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yandere-daydreams · 9 months

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Title: Bared Fangs.

Commissioned by the very lovely @ohsotearful.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Modern/Serial Killer AU, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Blood/Gore, Reader Gets Hurt, Obsessive Behavior, Gun Violence, and Unhealthy Relationships. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as Childe asked you if you wanted to go outside.

Honestly, you should’ve known something was wrong as soon as he found you reading in front of his fireplace, as soon as that crooked, schoolboy grin found its way to his lips and he forewent his usual routine of draping himself on top of you like some muscled, zealously homicidal weighted blanket in favor of ruffling your hair and toying with the collar of the flannel you were wearing (his flannel, technically, but you tried not to let yourself acknowledge how accustomed you’d grown to wearing your captor’s clothes or, more troublingly, how long it’d been since the last time you’d felt disgusted by it). “Snow should be done for a couple hours,” he started, nodding towards the frost-coated windows. It might’ve been a more charming sight if not for the scratches carved into the surface of the glass – souvenirs from there the first time you got your hands on one of his axes. “I’m thinking of stepping out, doing a little hunting before the storm kicks up again. Wanna come with me?”

You narrowed your eyes at your book, trying to hide the way your heart beat a little faster at the suggestion of being able to leave his claustrophobic cabin. But, with Childe, you were usually better off staying safely tucked behind the bars of your rustic cage. “Is this going to be a normal hunting trip or a you hunting trip?”

He only hummed. “’fraid I don’t know what you mean by that, princess.”

“Are we going to be hunting animals, or…” You trailed off, swallowing down the bitter taste that came with remembering why you were here. “… or, you know. People, or whatever.”

“This time of year?” He let out an airy laugh, like you’d asked to go skiing in the middle of summer. “There’s nobody on the mountain ’cept me and you.”

Still, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to try and think beyond your near-overwhelming desire to be anywhere but here. Childe was a murderer, a sadist, a kidnapper, but he wasn’t the type to play mind games. He tended to divide his reality between the world outside – where people could be hunted like quarry, their bodies left to rot in tents and rivers with only the occasional token taken as a keepsake – and the world inside the walls of his cabin – where he sat you down in front of a low-burning fire and told you stories about ice-fishing with his siblings and pouted when you admit his (admittedly, not entirely inedible) cooking could use a little more seasoning. After that first night – the worst night of your fucking life – he seemed to want to keep you resigned to the latter, at least until he came home covered in blood and desperate for something warm and familiar to fuck until he passed out.

Eventually, you sighed, closing your book and sitting up. “Fine. When do we leave?”

His grin widened, head lulling forward as he pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “The front door’s already unlocked. I’ll give you a head start, a full five minutes. Actually, make it ten – just to make it a little more fun for you.”

There was a beat of silence, then another. “Childe, you’re making it sound like you’re—”

“Like I said, there’s nobody on the mountain but me and you.” He pulled away, turning on his heel. “I’ll be nice, too – won’t use anything with more than a twenty-foot range.”

“But, you— you can’t just—”

“Tick-tock.” He clicked his tongue, winking at you over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather cut straight to the good part.”

You should’ve known something was wrong, and now, running through the frozen wilderness desperately lost and barely dressed, your ten minutes spent and a killer undoubtedly chasing you down, you were paying the price for it.

You didn’t have time to be tactical. The snow was fresh enough to make every interruption unbearable obvious, meaning that – even if you were willing to stop and spare the seconds it’d take to hide your tracks, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Your only option was to run, but even that was easier said than done. Childe preferred to keep you in a state of hand-crafted domestic bliss, meaning what few clothes you did have were either picked out by or borrowed from him. Currently, all that separated you from the cold was his flannel, an oversized shirt, and a pair of his boots that you’d snagged on your way out. The chill snapped at your cold legs like the teeth of some unseen predator, the frigid air burning holes in your lungs, but the thought of what Childe would do when he caught you was enough to keep your feet moving, to keep you sprinting blindly through the forest. He wouldn’t kill you. You had to believe that he wouldn’t kill you, but—

A high-pitched holler, the sound of branches snapping underfoot and foliage being pushed aside somewhere behind you. You hadn’t stopped running after your first trembling steps away from the cabin, and yet, he couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet behind you – half a mile, at your most generous guess. You started to curse under your breath, then thought better of it, biting down on your bottom lip with enough force to draw blood and pivoting to the left, where the forest seemed to be just a little thicker. If you couldn’t get away from him, you could at least try to hide before he got to you.

It was a haphazard, half-baked plan that was cruelly and immediately cut short as your foot caught on a root hidden by the snow, tearing away your right boot and leaving you sprawled over the frozen ground. Dampness sunk into your thin clothes, and you shut your eyes, trying to listen for Childe’s footsteps, but there was a reason none of his victims ever seemed to hear him coming. The forest’s minimal white noise was enough to swallow him entirely, the sound of birdsong and distant car engines disguising his presence despite your best attempts to—

Your realization was delayed, but intense.

Cars.

Cars meant roads. Cars meant civilization. Cars meant people, people who could take you away from here, away from Childe. You clambered to your feet, but failed to take so much as a step before a sudden, stabbing pain bit into your calf, your leg immediately buckling underneath you. You would’ve fallen entirely if it hadn’t been for the adrenaline running through your system, numbing the agony and choking the ragged scream that threatened to rise from the pit of your chest into a cracked whimper. It was one of Childe’s arrows – you would’ve been able to recognize that black steel from a mile away – but you didn’t let yourself linger on the implications. With grit teeth and balled fists, you limped forward, leaving a thin trail of crimson in your wake. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been looking, but it was there – a thin, wobbling, unpaved dirt road, only marked by two thin rows of tire tracks that sliced harshly through the otherwise unmarred blanket of snow. God, you never thought you’d be so happy to see dirt.

There wasn’t time to think. You stumbled out of the woods and into the road, the arrow’s head sinking that much deeper with every stuttering movement. The car you’d heard was still there, too; a by-the-numbers sedan, only a few hundred feet down the road. You threw up your arms up, then thought better of it; cupping your shaking hands around your mouth. You moved to call out, but whatever you might’ve said was stolen away from you as something dark flashed across your peripheral and another arrow planted itself in your right shoulder. This time, you crumbled like a dead leaf – broken into pieces by a morning gale.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Childe emerge from the tree line, his crossbow still in-hand. As he came to stand in front of you, your gaze shifted back to the car. You watched, your mind buzzing with pain, as it disappeared around a sharp bend, never so much as slowing down.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you heard Childe coo, wiping away the tears flowing down your cheeks before they could freeze against your skin. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, his voice low with a painful edge. “I guess I cheated, huh? Couldn’t help it – just knew you’d look so cute all bruised up and bleeding.”

Dropping his crossbow carelessly, he fell to your height. He was dressed for one of his usual hunts; a cut-off shotgun slung over his back, a hunting knife sheathed at his hip. The leather casing of the latter pressed into your side as he dipped lower, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pressing a long, open-mouthed kiss into the base of your throat. You felt his knee settle between your thighs, and weakly, your hands found their way to his chest. “Not here,” you mumbled, more afraid of the chill quickly seeping under your skin than being seen. “It hurts, Childe. I—I think you hit something imp—”

“I’ll be fast.” Another kiss, this one to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His calloused hands skirted over your sides, then your waist, hiking the thin fabric of your oversized shirt up to your midriff. You were already past the point of total numbness, and yet, the rough gravel beneath the snow cut harshly into your exposed skin. Rather than distracting you from the pain in your calf, your shoulder, it only seemed to draw more attention to your bleeding wounds, only seemed to make it harder to ignore the dull heat of Childe’s mouth against your chest. “Gotta take you out more often. You’re always beautiful, but I didn’t know you’d look this pretty.”

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. His arrow burnt into the tattered skin of your calf as his hands fell to your legs, groping at the plush of your thighs playfully before shifting his attention to the fly of his jeans. You knew what he wanted, he’d always been transparent, but the sound of shifting fabric, the sight of his rosy-tipped, stiff cock pressing flush against his stomach – that was enough for the loose coil of dread writhing in the pit of your chest to tighten into a tight, jagged knot of pure terror. You tried to sit up, to make your refusal that much more apparent, but Childe only caught you by your uninjured shoulder, shoving you into the ground with enough force to earn a pained scowl, a fractured whimper. His only response was a wordless, vaguely sympathetic noise, a softened lull to his wide smile. “No skipping out on this, babydoll. I can’t guarantee you’ll end up in one piece if I have to wait ‘till we get home.”

It was a fair warning, but anything he could have said would’ve been lost on you. Your heart was beating in your ears, blocking out any other sound. Pools of red blood and piles of limp bodies flashed across your vision and desperately, futilely, you clawed at the hand on your shoulder, kicked at his chest, thrashed underneath him like an animal unaware that resistance would only make the predator want to drive its teeth that much deeper. It was more Childe’s divided attention than your strength, but your heel found his side and, just for a moment, he slipped, letting out a soft grunt as the hand pinning you down fell away. You were scrambling onto your knees in a second, attempting to get your feet underneath you in another, but your little stunt was cut short as Childe lashed out, wrapping his arm around your neck and forcing your stomach against the ground. There was no whimpering, anymore – just a ragged, ear-piercing scream as his free hand found the arrow in your shoulder, tearing it out of you in one clean, unfaltering motion. His only response came in the form of a throaty moan; deep and terrible and followed immediately by the feeling of his cock against your dry cunt. You would’ve begged him to stop, offered to let him do anything he wanted to you if he just didn’t do this, but he didn’t give you time to bargain. Without hesitation, he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

Trembling sobs tore at your throat and past your lips, tears now flowing unabashedly down your cheeks. Childe kept his full weight against your back as he fucked into you with short, sharp thrusts – never happy unless he was burying himself in the deepest pocket of your poor, freezing pussy. Rather than desensitizing you, letting you fall back into some distant state of nonexistence, the snow seemed to burn where it was pressed into your cheek, your chest. You wished he would’ve taken off the rest of your clothes. You wished he would’ve just shot his stupid arrows into your skull and put you out of your misery.

It shouldn’t have felt good, you didn’t want it to feel good, but your body didn’t know that. Your cunt clenched and drooled around him, trying in vain to turn his assault into something you could enjoy, but the way he grunted into your ear snuffed out any pleasure you might’ve been able to feel. “Tryin’ to pull me back in,” he muttered, his voice already airy, already strung out. You couldn’t help but wonder if, had you only been able to run from him for another minute, he would’ve found something else to shove his dick into and left you out here to freeze to death. “Is that your goal? Wanna – Fuck, wanna help me warm you up?”

His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass flush against his hips and letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much more brutally. Your injured leg grated against the dirt of the road and you cried out, your voice ragged and barely coherent. “St— Hurts, stop, stop, please, stop—”

“That’s it, always making such pretty sounds for me.” He buried his face in the dip of your shoulder. “Sometimes, it feels like all I wanna do it cut you open and crawl—”

He was interrupted by the dull roar of an approaching engine and something brightened inside of you, your eyes shifting towards the road, towards the well-beaten pick-up truck speeding in your direction. The breaks screeched as you and Childe came into the driver’s view, and for a second, you let yourself go slack underneath him, relief overwhelming your better judgement.

Childe wasn’t so sentimental.

His shotgun was in his hand before you could so much as process that he’d moved. Wordlessly, he fired off two shots; the first to the windshield on the driver’s side and the second to one of the front tires. You watched on helplessly as your last hope for salvation bucked, swerved, then veered off of the road entirely, catching on a snowbank and turning over once before crashing into the trunk of an oak that failed to so much as shake under the force of the collision. It was quieter than you’d expected it to be, the only sounds that of shattering glass and crunching metal. If there were survivors, no one screamed, or called for help, or came stumbling out of the wreckage. Childe’s breath hitched in his throat, his pace growing that much more erratic as he buckled into you – his pointed canines finding the tender junction at the base of your throat and burying themselves in your skin. It was less a love-bite and more an effort to eat you alive. What little blood he didn’t lap up washed over your chest, melting the frost and mixing into the snow beneath you. “Look—” He groaned, tried and failed to pull away from you. His voice reverberated against the curve of your neck as he went on. “Look what you turn me into, princess. Got me making all kinds of messes for you.”

Blood. Bodies. The taste of his cum on your tongue as your friends bled out under the same roof. You would’ve choked the air in your lungs if you’d been able to breathe, but there was no point lingering on pleasant hypotheticals. There were no distractions from the feeling of Childe’s hips grating against yours, the way his cock twitched as settled against you. A guttural moan tore past his lips as something thick and searing flooded into you, and you refused to let yourself acknowledge that this was the warmest you’d felt in days.

You stayed there, limp and frozen and miserable, as Childe pulled away from you, pulled out of you. Your eyes fell shut as he stumbled to his feet, your skin too numb to feel anything aside from the pressure of his arms around your motionless body. He pulled you against his chest, then let out a low whistle. “Might’ve gone a little overboard there. Sorry ‘bout that, princess.” A low chuckle, a gentle squeeze. “I just can’t help it, not when it comes to you. You’ll forgive me after a warm bath, right?”

You didn’t answer. The arrow in your calf must’ve fallen out, or maybe not – you couldn’t feel anything below your knees. Your hands felt like dead weight too, utterly disconnected from anything you might’ve used to control them, but every drop of panic, every ounce of horror – that all paled in comparison to the never-ending pit of pitch-black loathing that formed in your chest as you stared up at Childe. You hated him, wanted to see him torn apart with his own stockpile of weapons, but you really couldn’t blame him. Not for this, at least.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as the monster bared its fangs.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere childe #childe x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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roseykat · 11 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 5

TITLE: Eat, sleep, play.

PAIRING: Minho x Jisung x reader

SUMMARY: an established poly relationship between you and Minsung, along with an account of what Jisung likes to call ‘play time’.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: pre-established poly relationship, bondage, unprotected sex, blowjobs, swearing, oral sex (f!receiving and m!receiving), a dash of bratty yet sub-Jisung, sub reader, ball gags, cum eating.

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzekat @queenmea604 🩷🩷🩷

“I wanna eat her out,” Jisung mutters, unable to take his eyes off of your bound body. It was almost like he was truly hungry, nearly salivating.

Minho looks down at you but not with a gaze of pity. He just spent the last five minutes binding your body with rope; your legs are bent at your sides as you lie on your back, and your wrists are tied to your ankles. To top it off, Minho had stuffed your mouth with a ball gag. It wasn’t necessarily for punishment, but mainly because he likes being mean.

“I did have other plans for the both of you, but I guess we can start that after.”

For a moment Jisung wondered what exactly those plans were. It’s always exciting to not know what’s coming next and with Minho, nine times out of ten, it’s something mind blowing. He can adapt to Jisung’s desires and decides to sit cross legged on the bed behind you. So Minho scoots underneath your head so that you’re nearly in his lap. It gives him a better view of Jisung and what he’s about to do to you.

Jisung lies on the bed tummy first, his mouth ready to be put to use in between your legs. The warmth of his breath is a subtle relief followed by the tender kisses he places on each inner thigh, slowly inching down to your clit. Just when he does, your eyes are already fluttering back.

“Mmm!”

Minho smirks down at you, “can’t say anything now can you?”

Jisung wraps his hands around your upper thighs to bring your pussy closer to his face. The feel of his wet, hot tongue lapping and sucking sends you into a state of oversensitivity. He’s always been good at giving head, same with Minho, so you always count yourself lucky with two partners who are good at what they do.

His mouth has you moaning like a whore around the ball gag, even though neither of them can audibly hear you as properly. Your legs are already shivering and shaking from the pleasure that’s beginning to surge throughout your body. To top it off, Minho makes his hands useful by rolling your nipples in between his thumbs and fingers. The nervy reaction forces your head back into Minho’s lap, trying to cry out as much as possible.

“Baby girl likes that doesn’t she?” Minho asks, pinching and tugging at the sensitive buds to make you scream into the gag.

Your chest starts heaving quicker and quicker, a sign to Minho that you’re about to cum, and just before you do, he has to yank Jisung by his hair to stop him from achieving that. His head lifts up from your pussy, his mouth glistening unashamely with your juices as his eyes looked dazed and spaced out.

“That’s enough,” Minho warns. “I said you could eat her out, I never said you were allowed to make her cum.”

Jisungs happens to take a lot of pride in making you orgasm. He thinks it’s the most fascinating yet cute thing at the same time. He enjoys watching you shake, scream, cry, shiver, moan - all of the above when you cum. It’s something he has that really emulates the characteristics of a ‘giver’ even though he himself is, the majority of the time, a ‘receiver’.

“Don’t be mean to her like that,” he whines. “Wanted to feel her cum.”

“Not yet,” Minho halts. “For now, you’re going to fuck her.”

Jisung’s eyes light up once more as he props himself up onto his knees while Minho slides out from behind you and takes a seat on the chair next to the bed so he can watch. Having been achingly hard in his pants since the scene began, Jisung starts to feel waves of relief when he’s able to take his dick out. You watch him eagerly with your last line of patience.

“C’mere baby,” he murmurs, almost like he’s tipsy.

Jisung’s cock is somewhat thick and has the perfect length and curve that it’s enough to make you cum like you’ve never before each and every single time. He gets excited just thinking about it as he rubs the tip of his cock in between your wet folds. Minho crosses one leg over the other as he watches the pair of you, seeing Jisung unintentionally tease your entrance with his cock; only pushing in less than an inch and slowly retracting out.

It doesn’t matter how much preparation they both put you through, it’s not nearly enough to get you ready for how filling it feels for when Jisung is fully inside of you.

He squeezes a small dollop of the lube that was pulled out earlier from the bedside table and runs some of the product on his length and some around your pussy.

The reintroduction of his touch makes you groan, desperate and longing for more that soon comes when he starts to push inside of you.

“Yes, fuck oh my god,” Jisung mumbles incoherently. “Can never get over this pussy, feels unreal.”

Heat always rises to your cheeks whenever one of them praises your body. For whatever reason, it gets you to cum quicker. Minho found that out when they were both fucking you once and wouldn’t stop commenting about how gorgeous you looked taking both of them at the same time. Needless to say the mess you made on them was a sign.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’m going to last,” Jisung starts fucking you shallowly and slowly, not wanting to put in all of his energy into his thrusts in case he cums too early.

“Lean some more of your weight down to fill her out,” Minho instructs, turning Jisung’s spaced out face into a look of irritation.

He was just basking in the sensation of wet heat wrapping around him. Despite the context of the scene, Jisung feels very comfortable. He could stay buried inside of you for as long as you’d let him. In saying that, his submissiveness always bends for Minho’s orders. That, fortunately for him, is just how the both of you are built.

So Jisung listens and leaned further down into your body. Just that subtle adjustment in the position makes you twist from the waist up at how deep Jisung’s cock is now filling you. It brings a sick smile to his face when your moans get louder around the ball gag. The only method of dealing with the pleasure is clenching your fists at your ankles. Even that isn’t enough to manage it.

“Fuck her like you mean it Jisung,” Minho snaps, growing impatient with how his boyfriend is performing.

Jisung lowers himself down onto both of his elbows, resting more of his weight on top of your body. It allows him to slide in deeper, filling you right out that it squeezes a series of raspy moans from the base of your throat that are muted by the gag. Jisung visibly shudders when he bottoms out, feeling like if he thrusts a few more times, he’ll cum in an instant.

“Can you believe him?” He asks you in your ear, staring at Minho at the same time. “Telling me what to do.”

His tone and volume were deliberate and provoked a reaction from Minho. He stands up from his seat with force, walks over to you both with an agitated gait and expression before grabbing a fistful of Jisung’s hair and yanking it back.

“Do I have to shut you up with a ball gag too?” He questions.

Jisung grins, thriving in the sting spreading around his scalp, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Minho’s eye twitches. Out of you and Jisung, Minho would have to say that Jisung can be the brattiest at the worst of times, and you at the best of times. You’ll play up here and there, but Jisung has a tendency to not listen at all until Minho completely subdues him. If Jisung is still talking by the end of a session, Minho hasn’t done enough work to put him in his place.

“Course you wouldn’t,” Minho releases his hand. “That’s because you’re a fucking slut.”

Jisung’s eyes glaze over, darkening as Minho speaks to him in such a degrading tone. It’s the only method of taming him; degradation and manhandling - the only ways to get Jisung off his high horse. His brain stalls and submits whenever Minho calls him types of names, treats him like a whore, even sometimes when he’s neglected in bed.

