

“Stop talking like that,” you complain, hips tilting up into his touch.

“I’m simply examining you,” Zayne replies, but you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, the playful brush of his nose against your cheek.

A soft gasp leaves you when his lithe fingers find your clit, circling the swollen bud.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his other hand creeping up your shirt to find your breasts, your nipples already hardened, “relax for me.”

You do as Zayne says, letting his fingers work against you, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs your clit for you. Slick has begun to leak from you rapidly, a dull ache settling in your cunt as Zayne quickens his circling, his lips pressing against your neck.

“Inside,” you whisper needily, fingers wrapping around his wrist, “Zayne, I need your fingers inside .”

“No,” Zayne says sternly, squeezing at your breast as he strokes his fingers over your clit, petting the swollen bud, making your thighs twitch. “You’ll cum like this first and then you’ll cum on my fingers.”

You let out a frustrated whine, but the kiss Zayne lands to your cheek soothes your annoyance. He manages to pull more noises free from your lips with the way he rubs your clit, the press of his fingers growing harder when he sees your mouth drop open, head falling back against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Zayne encourages, the fingers of his other hand pinching and rolling your nipple. “Just like that, love. Fall apart for me.”

A few more strokes over your clit is all it takes, a sharp gasp sounding as your orgasm rips through you, body shuddering on top of Zayne’s lap.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers not letting up as he rubs your clit through the twitches racking through your body, “did so well, baby.”

You slump against his chest, panting softly, head lolling to the side to blink up at him dazedly.

“You fixed me,” you mumble, nose nudging against his when he lowers his head.

“Seemed a little too easy,” Zayne murmurs.

You roll your eyes and Zayne smiles, his hand turning your head to the side. His head dips and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours for the first time. He kisses you softly, his fingers stroking through your folds again.

Zayne groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth. You whimper, hips rocking into his fingers, feeling the press of them against your aching cunt. He pulls back to press his lips to your jaw, trailing soft kisses along your skin, his breath hot.

He presses one finger inside of you, drawing a moan out of you. Another finger joins soon after and you’re mewling desperately, pressing his hand against your pussy, wanting to feel his fingers deeper.

“Pretty pussy’s tight, love,” Zayne whispers, pushing your shirt up to finally get a good look at your breasts. “ Fuck ,” he breathes out, groping at one your breasts greedily, “you’re beautiful.”

“Zayne,” you hiccup out his name, biting your lip when you feel how hard he is against your ass, “feels s’good.”

Your hips rock back, grinding against his clothed cock. Zayne grunts, his forehead pressing into your shoulder at the feel of you against his bulge.

You writhe when he fucks his fingers into you rapidly, back arching as you moan loudly, feeling the curl of his fingers inside of you.

“I like you,” he rasps, nosing into your cheek, unable to help himself from laying firm, hot kisses all over your cheek and jaw, nipping at your neck gently.

You open your mouth to respond, but Zayne feeds you his fingers instead, keeping you full. A drunken slur sounds from you and Zayne huffs out a low laugh, his thumb adding to the mix when he circles your clit as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt.

You suckle on his fingers, tongue swirling around them mindlessly, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Needy,” Zayne says, slowing the pace of his fingers, drawing out the moment.

You squirm on his lap, hips rocking and rolling, trying to grind against his cock and hump his hand, desperate to cum. Zayne lets out a low moan when he feels the brush of your ass, his hand slipping from your mouth to grip your hip in an attempt to stop you.

“Please,” you gasp, “please, Zayne, wanna- ah - wanna cum!”

“Go ahead, love,” he murmurs, resuming his pace, his fingers fucking in and out of your sloppy pussy. “Cum on my fingers.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The tight coil in your stomach snaps when he curls his fingers inside of you again, his lips pressing against your ear in a low groan.

Zayne captures your lips in a kiss when you cum, his hand smoothing up and down your side soothingly as you shudder again, your soft cries muffled by his lips on yours.

“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing you gently, “good girl. Came so good, baby.”

You give him a hazy smile, turning on his lap, straddling him instead. Your arms wrap around his neck and Zayne sinks into the kiss, moaning into your mouth when you roll your hips, grinding your wet cunt all over his trousers.

Zayne moves you off of his lap before long, standing up, his hand pressing against his hard, clothed cock.

“Can I watch?” you breathe out, voice airy.

Zayne flushes, his cheeks and the tips of his ears covered in a pretty pink. You lick your lips when he rubs his hand over his bulge, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“Please, Zayne?” you continue, voice softening further, “it’s- it’s only fair, right? You got to touch me and- and I just want to watch.”

“You’re infuriating,” he grits out, his eyes narrowing into a half-hearted glare.

You smile up at him when he steps closer, eyes dropping down to watch his lithe fingers undo the buckle of his belt. It falls to the floor, along with his pants and boxers and you swallow harshly when you see how hard his cock is.

It’s nice, like all the parts of Zayne, the black hair at the base of his cock trimmed neatly. You bite your lip, hands grasping at the armrest of the couch when you see how thick his cock is, the tip of it flushed a few shades darker than his cheeks.

“Is that what you want?” Zayne rasps, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping it slowly, “hm? I didn’t think you were so filthy .”

“‘s not filthy,” you mumble, inching a little closer to his cock.

Your lips part, tongue lolling out, trying to taste the glob of pre-cum beading at the tip of Zayne’s cock. He grunts when he sees what you’re trying to do, shaking his head as the tips of his fingers press into your forehead, pushing your head away.

“No,” he says breathily, “you wanted to watch, so watch .”

A soft, frustrated whimper leaves you, a pout settling on your lips. It’s impossible to sit still with the dull ache of emptiness settling in your cunt again, thighs rubbing together needily as Zayne squeezes the head of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“Z- Zayne,” you whine, eyes half-lidded as you watch him stroke his cock, “Zayne, you’re so big.”

Zayne groans, his head tipping back in pleasure. You take your chance, reaching out to grab at his shirt, pushing it up a little to watch the flex of the muscles in his abdomen. It’s making you wet again, the feeling almost uncomfortable as slick drips from between your thighs.

You lean forward, landing a soft kiss to his hip. Zayne’s eyes flutter open, his gaze hazy as he stares down at you. You smile up at him sweetly and Zayne huffs out a breathy laugh, hardly able to believe the sight in front of him.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, his thumb reaching out to brush over your lower lip, “you’re so pretty.”

You hum, mouth opening for his thumb when he presses it in further, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans and your eyelids droop a little further, gaze dipping to find that his grip on his cock has tightened.

“Is this how you get off when you’re alone?” you whisper, words slurring around his thumb as he strokes it over the surface of your tongue.

Zayne nods, pumping his cock faster, his thighs twitching minutely.

“Do you think about me?” you whisper again, biting the tip of his thumb gently.

“Yes,” he groans, “ fuck- yes, all the time. You’re- hah- you’re all I can think about.” Zayne leans down and you rise up on your knees to meet him, lips pressing against his in a slow kiss. “It’s always you , love.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at his words, eyes lighting up at the little confession you’ve managed to draw out from the usually stoic man.

His brows knit together as he strokes his cock, his lips finding yours again as he kisses you desperately, his hand cupping the back of your head to hold you in place.

“I- hah- I’m close,” Zayne grits out, his hips stuttering.

“Wanna watch you cum, Zayne,” you whisper, nipping his lower lip playfully.

He groans, body hunching over as he fucks his cock into his fist, letting out rasping pants.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, fingers stroking across your cheek, “wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

You nod eagerly and Zayne lets out a low moan, his hips jerking as he cums. You hold your tongue out, eyes shutting when you feel his cum splatter over your cheeks and tongue, a soft mewl slipping out of you at the heady taste.

You lick your lips, leaning forward to lap at the tip of his cock. A smile spreads across your face when Zayne shudders, his fingers spreading out across your scalp as he holds you in place, letting you suckle at his spent cock.

“Good girl,” he whispers, thumb stroking across your cheek, “cleaning me up so well, baby.”

You hum, kissing the tip of his cock, mouth opening for his thumb when he feeds you a stray drop of cum.

Zayne dips his head soon after, kissing you feverishly. He cups your cheeks, pulling you closer. You sigh into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his softening cock against your stomach.

“I like you,” you whisper against his lips, pecking them gently.

“I know,” Zayne murmurs, his hands petting at your sides, “I like you too.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your forehead, a contented hum leaving you when he kisses your cheek after. Zayne wraps his arms around your waist and you laugh when he hoists you up, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Bedroom?” you ask, fingers playing with the soft strands of his hair.

Zayne nods, one of his hands squeezing at your ass. You don’t make it very far when his pager sounds.

You pout when Zayne sets you down onto your feet, peeking over at his pager as he reads it.

“Urgent?”

“Seems like it,” Zayne murmurs, his brows furrowing slightly, “I have to go.”

Despite the urge to protest, the urge to make Zayne stay with you for longer, you can’t find it in yourself to voice your thoughts when you see the serious look on his face. Instead, you let him get dressed, helping him redo his tie.

Zayne lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin to tilt your head up so he can kiss you again. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck, lips working against his lazily.

“Thank you,” you say, kissing his cheek when his hands drop away from your waist, “for helping me out.”

Zayne’s eyes glimmer with mirth, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a half-smile.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, “just don’t go to anyone else if you have that problem again, okay?”

You pretend to consider his words, even though you know no one could ever replace the spot Zayne’s carved out in your heart.

“I mean it,” Zayne murmurs when you don’t respond. His body draws near, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. “I want you to only need me.”

His words curl around your heart, squeezing tight. Your mouth opens to respond, but your breath gets caught in your throat and Zayne lets out a soft chuckle when he sees how flustered he’s made you.

“You- you can’t just say that ,” you grumble, face pressing into his chest.

“Why not?” Zayne asks, his hand stroking your hair gently.

“Because!” you say exasperatedly, peering up at him, “you just can’t.”

Zayne smiles down at you, his lips pressing against your forehead. “Well, I did. Let me take care of you, hm? I’ve been doing it until now.”

You nod your assent, kissing his cheek before pushing him towards the door.

“Bye, Doctor Zayne.”

“Bye,” Zayne replies, his eyes roving over you, committing the image of you bare and dazed to mind. “Remember to rest. Eat when you can and drink plenty of wat-”

“Zayne!” you interrupt, pointing at his flashing pager again, “I know .”

Zayne sighs, stepping through the doorway to leave. He stares at you one more time, his voice creeping through the narrowing gap as he closes the door. “I’ll send you a text.”

So, Zayne solved your problem.

But he had given you another problem in return. You couldn’t stop thinking about him or his fingers. Worst of all, the simple thought of it left you hazy, your mind fogging over whenever you remembered the feel of his fingers inside your cunt.

The following week, you’d missed at least three good shots at the training facility leading to Jenna shooting you a strange look when she saw how off-target your shots were. A wane smile had graced your lips and you’d gone home in a daze.