His method of control when it comes to you needs to be an equal balance of degradation, bondage, and physicality - whether that’s pain play, clamps, orgasm torture, maybe a tantalising mixture of all three.

Over the years that you’ve all been together, he's figured you both out.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it Jisung?” He asks him.

“Y-Yes,” he stammers before Minho releases and gives his head a bit of a shove - not too hard, but just enough for a lewd smile to grow on Jisung’s face.

“Get out of her,” Minho orders. “On your knees.”

“But-”

“Now,” he says threateningly, cutting his boyfriend's words short. “Wanna keep talking, might as well put that mouth of yours to use.”

Jisung licks his lips and swallows. He gently pulls out of you as you moan at the loss. Minho unbuckles the restraints that have been keeping your legs separate, and your ankles bound to your hands. Even though it feels good to be out of the same position, you miss the heavy feeling of being restrained. The idea of not being able to move itches a part of your brain that you didn’t know existed - especially when you’re being physically and literally bound to cum.

Even though you’re free now, you still behave obediently and follow through with whatever Minho says.

“Please fuck me instead,” Jisung mumbles with deep doughy eyes that can make just about anyone fold.

Not Minho though. Not when he’s in an unshakeable mindset as he manhandles Jisung onto his back on the bed with so much ease, pinning his wrists next to his head, “you’ve already asked for too much tonight. You can just take whatever I decide to give you.”

Jisung pouts. While he wallows in the sadness of the hope to get railed, Minho tends back to you to untie all the rope. When he’s finished, he places it to one side and unlatches the buckle to the ball gag from behind your head. A long line of saliva connects from your lips and the device that was used to keep you from talking. Minho likes seeing it though. A sick and twisted part of him almost makes him want to spit in your mouth.

“You, on your knees too,” he says to you before you join Jisung on the floor, waiting patiently.

“W-Why can’t you fuck me?” You ask him.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” Minho asks you back.

“Yes but-“

“Good girls do what they’re told the first time they’re asked to do something,” he cuts you mid sentence right away. He’s not about to put up with an attitude from you right now. Not when he’s this horny.

Minho sits on the edge of the bed, unzips his pants to reveal his cock already leaking with pre-cum at the tip. Both you and Jisung are keen to get your mouths around your boyfriend's cock, almost salivating when you see it.

“Open,” Minho instructs.

There’s no time either of you waste trying to blow him. You use your mouths as if you were both made for it - made to please him. So you take turns in taking as much of his cock as you both can down your throats. Minho’s hands bunch into fists, gripping the sheets beneath him as his head tips back. Without looking at either of you, the lewd, wet sounds and the hot sensation of your mouths are enough to keep him going.

Then again, he enjoys watching you work. So he brings his head back up, taking a look at Jisung who’s eagerly waiting for his turn while you use your mouth up and down Minho’s length. He pets under Jisung’s chin and caresses the side of your face at the same time. But when his high approaches fast, he resorts to gripping a fistful of your hair instead.

"So fucking good," Minho grunts through his gritted teeth. Jisung listens to you being praised and scooches closer so that he can try to get his mouth around Minho's cock too.

"Fuck!" He groans. "That's it...making me cum."

In a matter of seconds, Minho doesn't hold back. Both you and Jisung peel off of him as he paints both of your faces with strings of white, warm cum. Minho has always been a 'heavy load' type of guy which is a godsend for people like you and Jisung who don't dare to waste any of it.

As Minho descends from his dizzy, euphoric high, it gives him a bit of time to absorb the mess he's made before him. Jisung uses his thumb to carefully swipe some of Minho's jizz from your lips and gets you to suck it off.

He then gently slides his hand across the underside of your face to the side of your head where he pulls you in to kiss him. That kiss quickly turns into a heated and aggressive makeout where Jisung pins you on your back to the floor.

“On the floor?” Minho raises a brow, trying not to smile while he catches his breath.

It only occurs to him now as Jisung is holding you down that you both must be desperate for each other to fuck on the ground. Despite the mess, neither of you cares about it. You can taste Minho on Jisung’s tongue and vice versa. The instigator sitting on the edge of the bed thinks it’s equally as hot, but not a surprise.

"Fuck me," you whimper when you break free from each other momentarily. "Hurry, please."

"Shh," Jisung hushes with a shaky breath as he aligns the tip of his cock with your entrance once more.

It's not before long until Jisung actually starts fucking you properly this time. Earlier on, he never had the proper chance to after being interrupted by Minho. That's only because his ego interfered. Now he can fuck you as if it's the last thing he's ever going to do.

It's a pleasure for Minho to sit back and enjoy watching you both fuck until you’re shaking around each other. He just loves this - seeing you both rabid with lust that nothing else matters. Minho reckons if anyone were to just walk into the room, that wouldn’t stop you and Jisung from fucking. If anything, he thinks Jisung would probably go harder.

The thought gives him a naughty idea.

He knows what happens when you’re both needy at the exact same time. It’s always Minho trying to train two untamed animals just going at each other or him. However, Minho will never complain because there is no reason to. He appreciates the level of need you both have for each other, for him as well. That’s what makes the relationship tick, is that love is distributed equally and at high volumes.

"R-Right there," you mutter, eyelids fluttering as Jisung rocks into you repeatedly. "Cumming...gonna cum."

You bite down into the skin of his shoulder, trying so hard not to scream from the way he’s making you cum. Jisung on the other hand is the opposite - moaning like a slut when he runs face first into an eye-rolling orgasm.

“Yes, yes! Fuck…making me cum so fucking hard…” Jisung wrestles the words out of his mouth before moans start ripping his throat.

Neither of you had orgasmed any quicker. If it weren’t for Minho and his deliberate teasing, both you and Jisung would’ve taken longer to cum. Instead, your walls are spasming around Jisung’s cock when it shoots a hot load inside of you.

You’re clinging onto him when he cums, hearing him so vocal always turns you on - same with Minho. It’s a sign that they feel good, and that’s always the hope whenever they stuff you to the hilt.

"Holy shit," Jisung is panting, almost like he just swam to the surface for air. His hips slow down to a reasonable pace, dragging in and out of you for as long as he can before he pulls out.

From the bed still witnessing all the antics unfold, Minho can't help but watch the way Jisung's cum slowly leaks out of you. It almost makes him wish he was hard enough again to fuck it back into you. But he knows there's probably another time for that.

"You both okay?" Minho asks.

Your hand rests on your head, still splayed on the floor, "mm."

Jisung doesn't answer verbally, but gives a silent nod.

"Okay, I’ll help you both up and we can head to the bathroom so I can clean you up,” Minho adds. “That sound okay? Then afterwards, I’ll order us some food and we can relax for the rest of the evening.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jisung replies.

A/N: I swear I'm not useless by not uploading lol as I mentioned in another post, I've been so busy with work that it's just not even funny. I will still power on with Kinktober though! Once again, thank you for supporting my work and being patient with me! xxx

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut

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just-jordie-things · 10 months

Text

[part two] trouble - takuma ino

word count: 9k warnings: swearing, drinking, slight harassment (a creep puts his hand on reader's waist for 0.2 seconds) summary: she's only agreed to one night out- and that doesn't mean anything at all. it also doesn't mean anything that a few drinks has her admitting that ino's eyes are actually quite pretty. contents: rivals to begrudged friends, gojo!reader, nanami leaves the function at his first oppurtunity, ino and (y/n) have an alcohol fueled breakthrough.

part two: "got so much to prove" ___

Gojo Satoru was nothing like his sibling counterpart, and she was dead set on keeping it that way. Where he was overbearing, she was uninvolved. Where he was obnoxious, she was reserved. For most of her life she could recall trying to steer herself into the opposite direction Satoru was heading.

That was, until it came to sorcery.

If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have needed to crawl up a ladder to claim the Grade One title. If it weren’t for him, she could’ve made a name for herself rather than live in the shadow that was their family name. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be stuck in this too-loud bar throwing back too-weak drinks.

Nanami didn’t seem too thrilled about having his evening decided for him, either. He was nursing his third beer and the alcohol still hadn’t loosened him enough to lose the look of pure disinterest on his face. (y/n) couldn’t blame him, seeing as she didn’t want to be here either.

Takuma, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He’d eagerly ordered them a round of shots despite their protests, claiming it was a right of passage for their first outing together.

“I’m not taking a shot,” Nanami had pushed his glass to the center of the table, refusing it as soon as it was set in front of him. “I have to be home by eight”

“Eight?” Takuma gasped incredulously at his early retirement. “But Gojo’s car won’t be here till eleven-”

“Dibs” (y/n) plucks the extra shot off the counter, tapping it once against the table before throwing it back with ease.

The other two are left to stare at her in shock, neither knowing how to react. She’s quick to chase it down with her own shot in rapid succession, not a single flinch or twitch from the burning sensation left in her throat. Nanami and Takuma share a quick glance, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by the young Gojo.

“What?” She asks innocently, propping her elbow on the table to rest her chin in her hand. “Been a long week, no?”

“It’s just… Satoru doesn’t drink” Nanami shrugs at the simple statement, leaning back against his chair.

(y/n) pauses, her brow twitching in the smallest of movements.

Even without him around, she was being compared to him. And hearing it come from Nanami, whom she’d spent years looking up to, snapped her final straw.

“Right…” She drawls the word out slowly, and Nanami waits all too patiently for whatever she had to say next. “Well since it is our first outing, let’s establish this once and for all, shall we?”

And then she grins, which sends warning flags up in Takuma’s mind when she leaves the table and approaches the bar. He turns back to Nanami with his worry evident on his face.

“That’s not good,” He says in a hushed voice. “I’ve only ever seen her smile like that when exorcizing curses”

Nanami only chuckles half heartedly, more than familiar with the way the Gojo siblings’ shared wicked grin.

Ino’s not so amused, but he does his best to get excited when (y/n) comes back with a stronger drink and another round of shots for the three of them. Nanami refuses this one as well, and this time they let it sit on the center of the table unclaimed.

To his surprise, she taps her shot glass against Ino’s when he picks it up, eyeing the auburn liquid with uncertainty. This would be his second shot in the span of only ten minutes, and it would be her third. There had to be some ploy behind it, right?

“Whatever it takes to prove to you both I’m not my brother, name it,” (y/n) announces before throwing back the shot. “It can be like a game!” She decides, eyes lighting up with the idea. If she notices the way Nanami and Ino seem unsure and uncomfortable with the sudden swing in behavior, she doesn’t show it.

“A drinking game?” Ino asks, not quite following her train of thought.

“Sure,” She nods at him. “Like a truth or drink sort of thing? That works”

“I’ve got one, then,” Nanami leans back onto the table, suddenly joining the conversation. His pupils seem surprised, but both excited in their own way to have him participate “That Grade Two at the playground, last week, did you lie in your paperwork?”

A more authentic looking beam stretches over (y/n’s) face, and she laughs as she considers taking a drink, but she supposes he’d have his answer if she did, so she might as well fess up.

“About the swingset being torn apart?” She asks with a raised brow. “Yes, I lied about that”

“You lied in your report?” Ino gasps in shock. “What’d you say?”

“She claimed the swings had been torn away from their posts before she arrived on the scene” Nanami explained with a huff.

That earned another gasp from Ino before he turned back to (y/n) with wide eyes and an awkward sort of smile, like he was excited to have caught her in something, even though she’d admitted to it herself.

“You chopped down a children’s playground?”

“It was a swingset,” She corrected. “And it’s structural integrity was fine. The city could afford to replace the swing itself. It’s practically just rope”

Nanami shakes his head, although he’d already had an inkling her report on that assignment was less than truthful. He had stopped by to take account of the damage done, and it seemed to him like the scraped metal of the playset’s structure could have only been chinked up by a large blade. Like an axe.

A few more random questions come up between the two, most of them work related. The questions are all over the place however, with Nanami trying to get her to admit to more discrepancies in her paperwork, and Ino trying to learn anything and everything he could. So she never quite knew what was going to be asked of her.

More often than not, Nanami’s questions led to her drinking. Whereas Ino’s…

“Do you have any tattoos?”

She wants to laugh, and ask him if he’s sure that’s what he wants to know. But Nanami’s already got her another two drinks down, so she finds herself lifting up the hem of her shirt, just enough to put her hip bone on display, earning shocked looks from both men as they stared holes into the ink on her skin.

“When did you get that?” Nanami asks, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline when (y/n) looks up at him with a lazy smirk.

“I was sixteen, and you weren’t around at the time” She states matter-of-factly.

Ino’s laughing, and maybe cheering as he throws back the rest of his drink and makes his way to the bar for another. (y/n) wouldn’t admit that she was having a good time, but it was quite entertaining to watch their reactions.

“That’s enough insight for tonight” Nanami sighs before getting up from his seat. (y/n) watches as he lifts his jacket from the back of his chair, loosely shrugging it on. A small knot forms between her brows.

“You’re actually gonna leave?” She asks, and if he didn’t know any better, Nanami might think she’s frowning because she’s disappointed to see him leave.

“I’ve already stayed later than I planned,” He answers dryly. “But you should stay, Ino too,” He adds, nodding to the sorcerer at the bar desperately trying to get the bartender’s attention. “Make your brother pick up the tab”

“He said it was on you” (y/n) replies with a shrug, before taking a sip of her drink.

Nanami rolled his eyes as he turned to go, grumbling something about how a Gojo could be trying to pass off the bill. (y/n’s) laughing as he leaves, and he’s almost compelled to stay, just for the sake of watching her open up more than he’d seen in years, but he supposes he’s not the one who needs that tonight.

Ino’s surprised when he comes back to the table with a fresh drink and hand, only to find Nanami missing. He glances at the empty seat with a furrowed brow before turning to (y/n), who shrugs.

“Guess he wasn’t kidding about turning in early” She muses, pushing the ice in her glass with her straw. Ino seems to pout at that.

“Too bad, I thought we were having a good time” He says as he takes his seat across from her.

(y/n) regards him with a slight tilt of her head, as if he were a stranger she were noticing for the first time. As always, his mask sat on top of his head, posed as a beanie, and as he turned away to glance across the crowded bar, she’d never noticed before, but the curve of his cheekbones were defined. Sharp, even. Her gaze continued to linger, noticing the same detail about his jawline. Had she really never noticed before, or was the dim lighting doing him a favor by putting his facial features on display?

“Is this your idea of a good time?” She asks suddenly, and his attention is swiveling back to her. Even with the lights shifting across his face, the defined features still stuck out to her. “Going out somewhere crowded and noisy?”

Ino laughs at that, every part of his expression lighting up with his delight, and once again (y/n) wonders if someone’s purposefully messing with the lights to put a spotlight on him.

Her brother’s words from their last phone call start to penetrate her thoughts against her will. She tries to shake them off, but it’s hard when his brown eyes gleam like honey when he looks at her.

“Well, drinks are a pretty important part. This wouldn’t be fun without ‘em,” He says, and she shrugs in non-committed agreement. “But it is fun. I’m having fun, at least”

“It’s not…” She starts to tell him this wasn’t her ideal night out. In actuality, she was more of a stay in and relax on the weekend kind of person. Satoru did enough partying in his younger years to turn her off from it early on. But Ino perks up as he awaits her response, and it didn’t feel right to tell him the full truth. So she changes direction and tells him a half-lie. “It’s not terrible” She finishes.

He’s grinning again, as though she’d just told him she was having the time of her life, and she can’t help the confused knot in her brow. Could he really be so pleased over simply having a few drinks together?

“I knew you’d have a good time if you just came!” He cheered, reaching his glass across the table to tap it against hers. “You should’ve just accepted the invitation months ago”

She takes a long drink, stalling to try and find the right thing to say. She doesn’t want Ino to get the wrong idea, she’s not about to make this a regular thing. No, this was a one time occurrence. She stood by what she said all those months ago. It was silly to make friends in this line of work. She’d witnessed first hand, one too many times, just what companionship could cost. One night out couldn’t possibly change that.

Something twists in her chest before she can remind him of that, and it prevents her from saying anything of the sort. Instead, she changes the subject.

“Can I ask you a truth or drink question, now?” She leans forward in her seat a bit, resting her elbow on the table once more as she studies his eager expression.

“Shoot!” He agreed excitedly, and she can’t help the short laugh that escapes her. She blames the alcohol.

“How do you stay so positive all the time?” She asks the question that had been nagging at her for longer than just the past couple hours. He shakes his head slightly, not quite following the meaning of her question. “Even on assignments, and doing your reports, you’re always…” She wiggles her fingers in front of her as she tries to find the right word to explain it.

Ino chuckles, before full on laughter takes over and his shoulders are shaking as he grins from ear to ear, almost proving her point before he could actually answer.

“I love what I do?” He answers like it’s a question, like he’s unsure if that’s what she’s even looking for. “I’ve been working towards one goal my entire life, I might as well enjoy it, right?”

She’s stunned silent for a minute. There was a time where she would’ve said the same thing, when she was young and naive and thought her and her brother would take the jujutsu world by storm, side by side. Before she realized that her entire life would be spent under the shadow cast by him owning the family name almost all for himself. It was a large, infinite shadow. And the longer she’d lived in it, the more her joy for her work turned into a necessity. Until now, she hadn’t even realized just how much she’d come to despise every step it took to move forward in jujutsu society.

Ino took her silence to mean she was thinking too deeply about what he’d said, and a question of his own came to mind.

“Do you not enjoy it?”

Her gaze rises from where she’d zoned out looking at her dwindling drink, finding Ino across from her looking almost concerned. The longer she didn’t respond, the more his expression reminded her of the night he’d found her injured.

She clears her throat before opting out of answering, instead drinking down the last of the contents in her glass. He raises a brow at her choice.

“Did you not want to tell me your answer, or did you not know the answer?” He asks.

“Is that another question?” She asks, a small smirk forming on her lips. “Because I’ll have to order another drink”

Ino laughs, and despite her trying not to, she can’t help but laugh with him.

“Another round?” He asks, and she thinks about it for a minute, before nodding, and getting up from her seat. To her surprise, he follows her up to the bar, even though there was still a good quarter of his drink left. She doesn’t comment on it.

They have to squeeze between bodies to stake a place at the bar, the two bartenders already quite busy with the amount of people waving at them for their attention. It’s bound to take more than a couple minutes before they would get to place their order.

“Guess everyone had a rough week” (y/n) mumbles absentmindedly, and Ino glances down at her.

This wasn’t the first time he’d taken notice of her height- or lack thereof- but with having her so close she was nearly pressed into his side, it was hard not to notice. About a head shorter than him, he had to tilt his head down to properly look at her, which he was only doing now because the alcohol buzzing in his system lifted the barriers of his anxiety. Had he been sober, he’d have been far too weak to stare at her so blatantly.

Luckily due to the drinks they’d both had, (y/n) didn’t realize he was staring at her for a whole minute or so. She’d been too focused on trying to catch eyes with one of the bartender’s to feel his eyes on her. Even without being caught, he felt a flush creeping up his neck.

In another life, or hell, another universe, Ino wonders if things could have been different between them. If she would’ve been less closed off, or maybe he could’ve been more laid back and met her level of reserved. He wonders if they would’ve been closer friends, or maybe even something more than that.

Truthfully, when they’d first met, he’d instantly had a bit of a crush on her. He’d never met the younger Gojo before the day he started working with Nanami on his promotion, but as soon as he’d laid eyes on her, he thought his heart was going to go into cardiac arrest and he’d die right there. She was quiet, but he could tell behind her calculating expression that she was thoughtful, and cunning. And so, so beautiful, that he’d stuttered all the way through introducing himself, even his own name he’d struggled to get out. Looking back on it, he still felt embarrassed, but he was sure she’d long forgotten the interaction. It wasn’t long after their meeting that she’d made her disinterest in him explicitly clear, and the sparks of feelings she’d ignited in him were stomped out into ash.

He felt like a fool for feeling that spark ignite again just standing beside her in this congested bar, but he couldn’t be imagining that things were different tonight, right? He was sure that she was opening up more of herself than he’d ever seen before, and maybe the alcohol played a part in that, but either way, he couldn’t get enough of it. She was giving him crumbs of her life- an impulsive tattoo, her hopes to have a pet some day, a few reckless acts on assignments- and he was eating it all up with gratitude. He couldn’t help but want to learn more, wanting to press further until she couldn’t possibly deny that she enjoyed confiding in him as much as he enjoyed being in her company.

He knows he can’t be imagining things, because when she finally feels his stare and looks up at him, she doesn’t scowl, or spit out some cruel comment about it. Her brows twitch slightly, drawing together in a confused expression when he doesn’t immediately look away like she would’ve expected. He’s close enough that he can see the way a ghost of a smile hovers at the corners of her lips, and the way her cheeks warm up with color. It makes that microscopic spark of old feeling in his chest burn a little brighter.

A nervous laugh falls from her lips, and it’s so uncharacteristically cute that he’s smiling now, and he feels like an absolute dope for staring at her and smiling like an idiot, but it can’t be helped. He can’t be helped.

“What?” She asks, breathless and curious, her eyes shifting between his as though trying to find the source of this behavior, but instead she only finds warm pools of brown that almost resemble the rum and cokes she’s been enjoying all night.

And then all at once it’s almost too much. She’s suddenly aware of how close she is to him, their arms brushing together, or if he tilted his head just a little further down he could easily push his nose against hers and-

Her eyes widen at the derailing of her train of thought, the soft expression of surprise on her face more recognizable than she would’ve liked, and she could tell that it doesn’t go unnoticed by Ino, as he’s now regarding her with intrigue, wondering what was going through her mind.

The idea of him knowing she’d nearly gotten lost in thought at the idea of kissing him made her chest ache, and she badly wanted to tear her gaze away from his, lean over the bar and demand to be serviced so they could get away from the crowded space as quickly as possible.

What an idiotic, drunken thought to have. Kissing a colleague, how much more foolish could she possibly be? She tries to shake it off as a pesky intrusive thought. Nothing more than the alcohol pressuring her into making a reckless decision.

But she’s frozen before him, her eyes locked on his like she was stuck in a trance, trapped by her own nerves. The eye contact was going to kill her, especially with how soft his gaze was. It wasn’t like anything she was used to. It wasn’t setting her on fire from it’s heat. The way he looked at her made her feel like she’d just cozied up in front of a fireplace after a cold day. It almost scared her how warm it made her chest feel.

She’s opening her mouth before she even settled on what she needed to say.

“Takuma, we should probably get go-”

She’s interrupted before she could finish telling him they needed to leave. It almost saves her, seeing as she didn’t have a very decent excuse as to why they needed to end the night early, but there’s little time for relief when the unwelcome hand of a stranger settles on her waist, stealing her attention away from Ino’s.

“You waitin’ for a drink, sweetheart?”

She vaguely registers that the stranger with the breath that reeked of booze was speaking to her, before she’s reacting on instinct.

The grabby hand on her hip is pried off with ease, her strength easily overpowering his in less than a second. No amount of alcohol would be enough to hinder her reflexes. The stranger cries out in shock and pain as she twists his arm back behind him, likely spraining his shoulder with how fast she pushes it into an uncomfortable position. The sly expression on the man’s face is contorted into one of great pain, and only when he begins to cry out for her to stop does she stop pushing. Her desire to feel the bone snap under her strength starts to melt away when she sees tears in his eyes.

“You’re lucky I didn’t break your hands so you’d learn to keep your mitts to yourself” She mutters, releasing him with a slight shove. The drunken stranger stumbles backwards, still sniffling and gawking in shock from the whole ordeal.

The woman he’d tried to pick up is still scowling, and she looks like she’s still undecided in letting him go, the way her lip curls into a snarl and her eyes seem to pierce right through his soul. The man beside her looks no different, rage evident in the way his brows furrow and his jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together roughly. He has one hand on the edge of the bar, as close to where she stands as he could get without pushing himself against her completely. His knuckles are paling by the second, gripping so hard one could almost assume he was about to rip a chunk of oak clean out of the counter. His other hand is on his head, roughly grabbing at the edge of his hat.

Even the non-sorcerer that was this stranger got a bad feeling emanating from the two, and he scurried off without another word. (y/n’s) eyes rolled dramatically at the pathetic display, but as she turned back to Ino, she could almost laugh at the sight of him ready to pull his mask over his face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and there’s not a crack in his expression as he glances over her with concern pouring out of every pore.

He loses his grip on the bar, hand hovering over her shoulder but not quite touching her, not knowing if physical contact would be a comfort right now. It’s odd, feeling like for once she was the Gojo with the shield of Infinity.

“I’m fine,” She tells him, and she means it, but she can tell he’s not so convinced. “But just out of curiosity, what was your plan here?” She asks, cracking a smile as she flicks the edge of his mask, still bunched up at the top of his head.

“I- I don’t know,” Ino answers sheepishly. “If he didn’t leave you alone I guess I was just gonna wing it” He admits.

She regards him for a moment, letting the answer sink in. Her smile widens a bit when she laughs softly, almost fondly, as she really thinks about it. She softens again, just like she had moments ago, before the creep ruined it.

“Well, for what it’s-”

“Hey, you two need to leave,”

The pair or sorcerers do a double take when one of the bartenders finally gives them their attention, but not for the reason they’d wanted.

“What?” (y/n) asks, certain they had the wrong patrons.

“We weren’t doing anything?” Ino’s brows furrow as the bartender looks them both up and down.

“I don’t care for the details. We can’t have a commotion like that in the bar. If you’re going to cause trouble, do it somewhere else”

“But the guy was the one who-!”

Before Ino could finish his explanation, the bartender was shoving a finger towards the door, an expectant look on their face that told them not to argue any further, unless they wanted to cause more trouble.

“Whatever,” (y/n) huffs. “This bar’s a dump anyways”

And before the bartender could react, she was grabbing Ino by the arm and pulling him away from the bar. She was on a mission for the door, eager to leave a place if she wasn’t wanted. All Ino could do was silently follow along, his mind barely processing the whole ordeal until they were outside, where it was significantly quieter.

It was darker than he’d expected, although he was well aware of the time, it was a shock to be out on the dark sidewalk with the stars on full display above them. He glances up at the sky to admire them for a moment, until realization strikes him and he’s whirling around to look at her again.

“What about our tab?”

(y/n) blinks back at him, her expression unwavering.

“Guess we won’t be welcomed back, either” She says, and Ino stares at her in shock as he processes the statement.

“Well then we better get moving”

(y/n) hadn’t intended to end up at another bar. In fact, before the handsy stranger made things weird, she’d been looking for an excuse to end the night early. However, her words betrayed her when Takuma suggested another little dive not far down the street, and that’s where she found herself now.

This place wasn’t as crowded as the last, so she felt comfortable walking in and claiming a small corner booth. By the time someone came by for their order, she’d already stretched out across the length of the leather cushion, back pressed to the window comfortably. Ino had chuckled at how cozy she’d made herself, but didn’t comment on it.

Once their first round- at this establishment- of drinks came around, he’d excitedly started up their previous game again.

“Would you have really broken that guy’s hands?” He asks, and (y/n) doesn’t even lift her drink to pretend she wouldn’t answer.

“Without a doubt,” She hums, spinning the ice in her glass with her straw. “Sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way, right?” She asks him with a mischievous grin that tells him she might’ve done worse had the moment felt right. “My turn?” She asks, and he nods, crossing his arms over the table as he gave her his undivided attention. “Which little beast of yours would you have summoned?”

“Kaichi”

He answers with so much bluntness she raises her brows at him, surprised by his complete lack of thought before speaking. She hums, nodding her head in quiet agreement that impaling the stranger with one of those horns would have been the best method of defense.

“Has that… happened before?”

“The random guy hitting on me part? Or the part where I threatened a man’s hands?” She asks, and Ino doesn’t seem to have the proper clarification for her question, so she shrugs, and doesn’t drink to the question.

“No, that’s never happened before”

She takes a few sips after she’s answered, hoping to keep up the buzz she had going. Ino’s fingers tap rhythmically against the table as he processes her answer. He seems unaffected at first, but slowly, confusion begins to seep into his features.

“Wait, so you’re saying no one’s ever hit on you, either?”

“You already asked that one”

“Well then I’m asking again”

(y/n) begins to pull her glass towards her, ready to take another drink, but maybe the alcohol gets on top of her a bit as she answers the question before she could evade it.

“No, I’ve never been hit on. I don’t think, anyways. But I think I’d probably know if I was”

It comes out like word vomit, babbled out like her thoughts were on a direct pipeline to being voiced. She doesn’t mean to share so much, but she finishes with a shrug of her shoulders, and raises her glass to sip some more.

“You really never go out, huh?” He asks, taking a drink as well.

“What, getting hit on is the true price you pay for going out?” She asks with a short laugh, not following the connection between the two. Ino nods his head from side to side, indecisive in his response.

“Not always, just, y’know, figured it’d happen a lot if you didn’t stay in all the time”

By the time he realizes the implications of that statement, it’s already too late. Ino nearly chokes on his drink when (y/n) tilts her head at him, realization slowly flickering over her features.

“You’re saying people would hit on me a lot if I went out more?” She asks skeptically.

He considers pulling his mask over his face in order to conceal the growing heat in his cheeks. Not that it would help, the damage had already been done with his loud mouth.

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Well how did you mean it then?” She asks, suddenly swiveling her legs to sit upright against the table, plopping her chin in her hands to study him properly.

She always had a way of looking at him with calculation in her eyes, as if she was sizing him up like a curse. Right now, he doesn’t know what to make of the way she stares at him. There’s that familiar look in her eyes that makes him wonder just what it is she’s looking for, but the softness in her smile was unfamiliar territory, and Ino didn’t have the slightest clue of what to make of it. Was it amusement? Did she take sick joy in watching him fluster and stutter? Or could it be the alcohol to blame? Perhaps it was loosening her up, and any semblance of delight was merely the booze entertaining her. The most outlandish reason would have been fondness, but there simply wasn’t a chance in the freezing depths of hell that she was actually growing fond of his company, was there?

“I just meant, y’know,” He gestures his hand towards her, pathetically trying to explain his thought process. She shakes her head in a small motion, not understanding his poor attempt at reason in the slightest. “Like, you… you’re… you know”

Ino would really rather be anywhere else right now, preferably somewhere that wasn’t so hot his collar was sticking to his neck and his throat was closing up, but then (y/n) begins to laugh, and he huffs out a sigh in aggravation, and ultimately decides to take a long drink.

“Fair enough,” She muses at his choice. “It’s not a terrible assumption to make, I suppose. My brother is acquainted with every eligible man and woman in the city, after all” She says, only half joking. Ino seems to find a great deal of amusement in that, grinning and laughing, although he can’t say he’s that surprised.

“For the record, I wasn’t comparing you to him in that assumption,” He says. “I just figured you’d… attract your own attention” He says.

There’s an undeniable flutter in her chest, and she wished she could say she hated the way it spread a tingle of warmth throughout her entire body. It wasn’t like she’d never received that sort of attention from others, but it had been so long since she entertained the idea that it was starting to feel a little foreign. And having Ino of all people assume that there were a line of suitors out the door waiting for her hand had her insides turning with the near unfamiliar sensation of butterflies.

Her silence is making him anxious, his fingers tapping against the table no longer playing a steady beat. They mimicked the rapid increase in his heartbeat. Wild and unsteady and with no sign of relaxing.

“That so?” When she finally does speak it’s soft, nearly a whisper, as if she didn’t quite believe him. “Are you an expert in that field, then?”

She catches the way his eyes land on his drink, which was now empty, so there wasn’t exactly an out for the question. When his gaze shifts back up to hers, he finds she hasn’t looked away from him yet.

“What field?” He plays dumb, and her smile curls into a slight smirk.

“Flirting, courting, whatever you want to call it” (y/n) answers with ease, fiddling with the straw in her drink as she impatiently waits for his answer. He eyes his empty glass once more.

“No, I’m no expert,” He huffs, a deep frown on his face for having to admit something so embarrassing. “You timed that on purpose”

“I did not!” She argues, but her nervous laughter gives her away. She’s not as good at lying when she’s drunk apparently, and he might just have to store that information for later.

“My drink was empty! That was a trap!”

She has to cover her mouth to try and suppress the giggles coming out of her uncontrollably. He’s still embarrassed, but her laughter was contagious. Anyone passing by or glancing over at the loud laughter pouring out of their booth would assume they were having nothing but a good time. And for a few seconds at a time, Ino could pretend they were, too.

To keep things fair, (y/n) finishes the last few sips of her drink, before sliding both glasses to the end of the table.

“Alright, your turn then,” She says, a small hiccup punctuating the offer. “You must have something good saved up your sleeve?”

He thinks about it for a moment, folding his arms over the table and subconsciously leaning over it to get closer to her. With his eyes wandering the bar as he racks his brain for a good question she couldn’t avoid answering, she was able to properly gaze at him without getting caught. Just like at the previous bar, she gets a little lost in thought as she maps out every feature of his face. There was nothing forgettable about Takuma Ino, but she found herself trying to commit it all to memory anyways.

That flutter in her chest hadn’t gone away, and the longer it prevailed the more she began to sink into the feeling. It’s relaxing, the way time slows down, and the buzz sends goosebumps prickling up her arms. She would have never thought she could find this much comfort in this setting, but to her, this booth was the only thing in her world.

“Would you do this again?” He finally settles on a question, and it’s clear that it’s not what she expected, judging by the way her eyes slightly widen from being caught off guard.

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out right away. It’s as though he’d wiped her mind completely blank, not even a weak excuse coming to mind. The fuzzy feeling in her chest turns to static, sharp and cold before disappearing completely, leaving behind nothing but an emptiness that stings as it lingers. Her smile slowly falls as reality begins to seep back into their booth, reminding her of why she’d kept him beyond arm’s length all this time.

Deep down, she wonders if she always knew this would happen. She wondered if self preservation took over as soon as she met him because if it hadn’t, she would’ve let him get too close a long, long time ago. Guilt claws it’s way up from her gut to her throat, strangling her to keep her from saying the wrong thing first.

Ino’s sure he already has his answer when she doesn’t say anything right away. It’s written all over her face, the way she winces, and shuffles uncomfortably in her seat. Disappointment doesn’t begin to cover what he feels as he looks away from her, trying and failing to keep his face neutral.

“Got it” He mutters, catching the eye of a passing server and signaling for the check. (y/n) frowns.

“Takuma, I…” She starts, but her throat still burns, and she struggles to find the right thing to say that won’t make things worse. “I tried to tell you that tonight was just-”

“I know,” He replies. It makes her blood run cold, the way his voice lacks it’s usual chipper tone. Now it holds nothing. He’s so painfully emotionless that she almost wishes he would just get angry with her. “You made that clear”

They’re completely silent when a server comes back with the check, the tension turning awkward as soon as another person enters their bubble. They must pick up on it, because they’re quick to bid them a good night before rushing away.

(y/n) drops the money on the table, and Ino’s out of his seat and headed for the door before she could even stand. She huffs as she follows after him, although he stops just outside the door. His heart was too good to leave her completely stranded, even though he wasn’t sure he could take another minute of being around her.

“Takuma, look, it’s not like it’s personal-”

He scoffs, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at her. She’s shocked to see the glare on his features, and if he wasn’t so irritated, he might’ve noticed the hurt on her face from the sharp look.

“If you tell me one more time just how not personal it is, I think I’m going to scream, (y/n),” He snaps, and in all the times she’s had this conversation with him and butted heads, she’s never heard him talk like that. All she can do is stand there pathetically and accept it. “Because it’s bullshit. You know it, I know it, shit, Nanami knows it”

“It’s not,” She mumbles, shaking her head. “It’s not bullshit, I just-”

“You don’t care about anything but becoming Grade One, I know,” He finishes the statement for it. “You don’t care about drinks, and you don’t care about me. Trust me, I remember,”

A pout settles on her lips, and for the first time in a long time, she wants to cry.

“You know I actually-” Ino pauses to let out a humorless laugh, eyes fleeting across the busy streets as he finds twisted amusement in the way he’d fallen for this whole charade. “I actually thought you were having a good time, I actually, stupidly believed that maybe you-” He stops again, not wanting to sound more idiotic than he already did.

After tonight, as soon as they part ways, things would go back to the way they were, and she’d probably pretend nothing ever happened. He’s not sure he was going to be able to survive that, even after all of this time accepting that she had no interest in him. Ino doesn’t think he could go back to the way things were.

But fuck it, if this was going to be the last time she talked to him, he wasn’t going to lay back and take it. He was going to put all the cards on the table.

“You know I care about you, don’t you? You have to know that. Even if you can’t be friends or partners you- you have to know that. You’re not dumb, (y/n), so don’t act like it,”

She has to curl her hands into fists at her sides to keep control of the tears in her eyes. She couldn’t dare let them spill over.

“But you’re so so stubborn, I’ve never met anyone like you,” He huffs, and the smile on his face is conflicting with the way he spits the words out like poison. “You’re nothing like Satoru. I’ve never thought so. All these walls you put up to keep people from getting close to you so you don’t happen to stumble on the same path he did- because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? You’d rather shelter yourself from everything than risk getting a little hurt?”

Her bottom lip wobbles with emotion, and she turns away so she doesn't have to look at him. She wished some mysterious force would suck her away from this moment and land her in the safety of her bed where she never had to face the consequences of her actions. It was childish, but she couldn’t bear to argue with him right now.

“You’re drunk” She mumbles to the sidewalk.

“You’re drunk,” He repeats incredulously, his hands flying outward. “You think I don’t know you because you won’t, just once, let someone get close to you,” He rants, “But you know what the worst part is, (y/n)? You’re only going to get hurt anyways. And you have,” He gestures to her shoulder, making her defensively hold a hand over where the scars are hidden beneath her clothes. Her brows furrow as she opens her mouth to argue, but he beats her to it. “And then- while I was worried about you, because damn it there was so much blood, I thought you might die, you took it out on me! You got mad at me and pushed me away, again. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

It’s only when his rant starts to die down that he realizes she’s barely looking at him because her eyes are glossy, and he knows damn well that she’s fighting every urge to cry. He doesn’t know if she’s emotionally on edge because of him, or the alcohol making her sensitive, but either way, he sighs in defeat, and his shoulders slump from the weight of all of the thoughts he’d been carrying for the last few months.

“I- I know that you care,” She says weakly, her voice more strained than she would have liked. “I just don’t get it, okay? It doesn’t make sense. You don’t make sense. I don’t- I- I can’t-” Her stutters come out in a whimper and she’s looking away again, desperately trying to compose herself before she could do something embarrassing.

There were still people out and about even this late into the night, more than enough people to overhear their argument in the middle of the sidewalk. Normally, she’d call her brother’s driver and leave without putting up with this argument. But she can’t bring herself to do such a thing right now. Not with the way he’s looking at her like she just destroyed the moon and all of it’s stars.

“My whole life has been wasted trying to prove something that I- that just isn’t possible,”

The admission comes out in a shaky whisper. She’s never voiced it before, but now is as good a time as any of he’s really so desperate to understand why she was wired this way.

“I don’t even understand why I was born, Takuma. My parents had no interest in me. They already had Satoru. For as long as I could remember, I was only around to follow behind my big brother while the entire world bent over backwards to give him everything. Attention, money, fame, candy apples- that’s what’s bullshit,” It comes out bitter and nasty, her nose wrinkling as she thinks back to every event she was forced to dress up and go to, only to be ignored, cast aside, and forgotten about completely while Satoru skipped around and received everything he could ever want. “And I just can’t- can’t understand what anyone could ever want from me, I have nothing,”

She hadn’t noticed the tears leaking from her eyes until there’s a pair of warm hands cupping her face, thumbs gently pushing them away. She doesn’t want to look at him, not with all of the shame she felt just being comforted by him, but a stronger part of her can’t help but stare at him. She hadn’t expected such sudden gentleness from him, and she hadn’t realized just how long it had been since someone had last comforted her. When was the last time someone wiped her tears? Or touched her so softly that even in the frigid evening brought warmth to her skin?

“Explain it to me,” She pleas quietly. “Why- why would you possibly want to be around me?”

Her eyes shift between his, but he’s too focused on clearing away each tear rolling down her cheeks. She sniffles, and her hands reach up to grab his wrists. Ino thinks she might yank him away, but she doesn’t. She simply stands there with a solid grip on him.