It’s how you’ve ended up like this, squirming around in bed, hand shoved down into your sleep shorts, brows furrowed. All you could think about was Zayne and how much you missed him.

A soft hiccup escapes you when you feel your impending orgasm fade, a frustrated noise leaving you. You grasp blindly for your phone, pressing it to your ear after calling him.

“Hello?”

“Zayne,” you whine, fingers stroking over your clit, “Zayne, I need you.”

You can hear Zayne sucking in a sharp breath when he hears your whine, and the sound of his chair moving.

“I’ll be there.”

You’re opening the door when you hear the doorbell ring and Zayne stumbles back as you practically throw yourself at him, yanking him down by his tie to kiss him.

It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate, his hands sliding to the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. Zayne shuts the door with his foot, his lips working against yours eagerly.

“Again?” he asks, carrying you into your bedroom before setting you down gently.

You nod, pulling him down for another kiss, fingers working at his tie and the buttons of his shirt. “Doesn’t work if it’s not you.”

Zayne hums, pushing at your shoulders slightly to get you to lay down. You bite your lip when he sinks down onto his knees, arms pulling you towards the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulders.

“I’ll take care of you,” Zayne affirms, pulling your shorts off.

He groans at the sight of your bare pussy, thumbs spreading apart your puffy folds. Your arousal clings to his fingers and the first brush of Zayne’s thumb against your clit has you seeing stars.

“Please,” you gasp out, moaning softly when Zayne’s hot breath hits your pussy, “want your mouth, Zayne.”

“You have it, love.”

Zayne squeezes your hand, his tongue licking a stripe up your slick folds. You whine, thighs twitching at the sensation, your other hand sinking into his soft hair. He lets out a low noise at the taste, his face pressing between your thighs.

Your toes press into shoulders, hips bucking as Zayne’s tongue swirls through your folds. He makes a few measured sounds as he laves over your clit, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth every so often.

“Taste good, baby,” Zayne murmurs, pulling back to press wet, sloppy kisses onto your inner thighs. “Such a pretty pussy,” he breathes, his cheek resting against your thigh as he stares at the pitiful clench of your cunt around nothing.

“Stop- stop teasing me,” you whimper, back arching and fingers fisting Zayne’s hair when he lands a few kisses to your clit.

Zayne grants your request, his mouth returning to your puffy pussy, lips suctioning around your clit. You mewl, eyes squeezing shut as you feel the press of his fingers inside of you, filling you up.

“Yes,” you begin to chant when he curls his fingers and begins to fuck them out of you, “ oh- yes, yes, please nghh- ”

Zayne slurps at your cunt, the lewd noise filling the air coupled with the sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy. You can hardly think straight, the pleasure so mind-numbing that your toes are curling and you’re tugging at Zayne’s hair roughly.

“W- wait,” you mumble dazedly, “Zayne- Zayne, want your cock.”

He peers up at you, his eyes never leaving yours as he laps at your pussy, drawing back before spitting on it.

“Thought you wanted my mouth?” he says, fingers still working in and out of you.

“Need you to fill me up,” you demand, trying to pull him up, “I want you inside of me.”

Zayne is stubborn like you, if not more, denying you as he buries his face back into your cunt, sucking and licking, drinking down your wetness like he’s been starved.

“You’ve already cum on my fingers,” Zayne rasps, kissing your clit, “cum on my tongue, then you can have my cock, love.”

You glare down at him, not appreciating the subtle edging. Zayne smiles up at you, his mouth opening wider to lap at your cunt before sucking at your folds messily, his tongue swirling around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh briefly.

A squeal leaves you when Zayne suddenly holds you in place as he roughly sucks at your clit, mouth suctioning relentlessly. Your body jerks, legs kicking out at the feeling, his fingers grazing the sensitive spot deep inside of you.

“Cum,” Zayne orders sternly, moving his fingers faster, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”

That’s all it takes, your thighs squeezing tight around his head, back arching as you cum, shuddering gasps leaving you. Zayne hums into your cunt when your thighs loosen, licking over your sensitive cunt gently, his lips pressing against your clit in an affectionate kiss.

You lay there, limbs heavy, staring up at the ceiling hazily. The clink of Zayne’s belt draws you out of the trace post-orgasm, arms wrapping around his neck when he crawls over you, kissing you softly.

“Still want my cock?” he asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Mhm,” you nod, and it’s you pushing at his shoulders this time, making him lay down as you crawl up onto his lap, straddling his hips.

There’s pre-cum smeared across Zayne’s abdomen when you look down, his cock hard and thick, the tip flushed dark.

“All yours,” Zayne whispers, his thumb stroking over your lips and jaw when you begin to drag your cunt over his cock. “I’m all yours, baby.”

You smile down at him, nuzzling into his palm before turning your head to kiss his wrist.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Zayne replies, his hands grasping at your hips.

You lift them for him, rising up onto your knees. Zayne grasps the base of his cock, holding it for you, guiding you to sink down on him. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan when his cock presses into you, head falling forward when you feel how thick he is.

“Take what you want, love,” Zayne murmurs, “use me.”

A soft whine spills out of you, hands landing flat against his chest, your hips rolling. Zayne’s hand drifts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, moving you up and down on his cock.

You’re crying out his name desperately and Zayne groans, propping himself up on an elbow to pull you down, mouthing at your tits. He wraps his arms around your waist and you cup the back of his head, holding his head to your chest.

Zayne’s tongue swirls around your hardened nipple, the sensation of his teeth grazing and biting gently enough to send little twitches through your body.

“You’re- you’re so good,” you mewl, eyes fluttering shut while your nails dig into his broad shoulders. “I- fuck- I like you so much! Zayne- oh- hah- like you!”

Zayne moans in response, tongue flicking against your nipple until you tug at his head back using his hair, your lips crashing down onto his. It’s feverish and unrestrained, Zayne’s hands grasping at your waist, your hips and ass as though you might suddenly disappear.

“Ride me,” he urges, his breath fanning across your lips. “Ride me, my love.”

You nod, unable to stop yourself from kissing him again, widening the distance between your knees, setting a firmer base before you begin to rise and fall on his cock.

“ Shit- ” Zayne gasps, his head tipping back when he feels the clench of your pussy as you drag it up and down his cock.

The sounds of skin against skin fill your bedroom, both of you panting into each other’s mouths, Zayne’s brows knitting together as he stares up at you, his fingers flexing against your waist as though trying to hold back.

“I- I can’t- forgive me.”

Confusion flits across your face when you hear him. “Zayne?”

Zayne doesn’t respond, flipping you over onto your back; drawing a surprised squeak from you. You whimper when he kisses you roughly, his cock slipping out of you for a moment before Zayne pushes it back into you, his hips settling between your thighs.

Your arms wrap around his neck, Zayne’s face pressing into the crook of your neck as he ruts his hips into you with abandon. He tilts your hips up, driving his cock in with deep, rough thrusts, ripping every possible needy noise from your throat.

His back is covered in red welts with how you’ve been clawing down his skin, body writhing under his with every thrust he delivers. His balls are slapping against your ass, the sound making your cheeks flush, but you hold him closer, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Z- Zayne!” you hiccup, hardly able to form words, mouth hanging open with how he’s mouthing at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “Zayne, ‘m gonna cum!”

“You’re mine,” he hisses, shifting to peer down into your eyes, his hand coming to cup your jaw. “Only mine,” Zayne repeats, stealing a kiss from you, “all fucking mine.”

You nod rapidly in agreement, your thumb brushing over his lips before pushing into his mouth. A soft mewl leaves you when Zayne sucks, his tongue swirling around your thumb, his teeth biting gently.

“Cum,” Zayne slurs, his hips beginning to move unevenly, “cum for me, my love. Give it to me. Give everything to me.”

You seize under him, cunt clenching around Zayne’s cock and he moans deeply, trying to bury his cock as deep as possible inside of you. His cock twitches as he cums, thick ropes of his hot cum spilling into you, your cunt clenching around his cock weakly.

Zayne nuzzles into the crook of your neck and you let out a content hum, hands smoothing down over his broad back when he slumps over you.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you mumble.

Zayne lets out a hoarse laugh, kissing your cheek before moving off of you, laying down beside you instead.

He tugs you into his side, his warm palm moving down the side of your waist, caressing your hip soothingly as he kisses your temple. You sigh, moving closer to him, pressing into his side, eyes slipping shut as he squeezes your thighs slowly, relieving the dull ache that’s settled into your muscles.

“You’re beautiful,” Zayne whispers, cupping your cheek, tilting your head to look into your eyes when they blink open.

A light flush covers your cheeks, a shy smile spreading across your face as you lean in, pecking his lips sweetly.

“You’re wonderful, Zayne.”

“Such high praise,” he murmurs, nose nuzzling against yours affectionately, “am I really so deserving?”

You roll your eyes, poking his chest in response before sitting up.

“Where are you going?” Zayne grumbles, his arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.

“I have to clean up,” you whine, eyes slipping shut when Zayne squeezes your breast.

You bare your neck to him a little more when he begins to plant soft kisses here and there, his hands petting over your spent body. A quiet moan spills from you when he kisses the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin when he speaks.

“Not so fast, love. We have to make up for lost time.”

#zayne smut #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lnd zayne #lnd smut #li shen

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planetpedri · 2 days ago

Note

you can write one with cubarsi where the reader is a famous singer and when she releases a song it's obvious that they're together and he's all shy

To be seen — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you release an album so painfully obvious about Pau !

Word count: 590+

Disclaimer/s: Half smau half actually writing! reader is a singer and alll fluff !!

A/N: okay ik u said song (singular) but then i got bored and made graphics so..

Yourusername

Liked by paucubarsi, billieeilish, 802,291 others

yourusername My second album ‘To be seen’ is out now on all platforms <3 Thank you to my support system & all of you guys, I love and appreciate you more than you know!!

View all comments . . .

username1 hey! so you were sick for this.

username2 are we going to brush over the fact that these are all love songs and she is literally dating Pau Cubarsí?? (i don’t have a source i just know.)

⤷ username3 RUGHT? i’m going insane. why IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THISSS

username4 my pauxy/n agenda has been pushed to the frontlines. nobody can deny them now.

paucubarsi I’m so proud of you mi amor❤️

⤷ yourusername I love you 😭❤️

⤷ username3 hey!! ahahahahahah i’m so normal rn guys im so normal hey hi im sooo normal

⤷ hectorfort Kids down bad😂

⤷ yourusername can you leave lil boy.

⤷ hectorfort I’m older than you?

username5 mi. amor. mi. amor.

billieeilish The most beautiful voice!!😭

⤷ yourusername i cant breath i cant breath i cant

lamineyamal Pau’s blushing like a kid rn congrats ❤️

⤷ paucubarsi Get outtttttttttttt .

username6 hey so “show me how” is actually making me hit my head against a wall. delete it NOW.