“You are drunk,” He says quietly, just a hint of amusement in his eyes as he finally meets her sorrowful gaze. “Don’t cry, (y/n), I didn’t mean to make you cry,”

But it’s too late, she can’t stop the tears from streaming down her face now.

“I told you, I care about you, we’re partners, yeah?” He offers, but her expression is unrelenting. “Have you considered maybe I don’t want you to get hurt, either?”

Tears stick to her lashes when she blinks, and she has to bite down on her cheek to keep her lips from trembling. He’s so close that he’d be sure to notice, but he also notices the clench in her jaw.

Every instinct she’d trained herself on is telling her to push him away. Even if it meant physically shoving him off of her. He’s too close in every sense of the word, breaching every wall she’d built brick by brick.

But something else nags at her, something far more sinister and cruel. It pushes her forward, and has her clenching her hands around his wrists tighter as she stands before him in all of her pathetic glory. Tears still pouring down her cheeks and her lower lip still wobbling, she swallows her pride.

“I’m sorry,”

It’s quiet, but not because it’s ingenuine. In fact it’s the opposite. With a raw throat came a strained voice, so full of emotion she couldn’t possibly raise her voice any louder than the murmur that came out.

Ino blinks, his eyes widening in the slightest as he stares back at her in shock. The entire night had been full of surprises, but now it had certainly taken a turn and set him on a path where he could see no clear ending.

“Takuma, I’m- I’m so sorry,” She continues, eyes glossing over again. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away, I shouldn’t have said all those terrible things to you I- I didn’t mean any of it,”

She’s shaking her head so rapidly it makes her a bit dizzy with the alcohol still in her system, but she doesn’t care if she sways a little. She only wants to convey to him just how serious she was, and how important it was to her that he understood that.

“I think… I think you’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever met,” She continues, and slowly, the tears come to a stop. “I’ve never known anyone as… as caring as you,”

Her voice softens, a nervous shyness creeping in for admitting something so vulnerable. But she wasn’t sure if she’d ever work up the courage to say something like this to him again, so it was now or never.

“And I know you’d never hurt me, b-because I’m… I’m the one who was hurting you,” He opens his mouth, likely to argue with that statement, but she was quick to keep going before he got the chance to interrupt. “But I don’t think you understand that… that losing you would mean hurting me, too” She finishes, brows pinched together as they both sit for a moment to process it all.

Ino sighs, his thumbs wiping away the last of her tears, yet he keeps his hands cupped around her face. A part of him was paranoid that if he let her go now, she might slip away once and for all. The other, louder part knew that with the grip she had on his arms, neither one of them were going anywhere.

And so he tells her just that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He assures her, a confident smile stretching across his face. “You’re not losin’ me. Promise”

She snorts at that, the tiniest of laughs escaping her in a mere breath.

“You can’t promise something like that,” She scolds. “In this line of-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ino shakes his head dismissively. “Too late. Already promised. So it’s set in stone,”

She stares up at him with wide eyes, so lost in trying to understand him in his entirety that she doesn’t even know what to say next. Had he forgiven her so easily? How could he say such a thing with as much assurance as he did?

“As long as you can promise to drop the tough guy act and just… be the tough guy you already are,” He says, only half kidding, “Then I can promise that I’m not leaving you” He offers, tilting his head to the side as he gazes down at her fondly, admiring the way the corners of her lips begin to twitch into a smile.

“Okay,” She whispers, so quiet he only knew she said it from the way her lips moved around the word. “I promise” ___

From that day forward, (y/n) worked more and more to loosen up around him. It wasn’t easy at first, and the first day was the hardest. The Monday back at work was a bit awkward, after she’d spent an entire weekend nursing a hangover, with an overbearing brother pestering her for the details. Ino had brought her and Nanami coffee that first morning, and she’d made an effort to eat her lunch with him every day that week.

Then the week after that she began to accompany him on his coffee runs as well, spending the extra time chatting mindlessly and getting to know one another better.

A few weeks after that the two of them went out for drinks one evening, until that too became a part of the routine. Once a month or so they’d go out to any new bar Ino could find and waste away as much of an evening as they could.

Slowly but surely, partnership grew into genuine friendship- something (y/n) hadn’t felt for a long, long time. And Ino made sure to never let her forget it. Whether it was remembering her favorite drink order, or watching an entire series she’d said she liked one time, he took her companionship seriously. The more she got to know him, the harder he made it not to fall for him.

But, god, was falling for him one of the easiest things that’s ever come to her in this life. It was unavoidable, unstoppable, uncontrollable. No matter how much she tried to fight it, the way her heart raced whenever he was around was distinct to feelings only he could spark. And the way her eyes searched for him first in a crowd was more than enough proof that her fondness for him had grown well past platonic.

It might have been silly to be surprised by her feelings when she’d finally realized that’s what the swell in her chest was all about. After the incident that was their drunken night out where she’d torn herself apart at the seams before him- they don’t talk about that night, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it out of favor for her, or if he’s just as embarrassed about it as she was- she found herself getting lost when thinking about him more often.

It ranged anywhere from how his eyes were their prettiest when they would leave Jujutsu Tech in the early evening. With the sun low in the sky, rays of light caught them just right and made them appear to be the most brilliant, shining amber she’s ever seen.

Satoru loved to brag about his baby blues to anyone who would listen, throwing his shades off with dramatic flare as he’d bat his eyelashes at unsuspecting victims. Ever so full of himself, he loved the attention he’d get for the outrageously bright blue hue of his eyes. When directed at her, (y/n) tended to scoff and tell him that his Six Eyes was far more worthy of bragging about than the damn color of them.

More recently, she’d shrugged her shoulders before directing her attention elsewhere. “I prefer brown eyes” She’d told him carelessly. At the time he’d pouted over it, whining about how his little sister thought he was ugly. But ever since seeing her grow closer to her partner, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew who’s brown eyes she was talking about.

As much as she indulges herself in these thoughts- wondering how soft his lips were, remembering how gentle his hands had been when he’d touched her- she knows she can’t act on them. Not after everything she’d already put him through getting their working relationship this far. If she were to admit to him now that she was catching romantic feelings for him, it would be humiliating. And she was humiliated enough as it is. So she swore to herself they would remain hidden deep, deep down, under a lock and key- with said metaphorical key being thrown into a fire and melted down into a clump of misshapen chunk metal. Then she threw that metaphorical chunk of metal into a metaphorical ocean. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#takuma ino #takuma ino x reader #ino x reader #ino takuma #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino imagine #ino imagine #takuma #ino #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagine #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff

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sofiareidings · 1 year

Text

Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts

Summary: At the New Year's party at Rossi's you have a little to much to drink and Spencer has to take you home. What will happen when the clock strikes midnight though?

A/N: Stated in the title but I'm also stating it now, this one-shot does mention alcohol. Also, thank you so much for all the love on yesterday's post! I'm going to try and post a story everyday until I start school, (September 6th) once I get back into the rhythm of school I'll try and make a posting schedule.

Word Count: 0.9k

Song Suggestions: Pacific - Sleeping At Last

Rossi had invited the entire team over for a New Years party. It had been a tough year, and everyone needed it. You spent the evening having fun, talking, dancing, and drinking.

Maybe a little too much drinking. It was thirty minutes to midnight and Garcia had finally cut you off. “I love you sweetie, but you’re sticking to water for the rest of the night.” You sighed at her comment and decided the best idea would be to vent about it to someone else.

“…and now she’s only giving me water!” You slumped back in the chair while Spencer just shook his head. He was completely sober that night and could tell how drunk you were. He knew it was time for you to go home. He stood up, putting a hand out for you to grab.

“Come on, it’s time to go home.” Taking his hand you groan and reluctantly grab your stuff while mumbling to yourself about the injustice. Once you got to Spencer’s car you turned on his radio, the first channel was a strange classical music channel and immediately changed. The next channel was counting down to midnight while playing what you assumed was the top 100.

Rossi’s mansion wasn’t far from your apartment complex and Spencer had gotten there in less than ten minutes. “Fifteen minutes till midnight! I wonder who my Near Year’s kiss will be. This next song is…” When the song started you stopped listening and turned to Spencer.

“I don’t want to be alone at midnight, can we stay here until then please?” The sentence came out a lot sadder than you expected. “And then if you’re here at midnight…I can have a New Year’s kiss.”

“Y/N…you’re drunk.” His face was red, you were drunk. He knew that but, the quote, ‘drunk words are sober thoughts.’ was all he could think of. He didn’t want to take advantage of the state you were in and didn’t dare try to make any advances. “We can stay here until midnight.”

“Only ten minutes until midnight folks! Here’s number two on…”

You were at the emotional stage of drunkenness, it was quite evident by the way you cried a little while talking. “You’re so cute, Spence. Whenever you make that little confused face when I talk about pop culture I can’t help but die inside because you look so pretty. Like a lost puppy…and when you wave instead of shaking someone's hand because shaking hands are gross or whatever I just melt. And everytime you wear your glasses I can’t focus on anything other than your cuteness…”

He was blushing hard but was still making sure not to take anything serious. “T-thanks Y/N, I really appreciate that…” His sentence trailed off as he watched your hand grab onto his arm and stay there. The butterflies were going crazy and he knew he needed to get out of here. “Why don’t I take you up to your apartment? I’ll stay till midnight but I want to make sure you make it the full way home.”

“That’s such a good idea, why didn’t I think of it!” You groaned while going to open the car door. The handle was jammed, when Spencer noticed he got out of the car leaving you alone in the car for a second.

“Six minutes until midnight! Here is the last song of the night folks…”

The door opened and there he stood, holding your bag and jacket waiting to take you upstairs. Opening the front door of the building you looked at your phone clock.

“11:57” You stated while he hit the elevator button. While waiting you managed to make your way to the live broadcast of the ball drop in New York.

“We are two minutes and fifteen seconds away from midnight!”

The elevator opened and you hit the button to take you to the third floor.

“Would you look at that, only a minute and twenty seconds left everyone.”

Spencer grabbed your hand and walked you towards your apartment while you listened to the announcer blasting from your phone.

“Thirty seconds!”

A loud countdown started on your phone while Spencer looked for your house key in your bag. You watched him try every key.

“Ten!”

You hear a little click and he starts turning the key.

“Nine!”

The key gets stuck in place.

“Eight!”

He jimmies with the key.

Seven!”

The lock finally opens.

“Six!”

The door opens and you walk in.

“Five!”

You lean against the wall while Spencer shuts the door.

“Four!”

He turns your hallway light on.

“Three!”

You hear the sound of your purse hitting the table.

“Two!”

Spencer walks back over to you, preparing to say goodnight after the countdown.

“One!”

In a moment of drunken boldness you wrap your hands around his neck and press your lips against his. He’s shocked and stumbles back a little, not sure what to do. You can feel his arm wrap around your waist tightly. After a couple seconds you let go and stagger backwards smiling. “Happy New Year’s.”

“Yeah, happy New Year’s…” He’s still in shock but makes sure that you make it to bed before leaving.

‘Drunk words are sober thoughts.’

Walking back down to the parking lot his mind is full of so many different thoughts. He’s not sure how seriously he should take your advances. What if you won’t remember them in the morning? What if it isn’t what you really feel? The final thought, one that had been coming back to him all night.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #fandom #criminal minds fandom #fanfic #bau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #romance #sofiareidings

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softspiderling · 2 years

Text

never knew (that I could fall so hard) | j.h.s.

summary: “Nothing,” you muttered, picking at the small napkin under your glass, before pressing the question out. “How come you never really date anyone?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, since we’ve known each other, you’ve never had a serious girlfriend. Just casual hook-ups or flings. Why is that?” or, you and Jake are friends. Just friends

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x reader

warnings: allusions to sex

word count: 7,6k

author’s note: idk why but this took me so long. but it's a big one. i hope you enjoy it, besties

title is from fall so hard by christopher

Jake: All good. Talk to you later.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

You looked up from your phone to see your co-worker Patrick giving you a look. The way he was leaning into the door of your office, which you hadn’t even heard opening, told you that he’d been standing there for a while.

“You’ve been staring at your phone for like, ten minutes. What’s up with you?”

With a sigh, you flipped your phone over so the screen was facing away from you, leaning your head into your hands.

“Jake’s just come back from his mission.”

“Oh,” Patrick echoed, shutting the door behind as he sat down across from you, his eyebrows raised. “Is he okay?”

“He says he is, but he’s being extremely cryptic about it,” you groaned, picking your phone up yet again, to show Patrick the message. He frowned at your phone, before side-eying you. You dropped your phone on the desk, waiting for his opinion.

“There’s nothing cryptic about it.”

“It just sounds like he’s trying to hide something from me.”

“Girl, you should have told him how you felt about him before he left for that mission.”

You gave him a look, your shoulders drooping.

This again.

“I told you a million times that I don’t have feelings for him. We’re just friends. You know it’s really sexist that you assume that men and women can’t be friends.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Men and women can be friends, but you and Jake can’t.”

“What the hell is that even supposed to mean?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Meanwhile Patrick looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“It means that it’s obvious the two of you have feelings for each other and are too chicken-shit to do anything about it.”

Patrick was right, in some ways. When you first met Jake, you hadn’t realized he’d become such a big part of your life and now that he had, it was hard to imagine your life without him. But that didn’t mean that you were in love with him. You wouldn’t want to imagine your life without any of your friends.

“This is not helping Patrick,” you muttered, leaning your cheek in your hand. “I thought you wanted to stop me from spiraling instead of berating me.”

“Just trying to help. At least it got your mind off of the mission?” Patrick said, unhelpfully bringing your thoughts back to the mission, grimacing as he realized his flaw. You clicked your tongue, annoyed, ushering him out of the office a bit more forcefully than necessary before sitting back into your chair with an exhale.

You spent the rest of your workday trying to focus on your actual assignments, but your focus kept straying. It didn’t help that Jake went AWOL after the text he sent you, not replying to any of your texts.

You: that sounds ominous. Are you really okay?

You: Is Javy okay?

When you realized that you wouldn’t get any more work done, you decided to call it a day, packing your belongings together and taking the rest of the day off. You even got Patrick to end his day early and the two of you walked out of the office, parting ways in the parking lot.

“Hey, let me know when Jake texts you back, okay? Don’t spiral again!”

You waved at Patrick, getting into your own car. Before you started the engine, you checked your phone again - nothing - before starting the drive home. It didn’t take long until you were parked in front of your building. Shouldering your bag, you headed inside, your focus back on your phone as you walked up the stairs to your apartment. Absentmindedly, you reached into your bag for your keys, one hand on your phone to type out another message to Jake.

You: Jake you know I hate it when you do this.

A ping finally made you look up from your phone, just to see Jake Seresin standing in front of your door.

“Told you I’d talk to you later, didn’t I?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gave him a gentle shove before barreling into his chest, throwing your arms around his body. Only when you heard his heart beating in his chest, slow and steady, you let yourself breathe out a sigh of relief.

“You’re such a jerk,” you sniffed. Jake only rumbled out a laugh, his body shaking. His hands were stroking down your back soothingly, and soon you peeled away from him, your heart starting to beat too fast. Jake grinned down at you, but you only glowered, moving to unlock your door, with him hot on your heels.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry, darling. When we got back on land I just wanted to see you so I drove out here,” Jake explained and you raised your eyebrows at him, shutting your front door slowly.

“You came straight here after you docked?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

“A simple yes would’ve sufficed,” you muttered, a flush on your cheeks. “How long are you staying?” you then asked and his face fell.

“I don’t know. But I actually have to go back to Fightertown later. The team’s planning a little party tonight and I have to be there.”

“Of course you do,” you teased. You were a bit disappointed that he couldn’t stay for long, but he didn’t have to drive out in the first place, so you figured you should be happy he was here at all. “Do you want to grab an early dinner before you have to head back?”

“I am not sure if we’re gonna have time, how long do you need to get ready?”

You paused in your tracks, glancing at him. “Get ready for what?”

“You’re coming with me to Fightertown. Javy wants to see you too and you’d get along with the rest of the team like a house on fire,” Jake answered, like it was obvious.

“Jake, I can’t come with you, I have to work tomorrow.”

“On a Saturday?”

Sighing, you nodded, sitting down on your couch. “A client of mine has an event tomorrow I have to oversee. I’m sorry Jake, I really wish I could come with you.”

And you did. You hadn’t really met any of Jake’s friends except for Javy, the other aviators he was stationed with weren’t really his friends. Sometimes it worried you a bit that Jake didn’t have a lot of people who had his back, but it seemed like he came back from the mission a changed man.

“It’s okay,” Jake huffed in humor, rubbing a hand over his face. “I should have known better than to spring this on you. Another time then.”

“I promise!” You said, biting on your lip, almost scared to ask. “Are you going back to Lemoore?”

Jake sat down next to you, bumping his shoulder against your gently. “We have the next three weeks off to recuperate and then we’re supposed to finish our previous posts, but I don’t know where they’re going to send me next. Maybe I can choose. I did save the day, after all.”

“Not an ounce of humility in your bones, huh?”

“You don’t need to be humble when you’re this good,” Jake pointed out with a smug grin, looping his hand around your wrist, pulling you up. “C’mon, let’s go to Reyna’s. I had to live on carrier food for the past few days, I need something real.”

San Diego, circa 2016

“Hey, can I get another caipirinha, and then close out my tab?”

It was around one am in the morning, Tess had just left the bar, after you had insisted you were fine and would head home after one more drink. Usually, you weren’t comfortable staying behind but tonight you didn’t really care. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend and wanted to celebrate your newfound singleness. Which was… Odd, considering you’d been dating for two years, and one might be more tearful after breaking up with someone.

But when you realized, it wasn’t normal to be crying basically every single day for the past half year, you broke up with him and for the first time in two years, you felt light.

When the bartender slid your drink over the counter along with your credit card, you gave her a smile, immediately taking a sip.

“Closing out your tab so soon?” Someone drawled behind you, making you sigh. Of course you’d get approached as soon as you were alone.

“I should’ve closed it out sooner to avoid running into you,” you replied, before turning around, your mouth dropping a little. A gorgeous man was standing in front of you, toothpick between his lips, green eyes twinkling at you. His dirty-blonde hair was neatly styled, and when your gaze dropped down to his chest, you understood why.

Navy.

He smirked at you, obviously aware of his good-looks. This man was clearly a womanizer and to your bad luck, he had his sights set on you. “Oh sweetheart, I’ve had an eye on you the whole night.”

“Yeah, because that’s definitely not predator behavior at all,” you scoffed at him and he only grinned wider, picking his toothpick out from between his lips. Flicking it into the small bucket that stood on the counter, serving as a trashcan, he offered his hand to you.

“The name’s Jake. What can I call you, besides sweetheart?”

You bit back a smile, shaking your head a bit. Even though you had no intention of going home with him (or taking him home with you) you figured there was no harm in flirting with him, right? You told him your name with a stir of your drink, and he repeated it slowly, rolling your name between his lips and you could get drunk off the sound of your name out of his mouth.

“Any special occasion for being out so late or were you just ringing in the weekend?”

“I was actually celebrating my new relationship status,” you replied. Jake’s eyes immediately flitted to your left hand that was wrapped around your glass, but finding it empty, he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Single?”

“Single.”

Jake smirked, lifting his beer bottle. “I’ll drink to that.” You clinked your glass against his bottle carefully, rolling your eyes, a grin on your lips.

“So you’re Navy?”

“Naval aviator, yes. I just started the Top Gun programme today and we just came out for some drinks with the other aviators.”

“Well, shouldn’t you get back to them, then?” you asked, sipping on your drink, your eyebrows high.

“Ah, I think they’ll be fine. You’re much better company anyway.”

His eyes never left yours and it made you shudder a bit. You could understand the allure of him, and it was obvious that every other woman in the bar, and some men, too, were ready to pounce on Jake as soon as he’d left your vicinity. But by the way he was caging you against the bar with one arm, his hand splayed against the counter, it didn’t seem like he’d leave any time soon.

“This your first time in Fightertown?”

Jake nodded, grinning at you.

“How do you like it so far?”

“It’s starting to grow on me,” Jake smirked, blinking slowly. “So pray tell, what kind of idiot let a woman like you go?”

“Oh come on, he didn’t let me do anything. I wasn’t happy anymore, so I left.”

“A woman after her own heart, huh?”

“Something like that,” you chuckled. Somehow, Jake managed to rope you into a conversation, which was surprisingly not as superficial as you had thought it would be. Having immediately labeled him as a womanizer, you had expected him to use cheesy lines on you rather than ask genuine questions about your life. Even when your drink was slowly coming to its end, you decided to take smaller sips, trying to give yourself some wiggle room, but wanting to stay true to your word on leaving as soon as it was finished, not wanting to live your life according to another man just after having left one.

“- and now I can’t coffee unless I am well into my day,” you sighed, your eyes catching another man dressed in khakis approaching. He laid his hand on Jake’s shoulder, who barely moved a face muscle. Must be a friend.

“We’re headed out, are you coming with us?”

“No.” - “Yes.”

Jake raised an eyebrow at you, his dimple showing. “What, you tryin’ to get rid of me, sweetheart?”

“You’re welcome to stay here, but this is my last drink and I am going home when I finish it, which is about…” Taking one last sip of your caipirinha through the straw, you waved the empty glass in his face. “Right about now.” You placed the empty glass on the counter and sent the two men a smile.

“See you around boys.”

Ducking out under Jake’s arm, you weaved your way out of the bar, inhaling deeply. You’d been in that bar for hours, not realizing how stuffy it was inside and the fresh air was a welcome change. It wasn’t too long before you heard the doors to the bar open again, the music blaring out briefly before the doors shut.

“Hey, wait up sweetheart!”

Wow.

You tugged your jacket tighter against your neck, decidedly not waiting up as he caught up with you, slowing down when he fell in step with you. Jake was grinning as he looked over to you, shaking his head slightly.

“You didn’t give me a chance to say good bye.”

“So you thought running after a woman in the dark was the smart thing to do?”

“Awe come on sweetheart, only trying to get you home safe,” he drawled, making you snort out a laugh as you looked over to him.

“I am not taking you home, Jake.”

Jake tilted his head at you, and for a second you thought he’d just turn on his heels and return to the bar, to maybe find a willing man or woman who’d take him to bed, but Jake kept walking with you.

“Let me at least walk you home, yeah?”

This man would just keep surprising you, huh? You figured it wouldn’t hurt letting him walk you home, even though you lived in a pretty safe neighborhood, it was always better to be safe than sorry. So you sighed dramatically, shrugging with your shoulders.

“Fine, if you insist,” you said, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “So was that one of your co-workers back there? You seemed close.”

“Javy? Yeah, he’s my best friend actually,” Jake replied and you raised an eyebrow at that.

“Really? You’re that lucky to be stationed with your best friend?”

Jake laughed. “We can hand in papers asking to be stationed together. It’s more of a suggestion than anything else, but yeah, we got pretty lucky. Helps that we got a couple of achievements on our belts and the higher ups are more lenient with us.”

You rolled your eyes at his humble brag. At least he was consistent.

“That’s nice. It’s good to have someone familiar with you, I can’t imagine it being easy to be away from your family all the time. Do you miss them?”

Jake was silent at your question and when you glanced over to him, the light of a street lamp illuminated his hardened face and you mentally cursed, embarrassment running up your neck.

“I am sorry,” you quickly said, stumbling over your words, but Jake only let out a breathless laugh.

“‘s okay. Nothing to worry about. I’m not close to my family so I don’t really mind.”

His answer was short and the tone told you that he was done with the topic, so you pressed your lips together, feeling prickly. You weren’t sure what else to say, scared you’d put your foot in it again.

“Now don’t clam up on me sweetheart,” Jake teased, amusement evident in his voice and you scoffed giving him a look, the tension bleeding from your shoulders.

“Shut up, I was trying to be considerate of your feelings, okay?”

“Out of a sudden? I am touched.”

Shaking your head at him, you came to a stop in front of your apartment building.

“So this is me,” you said, shifting from one foot to another. “It was really nice of you to walk me home. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t,” Jake hummed and you sighed in exasperation.

“Can’t you just say you’re welcome?”

“You’re welcome.”

You fished your keys out of your purse, your eyes never leaving him. “How are you getting home?”

“I am calling an uber, don’t worry about me.”

“Okay. Good night, Jake,” you said quietly, biting your lip before unlocking the door and heading inside. Through the glass door, you could see him looking at you, pointedly not reaching for his phone before you disappeared from his eyesight.

As you climbed in bed, you wondered if you should’ve gotten his number. You could see something maybe happening with Jake, but were you ready for jumping into another relationship, so soon after breaking things off with Isaac. And even if you were ready, wasn’t Jake just looking for a hookup, instead of something serious?

Even as you woke up the next morning, Jake was on your mind. But luckily you stopped thinking about him when you fell into your routine of a Saturday, going to the grocery store as your fridge was empty and getting your apartment in order. Around four, you headed out to get some coffee, since your coffee machine was still broken. Jogging down the stairs, you suddenly paused when you saw Jake outside the building, staring at the buzzer. Slowly, you open the door, giving him a once over.

“... What are you doing here?”

Jake straightened his back, giving you an easy smile. He was out of uniform this time, dressed in a simple black shirt and some blue jeans, sunglasses hanging in the neck of his shirt.

“I seem to remember something about your coffee machine being broken and thought I’d take you out for a coffee,” he said and you furrowed your brows, a slow smile starting to form on your lips.

“Really.”

“Yeah. What do you say?”

Jake raised an eyebrow at you and you relented with a laugh. “Sure, okay.”

“So, they just made up a squadron for you?”

“Sure did.”

“That’s insane,” you snorted and Jake raised an eyebrow at you, his fingertips drumming against his beer bottle.

“What’s it going to take for you to believe that I am damn good at what I do?”

“You’re telling me you weren’t surprised when you found out that the higher-ups were so impressed with you that they just made up a whole new squadron?”

“No.”

“He’s lying,” Javy interjected, drawing your attention to him. “We were together when we got the orders and you should’ve seen his face. It was hilarious.”

“Don’t listen to Javy, he’s just mad that he lost in darts again,” Jake drawled, leaning his arm on his best friend’s shoulder, who only shoved his arm off with a scoff. You only watched with an eye roll, already used to their antics. Taking the last sip of your drink, you stood up, fixing your blouse.

“I have to use the restroom,” you told them, grabbing your purse and pointing a finger at the two men. “You better have resolved this by the time I get back.”

You squeezed your way through the crowd, headed to the bathroom. After finishing your business, you walked over to the sinks, where a girl was fixing her hair in front of the mirror. The two of you exchanged polite looks through the mirror, when the girl’s smile suddenly turned sheepish as you washed your hands.

“Hi, sorry to be this forward. But is the blonde guy at your table your boyfriend?” She asked and you returned the smile somewhat nervously, reaching for the paper towels.

“Jake? Uh, no,” you replied, pausing as you assessed her. “Would you like me to introduce you to him?”

The girl beamed at you and you exchanged names as you left the bathroom. She seemed friendly enough and she was really pretty, so you figured Jake would like to get to know her, he never was one to turn down a pretty face. Jake and Javy both raised an eyebrow at you as you arrived at the table, no longer alone.

“Jake, Javy, this is Maya. Maya, these are my friends Javy and Jake,” you introduced them and they exchanged pleasantries as they shook hands. “Jake, Maya told me that the music’s kinda lame and I told her that you know your way around music. You should show her the jukebox.”

It took Jake a second to understand what was going on, before he gave Maya an easy smile, taking her to the jukebox in the back of the bar. Sometimes, when you saw Jake around other women, it made you wonder why Jake never really pursued you. You did meet because he was hitting on you, how did you become friends instead? What was so different about you? Maya was laughing as Jake conversed easily with her, leaning his arm against the jukebox and throwing in a quarter, letting her choose a song. He always was good at making the other person feel wanted.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what?” you asked back, tearing your eyes away from Jake and Maya to turn to Javy, who only looked at you unimpressed. Your hand curled around the fresh caipirinha on the table that had replaced your empty one, stirring the drink with the straw.

“Pawning him off to other women.”

“Jesus Javy, I am not pawning him off to other women. I am wingmanning him. She’s cute. I figured Jake deserved to have some fun.”

Javy rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. It was obvious that he was annoyed, but you didn’t want to press the topic any further and it didn’t look like he was going to add anything else, so you took a sip from your drink.

“Hey, thanks for ordering me a new one” you said with a small, grateful smile, trying to change the topic, but Javy only arched an eyebrow at you, before snorting, shaking his head.

“You know damn well that it wasn’t me who ordered that for you.”

Biting on your lower lip, you leaned your elbow on the table, slightly miffed.

“We’re friends,” you stated, somewhat unnecessarily and Javy sighed in exasperation.

“I know. So what?”

“He doesn’t see me like that.”

“You do remember how you met, right?”

Your brows drew together. “You know what I mean, Javy. Just because Jake hit on me before we knew each other, doesn’t mean that we were destined to be together. Sometimes people are better off as friends.”

“But you love him.”

“I love all of my friends, Javy,” you pointed out. “I love you, too.”

“You know, some day he’ll find someone else who puts up with him and it’ll be too late by then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, I am not going to be your shoulder to cry on,” Javy said, pointing his finger at you. Scowling, you rolled your eyes at him, purposefully angling your body away from him. The two of you sat there in tense silence, as the bar around you stayed rowdy, until Javy leaned forward, his expression softening.

“I’m sorry. That was harsh. I just want Jake and you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Javy. So is he. He’s a good friend and he’s there for me when I need him, just as much as I am there for him when he needs me,” you responded and Javy only clenched his jaw, before nodding.

“If you’re sure about that….”

“I am.”

Javy hummed thoughtfully, squeezing your wrist. “Don’t be mad at me, okay? We good?”

Sighing, you gave him a look. You knew that he wasn’t trying to be a jerk, even if it sounded like it. He was a good guy and an even better friend to Jake. Javy, while out of line, was coming from a good place. You gave in, patting his hand gently.

“Sure.”

Soon, Jake returned, his shirt ruffled and untucked, and you managed to only wrinkled your nose slightly. Javy’s eye twitched a bit, but he didn’t say anything, choosing to take a drink from his beer instead.

“Really, Jake?”

“What? You were the one who introduced her to me” Jake pointed out, sitting down next to you. His thigh was touching yours, warmth radiating from his body, but you didn’t mind. Then he reached for your glass, but you moved it out of his grasp quickly, tutting.

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way you’re putting your mouth anywhere near my glass, Jake. God knows where it was ten minutes ago.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re scared of boy germs,” Jake teased, and you shoved his shoulder playfully, pulling a face.

“No, I’m only scared of your germs.”

“Stop squabbling, I was going to get another beer anyway,” Javy sighed, rolling his empty beer bottle in his hand. “Last round?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. You wanted to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow morning, right?” Jake asked, nudging you gently, surprising you. You had completely forgotten about your plans for the following day.

“Right, yeah. I’m good with this, Javy,” you said to Javy absentmindedly, waving him off before he went off to get the usual for him and Jake. Tapping your finger against your glass, you watched Jake. You truly believed what you told Patrick and Javy, that you loved Jake as a friend. But you feared that it would be so easy for you to fall in love with him. Or maybe you already had? Without realizing it?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Blinking, you frowned at him. “What?”

“I think I just lost you for a minute,” Jake asked, amused. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, picking at the small napkin under your glass, before pressing the question out. “How come you never really date anyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, since we’ve known each other, you’ve never had a serious girlfriend. Just, casual hook-ups or flings. Why is that?”

“You haven’t dated anyone either,” he pointed out, but you only rolled your eyes.

“It’s different. You knew I just got out of a relationship when we met. I am not vehemently against a serious relationship. But you act like it’s the worst thing that could happen to you.”

“You know serious isn’t really my thing, sweetheart. A relationship means work. Hard work. And that takes time, which I don’t have. A relationship just isn’t realistic with my job, anyway. I’m making the best of the card’s I’ve been dealt.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Jake’s forehead creased. “And what makes you say that?”

“You can’t tell me that everyone you work with doesn’t want a serious relationship.”

“Perhaps not. But it’s not what I want,” Jake said. “But I promise I’ll help you find the man of your dreams. Maybe you’ll meet him tomorrow at the farmer’s market.”

Biting back a sigh, you put on a fake smile, turning back to your drink. At least this cleared any lingering questions you might’ve had. Even if you had any feelings towards Jake that were more than platonic love, you’d never risk your friendship with him for casual sex. After Javy returned to the table with two beers in hand, the conversation slowly started up again. You were only listening half-heartedly however, too busy trying to figure out your feelings for the man next to you. Frowning, you rubbed your eye, and Jake noticed, squeezing your shoulder.

“Hey, you tired?”

You nodded, rolling out your tense shoulders to discreetly get Jake’s hand off of you. Luckily, he didn’t notice as he slipped his phone out of the pockets of his jeans, opening the uber app.

“The uber will be here in five minutes.”

The three of you got up, chairs scraping against the floor and headed outside to wait by the curb. Normally, you might’ve leaned against Jake for some support, but instead, you wrapped your arms around yourself. When the uber finally arrived, you were quick to snag the passenger seat, only sending the two aviators a cheery smile.

“Sorry boys, you gotta cram into the back.”

You could feel Javy’s eyes burning into the back of your head, but you ignored it, not wanting to subject yourself to his judgment right now. It didn’t take long for the uber to arrive at your place, your hand already on the car handle, opening the door.

“Thanks for tonight, it was really nice,” you said over your shoulder with a smile.

“Night!”

You climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind you, but before you could take another step, Jake called out your name, the window rolled down.

“What’s the rush? You got someone waiting for you?” Jake teased and you gave him a look.

“I’m just tired Jake.”

Jake’s face softened. “Get some rest sweetheart, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Biting your lip, you nodded, giving him a small wave before the car pulled away, driving off. Sighing, you walked inside your apartment building, your stomach heavy. This felt all too familiar, getting home from a bar and having conflicted feelings about Jake. Difference was that this time it felt like there was so much more on the line for you. Maybe it was better for everyone involved to get some distance, at least until you figured out what the hell you were feeling for Jake.

Over the next few weeks, you managed to avoid seeing Jake. After canceling your visit to the farmer’s market with him, he’d been insisting on spending time with you, especially since he was stationed nearby. Only as you rebuffed every single of his invitations to go out or to grab lunch, you began to realize that you spent a lot of time with him, whether it was online or in real life.

You started feeling bad about avoiding him when he started lamenting about not having seen you for a month. Maybe it wasn’t fair to give him the cold shoulder like this after all, this wasn’t really his fault, was it? This whole situation made you miserable, but you were convinced that it was the only solution right now. Your head knew that you were friends and nothing more, it was your heart that needed convincing.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake standing in front of your door, a frown on his face.

“... What are you doing here?”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked back, instead of answering your question.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

Jake gave you a look, stepping inside your apartment and shutting the door behind him. He was standing so close to you, you could see the golden specs in his eyes. Far too close. Averting your gaze, you fled to the kitchen, but Jake was quick to follow

“Come on, don’t play coy with me. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, ducking my calls, canceling all our plans. You’re mad.”

He was leaning on your kitchen counter with his arms crossed, eyebrows raised, as if daring you to prove him wrong.

“I am not mad, Jake. I was just really busy with work and everything, and honestly, I thought you’d be busier as well, you know, with your new squadron and all.”

Jake stared at you intently, trying to gauge if you were lying or not, before sighing, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Fine okay. I’m sorry for barging in here like this. I just thought you were dodging me. But if it was because of work, and not because you’re mad at me, you can come out for drinks with me tonight, right?”

“Uh…”

Crap.

You knew that if you’d turn him down now, that it was just an excuse and that you had lied to him. And if he’d found out that you lied, he would want to know why.

“Fine,” you relented and finally, a genuine smile appeared on Jake’s face, his hand coming around your neck to hug you. Exhaling, you leaned into him briefly, your shoulders sagging, some of the tension seeping out. Your heartbeat quickened when you felt his hands ghost down your back and you pulled away quickly, clearing your throat.

“I’ll… Uh, go get changed real quick okay?”

The words had barely left your mouth before you already fled down the hallway into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Leaning against it, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. You screamed into your open palm out of frustration and then pushed yourself off the door to get dressed. Ten minutes later, you were on the road, suspiciously not taking the route into the city.

“Soo where did you say we were grabbing this drink?”

“I didn’t,” Jake chuckled, glancing over at you. “We’re going to the Hard Deck.”

“Wait, the Navy bar?”

“That would be it, yeah.

Pulling a face, you sunk deeper into your seat. “Am I going to survive a night surrounded by men brimming with testosterone and arrogance?”

“Now what is that supposed to mean, sweetheart?” Jake drawled, turning into a street that slowly turned from concrete into gravel, the small stones crunching under the tires of the car. He pulled up next to a blue bronco and you leaned forward to look at the bar that was situated right next to the beach.

“Huh. Not bad.”

You got out of the car, slowly taking in the number of uniformed people coming and going. While you had seen your fair share of navy personnel at bars, you’ve never gone to an outright navy bar.

“You coming?”

Jake was looking back at you with a raised eyebrow, already a few steps ahead of you. Puffing out a breath, you caught up with him, entering the bar right after him. It was pretty packed, which was to be expected, but the most rowdy section of the bar was in the back by the pool table, right where Jake was headed.

Figured.

“Hey Hangman, what took you so long? I was starting to think you got scared of facing me in a round of pool,” a brunette woman said with a smug grin when she noticed your arrival, leaning on a cue stick, her eyes landing on you. “Oh, hey. Are you the reason why Hangman’s been sulking for the past few weeks?”

Your cheeks reddened and Jake only smirked at the brunette. “Easy Phoenix, let the girl breathe,” he said, placing his arm at the small of your back, introducing you to his squad. You waved, saying your hellos, when Javy sidled up next to you, hugging your side briefly,

“He was sulking, what did you do?” he whispered into your ear, making you elbow him in the stomach. You turned to Jake, when someone else joined your group, a very attractive guy with a mustache, pressing a beer bottle in Jake’s hands, pausing when he saw you standing next to him.

“I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I didn’t know you brought someone.”

“‘s fine,” Jake waved him off. “This is Rooster.”

Rooster shook your hand gently, but firmly. “You can call me Bradley.”

“Hi Bradley,” you said with a shy smile, introducing yourself.

Jake paused a beat, before he cleared his throat, his eyes finding yours. “I’ll get you a drink. Caipi?”

He didn’t even wait for your reply before he disappeared into the crowd and Bradley let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly.

“Told you he’s sulking,” Javy said with a sing-song voice, before he picked up a cue stick off the pool table, challenging another aviator, you believed his name was Fritz, to another round of pool.

“So, how do you know Hangman and Coyote?” Bradley asked curiously.

“Oh, uh, Jake kind of hit on me? When he was in the Top Gun program.”

“You’re his girlfriend?”

“Oh, no!” you flushed. “Uh, we’re just friends. He hit on me in a bar but we're just friends.”

Bradley hummed, nodding slowly as he eyed you skeptically. You were about to ask what the look was for when Jake returned with your drink, glancing at Bradley for a second. It wasn’t really clear to you if the two of them were friends or not, so you took a sip from your caipirinha, hoping the tension would dissipate.

“Anyways, it was nice to meet you,” Bradley then said. “I’ll see you around.”

He squeezed your shoulder and clapped Jake on the back before he moved to the back of the pool table. Jake watched him go, his jaw clenched.

So, not friends, then?

“Thanks for the drink, Jake,” you said, snapping Jake out of his thoughts as he cast his eyes on you with a wink.

“Of course.”

“So, what was it with you sulking because of me?” you teased and Jake huffed.

“I was just a bit upset. You were giving me the cold shoulder for no reason, sweetheart, can you really blame a guy for that?”

The guilt welled up again. If his co-workers had noticed his mood, Jake really must have been upset. You lowered your gaze to the floor out of shame, before you reached out to squeeze Jake’s hand; he looked at you in surprise.

“I am really sorry, Jake. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,”

You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but Jake’s face tinged pink and he turned away, clearing his throat.

“Don’t worry about it, it was just a misunderstanding. Right?”

“Right,” you echoed, grimacing a bit before you lifted your head to look at him. His eyes were already on you, and there it was again, your heart beating wildly.

THUMP.

“Hey Hangman, are you gonna come join us in a game of darts?”

You and Jake sprang apart, your hands dropped numbly to the side and Fanboy paused, looking between you two.

THUMP. THUMP.

There it was again.

“... Sorry, did I interrupt something?” he asked, his voice apologetic.