⤷ yourusername uhm, you’re welcome..(?)💕

username7 IS THE SECOND PHOTO PAU AND Y/N?

⤷ username8 IT IS?? IT HAS TO BE??

—

Your front door unlocking had you scrambling off the couch. A giddy pep in your step as you scrambled to meet your boyfriend in the entryway. When you see him, Pau has a faint blush across his cheeks, probably left over from his friends teasing.

“Hello.” You hum as Pau wraps his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss onto your lips.

“Hello.” He repeats the greeting when he pulls away. “You could’ve told me what your album was about.”

Right.

You wanted it to be a surprise. ‘To be seen’ was your one year anniversary gift to Pau, finding the only way you could explain the depth of your love was through your songwriting.

You shrug, “I told you it was a surprise!” You plant another kiss on his lips, “did you like it?”

“I loved it..” He hesitates before speaking again, “the fans also really liked it. Have you read the comments?” He’s blushing again when he brings it up.

“They are under my post about my album. So, yes, my dear, sweet boyfriend, I have.” Wriggling out of his grasp, you pat his cheek. “My parents are on the way home with takeout to celebrate! You are staying right?”

Pau rolls his eyes, “it’s our anniversary, of course I’m staying.” He trails after you into the living room, plopping down beside you on the couch and pulling you into his side. “I love you.”

Grinning up at him, you say a soft, “I love you,” back. Pau leans down for another kiss but you stop him, pressing your pointer finger to his lips and Pau’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “First, tell me your favorite song.”

“Lovesong.” He grins, “it’s.. cute.”

“Cute?” You laugh, “I’ll take it.”

“So..?” Letting out a dramatic huff, you nod—mid doing so, his lips connect with yours once again. “Also, when did that picture of us even get taken?”

Sighing at the loss of contact, you rest your head on his shoulder. “A few months ago, when we visited my parent’s lake cabin. My sister took it.”

Pau’s cheeks puff up with the smile that took over his face. “Send it to me?” You nod, reaching for your phone.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pau posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @unx100to @n0vazsq

#pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi x y/n #pau cubarsi x you #pau cubarsi fluff #pau cubarsi fanfic #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi imagine #pau cubarsí #pau cubarsi one shot #smau #singer smau #blurb #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barca #fc barcelona fic

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earlysunshines · 3 hours ago

Text

lights, camera, action!

danielle marsh x actress!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you passed your media training classes but that doesn’t stop you after a couple of drinks from leaking that you’re very much attracted to danielle marsh on live

warnings: alcohol ; soobin from txt but he's actually an actor (idk why i use him in my fics sm) and also other idols that are actors instead of... idols ; discovering sexuality ; reader is whipped for danielle ; danielle is whipped for reader ; gay gay gay they're so in love i hate myself ; anyhting else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: hi i need her so bad like sooo bad like she’s so. like. like hey. hi hai. hi.

@/ynln is live!

the viewers catch a little glimpse of your flushed cheeks, slow blinks, and lazy smile.

you’re not drunk, not at all, you’re just naturally an idiot and even more of one after a few after-party drinks. the remnants of laughter and lively conversation from the after-party of your premiere still lingering in your ears. the giddiness hadn’t left your body at all.

“heyyy guys.” you fail to set up the camera on your hotel desk, so you resort to flopping onto the bed and holding it yourself. “i hope you all are well.”

the screen was filled with comments almost immediately—fans were sending love, compliments, and congratulating you on the new movie, and praising your looks during the premiere. your smile grew wider, your cheeks burned a little warmer than before.

@/lnloverrr: you looked so good at the event

@/yourstruly84: a look for the books

@/ynloops: so excited for the movie! can’t wait to see more action roles from you!

@/tokkilvrr: celine queen!!! you rocked the top

“aww you guys are so cute,” you say, a little more giggly than usual. the only thing illuminating you at the moment is the city glow filtering through the curtains, so you turn on a lamp in order for your fans to see you better. “i’m so happy you guys are excited about the movie. it means a looot, really.”

you scrolled through the comments, answering a few questions about your favorite scenes to shoot and what the cast was like. you went on a whole ramble about your male co-star soobin and how you almost beat him in an arm wrestling battle after two shots, which led to another ramble about how rigorous the process of working out to achieve your physique was for this film. it was fun talking about all the fun behind-the-scenes moments, one of them being how you have a video of soobin tripping over the props, one which you will definitely be posting once the movie is out.

after skimming the comments a bit more, most of them being “can i get an i love you?” or various compliments which keep a smile plastered on your face. but then one catches your eye, making you raise a brow: do you have a celebrity crush?

“oh, a celebrity crush? well i don’t know if i have a crush, but more of a friend crush if you get what i mean.” you laughed, the sound light and loose. you pause, thinking it over as more comments pop up with heart emojis and people begging for an answer. you sigh playfully, leaning against the bedframe and blinking slowly again. “okay, this is going to sound so cheesy. you know how i like newjeans? i’ve mentioned it before… but i’ve been such a fan of newjeans since their debut. like, seriously, their music is always on repeat. i’ve made soobin and the rest of the cast listen to them — soyeon loves them actually. ugh i loved their debut ep so much and then they dropped ditto and–”

@/koalaln: okay so… it’s someone from newjeans?

@/minjiplsmarrymepls: not my fav actor being a tokki

@/phammipham: girl if you don’t tell us rn…

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right.” you chuckle after reading the comments again. you bit your lip before continuing, “well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

your voice dropped to a more earnest tone as you looked right at the camera again, shaking your head and blushing a little. you could blame it on the alcohol.

“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” you let out a small, tipsy laugh, not realizing how much you were rambling—again.

“and the thing is, we’re both ambassadors for celine too, so i’ve seen her from afar at events and stuff. i’ve never actually met her, which is crazy, right? i mean i've met park bogum but not her! you’d think we would have bumped into each other by now, but nope. i kind of just admire from afar, like her pictures don’t do her justice but they… do? she’s stunning in person, at least from afar.”

the comments started blowing up with people freaking out, sending a variety of emojis that you couldn’t even count on both hands. they were saying things like “omg you’re totally fangirling right now,” “okay purr y/n is danielle biased she has taste,” and even “you and danielle interacting or collaborating would be iconic.”

you blinked at the screen, noticing the way the chat kept mentioning her name. you rubbed your face with your hand, blinking hard again. “oh my god, am i talking too much? anyway!” you waved your hand, laughing as you tried to shake off the embarrassment creeping up your neck. “next question, next question.”

you spent a few more minutes answering questions about your movie, sharing more stories of what happens on set (making sure to include how many times jaehyun fell asleep on set — which was far too often and in the most questionable positions. you wonder how someone falls asleep leaning against a wall). by the end, your eyelids were starting to droop, and the comments were still buzzing with your confession from earlier. you blinked again, then thanked the fans for their support once more to wrap up the livesteam.

“alright, i’m about to pass out,” you say tiredly, smile turning soft. “thank you for putting up with me. love you all so much.”

the phone in your hand dropped onto the bed after ending the livestream. your head lands on the pillows and you sigh, a grin still on your face. before you knew it, you were out like a light, blissfully unaware of what you’ve just started.

—

the sun filtered through the hotel curtains, which warmed up the room. you stirred, eyes fluttering open as a ray hit you right in the eye, making you roll around the other way.

unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the only thing trying to wake you up. your phone buzzed insistently next to you, and you reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen as your manager’s name flashed across it. you crinkled your brows, confused to say the least.

“hello? mark?” your voice was hoarse with sleep, tinged with last nights events.

“morning sleepyhead,” mark’s voice was calm and a little playful as always, but there was an unmistakable edge that meant business. “do you want to tell me why you’re trending on every social media platform? and you even made it onto some entertainment sites.”

a groan slips from you as you sit up all too quickly. the memories of your late-night live stream start to flood back. “shit.”

“‘shit’ is right. you do know that gushing about a girl in a kpop group — not to mention a very popular one — might get you a good amount of attention? and don’t make a pun.” you hear his signature sigh from the other end of the line. “your fans and her fans are going wild, and some press outlets are running with ‘actor y/n’s crush on danielle from newjeans’ headlines.”

shifting yourself to the edge of your bed so your feet can dangle off, you groan into the phone. “i’m so, so sorry. i must’ve fucked up my image like crazy, god i’m so sorry for—”

“hey, wait.” he says calmly. “it’s actually not doing anything harmful. if anything people are into how much you admire the group, considering you’re quite the celebrity.”

“oh thank god–”

“it’s just not low-profile.”

heat crept up your neck, and you covered your face with one hand, your back meeting the mattress again. “i— yeah, i was tipsy. soobin is a terrible influence, and weren’t you—”

“i’m just your manager, i just work here y/n.”

you scoff playfully at his remark, then continue, “i guess i didn’t notice how much i talked about her. but it’s not—i mean, it’s not untrue, but still…” you trailed off, cringing at yourself as you placed a hand over your eyes.

mark lets out a sigh, softening a bit. “look, it’s not the end of the world. just be prepared for questions, and try not to fan the flames further if you don’t want this to become a bigger deal. but, you might want at least to have a statement or some kind of response ready.”

you nodded, even if he couldn’t see you. “yeah, okay. thank you for the heads-up. sorry.”

“and next time, maybe don’t go live after an after-party. don’t think i didn’t see you downing somaek with jennie.” he adds, the hint of amusement in his voice making you relax a bit.

“noted. very much noted.”

after ending the call, you drop the phone beside you, your heart still thudding. with a deep breath, you opened twitter up, and just from your burner account you could see that you were trending. the timeline was overflowing: fans reacting to your confession, edits already circulating with your quotes—they even managed to find every clip of you mentioning or listening to newjeans, putting it in slideshows and edited videos. you can’t even lie, the effort is amazing. and even worse, or better? there were articles with headlines like “actor y/n admits to crushing on danielle from newjeans” and “actor y/n confirms she’s a hardcore newjeans fan.”

okay, hardcore might be a stretch.

(or maybe not.)

despite all this chaos, you couldn’t help but smile a little. you tap a quick text to your manager again: sorry again. i’ll be ready for whatever comes.

and another, more impulsive, and raw message to your group chat with your best friends and co-stars: i think i should just die. never going live again. someone needs to take my phone and burn it.

but as you scrolled and saw fans posting supportive, teasing comments like “we love an honest crush!” “y/n is lowk so cute for this” “it’s so refreshing to see celebrities being transparent about who they admire” and even a “y/n and danielle when??? y/nelle??”, you couldn’t suppress the slight flutter in your chest.

—

in contrast to your morning, danielle’s wasn’t all that stressful. maybe a little, but it didn’t have her laying in bed for an hour and pondering over every life decision she’s made. not like you did.

danielle had been making eggs for her members — sunny side up for hanni, boiled for minji, and scrambled for the haerin and hyein — humming quietly to herself. the morning was relatively peaceful until hanni burst into the kitchen, phone in her hand with a mischievous grin on her face.

“dani, you won’t believe this.” hanni plops down on a stool at the kitchen island, turning the phone over. “you’re gonna want to see it.”

danielle raises an eyebrow, turning down the heat. “what is it?”

minji and haerin joined, peeking over hanni’s shoulder as she played the video clip. “y/n, you know, the one from that one coming of age movie you like? what was it… the one with— it doesn’t even matter. just look.”

danielle’s brows furrowed with confusion until hanni hits play. the room fills with the sound of your slurred, soft voice as you gush with genuine excitement.

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right. well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

even minji and haerin gasp, looking at danielle in surprise. danielle’s jaw drops open slightly as she takes in the information: you, l/n y/n, are mentioning her. danielle marsh. but it gets even better.

the spoon danielle had been holding slips from her hand and onto the counter, clattering agains the marble as she stared at the screen. “wait— what?” her voice was barely above a whisper, her cheeks heating up.

“look at you,” minji laughs, nudging her. “one of your admirers is an actor—a really popular actor, dani.”

“i—” danielle’s mind raced as she watched you on the screen, your eyes bright, cheeks flushed as you rambled on. the admiration in your tone made her heart skip a beat. it was one thing to know that you were at the same events as her, and another ot hear that you’d been paying attention to her. that you think she’s pretty.

hyein seemed to pop out of nowhere, her arrival probably unnoticed from what was currently unfolding. “dani… someone who was in a marvel movie has a crush on you.”

danielle blinked. a smile broke out as she looked at her members. “you’re all ridiculous.” but even as she laughed, the warmth in her chest lingered. the fact that you, the actress she’d admired form afar and whose movies she’s watched with her family, thought of her like that—it was surreal.

minji raised an eyebrow knowingly. “come on dani, don’t act like you haven’t been wanting to talk to her at those events.”

“yeah dude,” hanni nudged her younger member. “she popped up in doctor strange and you started rambling about her.”

danielle’s smile turned shy as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove, her mind still replaying your words.

maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you, just maybe.

—

you’ve been busy, to say the least.

the past week you’ve been interviewed a handful of times everyday. your movie starred the choi soobin and jeong jaehyun, which earned a lot of attention. what surprised you was just how much attention you’d receive. there were various edits of you being made, some even showed up on your social media and unfortunately your group chat.

people had dug up scenes of you from your other projects, editing them and helping them resurface. it was safe to say you were growing as an actor, as if confessing your ‘love’ for danielle marsh didn’t already do enough. but who were you to complain? this was great. you were rising in popularity for not only your looks, but also your talents and personality. it was endearing — flattering you beyond comprehension.

the rise in popularity even led to you having to hop on a flight to japan, not only to be interviewed further, but also for an event for the brand you ambassador.

the celine event had an air of sophistication and elegance. it was a sort of luxurious haven where celebrities and models mingled under the crystal chandeliers, surrounded by other “fancy stuff” as you would say. soft music played, mixing in with the sound of conversations and clicks of cameras. attendees were showcasing the brand’s newest pieces for the season, with handbags being paraded, their metallic accents catching the light.

you fit quite well into the scene, it would be a lie to say you weren’t one of the main events. there was an effortless style exuded from you, clad in tailored slacks that were held perfectly by a leather celine belt. draped over your frame was a crewneck sweater with the brand’s logo, and to finish off the look you had another leather piece on your shoulder: a matching handbag to go with your belt.

the first hour was spent smiling for the cameras and eavesdropping on the whispers about your recent rise in popularity. more cameras flashed, and journalists angled for a glimpse, but your focus soon shifted when an all too familiar figure stepped into view. maybe you’re overwhelmed, maybe it’s not her, there so many people here. at least that’s what you told yourself.

once you got a breather, taking the time to roam around the area, you barely had a moment to process before a gentle bump jolted you out of your thoughts.

a woman, draped in a stunning beige dress accented with a sleek grey blazer, stumbled slightly. instinct kicked in, and your hand shot out to catch her arm, steadying her. wide yes met yours, surprise softening into a shy, grateful smile as she regained her balance.

“oh my, i’m so sorry!” she breaths out, her cheeks tinting a faint pink. “i didn’t see you there.”

“are you okay?” you ask, your mind catching up to the moment. your gaze lingered as recognition fell over you

danielle.

the feel of her arm in your grasp made your heart stutter, but you forced yourself to stay composed.

“yes, i’m fine, thanks,” danielle says, straightening up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “i never expected to bump into you. not like this—not literally.”

your smile turns sheepish. “i— i guess i made quite an impression,” you joke lightly, withdrawing your hand slowly.

her eyes light up with recogniition. “well, the live from last week was more of one,” she teases, her tone warm and playful. the mention of the live made your face heat up, and a laugh bubbled out as you glanced at the floor for a second.

“you saw…?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck.

“i think everyone did,” she giggled, her smile softening as she added, “it was... really sweet.”

the initial nervousness faded as the two of you fell into conversation, friendly and hesitant at first, but your words quickly became more confident as you both exchanged stories and thoughts on the celine events. compliments flowed naturally, and you found yourself surprised at how easy it was to talk to her beyond the admiration you held at a distance. danielle, on the other hand, grew noticeably more flustered as you threw in subtle flirtations—quick grins, playful remarks about how she looked so much better up close and in person.

“wow, it wasn’t the drinks that make you so… charming, huh?” she says with a small laugh, eyes shining as she tried to regain composure.

“well, i’m finally getting the chance to talk to someone i’ve been wanting to meet for a whike,” you admitted, voice soft and genuine. “i just wanted to be transparent, is that alright with you?”

“of course.” her smile turns bashful, and for a moment, silence settled between you two, comfy and warm. the lights dimmed as the models prepared for the runway, but neither of you paid it much attention even after being separated again.

after the showcase, you two found each other again, wanting to exchange numbers.

“this is the first time i’ve given a fan my number.” danielle admits jokingly as you type in your contact information. you look up from the phone and smirk, sending a weird shiver down danielle’s spine.

“really? i’m honored.” you say, handing the phone back. “let’s talk soon, okay? i’d really love to be friends, and i’m really sorry for the whole livestream incident by the way. sorry again.”

she laughs, smiling at you and it’s really strange how it makes you feel all tingly.

“it’s alright y/n. would you like to hangout when we’re back in korea? if that’s alright.”

“oh, yes, of course.” you smile at her once more before looking at the text from your manager: ride’s here, you ready? the notification earns a small sigh from you. you glance back at danielle and bite your lip to prevent a frown. “well, i’ll see you.”

“wonderful.”

—

when you think you’ve had your peak of attention, it just seems to grow more and more.

the morning after the celine event your phone buzzed against the nightstand of your hotel, waking you up. squinting, you reached for it, the device cool against your fingers. notifications flooded your screen, but at this point that’s nothing new. at the top, there was a teasing text from mark:

“looks like you made quite the impression last night. maybe your live wasn’t so bad for your social life, huh?”

curiosity piqued, you scrolled through social media, your eyes widening as countless photos of the event filled your feed. comments from fans were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating the unexpected dynamic between you and danielle.

most of the photos were candid shots—the two of you caught in conversation, eyes bright with amusement, smiles soft and natural. the internet had already begun to label you as friends (which you didn’t mind at all), though some comments and posts weren’t so subtle as they implied something more, playfully shipping you two as a potential couple.

you rolled your eyes — it was ridiculous — you weren’t even sure whether or not she liked girls like that. even if she did, the whole livestream™ probably weirded her out. what you sought was friendship, but the ship posts did make you smile to yourself. maybe you’re just weird. you figured you needed to snap out of it.

unfortunately for you, more photos entertained the idea of something more than friends. in them, you were gently holding danielle’s wrist, steadying her as she’d momentarily lost her balance that night. the angle caught the way her expression softened as she looked at you, an unguarded moment that felt oddly intimate, almost cinematic.

you’ve acted in various romance scenes, but none of them were real. neither did any of them look as… jaw-dropping as this.

the caption on one post read: “the way they look at each other… could this be the start of something?” the reactions were a mix of heart emojis, enthusiastic comments, and threads analyzing your body language and every nuance of the pictures. your cheeks warmed as you scrolled through, noticing how even the simplest gestures were being magnified and dissected as if this were an advanced art course.

you reread the text from your mark, smiling as you typed back a short light-hearted response:

“maybe i should go live more often? haha”

even as you set your phone down, your mind replayed the moments from the night before—her laugh, the way conversation flowed effortlessly, and that brief touch that started to flood your mind.

you simply had a friend crush on her, nothing more, right? probably, you hope,

—

danielle pushes open the front door of the dorm, the familiar warmth and laughter of her members greeting her as she set down her bags. before she could make it further into the living room, hanni glanced up from her phone and smirked knowingly.

“look who’s back! how was the celine event?” hanni’s tone was casual, but her eyes glimmered with mischief.

danielle’s brows furrowed slightly, but before she could answer, hyein popped up from the couch, waving her phone in the air. “more importantly, how was this?” she tapped on the screen, and a slideshow of photo’s appeared—the ones that had been trending online. danielle, dressed up elgantly, smiling up at you as your hand was on her wrist, both your expressions open and genuine.

“oh, that…” danielle felt her cheeks warm. “it was nice. we talked a bit actually, y/n is really cool!”

“really cool?” minji echoes from the kitchen, “that’s a new one.”

“she’s just a new friend i made who happens to be an actor,” danielle rushed out, even as a small uncertain flutter stirred in her chest. the words felt like they were only said to cover something up, but danielle couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she was trying to hide. she’d made new friends before, but none of them left her thinking about them the whole flight back home. she felt kind of restless in a way, but maybe that’s because you had a different kind of charm and aspect to you.

“a new friend and actor who also has a celebrity crush on you?” minji asks.

“people have celebrity crushes and that doesn’t mean anything, minji. besides, i’m not much of a celebrity to her anymore, am i? i mean we’ve met properly now.”

hanni raises a brow at danielle’s comeback, exchanging a look with hyein, who giggles. “right, just an actor who has expressed her admiration for you in great depth. okay.” hanni draws out the last word, amused. danielle crosses her arms, feigning annoyance but feeling a heat creeping up her neck.

the group finally eases off, shrugging and returning to their own chatter, but danielle couldn’t shake the lingering awareness. maybe it was just the newness of it all, you’re an actor, a very famous one now at least.

her eyes dart to the pictures on hyein’s phone again. the moment you had caught her from stumbling was simple, just an instinctive touch, but there was something about it that replayed in her mind. it was confusing—this new, unfamiliar feeling. she hadn’t considered herself someone who might fall for a girl, and there’s nothing wrong with girl’s liking… girls. but you’re not a girl that she likes, at least not romantically. you’re just really pretty and nice, and besides, she hasn’t even gotten to know you on a deeper level.

still, she’s spiralling a little.