“No no, you’re fine,” you insisted, while Jake took a long sip from his beer. Fanboy nodded, turning back to Jake.

“So, darts?”

“Go,” you told Jake. He looked unsure, but you gave him a gentle push. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

You leaned back against the table as Fanboy left with Jake, and as he disappeared from your eyesight, your heart slowly returned to its normal beat.

Traitor.

“Sick of us already?”

You looked up only to see Bradley across the table from you with a smirk, a beer in his hand and you chuckled, shaking your head.

“I’ve expected worse, actually.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel special,” Bradley whinged, pressing his flat palm against his chest dramatically.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of hysterical?” you asked, amused.

“It’s part of my charm. You just must be impervious to it.”

“Oh please,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

“It’s not a line,” Bradley pointed out. “I don’t make it a habit to flirt with women who are spoken for.”

That caught you off-guard, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Excuse me?”

Bradley inclined his head towards Jake, while taking a swig from his beer. Jake was talking to Javy by the dart board, though his shoulders were tense, his gaze set straight, as if he did his best not to look in your direction.

“I told you we’re not dating,” you spluttered and Bradley only grinned, like he knew something you didn’t.

“You might think so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bradley sighed, leaning his elbows on the wooden surface, as if he was talking to a toddler. “I’ve seen you together for like an hour and I can already tell you’re head over heels for each other. And the past few weeks he’s been in a foul mood, worse than he usually is. He didn’t even want to come out with us in the first place. But then you guys made up and he’s suddenly a ray of sunshine?”

You pursed your lips as you watched Jake, throwing a dart with more force than necessary.

“He doesn’t look very sunshine-y to me,” you pointed out and Bradley blinked at you, before barking out a laugh.

“You’re joking, right?”

You crossed your arms, slowly feeling like he was fucking with you and Bradley sobered up quickly at the look on your face, laying his hand on your arm.

“Hey, I am not making fun of you. I mean, I kind of am. But seriously, I think you should just talk to him.”

“It’s not going to change anything,” you sighed, uncrossing your arms. “Even if he did love me, we don’t want the same things. I am not going to ruin our friendship.”

Bradley shrugged with his shoulders. “Why are you so sure that it’s going to ruin your friendship? Don’t think. Just do.” With a knock on the table, Bradley saluted at you before walking off and you only stared after him with a frown.

Don’t think, just do? What kind of lifestyle coach tip was that?

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the dart board, trying to find a glimpse of Jake but he wasn’t there anymore. You craned your neck, looking for him on the other side of the bar, he was still nowhere to be found. So you went up to Javy, who was still playing darts with Fanboy, pulling him aside.

“Hey, where’s Jake?” you asked him. He only gave you a brief look, nodding towards the patio through the window. Thanking Javy, you walked through the doors that led outside, finding Jake on one of the patio tables, his feet on the bench.

“Been looking everywhere for you,” you said, somewhat accusingly as you sat down next to him. Jake only gave you a wry smile, before turning back to the beach.

“You looked pretty busy, didn’t want to bother you.”

Your eyebrows shot up at his insinuation and you wondered if Bradley, and everyone else, was right after all.

“Are you jealous?” you then finally asked, and Jake didn’t react. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t heard you, or if he was simply ignoring you, but then-

“Of Rooster?” He scoffed out, running his hand through his hair, a scowl on his face. “Maybe.”

Stunned, you reeled back a bit. You hadn’t expected for him to be so direct or honest, not after all this time. You opened your mouth to say something, but you didn’t know what to say. Jake beat you to it.

“He’s a good man. I think he could make you happy,” Jake said and your eyes widened.

“What?”

Huffing, Jake looked at you from the corner of his eyes before he turned away again, leaning his arms on his knees. “He’d treat you right. Rooster’s got a bit of baggage, but everyone does nowadays.”

“Jake, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You want to know if I am okay with you and Rooster, right?”

“What? No! He’s not my type.”

“Oh,” Jake said stupidly, his shoulders sagging a bit. You weren’t confident if it was a relief, but it sure looked like it. You knew you loved him. But did he love you, too, like everyone was claiming? You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to collect all your bearings before you reached out to place your hand on his knee.

“Jake, I love you.”

Jake’s head snapped in your direction, his face hopeful for a split second, before his expression darkened again, turning away from you.

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am bad for you!” Jake snapped at you. “This could never work, I am just going to end up hurting you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“So you don’t love me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It sure sounds like it,” you bit out, tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re kind of a dick, Jake.”

You pushed yourself off the table, jumping off the bench to walk back inside, but before you could go far, Jake grabbed you by the wrist, whirling you back around. You crashed against his chest, not very softly, but you didn’t really care.

“Don’t you get it?” He said softly, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “I love you. I love you so much, there’s no one good enough for you. Least of all me.”

“But I want you,” you whispered, blinking up at him, your heart beating wildly.

Jake let out a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against yours. “There’s no going back if we do this.”

“I think it’s already too late for that anyway.”

He let out a laugh, his hand finding your waist to pull you even closer before he finally tilted his head down to place his lips against yours, kissing you. Letting out a soft sigh, you kissed him back, your arms coming around his neck. When you ran out of air, you pulled away, only ever so slightly, looking at him, searching for any ounce of regret, but there wasn’t any. When your eyes met his, you flushed slightly, giving him a shy smile.

“Don’t go all shy on me now, sweetheart,” Jake chuckled, his thumb drawing circles into your backside.

“Shut up.”

A knock on the window made you look ove, just to see the entire squadron pressed against the glass, hootering and shouting various cheers at you, like they were watching a movie. Bradley even gave you a double thumbs up.

“Jesus Christ,” Jake muttered with a headshake, turning to you.

“This is your fault.”

author's note: hiii! don't forget to comment/reblog if you liked it! love you!!

taglist: @littlebadariell // @labellapeaky // @solacestyles // @shaded-echoes // @sssjuico10 // @lgg5989 // @luckyladycreator2 // @ssaic-jareau // @xoxabs88xox // @averyhotchner // @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 // @tiredqueen73

moots: @gretagerwigsmuse @greenorangevioletgrass @wunderstruck @sunderlust @seasonsbloom @seresinhangmanjake

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic

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dianneking · 7 months

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On The Seashore (Brienne x Reader)

Hi all! For my weekly fic challenge, @scream-queenlover suggested this prompt (#2584) @promptsforthestrugglingauthor :

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay home?" "I'm sorry…did you just fucking propose?”

You and Brienne have been adventuring together for years, and while you enjoy the friendship and camaraderie that the two of you share, you can't help but wish for more, maybe…but is it in the cards?

Tags: Brienne x Reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Brienne is an adventurer, Aroace spectrum, Brienne is on the aroace spectrum, Friendly Banter, Dialogue-Heavy, Queerplatonic Vibes, Second Person POV, Reader is a woman.

I am not sure how it turned into a queerplatonic fic with a Brienne on the aro/ace spectrum but hey, happy belated aro/ace week. Link to AO3 in the title below:

On The Seashore

“I swear, if I have to shake sand from my boots one more time, I'll snap.” You grumbled, pulling once again your weathered traveling boots on your feet.

“Might I remind you that getting this close to the coastline was your idea, milady?”

“Brienne, it's been three years we're on the road together, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me by my name?”

You could see her lips slightly tilting upwards and you knew her dry wit was about to come out to play once more.

“One more time, milady.”

You snorted. “One more time, my ass. I haven't been a lady since we took to the road. Just a common adventurer, that's all.”

“There's absolutely nothing common about you, milady, and if anyone dares to even imply anything of the sort, I'd be ready to duel them.”

“Yeah we've learned that in Sandstone with that one guy who was a little bit too friendly…”

“He grabbed your arm!”

“I know but we were trying to keep a low profile and you beating him up didn't really…”

“He insulted your honor! And mine too!”

You sighed. “Yes I know. Let's try not to beat anyone up in this village though. I'd like to lay low for a while.”

“Well we still have half a day of walking in front of us before we get there, that is, if Your Grace doesn't keep stopping every ten minutes to shake sand off your precious feet.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting the whole beach in my boots.”

The two of you kept going towards the village, bickering as you had become accustomed to over the time spent together.

“This must be heaven!” You kicked your feet up, forgetting your previous adversity for the sand, your boots next to your wicker seat in the cool shade of the palm trees.

“You have pretty low standards for the afterlife, milady, if all you require is a seat in the shade.”

“Brienne! Was your mission successful?”

You looked up at her silhouette, the sun behind her transforming her short hair in a golden halo. She looked even more like a goddess than usual.

“I have drinks and I have work opportunities so yes, I'd say my mission was indeed successful. And no duels yet, so you can rest easily.”

She handed you a tankard, keeping the second one in her hand.

You lost no time chugging down the first half in a long sip.

“Ahhhhhh now that's something that was sorely missing in my heaven. A drink! I could kiss you right now, Brienne!”

She did not reply, taking a sip of her own tankard, but as she sat down in the wicker chair next to your own, you noticed her ears were slightly pinker. How had she managed to get sunburned in such a short time? Oh well, she was very fair-skinned so it probably took very little. That might be why she always had her hood or her helmet on most days. But the Dornian heat and the quiet reputation of this village had convinced even the uptight Brienne of Tarth to lighten her kit.

“So you were talking about work?”

She swallowed her drink and replied, her voice uncharacteristically flustered:

“Yes. Hmm, well, they're looking for night guards for their granary. They've had quite the bountiful harvest and they want to keep it safe until the village fair.”

“Are there actual threats to the granary?”

“Not really. Seems to be mostly a precaution.”

“So a cushy gig. How's the pay?”

“Not great, but they'd let us stay here at this cottage on the beach for free and add one golden coin each per week.”

“Sunshine, the seaside, free lodging and decent pay? Sign me up for life!”

“What about your beloved adventures? What about being a free spirit and roaming the world?”

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay here?"

The silence that followed alerted you that something was wrong. You turned to your companion.

“Brienne?”

She was looking at you as if you had sprouted a second head.

"I'm sorry...did you just fucking propose?”

Woah. Brienne of Tarth, swearing? That was almost unheard of from your very proper companion, and only in very serious situations.

Not that you’d mind. Marrying her, that is. Quite the contrary. The past three years had easily been the happiest of your life, and you knew it had to do with her. Her constant presence by your side, her dry humor, her unwavering support and loyalty…she had become a column you hadn’t even realized how much you were leaning against until you took a step back and allowed yourself to admire her. And she was beautiful. Gods, was she beautiful.

You set your tankard down beside your chair, and turned to her, lifting your chin, fixing your eyes in hers with equal parts trepidation and boldness.

“What if I did?”

“This is not a subject for jesting, milady!”

“Who said I was jesting? And for all the Gods, stop calling me milady like I am some sort of court princess.”

“But you cannot...We wouldn’t…We’re two women!”

“Believe me, I noticed.” You smirked up at her, letting your eyes roam her tall figure, allowing her to see the appreciation in your eyes. She spluttered, her face turning a bright red that had no correlation with her previous sun exposure. (Had her reddened ears from before also been…oh. Well. Who’d have known. You might even have a chance then.)

“Milady! I…That’s not appropriate! The law doesn’t-”

“Brienne. For once, this is not about the law, religion, traditions, nor customs.” You stood up, and placed your hands on the armrests of her seat, boxing her in. Tall as she was, her head was level with yours. You had never been so close to her. You could see beads of perspiration crowning her forehead, you could drown in the blueness of her eyes, wide open in shock, both at your boldness and at your closeness.

She hadn’t pushed you away though. That had to count for something.

“Brienne?”

“Y-yes?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hesitant and softer than you’d ever heard before. This was not Brienne the warrior speaking. She was Brienne the woman.

The woman you’d fallen for.

“I am going to tell you something. You just say the word, and we won’t have to talk about this again. We’ll go back to our adventuring as it was before and nothing will have changed. But I don’t want you to think this is some sort of joke. I am serious.”

She nodded, and you could see her lower lip quivering slightly, and her eyes widening even more.

“There’s nobody else in the whole world I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else I would gladly take an arrow for, nobody else I want to guard my back as I guard theirs. If there’s anything that the past three years have taught me is that my days of lonely wandering are done, as long as I can have you by my side. Would…would you consider becoming more than just traveling companions?”

She bit her lip, and let her gaze drop to her knees, as if unable to look you in the eyes anymore.

Oh.

The silence stretched for what felt like ages. The usually pleasant sounds of waves crashing against the seashore and seagulls crying out to each other felt like a dissonant song to your ears, when all you wanted to hear was her voice.

But you guessed her silence was telling you all there was to know.

“Very well.” You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice as you straightened up, hands detaching from the wicker armrests, setting your companion free once again. “I’ll just… go check the water’s temperature. Be back in a bit.”

You almost scoffed at yourself. Sure. Check the water temperature. Like you gave a damn about the ocean right now. It could all dry up for all you cared.

You resisted the urge to kick at the sand in anger and frustration though. Mainly because you knew Brienne could be watching you, and you wanted to keep what little decorum you could. How could you be so stupid? To think that she might return your feelings, that you might have a chance with her. Ha. Clearly the blazing sun of Dorne had burnt off your common sense.

You let the cool seawater lap at your bare feet, forcing yourself to look at the horizon and take a deep breath of salty breeze.

It was okay. You’d gone through heartbreak before. You’d move on.

Another deep intake of breath.

You would not allow those tears that you felt prickling at your eyelids to fall. You were a grown woman. An adventurer. Not a silly girl with a crush.

A third breath. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds of seagulls, trying to shove all the feelings back in the little blackened and beaten container you called heart.

“Nobody has ever told me that.”

“HOLY SH- Brienne, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You twirled towards her, a hand on your chest as you tried to get your breathing back in control. How a woman of her size had managed to sneak behind you without you noticing was a testament both to her athleticism and to how out of it you were.

She pinned you with her gaze, hard and unflinching. The soft, blushing Brienne was gone. This was Brienne the warrior, once again. You realized you had fallen for her, too.

“Nobody has ever…wanted me.” She said that as if it was part question, part accusation. You didn’t know what to make of it. You shrugged.

“Well, apparently they’re all dumb as rocks and with no functioning eyes.”

She snorted. An inelegant sound that you found as endearing as the rest of her.

“Seriously, Brienne. You probably have a lot of people that admire you from afar. I’m just the one with the least amount of self-preservation instincts of them all.”

“You seem to have been doing pretty well so far.”

“Well, if you don’t smite me for daring to punch above my weight, I should live to see another day!” You smiled up at her, cheekily, trying to lighten up the mood. You weren’t going to give up on the friendship and camaraderie you two had built together just because your advances had been turned down. A fool, you might be, but not an utter imbecile.

You could see her lips pull up at the corners in a tiny but unmistakable smile at your antics.

“There it is! The smile of mercy! I shall live somewhat longer! Yay!”

She shook her head and gave you a small shove, almost throwing you completely off-balance.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ll take impossible as a title over milady anytime, so yep, that’s who I am! Also, please don’t throw me into the ocean, I can’t swim.”

“You can’t?”

“Nope! I’m a land rat, not a sea rat. Can you?”

“Of course! Everyone on Tarth learns how to.”

“Well, you’ll have to teach me at some point, but throwing me in is not how I’d like to go about it, thank you very much.”

Her hand landed on your shoulder, gripping it strongly, and you looked up to see that the smile had gone, and her expression was now closed off, and serious.

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.” She ground out, as if it was physically difficult for her to even say it.

“To teaching me how to swim?”

“No, to a… relationship. I…I like to spend time with you.” She looked like she was telling the truth but also like she was extremely uncomfortable doing so. You felt your heart break again, this time for her.

“As do I, but we can still have that. This is not an ultimatum, Brienne, I would never put you in that position.” Just the thought she would be willing to start a relationship she clearly wasn’t keen on not to lose your company was…both horrifying and heartwarming, to be honest.

“It’s not that. I…I am not good with…romance. It doesn’t come as easy to me as it seems to be for other people. I don’t know how to go about it.”

You put your own hand on top of hers, on your shoulder, trying to find the right words.

“Hey. There is no right or wrong way. And there is no hurry. We can give it a try and see where it goes. If not, we’ll just be good friends that adventure together, alright?”

She seemed to ponder this, her eyes on your hand covering her own. You gave her the time to do so.

“I would like that.”

You smiled tenderly up at her. This was so hard for her, always used to be the paradigm of perfection, of valor, of morals. The fact that she was able to challenge herself enough to go out on a limb with a relationship for you, of all people, made your heart skip a beat in your chest.

“We will take things as slowly as you’d like, and you feel free to tell me at any time if you’re uncomfortable, okay?”

You could see the tension leave her eyes, and her face opened up in a hopeful smile.

“You’d do that…for me?”

“But of course! We have all the time in the world, milady!” You smirked, throwing the title back at her and seeing her resigned grimace at the nickname.

“No more miladys, alright?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years! Now. That drink is getting warm and that’s not something we can allow. Shall we?”

You gallantly offered her your hand to hold in a very bad imitation of a nobleman asking a woman at court to dance. She shook her head, but accepted your hand, and you both turned your back to the sun, looking at your conjoined shadows on the sand in front of you with a look of incredulous joy on both of your faces.

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wolfjackle-creates · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday

Enjoy another snippet of the fic about ghost Robin haunting Jason! I really need to think up a title. Maybe I'll brainstorm some ideas and put out a poll to see what everyone likes.

Part 1 is here

And onto part 2 (1.2k words)!

-----

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised? He adjusted the strap of his backpack to hold it more firmly. Hopefully something he’d brought would be enough and it’d be just a matter of getting Robin alone for a few minutes.

Jazz let go of Danny’s hand to take Jason’s as he led them down a hallway. Robin tightened his grip on Alfred before letting go and giving Danny a sad smile. Both Jason and Robin would point to objects and rooms as they passed. Danny paid extra attention to the items Robin pointed out that Jason ignored: a crack in the wall, a mark that had never been painted over, the chandelier he decided to hang from for a few seconds.

Voices echoed out of one of the upcoming rooms, and Jason slowed. Jazz leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Robin had the opposite reaction and shot a grin at Danny and flew to the doorway, waving him to come inside.

Danny couldn’t help but smile back at his obvious excitement. Jazz caught his expression and narrowed her eyes at him. Oh, she was not going to let this go.

With a deep breath, Jason entered the room, Jazz and Danny right behind him. “Hey everyone, this is Jazz’s brother Danny.”

Inside, too many people were gathered on a collection of chairs and couches. One man was sitting upside down on a chair, his feet on the back cushion and head inches from the ground. He grinned at them and did a flip that somehow ended with him on his feet and halfway across the room in the space of a breath. Robin cartwheeled to him.

“Hey, Danny, I’m Jason’s older brother Dick! Glad you could make it. Jazz says you’re always busy.” He held out his hand to shake, unknowingly passing it right through Robin.

Danny couldn’t help but look at where the arm passed through the ghost, but did have the wherewithal to shake Dick’s hand.

“Dick? You really use that by choice?” The words were out of his mouth before he could think. Embarrassed, he slapped his other hand over his mouth at the same time Jazz hissed a warning at him. “Shit! I mean—”

Only to be cut off by everyone laughing. Dick waved off his apology. “My parents were immigrants and it’s what they called me. After they died, I decided to stick with it. Don’t worry, I’ve heard all the jokes.”

“He’s made most of them, too,” added another black-haired boy. This one looked to be close to Danny’s age. “I’m Tim. We’re glad you could make it. Jazz mentioned you’re usually busy with work?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. But I spent the last few weeks making sure I could get tonight free with minimal chance of interruption.” Not that it worked, his eyes flicked to Robin who was now hugging Bruce Wayne, the only person of the bunch he recognized on sight. And, what was that feeling radiating off Bruce Wayne? It was like liminality, but not quite. Had he died?

“Welcome to my home, Danny,” Bruce Wayne stood and came over to shake his hand with a wide grin on his face. “I’m Bruce and these are my kids.”

“Oi! Don’t call me your kid!” protested a blonde girl. “Hey there, I’m Steph and I’m just here for the food and to give Jason a hard time.” She also felt strange. Not a ghost, but the touch of death lingered. What sort of family had Jazz gotten involved in?

The rest of the group introduced themselves. Both Damian and Cass were liminal as well. So, out of the ten people he’d met tonight, three of them had died and two were as liminal as Sam, Tucker, and Jazz.