–

y/n: hey :-) i just got back to my apartment it was nice bumping into you! let me know when you’re free? if you’d like to grab a bite or something of course you’re really pretty in person sorry, i’m fangirling haha

soobin’s top half of his face is on the top right corner of your phone as you stare at the screen. you sigh, cringing at each text you’ve sent. soobin raises a brow at the sudden change in expression, plus the small pout on your face now.

“what now?” he questions.

“am i doing too much? what if she blocks me. what if i just die—”

danielle: hi! i was watching a movie with the members hehe it was really nice meeting you! i’ve been a fan of your projects i really liked your scene in doctor strange as well and in your recent film you’re a very good actor!

you literally drop your phone, earning a confused noise from soobin. when you pick it up again, he’s making a face that asks for more answers, but you’re too busy waiting for texts to pop up after her little typing bubble forms.

danielle: i’m booked tomorrow, how about the day after? you can pick the time and place 😁

y/n: i’m busy tomorrow and the day after unfortunately 😞 how about in three days?

danielle: i’m free in the evening 👍

y/n: that’s perfect! can’t wait

danielle: me neither ☺️ i really enjoyed talking to you at the event

y/n: aw, thanks you’re really cute and sweet, danielle

danielle: im blushing stop!! hahaha i’ll text you in the morning y/n 😊❤️

y/n: okay!

soobin is still on call with you when you drop the phone on your bed again. he hears a the sound of your feet kicking against the bed and a small squeal.

“what?” he squints at the screen as you pick your phone up again.

“danielle and i are hanging out on friday.”

he looks surprised as he says, “really?”

“why do you sound so baffled… i can make friends soobin…” you huff, pouting at him.

—

you exhale deeply as you look at yourself in the mirror. there’s a green, long-sleeve comme des garcon top that you spent way too much money on hugging you just right, accentuating the build of your arms that you worked very hard for due to the new movie. custom-tailored denim fits your legs loosely, held by the same celine belt you wore at the thrilling event.

to hide your identity a bit more, you wore a beanie and a zip-up hoodie on top (another piece of clothing you spent way too much money on. you need to stop buying vintage exclusively), as well as some sunglasses.

you head out of your apartment, slip a mask on, and take the elevator down.

it’s been a while since you’ve walked around and enjoyed the area you lived in, so you decided to walk to where you agreed to meet danielle: your favorite cafe.

it was a fifteen-minute walk, a quick five-minute bus ride, then five more minutes of walking until you reached your destination. when you get there, danielle is already sat at a table. you catch her checking her phone and smile to yourself.

“hey,” you greet, sitting in front of her. “did you wait long?”

“not at all,” she shakes her head, then looks down at her drink. “i just got a latte actually, i was going to text you earlier. ah! i should’ve waited to buy–”

“no– no, it’s fine.” you assure, grinning. “i’ll buy one myself and meet you back here, give me a minute.”

“right, of course.”

you give her another small grin before ordering something simple: an almond latte. you waited only two minutes for it before heading back to danielle. after placing down your mug, danielle looks amazed at the tulip design, pulling out her phone and taking a picture. it’s cute, the gesture, and her—but that’s for you to keep to yourself.

you meet back with danielle, who’s in the same booth by the window. the cafe was quaint and tucked into a quiet street corner, so there wasn’t usually much attention or people. you really liked that aspect, considering your status, so it easily became your favorite spot.

and because there wasn’t much going on, it was easy for danielle to be under some sort of spotlight—in this case it’s the autumn afternoon glow hitting her features. you remind yourself that this is just a platonic hangout, obviously. it’s not exactly a date, maybe a friend date—but the closer you got to her the more you started to question the “friendly meet-up.”

“this place is so cozy,” danielle says, glancing around as she took a sip of her latte. “thanks for suggesting it! i’ve been so cooped up and busy, haven’t had much time to go around. plus, it’s nice to be somewhere new.”

“i um, thought you would like it…” you reply, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “i mean i like it a lot. it’s my go-to spot, a little hidden gem when i first got to korea. it’s also really quiet at this time, so no chance of anyone recognizing us.”

danielle smiled at that, her cheeks warming. “i can’t tell if that’s comforting or more nerve-warcking.”

“is that so?” you tease, “afraid you’ll be stuck with me if no one interrupts?”

she laughs, shaking her head. “not exactly… i actually really like being here with you.”

you grin—a bit bashfully. “aw, i’m glad im here with you too. i still can’t get over the fact that i’m with newjeans’ danielle.”

she shakes her head, absentmindedly stirring her straw in her iced latte as she looks at you. " well, i hope that now… between us... i can just be danielle, even dani, if you prefer that.”

she gives you a shy smile before dropping her gaze to her coffee, and for a second you swear you saw a faint blush on her cheeks. maybe it’s the light.

“so,” she says, changing the subject, “is your schedule hectic these days? with what i’ve seen—you know, your promotions—shooting for movies and events; i don’t know how you do it.”

“sometimes i don’t know either,” you chuckle, shrugging. “it’s worth it though. its kind of surreal—i used to watch your performances before i was this… known… and think, ‘wow, she must be busy,’ but now i get it.”

“”really?” danielle raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued.

“uh—yeah. not just you! i hope i don’t sound weird… you know i used to watch all those celebrity interviews, korean and western artists, and i thought about my future being like that. um, anyways, yeah—you and your members are super talented. i mean, obviously you’re killing it in every way possible”

danielle’s smile grows upon seeing the visible blush and how evidently flustered you are.

you sig heavily, “i’m not beating the fangirl allegations… sorry.”

she looks at you with a softness in her eyes, giggling before sipping on her drink. you noticed her cheeks were definitely tinged pink now.

“that’s… really sweet. and, um, mutual. i’ve been a fan of your acting for a while now, actually. so this is all still kinda unreal.” she admits.

you both fall into comfortable conversation, sharing stories about work and laughing about awkward encounters with fans and strange industry moments. you felt completely at ease, and danielle’s laughter was contagious, filling the air with something warm. the feeling lingered even as you two left the cafe together.

the walk back was leisurely, your voices blending as the city got louder.

“do you get nervous though?” danielle asks after a while, pulling her jacket tighter against the breeze of the evening. “with acting, i mean. especially with bigger roles. i hope it’s not awkward to ask but… you know, with romance films too.”

“i get that question a lot, it’s not weird at all dani.” you nod as danielle hides the growing smile after hearing her nickname slip from your lips. “i’m always nervous. but i think i’d worry more if i didn’t feel like that, you know? it kind of keeps me on my feet, makes it feel real.”

she nods in understanding. “that makes sense.”

“you get it.”

as you neared her dorm building, a sense of bittersweetness crept in. the evening had gone by too fast, and you weren’t quite ready for it to end. you stopped a few feet from the entrance, scanning the area to make sure no one was around.

“right, i guess we’re here,” you muttered under your breath, looking back at her with a nervous expression.

she gives you a forced smile, something bittersweet. “yeah.”

“i’ll let you go now, i had a lot of fun.”

“me too.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” danielle breathes out, her smile much more shy than before now. you catch her biting the inside of her lip just barely

her eyes sparkle a bit, the streetlight reflecting off her pupils. you gaze at her for a few seconds more before nodding. before you can start to walk away, she steps forward and wraps her arms around you in a warm, gentle hug. your breath catches, but you quickly relax and reciprocate. it seems natural, like you were meant to be this close.

“thank you for today,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.

“thank you for agreeing to hangout despite my… unorthodox impression.” you reply with a giggle, your voice just as soft. “i’m glad we did this.”

when she pulls back, you meet her gaze, faces just inches apart. she looks at your almost dazed expression, with your cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. you quickly caught herself and laughed, trying to play it cool.

“alright, well, i guess i’ll see you soon?” you say, shifting a little on your feet.

“yes,” she says, feeling her heart pounding a bit. “i hope we can do this again.”

danielle is a touchy person, this is visible on camera and to everyone she loves. still, it surprises you when she leaps back onto you, hugging you once more before slipping inside the building.

you waited until she was out of sight before turning away, unable to keep the grin off your face.

—

the next day, more specifically the next evening, you have an interview at six.

you, your costars soobin and jaehyun, are all caught in an interview. there’s a white backdrop behind you all, with makeup artists adding final touches and shifting your hair. soobin’s in a simple cardigan and jeans, while jaehyun is wearing a sweater that compliments what soobin is wearing. you, on the other hand, are clad in something that makes you stand out more: metal frames, a blazer, and slacks.

the camera’s start to roll, then the director gives you the green light.

the interviewer smiled warmly, leaning forward as he kicked off with, “so, congratulations on the movie! it’s been getting amazing reviews, and your performance as a supporting lead has been a major highlight. how does it feel to finally see it out in the world?”

you smiled, shifting in your seat. “honestly, it’s surreal. we put so much work into this film, and seeing people connect with it—it’s the best feeling. i’m really grateful.”

“let’s talk about filming,” he continues, glancing between the three of you. “what were the hardest and most fun parts of being on set?”

soobin jumped in first, grinning. “hardest part? probably the weather during those outdoor scenes. we were freezing half the time.”

you nod in agreement. “oh, definitely. there was this one night shoot where we were all layered up between takes, but as soon as the cameras started rolling, we had to act like it was summer. my teeth were literally chattering.”

“and the most fun?” the interviewer asks, tilting his head.

“the cast,” you said immediately, glancing at soobin and jaehyun. “we had such a good time together, even during the long hours. there were so many inside jokes and random moments that just made everything easier. it really felt like a family. they’re idiots, but i love them to death.”

“jaehyun, what about you?” the interviewer asked.

he chuckles. “for me, it was watching these two try to improvise during that one diner scene. they were so into it, and the director was loving it, but the rest of us were just trying not to laugh.”

you groan playfully. “don’t remind me! that scene was so… chaotic.”

the interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the three of you. “speaking of scenes, do you have a favorite?”

“hmm,” you say, thinking. “i really loved the quieter moments, like the scene where my character finally opens up to soobin’s. it was just... really emotional and rewarding to film. looking over it really surprised how well acted-out it was.”

“and you two had such great chemistry,” he adds, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “fans are already talking about it. do you think that dynamic came naturally?”

you and soobin exchanged a look, and he smirked. “well, you know, y/n and i are professionals.”

“oh, stop,” you push him lightly, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “soobin’s great to work with, though. he made it really easy.”

“is that why you’re so good at teasing her?” jaehyun chimed in, earning a laugh from the room.

the interviewer leaned forward, suddenly switching gears. “speaking of fans, y/n, people have been buzzing about your recent live stream. you mentioned being a fan of danielle from newjeans, right?”

you felt your cheeks warm, but you nod. “yeah, i’ve been a fan of their music since debut. they’re insanely talented.”

soobin, your wrost enemy, grins. “she left out the part where she called danielle one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen.”

“soobin!” you protest, laughing but clearly embarrassed. “he’s just jealous that i talk to her more than he talks to bebe rexha.” you retort, earning a pout from soobin.

“she’s not wrong,” jaehyun chimes with a teasing smile. “every time her name comes up, y/n turns into a total fangirl.”

“okay, that’s enough,” you said, trying to shut them down but laughing too hard to be serious. “look, danielle is really sweet. we’ve texted a bit, even met in person, and she’s just as nice as she seems.”

the interviewer didn’t miss a beat. “so, what’s it like talking to someone you’ve admired for so long?”

you hesitate for a moment, then smile. “it’s honestly been really cool. she’s interesting and kind and just... really easy to talk to. and yeah, she’s absolutely gorgeous, but that’s probably not news to anyone. she’s everything i ranted about in my infamous livestream…”

the room erupted in laughter, and soobin locked eyes with the camera. “did you hear that, danielle? she thinks you’re gorgeous.”

you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “why did i agree to this interview?”

the interviewer grinned, clearly loving every second. “well, it sounds like you’ve made a great new friend. and who knows? maybe we’ll see her at one of your premieres and not just the celine event someday.”

“maybe,” you said with a shy smile, trying to brush it off. but deep down, the thought made your heart race.

the cast laughs, and so do you. the interviewer continues on, teasing soobin about his bloopers and viral photos. you tease him even more, considering it karma for him doing the same to you. and when you think you can’t laugh anymore, they bring up jaehyun’s old films and roles, embarassing him just a bit as well.

—

the city lights blurred outside your taxi window as you leaned back, phone pressed to your ear. danielle’s soft laugh came through the line, making your stomach flip for reasons you didn’t want to admit.

danielle decided to call you after your interview. when you asked why, she simply responded with a ‘why? do i need a reason to want to talk to you?’ which only made your stomach twist more.

“so,” she began, voice playful, “you survived the interview, huh? did your costars expose your secrets?”

you groaned dramatically. “they did. they kept teasing me about… well, you.”

“about me?” her tone was teasing, but you could hear the hint of curiousity hidden in it.

“they’re relentless dani,” you mutter, though the smile on your face was obvious in your voice. “next time, i’m dragging them into a live stream and making them go through public humiliation.”

she laughs again, light and airy. you lean against the window and smile harder. “you’re quite dramatic, y/n. maybe they jus like pointing out the obvious~”

“the obvious?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“you know, ho wmuch you like me,” she teased, her words carrying something playful.

“oh shut up,” you groan again, laughing despite yourself. “i’m never live streaming again. you’ve ruined me.”

“you’re the one who brought me up in the first place,” she counters, tone smug. “don’t blame me for how smitten you are.”

“smitten? right…” you shoot back. “someone’s confident.”

“only because you keep giving me reasons to,” she quipped, but there was a slight softness in her voice now, like the banter was more of a cover.

you’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head, your your smile only widened. you bite your bottom lip, twirling your hair ever so slightly. “but you’re also probably exhausted. you should get some rest.”

“aren’t you exhausted from the interview? i only had practice—you’re telling me to rest?” she teases, though her tone had softened further.

“i’m serious,” you say, voice queter now. “sleep tight, danielle.”

there was a pause on the other end, not awkward but lingering. “you two,” she said eventually, her voice just as soft.

you both stayed on the line a moment longer, neither of you wanting to hang up. finall, you broke the silence.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight,” she echoed before the call ended, “stay safe.”

leaning your head back, you sigh, letting the giddiness settle in your chest. as the taxi pulled closer to your place, you decided to send her a picture—your post interview outfit, slightly rumpled, hair a bit messy, and a tired peace sign held up for the camera.

a moment later, her response popped up:

danielle: cute

your heart skipped, and then another text followed.

danielle: goodnight :-)

you stared at your screen for a long moment, grinning like an idiot, before typing back a quick ‘night.’ you tucked your phone away, feeling like you could float the rest of the way home.

—

“morning?” you respond tiredly, leaning against your counter. “something up?”

he huffs, great.

“morning? try good afternoon,” your manager’s voice came through, laced with exasperation. “we have a situation.”

you already dreaded whatever was coming next. “are you serious?”

“i don’t know how you do it.”

“what?”

“how have you managed to go viral again? you and soobin this time: dating rumors.” he says.

“what?” you respond in disbelief, “me and— me and that bitc— me and soobin? there’s absolutely no way.”

“there are pictures from the interview yesterday going viral,” your manager explained. “people are assuming that you and soobin might have something going on.”

mark hears you make a disgusted noise through the phone. “why the hell would they think that?”

“apparently, you two were standing close, there’s one of you leaning on him, and another where you’re laughing while nudging him. they’re harmless, bit fans are running with it. despite your whole danielle thing, fans are running with this. boy and girl, girl and boy—you know the gist, things run around faster and easier.

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “that’s so gross—he’s soobin. he’s like… a brother to me. and i’m a lesbian.”

“i know that, trust me. but the internet doesn’t,” mark says dryly. “just be careful. maybe you two can talk to each other, clear the air?”

“okay, okay. i’ll talk to you later.” you muttered before hanging up.

you check out social media for a bit, looking at the pictures going around and furrow your brows at how platonic they look. a girl can’t lean on her guy friend anymore? okay… right.

immediately, you pull up your contacts, scrolling to soobin’s name.

y/n: we have heterosexual allegations

not even a minute later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. you answered, alreadying rolling your eyes. “soob.”

“we have straight allegations?” he questions, voice filed with disbelief, even despair. “god, no. absolutely not… not you, especially.”

“thanks,” you deadpanned.

“you’re welcome,” he quips, “but seriously, what do we do? should we post something?”

“definitely. let’s make this clear before is spirals. people are already clipping us from other interviews and our scenes.” you say, standing up right. “i’ll post something on my instagram: the pictures we took yesterday. i’ll caption it something normal and you can just reply normally. simple fix, right?”

“perfect,” soobin agrees. “you post it, and i’ll repost. we’ll just step on the fire.”

within minutes, you were typing out the caption, attaching a candid picture from the event of you two laughing together. once the post was live, you refreshed your feed, watching as likes and comments poured in. soobin reposted it immediately with a laughing emoji, and soon enough, the narrative started shifting.

you couldn’t help but smile in relief as you saw comments like: “okay, but their friendship is so cute,” and “best friends of the industry!”

you texted soobin one last time: crisis = over. lunch sometime this week?

his reply was instant: only if you’re paying.

—

danielle scrolled through her phone, her face buried in the pillow as she lay on her stomach. the soft glow of the screen illuminated the quiet room, the only sounds being her occasional sighs and the muffled hum of her members beyond her closed door.

twitter was like a battlefield, one she didn’t fully understand. the pictures of you and soobin, paired with captions like “new favorite couple?” and “look at their chemistry!” made her chest feel heavy in a way she couldn’t explain.

you’re just friends, she thought to herself. why do i even care?

yet, despite trying to brush it off, her fingers kept scrolling. she stared at the photos for longer than she wanted to admit, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. why did it feel like this? you weren’t hers, you’re your own person.

you two have only gone out together once, spent time with each other maybe twice, and haven’t really indulged in anything deeper. if anything it felt right that you and soobin were a thing, considering the chemistry she noticed in interviews and whatnot. still, she frowned, thinking there was something different between the two of you. especially the way you noticed and looked at her like no one had before.

a knock on the door broke her from her spiraling thoughts. before she could answer, haerin poked her head in.

“danielle? are you okay? you haven’t come out all morning.”

danielle quickly locked her phone, shoving it under her pillow. “i’m fine,” she lied, her voice muffled against the pillow.

haerin frowned, stepping inside and sitting at the edge of the bed. “you don’t seem fine.” she gently tugged at danielle’s arm. “what’s going on?”

danielle groaned but didn’t resist when haerin pulled the pillow away. “it’s stupid,” she muttered.

“stupid or not, you’re clearly upset. tell me,” haerin pressed, her tone soft but firm.

danielle hesitated before finally mumbling, “i saw the rumors about y/n and soobin.”

haerin raised an eyebrow, confused. “okay? why does that bother you?”

“i don’t know!” danielle sat up abruptly, running a hand through her hair. “it shouldn’t. but seeing those pictures… it just… it made me feel weird. i don’t like it, ugh!”

haerin tilted her head, studying danielle carefully. “weird how?”

danielle hugged her knees to her chest, avoiding haerin’s gaze. “like... sad. but that doesn’t make sense, right? i mean, she can date whoever they want.”

realization dawned on haerin’s face, and she leaned closer. “danielle... do you like y/n?”

danielle froze, her cheeks flushing. “what? no! i mean…” she trailed off, her heart racing. did she?

haerin waited patiently, her expression calm.

“i don’t know,” danielle admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve never felt like this before. and if i do… isn’t it weird? liking a girl? i’ve never done that before, i’ve never really liked anyone period… but if i did i figured it’d be a guy. i mean i kind of always noticed the female celebrities more and— oh my god, am i gay? i like girls… i think i’ve always liked girls. why am i realizing so late—”

haerin’s eyes softened. she reached out, placing a reassuring hand on danielle’s shoulder. “it’s not weird, danielle. it’s normal. liking someone—boy or girl—doesn’t make you any different. it just makes you human. it’s fine, it’s no big deal. like who you like.”

danielle looked at haerin, her eyes wide and uncertain. “but what if it’s not okay? what if i ruin things by feeling this way?”

haerin shook her head. “you’re not ruining anything. feelings can be scary, especially when they’re new. but you don’t have to figure everything out right now. take your time, okay? and no matter what, i’m here for you. i’ve been there, i think there are two others in the dorm that have been too.”

danielle nodded slowly, the weight in her chest lifting slightly. “thanks, haerin. i think… i just need some time to think.”

“of course, i understand,” haerin said with a small smile. “but for now, let’s get you out of bed. you’re not going to figure anything out by hiding under the covers. maybe you’ll think clearly after a bit of breakfast–brunch.”

danielle chuckled softly, letting haerin pull her to her feet. though her heart still felt heavy, haerin’s words gave her a small sense of comfort. maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

—

“no way am i spending that much on something i’ll only wear once,” he said, putting a jacket back on the rack.

you two were in some pop-up store downtown, meandering through racks of high-end clothing. the smell of fresh leather and faint hints of something floral lingered in the air. music hummed in the air, some type of house playlist.

“you could always expensive it as a ‘costume piece’ for another project.” you laugh, fingers brushing idly against the fabric of a blazer nearby.