Completely ignoring the fact that Danny was trying to come to terms with all the death in what was supposed to be a normal rich family, Robin was doing even more antics to get his attention. He greeted Dick just as warmly as he had Bruce and Alfred. Cass, Tim, and Damian were the other three he seemed to like the most, though they didn’t get hugs. He didn’t react at all to Steph or Duke. He sat on Barbara’s lap for a minute, too, before returning to Dick’s side.

No one noticed the ghost desperate for their attention. Not even Jazz.

Barbara took the time to point out where the drinks were located and Danny looked over the selection of pop before grabbing a coke. He closed his eyes at the satisfying sound of the tab opening and sighed at the first taste.

One of the boys laughed and said, “You’re acting like you haven’t had a coke before.”

“Nope. I’m acting like I love coke and haven’t had any pop at all in ages.” He plopped down on a couch next to Jazz who ruffled his hair.

“Have you been traveling that long?”

Danny shrugged. “How long ago was our last phone call?”

“You don’t remember? Last week.”

“Grandpa had me doing favors for him. He dropped me off this morning.”

Jazz huffed in the way that indicated she was very annoyed. But it’s not like Danny could just not do the things Clockwork asked of him. Besides, his most recent trip was fun. He’d gone to another planet! He couldn’t wait until he could tell Jazz all about it.

Jason looked at them curiously. “You’ve never mentioned a grandfather before, Jazz.”

“Oh, he’s not really our grandfather. Just someone who helped Danny out once and decided to stick around. They’ve gotten close over the past few years. He’s fond of me, too, but we don’t have the same relationship.”

“Grandpa’s great. If infuriating at times. But favors for him are always interesting.”

“Next time feel free to invite him,” offered Bruce.

The image of Clockwork in Wayne Manor caused Danny to snort into his coke. “I don’t think he’d fit in here,” was all he said. Though maybe Robin would appreciate another ghostly visitor.

Dick did a cartwheel and landed upside down on an armchair. “What, too uptight for the likes of us?”

The last prank he and Clockwork had played on the Observants played in his mind and he smiled wider. “Not at all. You just come from different worlds.”

“I’ll have you know I grew up on the streets in Crime Alley.”

“I was a circus performer.”

“I was raised a rich kid through and through, but I hardly spend times in the upper echelons of society.”

“My dad’s in prison.”

“I’m a librarian.”

“I’m a foster kid.”

Danny held a hand up and laughed. They were still from different worlds, but he couldn’t explain he meant Earth versus the Infinite Realms. “I get it, I get it. I’ll let him know next time.”

“If he’s still in the area, you should invite him,” said Dick. “Alfred’s food is to die for.” Robin was hanging upside down next to Dick nodding solemnly.

Danny tried to stop himself, he really did. He even managed to keep from saying he’d been there done that, but he couldn’t keep from laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

-----

Part 3

And for the tag list!

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batfam #anger management #theres so many ppl in the room #makes it hard to write!#how do you fit so many huge personalities into one room?#and give them all the time they deserve?#i'm gonna try my best #this fic is like 90% dialogue

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pantoneyoongi · 1 year

Text

neon signs | let's talk about it

title ; let’s talk about it pairing ; campus crush!yoongi x campus crush!you

notes ;

this is part of the neon signs drabble series, where drabbles are released in random order (but listed chronologically in the masterlist!)

series description ;

namjoon doesn’t think it can get any clearer outside of yoongi building a giant neon sign saying i have the absolute biggest crush on you but apparently, book smarts don’t exactly translate when it comes to you and your massive crush on min yoongi. (alternatively: namjoon and hoseok try for three years straight to get you and yoongi together.)

word count ; 1k

tags ; yoongi gets a little violent (no hoseoks were harmed in this chapter), probably (definitely) excessive cursing, fluff, pls go to masterlist for more / general tags

yoongi is not a violent man by any means. he’s rather patient, actually, and generally tolerant of a good many things.

but he is going to kill hoseok.

yoongi glares up at his ceiling, resisting the urge to scream. hoseok, you fucking - fuck. fucking fucker fuck.

he’s so frustrated he’s run out of creative insults.

yoongi thrashes around on his bed, rolling onto his stomach and slamming his face into his pillow. his roommate isn’t here today, so he can be as odd as he wants without earning questioning stares.

with a huff, yoongi twists around to lay on his back again. why would hoseok leave him with this information and nothing else? did yoongi do something to piss off his best friend and now hoseok is being petty? how else is he supposed to explain why hoseok ever so casually passed on the information that someone flirted with you today and maybe asked you out, too?

yoongi knows. yoongi knows even without hoseok adding fuel to the fire by shrugging his shoulders and saying, “well, she is popular around campus, yoongi. did you really think no one would ask her out eventually?” he knows. you’re everybody’s favorite and it was bound to happen eventually. it probably happens all the time, actually. but ignorance is bliss and now yoongi can’t stop thinking about what your response might’ve been because hoseok - the worst friend on the planet - pretended to knock the fuck out immediately after delivering this information.

“hoseok,” yoongi had hissed. “hoseok, wake the fuck- i know you are not sleeping right now-”

hoseok even had the audacity to let his lips twitch in amusement, proving to yoongi he was awake. but if anybody asked hoseok, he’d swear up and down that it’s not his fault yoongi is so painfully obvious and simultaneously impressively stupid, and therefore the easiest target to tease.

yoongi ‘accidentally’ slammed the door on the way out (and then peeked back into the room just in case that ‘woke’ hoseok up) then shut the door again and grumbled the entire way back to his own dorm.

and now here he is. laying in his own bed, devastated.

he’s gonna murder hoseok.

yoongi taps his foot against the ground repeatedly. for someone who can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, yoongi is unusually restless today, and namjoon eyes him suspiciously. yoongi’s arms are crossed, staring at a spot just past namjoon’s head, but when his eyes dart to namjoon for the third time since they sat down, namjoon straightens, expression flattening.

“what do you wanna know, yoongi,” namjoon’s voice comes out more like a sigh, like he’s the most exhausted person on the planet. yoongi clears his throat. yoongi generally has the blank-eyed stare down pat, but his friends are quick studies and can tell the difference by now between when he’s actually not paying attention vs when he’s just pretending not to.

considering yoongi’s spent the past ten minutes trying to find the most casual way to ask namjoon if his best friend is now taken, it’s safe to say yoongi’s brain definitely has the on switch flipped up.

“nothing, i just-”

“yoongs!” you slide into the seat next to him at the student center, then spot namjoon across from him. “joonie!” namjoon hums his response.

there’s no way yoongi can ask now. not when you start off on a tangent before either of the boys have a chance to get a word in otherwise, complete with animated hand motions and dramatic narration that have you leaning in real close to yoongi (and namjoon, but yoongi cares more about his personal space being taken up by you and how he’d let you do this literally anytime you want) - and yoongi can only watch with helpless affection until you finish telling your story.

“so that’s how my day is going,” you drawl, then twist to yoongi. “what are you up to?”

he shrugs, because he really only came out here in an attempt to interrogate namjoon before you spotted them and inserted yourself into the conversation yoongi didn’t even manage to actually start. he hesitates, then as subtly as he can, tilts his head slightly and says, “i heard you have a boyfriend now?”

your brows furrow. namjoon coughs into his drink, squinting at yoongi like he’s sprouted a second head. you frown down at the table, unaware of the silent exchange between namjoon and yoongi that goes something like:

namjoon: this is a joke right yoongi: i’m so serious rn namjoon: for someone so smart you are so dumb

both boys clear their expression when you raise your head and purse your lips at yoongi. “who did you hear that from?”

yoongi fumbles. “just. someone,” he scratches the tip of his nose. “or maybe it was that someone asked you out?”

you light up in recognition. “oh! yeah, that did happen. that was really weird.”

yoongi can’t stop himself when he leans towards you in exasperated confusion. “weird?” it’s weird someone asked out the most popular girl on campus?

but you don’t expand on it, instead opting to spend your time bothering namjoon, while yoongi wages an entire two minute war in his head because while you’d looked confused about it all, there was definitely no clear answer on whether or not you actually said yes to the weird person who asked you out. yoongi is going to lose it if he doesn’t get some goddamn answers.

“so what’d you say?” he tries to go for casual, though the judgmental look on namjoon’s face right now suggests it’s anything but. it flies right over your head though, and you drop the pencil that you were using to doodle on namjoon’s papers to turn back to yoongi.

“hm?” you fiddle with the pencil. “no, of course. i didn’t really know him like that. i wasn’t interested.” you laugh, and the sound fills yoongi with relief, and he lets out a quiet, half-amused huff in return.

“no,” he repeats after you. “of course.” no, of course.

“yoongi, let’s talk about it,” hoseok walks backwards with his hands up, as yoongi heads towards him. “come on, buddy. you know i’d tell you if she actually said yes-! dude!”

series masterlist ; neon signs

taglist ; @thelilbutifulthings @bbsantc @chickentenderx @taegijns @princxssly82 @manuosorioh @sugaluvmyg @medicinemybish

#yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x yn #yoongi x y/n #yoongi #did u miss them bc i sure did #sugaluvmyg #medicinemybish #sorry the @ wasn't working so hopefully the tags do #series: nsyg

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tj-dragonblade · 2 months

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Fic Talk

Tagged by @seiya-starsniper @dsudis and @valeriianz - thanks! This is a fun new set of questions I haven't seen circulating before!

How many wips do you have currently? …Uhhhhh. Ahaha. Let me go calculate just a minute. Okay. There are 13 wips that are proper individual files with varying probabilities of actually getting finished. There are three additional individual files that are not proper wips, just notes/synopsis of ideas I've had and would like to write. Then there is the original 'Scribs' file that I originally started jotting notes in with ten more 'wips' that may or may not ever be finished, plus three more of the notes/synopsis-level ideas, and a handful of one-line or song-title ideas.

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish? Why do you think that is? Any of the older ones, honestly, entirely for lack of focus. I am hoping to force myself into giving at least one of them the attention it needs for a bingo square. Because when I make myself focus on one, make myself buckle down and work on it, I can usually make it happen. I can do it for Fluffbruary; therefore I can do it elsewhere too. But there is always some new idea coming along that is very distracting and then there's the problem of Which Do I Want to Work On? and getting a burst of idea for this one and then a few lines of inspiration for that one and I wind up with far too much time spent re-reading all of them and, if I'm lucky, adding a line or two to a handful of them.

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you? Obsessively typing away at my phone, frequently (and unfortunately) when I'm meant to be working. Trying to capture as much of the momentum as possible while it's there.

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different? No. I have a couple different playlists of 'Dreamling Vibes' that I will sometimes put on, but nothing really fic specific. But chances are if a song is part of the springboard for the fic, I have put it on repeat at least half the time I was writing. 'Bus Stop' broke into my top 25 most played songs while writing its fic, for the record.

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organised? There is very little about my process that can be called organized. I write whatever's coming to me and make notes about things I wanted to do that I didn't get written out yet so I don't forget the next time I come back to it. It's frequently non-linear. I'm easily distracted by shiny new ideas. I count it a feat worth celebrating when I actually get something finished and posted.

Tagging, no obligation, tag me into your already-existing posts etc: @chaosheadspace @staroftheendless @teejaystumbles @the-apocrypha @kydrogendragon

#Tagmemes #TJs Writing

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harryforvogue · 2 years

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the one where mia still hates horror movies and harry gets distracted far too easily. this contains smut and is about 4k words. happy reading <3

***

“I do not want to watch this,” Mia says for the fourth time in the past ten minutes. Normally, her insistence of not trying anything new would bother Harry, who’s typing the movie’s title into the streaming platform for tonight's choice, but he doesn’t pay much attention to her. Because he’s waited several months for the movie to start streaming. And he’s not going to let his girlfriend talk him out of watching it.

She’s already done it once. When it came out in the movie theaters, he’d asked Mia to watch it with him, only to be hit with just a resounding “NO” that he never brought himself to ask again. It’s not as if anyone else would go see it with him anyways. His sister only goes to the movies to see comedies. Zack only goes to the cinema to fall asleep in a comfortable recliner, and anyone else would just piss Harry off too much.

He’d asked Mia once and then never again. It was a risk asking her anyways. She doesn’t like horror films. But Harry can’t help loving them. And he goes to see whatever she wants to in the cinema.

So after waiting long months and avoiding spoilers like the plague, the movie is finally out and Harry will not let his wimp of a girlfriend stop him from enjoying it.

So he shrugs in response to her petulance and flips the duvet back over her side of the bed. “Fine. Then, don’t.”

“But I want to spend time with you.”

He flips the duvet again, patting the mattress invitingly. “Then come.”

“No.”

Flip. “Okay.”

“Why can’t we watch something we both want?”

“Because I have been waiting for this movie for a long time and I haven’t seen a decent horror film in months. Look.” He sighs and gestures to the shopping bag he came home with. “I’ve got your favorite snacks. And you don’t have to watch all of it. Just come here and look away when it gets really bad.”

Harry removes a bag of popcorn and opens it. He pops one in his mouth and smiles, tilting his head back on the stack of pillows behind him. He holds his hand out. “Come here, baby.”

“No. I don’t like you.”

“Mhmm. Come here.”

She stares at him for several long seconds and then gives in, reaching for his hand. Harry knows she’s not going to be able to resist him.

Mia’s spent the entire day following him around like a lost puppy, running her hand over his face. He’s grown out a bit of stubble, which Mia is completely enamored by. She’s not a fan of facial hair normally, but he’s tidied it up a lot. He’s cleaned up his upper cheeks and neck. She’s kissed his face several times today.

She’s also been very vocal about his hair. The way one side of it flops over his brow. It’s long enough now that his curl pattern is returning. It’s more like a wave right now, but Mia seems to be loving it.

He slides her closer once she’s in bed, settling the duvet around her. She even opens her mouth when he presses popcorn to her lips.

“Can you just tell me when something is about to happen?”

Mia’s already got her arms around him, laying right beneath his shoulder. She takes a deep breath, but Harry knows she’s actually taking in his scent. She does it a lot. He especially loves it when her shoulders relax after she smells him. He wraps his arm around her waist.

“I haven’t seen the movie so I don’t know when it’ll get scary but I’ll try my best.”

She’s not satisfied with that answer, judging by the way she slides down and mumbles something along the lines of “yeah, whatever”.

He presses play and then reaches over to turn his lamp off.

Mia immediately complains, “No, it’s too dark. Now it’ll get too scary.”

Harry takes a small handful of popcorn and pushes it into her mouth. “Shut up.”

She accepts the popcorn and chews angrily. But at least she stays silent after that.

The movie starts the way all horror movies do: happy. And Mia watches silently. Somewhere around the five minute mark, she reaches for Harry’s hand and tucks it under her chin. Occasionally, she’ll press a kiss to it before returning her attention to the screen.

But of course, the tensions begin to brew, and Mia’s hand tightens around Harry’s, almost to the point of discomfort. And after the first jumpscare (and scream from Mia), Harry sighs and raises the duvet, throwing it over her head.

“Just stay there until the scene passes,” he says, partially to help her, but mostly to avoid his eardrum bursting from her next scream.

She slides down and buries her face in his stomach, whining. “I hate this.”

He pats her covered head. “I know.”

“I hate you.”

“Totally.”

“I wanna watch something else.”

“Mm, too bad.”

“I can’t breathe down here.”

“Also too bad.”

She groans and raises Harry’s shirt, putting her head against the flat plane of his stomach, where his butterfly tattoo rests. His muscles clench as he bites down a laugh. She sighs and kisses his skin before laying her cheek down.

“You know,” he says, once he’s contained himself, “saying you can’t breathe and then putting another layer over your face isn’t the smartest decision.”

“I could punch your dick right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anything,” Mia retorts.

She’s got him there. Harry knows she won’t do anything, but if he’s learned anything about her, it’s that it’s best not to provoke her to the edge of insanity.

He just pats her head and continues watching.

Mia says, “I can still hear it.”

“I can’t really help with that, baby.”

She presses her fingers to his hip, poking hard. He doesn’t shift, but he’s suddenly very aware of where her hand is. How close it is to…other places.

Her fingers walk over to the other hip, slowly, exploring his warm skin as if it’s the first time. Harry swallows and doesn’t move, letting her. He waits for her fingers to dip a little lower towards his sweats, and nearly groans when she pauses at the knot of his pants.

Without uttering a word, Mia slowly undoes the knot and waits a second as if she’s expecting him to stop her.

He would never ask her to stop.

And after a moment, she slowly drags her hand over his thighs, pushing her fingers against the rigid muscles, and then finally slides her hand into his sweats. Harry freezes, holding his breath. His screen is showing some violent scene, but his head is filled with Mia and what she’s doing. His attention is barely on the movie when she takes him into her hand.

He’s already half hard. He faintly hears her giggle.

“Mia,” he says.

“What?” she replies innocently. Her hands move over his clothed dick, slowly, softly. Almost tenderly He knows she must be feeling how he’s getting harder by the second. Mia removes her head from under his shirt and peeks up at him out of the duvet. “What?” she repeats, dragging out the word.

“Have I ever told you what an utter pest you are?”

“Not enough clearly. Hasn’t gotten through my thick skull.”

She strokes him again, and Harry tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. She has such a control on him. He reaches blindly for the remote and pauses it, thankfully at a not so gruesome scene, and lets Mia come out of her hiding spot. She grins at him, reaching up to straddle his hips. Her arms fling themselves around his neck.

The movie is completely forgotten about when Mia kisses him. He holds her tight to his chest, leaning into the kiss to reciprocate. She holds his curls between her fingers tightly, presses herself against him. Her teeth bite down on his lower lip, just the way he likes it, and she whimpers into his mouth when his own hand tangles into her hair to give it a sharp tug.

He needs to be on top of her. So he flips her over, making her laugh in the process, and pins her wrists down to the mattress. Her eyes are lit with an intense fire, her pretty mouth pink, and her hips raising to meet his. He gathers her wrists in one hand to secure them above her head, and uses his other to open her legs, slotting himself in between.

“Just one night,” Harry whispers, kissing down her neck. She gasps and squirms under him. “I just want one night where we get to watch a movie of my choice. Why must you always act up?”

“It’s fun,” she whispers back, raising her head to kiss him. He kisses her passionately, but too briefly. Moving away from her, he works on her shorts, gently pushing them down to her calves until she’s able to kick them off herself. “Getting you all annoyed is so fun.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, because you never get angry. Just all worked up.”

“It’s an everyday thing with you.”

“That’s why you love me,” she gasps as he works on his own sweats, pushing them down and off the bed. He leans down and kisses her neck again, all the way down to her shoulders. Between her collarbones rests a pendant he bought her for her birthday a few months back and he decides he’ll leave that on. But nothing else will stay between them.

He releases her wrists and makes a quick work of removing both his shirt and hers. “Amongst other reasons, but you being the most insufferable person I have to deal with daily is definitely at the top.”

She bites away a smile and wraps her arms around his neck. “I was gonna use my mouth.”

Harry swallows. “Thought you just wanted attention.”

“That too, but I wanted to taste you.”

He lets her go, rolling off her body and sitting against the headboard. “Go ahead.”

She looks very determined suddenly. She reaches for a hair tie on her wrists, but discovers none, so Harry says, “It’s all right, I’ll do it.”

She nods. After the removal of clothes, she’s left in a tanktop and underwear, while Harry’s just in his briefs, which are also lost when she pulls them down and wraps her hand around him again. Harry can’t just not touch her, so before she begins, he pulls her closer and gently thumbs her clit through her underwear. Her eyebrows immediately scrunch with pleasure as she grinds herself against his palm, but he lets her go soon after.

“Rude,” she says, eyes already hazy. It’s so easy to get her riled up too.

He bites back a swear and watches her lean over him. She doesn’t take him into her mouth immediately. As he reaches over to turn his lamp back on, Mia slides down between his legs and kisses his thighs.

She looks up at him through her lashes and he nearly groans, the sight of her making him grow harder. He takes her hair, making it into a ponytail and lets her do her work.

She raises her head. “You can…you know.”

He absolutely knows what she means.

Mia’s hair is very long. It’s always been long ever since he’s known her, and so he wraps the silky brown strands around his knuckles and tugs hard. She whines and lets him pull her slightly up. She opens her mouth and gently takes him in.