“if only it worked like that,” he snorted, glancing at you. “speaking of work, when’s the next press event? aren’t we supposed to fly out soon? there’s too much on my plate… but it’s worse for jaehyun.”

“next week,” you replied absentmindedly, your attention more on your phone than the clothes. the screen buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down immediately, eyes scanning the notification. it wasn’t from danielle. you frowned slightly and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

“that’s the third time you’ve done that in five minutes,” soobin noted, a small grin on his lips. “let me guess—waiting for a certain someone to text? a certain singer~?”

your ears burned. “what? no. i’m just—i don’t know, checking stuff. my um,” you cough, “my mom…”

“checking stuff…” he repeated, his smirk growing. “you are not slick. it’s danielle, isn’t it? waiting for her?”

he laughs when you roll your eyes at him, then raises a brow when you don’t deny it.

“you’re so obvious.” he teases, nuding your shoulder. “it’s cute though. fangirl crush to… whatever this is—’text flirtation’?”

“oh my god, you don’t shut up do you?” you say, though the corner of your mouth twitches into a smile. before you could retort further, your phone buzzed again—when you check it this time, danielle’s name lit up on the screen. without hesitation, you step away and hold up a hand to soobin.

“hold that thought,” you say, walking a few feet away for some privacy.

“hey,” you greet, trying to keep your voice casual, though you couldn’t stop the slight hint of excitement.

“hi,” her voice is soft through the phone, and you could hear the faint sound of city traffic in the background. “are you busy?”

“no, not at all,” you assure her. “i’m shopping with soobin. what’s up?”

there was a brief pause on her end before she says, “i was wondering if you’d want to go on a walk tonight? it’s been a long day, and i though it’d be nice to… you know, just talk. ah! i hope you don’t mind… i just… missed you. i know we’ve hangout only a few times, but i really like your energy! oh god, i’m rambling aren’t i—”

“i’d love that.” you smile into the phone, balancing your weight on one foot then the other. “that’s perfect, yeah of course. don’t worry about rambling… don’t ever.”

“okay,” her tone lighter now. “well, i have a shoot. i’ll text you more details, okay?”

“perfect. i’ll see you.” you say, feeling a little giddy as you hang up.

when you walked back over to soobin, he was leaning against a rack of coats, eyebrows raised knowingly.

“someone looks happy,” he teases, “let me guess—date?”

“not a date,” you correct him, though the hear rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “just a walk, you know.”

“that’s gay.” he mutters, earning a shove. he smirks at you, then adds, “well whatever helps you sleep at night—even if that’s a ‘walk.’”

you shoved his shoulder again, but the smile lingered on your face. even as you tried to focus on the clothes in front of you, your thoughts were already elsewhere counting down the hours until tonight.

—

the riverside was serene, the water reflecting the city lights in the rippled patterns. the air was crisp but not biting, just how you like it. you spot danielle standing by the railing, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed out over the water. her hair caught the light, framing her face in soft waves—her natural hair always left you in awe—and for a moment, you just stood there taking in the sight.

“hey,” you call, breaking her reverie.

she turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “you made it! hi.”

“of course. why would i miss it?” you say, stepping closer until you were side by side.

the two of you started walking, the rhythm of your steps syncing naturally. conversation came easily, as it always did with her. danielle talked about her schedule, how she’d been trying to find a balance between work and rest. you shared bits about your own projects, the highs and lows of the past week and even something you might audition for.

“it’s a lot sometimes,” she admits, glancing at you. “but i guess it’s just part of it, you know? the good things outweigh whatever is bad.”

you nod. “for sure. but it’s okay to feel overwhelmed too. you’re doing amazing, though. seriously.”

she looks down, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “thanks. that means a lot.”

as the conversation flowed further, the distance between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed with each step. the contact was subtle, but it was the only thing you could think about. you were hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. danielle didn’t pull away, and neither did you.

a light breeze swept by, and you noticed her ears twitch. without thinking, you pulled your beanie off and held it out to her.

“here,” you say, “it’s not much, but i think it’ll help.”

“oh, no, it’s okay,” she starts, but you were already placing it gently over her head, adjusting it so it fit snugly.

“looks good on you,” you admit, stepping back to admire her. “actually, you look better in it than i do. i might have to let you keep it.”

she laughs softly, her cheeks pink from more than just the cold. “you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” you reply, voice light but sincere. “trust me.”

she looks at you for a moment, her eyes warm and searching before breaking into a smile. “thanks.”

you resumed walking, the easy conversation picking up again, but the air between you felt different now—warmer, closer.

as the night wore on, the city seemed to fade away, which left the two of you. your steps were in rhythm and your hearts quietly beat at the same time, to another rhythm that neither of you wanted to name.

the sound of leaves rustling fills the spaces between your conversation as you and danielle continued to walk along the riverside. the path was lit by lampposts, casting a soft light that made everything seem dreamlike. danielle, however, seemed distracted, her steps just a fraction slower than before.

“soooo,” she begins, voice tentative. “i saw something earlier.”

you turned your head to look at her, curious. “yeah? what was it?”

“pictures of you and soobin had been going around on twitter,” she says, glancing sideways at you. “people were… assuming things.”

it took you a second to realize what she meant, but when you did, you let out a short laugh. “oh, that. again?”

she nods. her expression remained the same as normal, but her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. “yeah. you two seem close.”

“we’re realy close.” you say easily, not noticing the slight edge of hesitation in her tone. “but not like that. soobin’s like… my brother? maybe a favorite cousin. it’s very platonic.”

her eyes darted up to meet yours, flickering with something unreadable. “oh,” she says softly, her voice a little brighter. “i guess that makes sense.”

you tilt your head, catching the faint shift in her demeanor. “besides,” you added, a small smirk tugging at your lips, “i’m one hundred percent gay. women only.”

danielle’s steps faltered for a brief moment again, and you noticed the way her cheeks flushed under the streetlights. she recovered quickly though, and let out a small laugh. “oh. that’s good to know.”

“yeah,” you nod and shove your hands into your pockets. “soobin’s great, but absolutely not my type. not even close.”

danielle chuckles, her gaze fixed ahead now. “when did you figure that out? you know, about being gay?”

you thought for a moment, the question catching you a little off guard but not unwelcome. “probably when i was in high school,” you admitted. “i mean, i always kind of knew, but it really hit me when i found myself completely zoning out over this one girl in my art class. she was kind of like you, pretty and nice and sweet and—” you stopped yourself, “yeah…”

danielle smiels, her curiosity evident now. “was it hard? like, coming to terms with it?”

“it had its moments,” you say honestly. “i was scared at first, like, what people would think or how my family would react. but once i told myself it was okay to just... be myself, it got easier. and i’ve been lucky—my friends and family have been super supportive. it’s normal anyway… being infatuated, finding girls attractive, and,” you look at her a little closer now, “having crushes on girls.”

danielle nods, her gaze lingering on you a beat too long before she looks away. there was something… softer in her expression now, a quiet kind of admiration mixed with something else. you noticed the shift but didn’t comment, not wanting to break the moment.

“that’s nice,” she says finally, her voice quieter than before. “i think it’s brave.”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but the sincerity in her tone made your chest tighten. “just being honest, i guess.”

the conversation pauses, but the air between you felt warmer now, more intimate. danielle’s eyes flicker to you again, her expression thoughtful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking closer—not just in steps, but in something unspoken between you two.

“why do you ask, anyway?” you question.

“ah, well—” she completely short circuits, trying to find the right words. “there’s, well, i think i um, i like someone. i don’t know, well, i do.”

you raise a brow, looking at her confusingly.

and then it hits.

she’s avoiding your gaze, fidgeting with her fingers, and the blush on her cheeks is apparent. it’s all apparent: she’s asking you about liking girls, calling you when she can, texting you, complimenting you—it all makes sense now, everything leading up to it. and you’ve been dropping hints too, but you never noticed hers.

“and what’s this girl like? is she nice?”

“ah– well, it’s— i don’t know. she’s really sweet, but anyway,” she tries to shift the conversation, but you butt in.

“i’ve been kind of into this girl actually.” you admit, kicking a rock on the ground nervously.

“really?”

you hum.

“what is she like?” danielle asks, glancing at you shyly now.

“well,” you start, sucking in the courage to continue on. “she’s really pretty, and i managed to get closer with her in just two months. i always had a little friend crush on her, but even so i always thought she was gorgeous.”

“is that so?” danielle’s cheeks flush a bit as the realization starts to hit. “what else?”

“well, the more we got to know each other the more i found myself thinking of her late at night. she’s easy to talk to and i really like that about her. i’m pretty into her, and i think a lot of people know it despite how much i try to deny it.” you shrug, looking at the ground. “um, w-what is your girl like? the girl you like.”

there’s a smile on her face, one that would be impossible to wipe off.

“she’s… she’s really cute.” danielle says bashfully. “she’s kind, funny, caring, and i kind of grew to like everything about her. i can’t stop thinking about her and talking about her to my members, and when she posts or something about her goes viral i can’t help but go a little crazy. she accidentally revealed her crush on me to a lot of people and i couldn’t believe it, even now i’m unsure…”

“well i think she likes you a lot.”

“do you?”

“mhm.” you stop in your tracks, watching danielle take a few steps before stopping. you two stare at each other for a bit, struggling to maintain eye contact. “i think she’s been trying to ignore the fact that she’s in love with you, but can’t because you’re impossibly easy to fall in love with.”

danielle blushes, stepping closer and pushing your shoulder as she tries to compose herself.

“okay,” she mutters quietly, looking down at the ground. “do you think she could close her eyes?”

“maybe.” you nervously say as you close your eyes, huffing shakily.

danielle stares at you, features a little tense—really all of you is tense—before leaning up a bit and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

she pulls away, blushing furiously.

you open your eyes, blinking twice to make sure none of it is a dream. danielle stands in front of you, biting down on her teeth to try to keep herself from going insane. she looks away, scared and flustered all at the same time.

“do you think she… do you think she liked that?”

you nod, “yeah, but she thinks you missed.”

“what—”

you cut her off, tilting her chin up and pressing a quick peck to her lips.

danielle gasps, then looks at you with widened eyes. seconds later she leans forward, meeting you in a longer kiss.

she melts a bit, your bottom lip trapped between hers as she slides her hand over to your neck. and when she pulls away, she hides her face near your ear.

“did she, did she think that was okay? i’ve never um, kissed a girl before—i haven’t kissed anyone before.”

“i think she wants to kiss you again.”

danielle laughs, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks with her hand. it’s small and soft and warm all at the same time against your burning skin. you smile as she brushes her thumb over, nodding.

“i think i want to kiss her again too.”

#kpop x reader #danielle marsh x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans danielle #danielle marsh #danielle x reader #mo jihye x reader #mo jihye

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 2 days ago

Text

Command Me

Feyd Rautha X Plus Size! Y/N - drabble/series - Part 2 - 2.3K WC

Part 1

Part 2 (you are here!)

Masterlist

Warnings: the Voice, slightly steamy, full of tension, being rude to each other, enemies to lovers, like two kisses?, it's all building up to the next chapter

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You woke to see Feyd sitting across the room from you, watching you. You sat up quickly grabbing his knife that you had taken from him the day prior, flipping it around as you prepared to throw it.

Feyd put his hands up in surrender.

You kept your position, eyes narrowing as you did not trust him.

He stood slowly, “I don’t want to fight you.” he said, keeping his hands up.

“Afraid you’ll lose?” you said, quirking an eyebrow and swinging your legs around so you could stand. “Again.” you said with a cold gaze.

Feyd let out a scoff but his face was adorned with a smirk. He liked how defiant you were, especially to someone like him. Everyone feared him, you were so intriguing because not only did you not fear him, you challenged him. “I fear you are outmatched, Y/N” he said.

A shiver ran down your spine when he said your name. You hated to admit it but you wanted him to say it again, it rolled off his tongue ever so sweetly. You slowly lowered the knife. “What do you want? Or do you just enjoy watching people sleep?”

“You fascinate me woman,” he said with a genuine air of amazement.

You rolled your eyes at him, “You didn’t answer my question, what do you want?”

“The Baron and Reverend Mother are always watching. They want us to become… familiar with one another. We are to be married after all.” he said, walking closer to you until he sat on the bed, you towering over him. His head was level with your chest and it took every ounce of his mental strength to not ogle your chest. Flashes from the night before replayed in his mind, the black water running over your nipples and down your thighs. Control yourself was all he could repeat in his mind. He saw you sigh when he said marriage. “You do not wish to be married?”

“What does it matter? I have known I would marry you for as long as I can remember to fulfill some prophecy. That is my purpose, what I want is of no consequence to anyone.” you said.

He could see the sadness in your eyes. He often felt the same way. He wanted his life and fate to be his own, not some part of a grand religious plan. But alas, here you both were. “You do not wish this,” he said to himself.

“Do you? You said it yourself, I’m just a simple, pathetic Tleilaxan.” you crossed your arms.

Feyd hesitated, the knife still in your grasp. He went with his instinct despite the possibility of injury. Feyd gently placed his hands on your hips, leaning his forehead to your abdomen. “You have always been my destiny,” he looked up at you.

Your face was full of shock. You wanted to push him away but this was a side of Feyd you had not seen before. His eyes looked like they did when he was a teenager, soft and vulnerable. You couldn’t help it but the skin beneath your shirt tingled at his touch. You could feel the pads of his fingers slightly digging into the lush skin. You wondered if he knew how to be gentle with a woman? You had heard rumors that he kept concubines but the Reverend Mother said they had been dismissed as your arrival approached. Did he treat them like this? You shook your head, regaining control. You don’t like him. He is the Harkonnen who bound you to this kind of existence. You could not, would not, do anything more than endure him. You pulled back, holding the tip of his knife to his throat. “Destiny or not we are bound together by obligation, nothing more.” You said before walking away. You grabbed the first dress you saw, all of them were black just varying in style before walking into the bathroom.

----------------------------------------------

Feyd considered what you had said earlier the whole day as he trained. He had killed at least a dozen slaves, training so hard everything in his path was fair game. He isolated himself in the arena, the black sun beating down on him. Falling into a void of emotions he thought he had long forgotten.

You spent most of the day with the Reverend Mother. All she could go on about how important it was for you to “perform your Bene Gesserit duty”. She made Feyd sound like a chore, a disgusting one at that. The sky had started to darken, sunsets on Giedi Prime were strange. You missed Bandalong, the Holy City of Tleilax. It was industrial, but not in the way the Harkonnens had polluted their planet with. You missed the air there, how it smelled fresh and clean. Like trees and moss most days. Most of all you missed the five moons that orbited your planet. All were different sizes and different colors. You never thought you would miss something so trivial.

“So forlorn,” said Princess Irulan, making you jump slightly.

You turned away from the terrace hugging her with a genuine smile breaking out across your face. You two had spent so much time around each other in your youth. Your father being one of the members of the Tleilax Masters you were treated as royalty. Especially when both religions realized the power they had brought about was so great. Their centuries of breeding created a Bene Gesserit, Bene Tleilaxu Face Dancer who could not only shape shift but also wield the Voice. They made you a fierce fighter, a true force to be reckoned with. You were beautiful beyond most in your race, having features that were similar to your distant human ancestors. You had a plump figure, round face, full cheeks, and less sharp teeth. You had eyelashes, long and curled slightly upwards unlike most in your race who had lost the trait of eyelashes and eyebrows long ago. Your pale skin still had a rosie flush about it. By all means you were the closest to a human most had seen from Tleilax in ages.

“What troubles you?” Irulan asked, guiding you gently to a bench.

You sighed, picking at the skin around your fingers.

“It’s the marriage isn’t it?” she asked, looking at you with concern and understanding.

“I will perform my duties.” you said robotically, repeating what you had been told your whole life.

“I know you Y/N, you wish for more than what the Bene Gesserit have planned. All you spoke of when we were little was falling madly in love. Do you not recall?” Irulan smiled softly at you, turning your cheek to face her directly. She smoothed her thumb over your cheek. Your eyes were welling with tears. Irulan was the only soul you trusted in this lonely existence, and you knew she felt the same. She was the only one you could be vulnerable with. “As I remember, it was you who droned on and on about the wonders of love, how it would envelope you whole.”

“Feyd Rautha is not capable of such a thing. You have seen him, he is psychotic. Harkonnen are not capable of love.” you said with a stern tone, frustrated that this was to be your life.

Irulan sighed, she knew you were right. The Harkonnen were feared throughout the Imperium. It would be a lie if she told you they could change. “If he cannot love he can be manipulated. He is vulnerable in some way.” she said.

“What way? He is a brute, he has no weaknesses.” you said, looking off into the distance.

“The way all men are vulnerable - sexually. He loves pain. Find a way to combine the two.” she said, her eyes full of confidence. She believed you could not only survive here, but thrive.

You looked down, finally feeling the tears flow down your face. You sniffled before you could respond, “I… I don’t know if - if I can…” you mumbled.

Irulan lifted your face with her hands, wiping your tears away, “You are Lady Y/N daughter of Lord Mirlat Torg, one of the strongest Tleilaxu Master’s the Imperium has ever seen. You are Bene Gesserit, Sardaukar, and Face Dancer. And now you will become Harkonnen - show me a stronger woman in all the Galaxies?”

You sniffled once more, trying to compose yourself. She is right. Everything you’ve endured, everything you have become. You can be just as strong and ruthless as Feyd Rautha. Irulan pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back reassuringly. You held her, soaking up all the comfort she brought you.

“Na-Baron Feyd Rautha demands your presence.” a guard said, causing you and Irulan to jump slightly.

You both stood, she squeezed your hands giving you a slight nod. “I will see you tomorrow before the ceremony. Good night sister.” she said before walking off towards the guest wing of the palace, the guard bowing slightly as she left.

You followed the guard all the way back to your shared chambers. When the door slid open you saw Feyd removing his chest armor. You entered the chamber, “You demanded my presence oh gracious Na-Baron, how ever could I serve you?” you said with a sarcastic and spiteful tone, crossing your arms.

Feyd looked at you before removing his shirt, his pale skin glistening with sweat. You felt a lump form in your throat, trying your best to not let your eyes roam. “What do you want?” you said in a softer tone.

Feyd walked closer to you, stopping inches before his nose touched yours. You could feel his breath on you, it made you shudder. Why was your body responding to him?

“Like I said, the Reverend Mother wishes for us to be acquainted before we marry tomorrow.” he said, searching your face for something unknown.

You huffed, “Fine.” you said monotonously. You walked around him but heard him following after you. You made your way to the library. If you had to be around each other at least you could do it in silence. Feyd watched you as your eyes scanned over the shelves looking at the many books. You landed on a history book, The History of the Butlerian Jihad.

“Why would you want to read a book on war?” Feyd asked with a slight scoff.

“History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes. We are going to be part of history one day. If we do not know our past we are doomed to make the same mistakes.” you said as you walked to one of the large tables in the foyer. You jumped up to sit on the table, leaning back with the book.

Feyd looked at you with hungry eyes, imagining you laid out for him on that table, screaming his name. He walked over to you, walking slowly until he was slotted between your legs. You put the book down on the table, eyes wide at his bold actions but your lips remained sealed. He kept his eyes on you watching for any reaction you gave him. His hands ghosted over your thighs, sliding your gown up slightly before his hands settled on your hips. Your ears were ringing but you remembered what Irulan said earlier - exploit his weakness. You leaned up slightly, showing him you were not afraid of him. He smirked, his eyes growing slightly playful. You raised your hands gently, one resting on his bare waist the other on his cheek. His hands slid from your hips to your waist. You both watched each other, seeing who would cave first. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, his lips hardly skimming over the column of your neck. His warm breaths making you lean into him. You tilted your head back, letting your eyes flutter closed.

“And what will history say of us?” He whispered, the words making you shudder once more.

“That we did what was necessary.” you struggled to get out.

Feyd sat up pulling you with him, his lips so close to yours. “My Lady.” he says against your lips before releasing you from his grasp and walking out of the library.

You took deep breaths, feeling like you were getting air for the first time. What the fuck was that?

----------------------------------------

You stepped out of the bathtub, wrapping the towel around yourself. The door slid open making you jump. Feyd entered, shirt off with loose pants hanging around his hips. You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind since the library. Feyd looked at you as the droplets of black water slipped over you onto the floor. You tried to move around him but wherever you moved he blocked you.

“What?” you said with frustration.

Feyd’s hand rose to your cheek, he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall. “You’ve never been touched before.” he said, watching the blush creep up on your face.

You put your hand to his chest, keeping some semblance of space between you two. His heart was beating fast. Was he nervous around you? “Have you ever been kissed?” he asked.

You didn’t respond, trying to remain defiant.

“Would you like to?” he asked, hardly audible.

You tilted your head down to look at him which Feyd took as a yes. He connected his full lips to yours. You pushed him back immediately, looking at him with shock before glancing down at his lips. He pulled you back in, wanting to taste you as much as possible.

“ON YOUR KNEES.” you said using the Voice.

Feyd dropped before you. Your body wanted him so badly but you needed to resist. “See you at the altar, Na-Baron.” you said, walking past him to your bedroom.

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Naboo's Note:

Yayyyyy next part! I think the next chapter is going to be to everyones liking. I hope you all are well :) Let me know if you guys want to see any tropes in this story, I'd love some ideas. Thank you! XOXOXOXXOXOX!!!!!!!!

Taglist:

@sw33tsnow

#writing #feyd smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feydpaul #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feral for feyd #dune 2 #feyd x y/n

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