Her tanktop’s strap slides down her shoulders, but neither of them pay it any mind. Mia knows how to treat him well, from the careful suction of her mouth, to the hand around him that strokes him, meeting her mouth. Hot need pulses through him as she bobs her head, taking her time with him.

Harry knows that after a while, Mia gets tired of working her mouth over his cock, so he prepares himself to take over once it happens. He pulls on her hair, enjoying the sound she makes at the back of her throat when he does. He lifts his hips up, just barely, and Mia’s nails dig into his hips in response.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, lovingly tucking her hair that’s escaped his grip away from her face. “You are unbelievable.”

Accompanied by a soft gasp, she pulls off of him, her lips shiny with spit, chest heaving for breath. “I learned from the best.”

With that nod to their previous relationship, she wraps her lips around his tip and focuses there, using her hand to run up and down his shaft. His fist tightens around her hair, his other hand grasping the duvet hard enough to make his knuckles go all white.

Mia’s eyes flutter shut and she runs her tongue along the underside of his tip where she knows it feels best.

Her cold necklace dragging along the inside of his thigh mixed with the heat of her mouth makes him go near insane. He tugs on her hair, mumbles praises, and throws his head back in pleasure.

“Going to treat you so good after this,” he whispers, raising his hips again. She chokes softly, but doesn’t mind. “You deserve the world for how good you make me feel.”

It’s not a new promise, per se. Mia’s been hinting about how Harry’s facial hairy may feel between her legs.

She hums in agreement and doubles her efforts. Harry slowly begins to work with her, carefully pushing down the way she likes whenever she’s sucking him off. He’s been told by Mia that she likes the encouragement from him. He never pushes it too far, but he’s not one to deny her of anything. When he brushes against the back of her throat, she chokes again, pulling up for air.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, running his thumb over her mouth. He smears her left over lip tint from the day.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice hoarse. “You wanna take over?”

“Sure.” He releases her hair and lets her adjust herself before handing herself over to him. “Actually.” He says, reaching over a pillow. He throws it over the side of the bed and sits up. “That’ll be easier.”

She nods, getting up. She slides off the side of the bed and then kneels between his thighs when he goes to sit on the edge as well. He gathers her hair back into a ponytail. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah.” She looks up at him with wide eyes, smiling. She rests her cheek on his thigh and closes her eyes briefly. Harry presses his thumb to her mouth and lets her suck on his finger for a moment. When she bites down on him, he decides it’s enough, pulling on her hair to get her back up.

In a flash, she’s ready to go again, opening her mouth. She doesn't need to do anything this time, letting Harry guide her head and set the pace. He’s not gentle about it. Neither of them are in the mood for gentleness.

He presses in and out of her quickly, enjoying the scrunch of her nose and the fire in her eyes as she keeps up the best she can, eyes trained solely on him. When she coughs, Harry pulls out, just leaves the tip on her tongue. After she clears her throat, he pushes in again and keeps pushing until her eyes close and she focuses on not choking.

“I fucking love you,” he breathes. He drags one hand down the side of her jaw and then wraps his hand carefully around her neck. Her eyes fly open, tears in them. He releases her neck and wipes a stray tear from her eyelash. “So much. You make my life so much better, Mia.”

She makes a noise that identifies something along the lines of “is this really the time to be saying these things?” and Harry laughs through the tightness in his lower stomach. After a few more bobs, Harry releases her and lets her breathe.

Mia turns her head and coughs once. Then she turns back to him.

“Don’t really feel like coming in your mouth today,” Harry murmurs, sliding his thumb back into her awaiting mouth. She blinks the tears out of her eyes.

“Why not?” she asks around his finger, blinking up at him.

“Have something else in mind.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. Harry’s plans for the bedroom are always amazing, no matter how spontaneous.

“Bend over the bed,” he says, standing up to give her space. “And take off the top. I’m hot just from looking at you in clothes still.”

She hurries to do as she’s told. She’s done taking off her tank top when Harry returns from the closet with one of her vibrators. He goes to the bathroom to wash it off quickly and when he’s back, she’s bent over the bed, looking up at him, intrigued.

“Here,” he says, handing it over to her. She takes it, and then he disappears behind her. She peeks over at him, but he just pushes her underwear down, kissing her spine. He seems to kiss every vertebrae, her hips, and her thighs. But finally, he stands up, carefully spreads her legs, and slowly pushes into her.

Mia’s gasps and Harry whispers, “Fuck.”

He starts at an even pace, spreading his hands over her hips. He doesn’t pull her along with him when he retreats. Instead, he fucks her into the mattress, his speed building gradually.

“Fuck! Harry, I– wait Can… I use this?” Mia asks, her eyes closed, holding the wand tightly in her grasp.

“Yes, go ahead, baby.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. She slides her arm between her legs and turns the wand on, pressing it to her clit. Immediately, she cries out, her free hand holding the sheets hard. Harry drags his hand over the skin of her back, enjoying the way her muscles tense and release with every thrust he gives her. Mia’s mumbling into the sheets, swearing, moaning.

Harry presses his hand against her shoulder blades and makes her drop her head to the mattress. Her whimpers are muffled but nonstop. Her shoulders shake with emotion as Harry holds himself up by resting a hand on the mattress, speeding up his thrusts.

She takes him so well, his body hot from the feel of her walls around him. He could stay here for days. Weeks. Just basking in her warmth, the sound of her pleasure filled cries, her trembling thighs.

His thrusts deviate from relying on speed to intensity. They begin to get harder, and she jolts every time he gives her a rough thrust. When she picks her head up to breathe, she’s sobbing, “I love you. I love you. I love you so much, it feels so good. So good. Feels so fucking good. You always feel so fucking–”

“Fuck,” Harry says with an edge of a laugh. He has to hold her hips to make sure her knees don’t give out from such pleasure. “I love you too, baby.”

“No,” she cries, “like I really really love you.”

He laughs again, digging his fingers into her hips. It’ll leave marks and he’ll be kissing the bruises later, apologizing while Mia cards her own fingers through his hair gently, assuring him it’s all right. “I know,” he says now. “That’s why you’re going to come for me, right?” Mia’s already nodding her head before he’s finished with his sentence. “Going to show me how much you love me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, yes!”

“Go ahead then, my love. Show me.”

Mia gasps and near shrieks at the intensity of her orgasm, and her pulsating walls send her spiraling towards his own orgasm. She holds her vibrator to her clit throughout the entire time, sobbing into the sheets with her eyes tightly shut. His hands hold her hips tight as he buries himself inside of her one last time, groaning through his release. He drops his head against her back and catches his breath, still kissing her skin while his lungs ache.

The sound of the vibrator falling against the floor makes both of them open their eyes and glance at each other. Harry’s the first one to laugh, wrapping his arms around her when her knees finally give out and she nearly falls on the floor. He holds her up and gently helps her back onto the bed when she dramatically lays on her front, sniffling.

“Are you alright?”

Mia nods. “Mhmm.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Harry wipes her face clean of any tears. Her hair is covering half her face and he fixes that so he can see into her pretty grey eyes. Her lip looks red from her biting down on his, her cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” he whispers, poking her cheek.

“I can tell,” she croaks back. He smiles, throwing the duvet over her naked body to make sure she doesn’t get cold. She seems too tired to do anything but lay there.

So Harry is the one who gets up to go to the bathroom and clean himself off. He returns with a washcloth, flips her over, kisses her softly for several long seconds, and then wipes the remainder of the makeup from her face, as well as the inside of her thighs.

Mia watches him do all of it with tired eyes, running her hand gently through his hair. His curls are all messy. “I like your hair like this,” she says when Harry’s folding the washcloth. He tosses it into the hamper and turns his head to kiss her palm.

“I thought you liked my long hair.”

“I did. But this is so nice too.”

He kisses her palm again, leaning down to kiss her mouth next. “You are so nice.” He kisses her slowly, savoring her taste.

She suddenly smiles, finding the strength to push herself up to her elbows. Harry’s busy kissing down her neck to her breasts, his arms tight around her when she says, “No more movie tonight.”

He laughs. “Was this all a plan of yours?”

“Nope, but it worked out great, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I’m really in the mood to finish the movie now.”

Mia frowns. “What? No. No!”

“Come on, baby. It was just getting good.”

Mia’s already putting her head back under the covers. “Nope. No. Absolutely not. No way.”

Harry laughs, resting his body on top of hers. Mia peeks her head back out and wheezes from his weight, but he just kisses her face repeatedly. “Alright. No movie. Just kiss me a little bit, yeah?”

The color returns to her face when she manages to shove him off. “Fine! Just. Turn the light off and come back to me, please.”

And with that command, Harry is once reminded that he’s not the type to ever say no to his love. He does as he's told.

#harry and mia #it's relatively short compared to other harry and mia blurbs but i hope it's good enough #i love dom harry but i also like the funny laughing during sex harry #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles x oc #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing

374 notes · View notes

lemoncrushh · 2 months

Text

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Six

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 5716

Since I didn’t have to be back home until 2:30 when Jasmine got home from school, Lorelei and I slept in and ordered room service for breakfast before heading out on the road. We’d received a group text from our agent Kris, informing us that we’d nearly doubled the sales from the Houston book signing, and she was eager to book us for a longer tour, possibly starting with Dallas, but she’d let us know the details before the end of the day on Friday. I reminded her that if at all possible, I’d rather not start until Wednesday since Tuesday was Halloween and I wanted to be with my kids. She said she understood and would do all she could.

When I arrived home, I quickly unpacked and dropped a load of laundry in the washer to get it out of the way. Then I made a cup of coffee and sat on the sofa with my phone. I hadn’t talked to Harry since the texts the night before, and I was anticipating at least one new one or perhaps a voicemail, but I was a little disappointed when I found nothing.

Deciding it was still early, I sent him a short message saying I hoped he was having a good day. Then I texted Tod to ask how Jasmine’s doctor’s appointment had gone. I was relieved when he said it went fine, just an increase in pill dosage, and that she’d been smiling that morning when she left on the school bus.

The girls were both happy to see me when they got home that afternoon, and we all sat in front of the TV and ate ice cream and watched SpongeBob before they both retreated to their rooms while I prepared dinner.

I wasn’t sure why, but I found myself checking my phone every ten minutes, hoping to see Harry’s name pop up. I laughed at myself and shook my head. I was being ridiculous. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and already I was expecting some sort of reassurance. So, I’d had the nightmare, big deal. He didn’t know anything about it for one thing, and he definitely didn’t know how it had thrown me for a loop. Plus, he was busy. In fact, I didn’t even know exactly where he was - if he was still in Chicago or had left already for another city.

After dinner I was trying to distract myself by watching a sitcom when I heard my phone ping on the table. Lorelei.

Hey look at your boy.

Underneath was a link to an online article titled Boy Band Star Goes Solo. I rolled my eyes at the term but tapped on the link anyway, muting the TV and sitting back to read it. The subtitle was more encouraging: Former One Direction Singer Harry Styles Creates the Album the World Has All Been Waiting For.

Duh! Of course! The album was coming out the next day. I was an idiot; I’d completely forgotten about the release date. I’d already spent nearly two weeks enjoying the album in private. Now the rest of the word was going to hear it.

That was why I hadn’t heard from him. Of course he would have been busy all day.

Rolling my eyes once again, but this time at myself for being such a dimwit, I read the positive article. By the end, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. It was a rave review. I was so incredibly proud.

I was about to reply to Lorelei when I noticed at the bottom of the page was a link to something else about Harry. Clicking on it, I saw a collage of photos, all from various stages of his career. The young photos made me giggle, the more recent ones made me swoon. Goodness, he was a looker.

The bottom of that page, however, took me to something I immediately wished I hadn’t seen.

Harry Styles in Chicago with New Girlfriend? read the caption. Girlfriend?

I inspected the handful of photos. To anyone it would look as though he was out shopping. He was standing by a counter, he was outside on the sidewalk, he was laughing. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it was the final word that made my stomach flip. In all of the photos, he was standing next to a female. I couldn’t see much more than her profile, but she was definitely pretty. And in the final photo, they were embracing.

I wanted to throw up. Not just because I was jealous, but because I felt like I was far too old to be. Jealousy was for young, insecure girls, not grown women.

Deciding I’d seen enough, I tossed my phone on the sofa and walked down the hall to get the girls ready for bed. Emery automatically pressed play on the CD player, Harry’s voice booming through the speakers. My jaw set, I walked over to it and pressed stop.

“Mommy!” whined Emery.

“No music tonight, Em,” I shook my head. “I don’t feel that great. Just go get your shower, okay?”

“Okay,” she frowned, heading for the bathroom.

As Emery showered, I helped Jasmine change into her pajamas, gave her a drink of water with her medicine, and tucked her into bed. When I turned out the light, Emery had returned to her room, her hair still wet as she danced naked to no music. She giggled when she saw me, quickly pulling her pajamas from her drawer. I towel dried her hair the best I could before she brushed it and climbed into her bed.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” she sang as she held her arms out for me to hug her.

“I know,” I kissed her.

“Are we going to look for a costume again?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

Emery cheered, pumping her fists.

“Did you see Harry?” she asked.

I looked at her, confused. “When?”

“When you were away.”

“No, baby,” I replied. “I was in San Antonio. Harry’s in...Chicago. Or he was.”

“Oh.”

I smiled as I recalled. “I did talk to him on FaceTime though.”

“You did? I wanna FaceTime him! Can I?”

I chuckled. “We’ll see. Get to sleep, monkey.”

Giving her another kiss, I turned out the light and shut the door, returning to the living room. With slight hesitation, I picked up my phone again. Lorelei had sent another text.

Did you read it?

I hastily texted her back.

Yes. It was great.

I thought so too. I feel proud of him, even though I don’t really know him.

I sent her a simple smiling emoji.

Tell him congratulations from me.

Ok.

You ok?

Lorelei knew me too well. She knew that my short replies could only mean I was not in the best of moods.

Yeah, just tired. I think I’m turning in early.

Ok. See you in the morning.

With a sigh, I switched off the TV that was now showing an old episode of Everybody Loves Raymond and turned out the lights as I headed toward my bedroom. I changed into my night clothes, washed my face and brushed my teeth vigilantly before pulling back the comforter.

When I climbed into bed, the cool of the sheets hitting my toes, I breathed in and out slowly. My stomach was in knots. And the thing about it was, I was more upset with myself than anything. I knew better than to think the worst of Harry, but even so, we had yet to put a label on our relationship.

I laughed at myself again. Relationship. Harry and I flirted on the phone. That was it.

Still, curiosity getting the better of me, I reached for my phone and brought up the page again with the photos. He was most definitely in Chicago in them. In fact, he was at Macy’s at the FAO Schwarz toy store. That seemed like an odd place for him to be.

I took a closer look at each photo, as though looking harder would make me feel any less anxious. He seemed as though he was having a good time. But other than the final photo where he and the girl were hugging, they didn’t make any physical contact at all.

I huffed, turning the ringer off and dropping the phone back on the night stand. It could have been anyone. A friend. They could have even just run into each other while he was out and about. It didn’t mean anything.

Rolling over onto my side, I switched off the lamp and buried my hands underneath my pillow. I made myself promise not to jump to conclusions, that I needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. There was no reason to assume anything until I could hear him out.

I just wished he’d call.

The next morning, I made my coffee before I got Jasmine up for school. My fingers itched to reach for my phone, but I made myself wait until later. After Jaz left, I took a shower and woke Emery. As I was getting dressed, I finally decided to check for any messages. My stomach flipped again when I saw I had a voicemail from Harry.

“Hi baby. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you before now. I’m in LA. It’s 10PM here, which makes it midnight where you are. I reckoned you’d be asleep, but I just wanted to leave you a message. You should be receiving a box from the post sometime tomorrow...or today I should say. It’s for Emery, but it’s a surprise so don’t tell her it’s from me until she opens it, okay? I um...I miss you...and um…”

I heard a slight pause then as he sounded like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

“I...I’ll try to text you or something tomorrow, but it’s gonna be a fucking...wicked busy day…” he chuckled. “So if I don’t, please know I’m still thinking about you. Always. Goodnight, love.”

I was a moron. Here I was worried that he had some other girlfriend while he was getting ready for the biggest day of his career. And to top it off, he was sending my daughter a package. Yeah, somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery because first class moron right here.

“It has to be a friend of his,” Lorelei insisted as she scrolled through the photos of Harry that I’d told her about. “Or maybe someone in the industry. His manager or producer or something.”

“I would think if it was someone like that, the press would have known her name,” I remarked. “But you’re right. It’s probably a friend. Maybe someone he happened to run into while he was in Chicago.”

“Exactly, hon,” Lorelei nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And by what you told me he said in his voicemail, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” I threw my hands up and sunk into my chair. “I knew that, I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

Lorelei smiled as she perched on my desk like usual. “So have you read any more reviews?”

“I haven’t had a chance yet,” I replied, “but I noticed he’s already number one on iTunes and he’s trending on Twitter.”

“Of course he is. I think he has the record for the most followers or likes or something.”

I quirked a brow. “How do you know that?”

Lorelei rose from my desk, a smug look on her face. “I know things.”

I laughed as she strode out of my office, flipping her blonde locks.

I took the opportunity then to download the album from iTunes. Although I’d already been listening to the CD in my car, I felt like contributing and showing my support was the least I could do. As Harry’s voice sang through my computer speakers, I began pulling up any review or mention of him I could find, reading all of it. Every single article gave him praise.

“Don’t be expecting the sugary bubblegum pop of 'What Makes You Beautiful'. The One Direction singer has grown up, maturing into a solid musician in his own right.”

“If any pop singer was thought to do well this year, it was Harry Styles. And he’s proven it with his solo album. Giving nods to some of his musical influences, it’s a taste of the old and current, dipped in something completely new and his own.”

“The world didn’t know what hit it when Harry Styles graced the silver screen in his first major motion picture. Now he’s done it again with his first solo album, proving that this is his world and the rest of us are just living in it.”

By the time the last track started, I was giddy. I was in heaven, my eyes glistening with tears. I was so happy that everyone was enjoying the album as much as I was. I was so incredibly proud. I wanted to hug him.

After Lorelei and I returned from lunch, we were on a conference call with Kris, setting up our plans for what she referred to as the official book tour for The Loving Kind.

“So here’s the idea,” stated Kris. “I know I said we’d probably do Dallas, and we will. But I’ve rearranged some things that I think would suit better. Instead of starting with Dallas, we’re actually gonna do it last.”

“Last?” I inquired. I loved how Kris always talked about Lorelei and me in terms of “we”. As though she’d be going too.

“Yes. We’re gonna start in New York.”

“Yay!” cheered Lorelei as my jaw dropped. I hadn’t realized we’d be venturing out that far.

“Why New York?”

“Because it’s The place to launch a bestseller. And besides, your story’s set there. I’ve already booked you for the Barnes and Noble at Union Square for the third, and…”

“The third?” I sounded. “That’s next Friday.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Kris. “You’ll be flying out on Wednesday afternoon. You arrive in New York at 10:55PM.”

I looked at Lorelei and we both shrugged. Alright then.

Kris continued to give us our travel plans, the itinerary and hotel reservations. Then she went on to tell us the list of cities we’d be visiting after New York: Chicago, Nashville and Dallas. When we hung up the call, my head was spinning. This was really happening. Lorelei and I were actually going on a book tour.

“Look!” exclaimed Lorelei a couple hours later as I made my way to my desk after a bathroom break. She was holding up her phone, but I couldn’t quite make what she was showing me until I got closer. It was a tweet from The Late Late Show with James Corden.

“Tonight: @Harry_Styles and @kevinhart4real.” Underneath was a selfie of the two of them with James.

“Oh my God!” I shrieked, a little too loudly.

Lorelei giggled as she danced beside me. “Your boyfriend’s gonna be on the Late Late Show.”

“Stop it,” I chuckled, lightly slapping her arm.

“Look at him, he looks so cute!” she said, holding up her phone again.

I took a closer look at the picture, but mostly taken back by how green his eyes looked. I must have been staring for a few seconds when I heard Lor whisper.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

I glared at her. “I…”

I stood there with my mouth open, but no words came out. Lorelei blinked slowly as she nodded. Then she turned around to head back to her office.

“I...I just talked to him the other day!” I finally called out.

“Uh huh.”

“He just texted me last night!” I argued, catching up with her.

“I know,” Lorelei nodded again, gathering a few papers from her desk.

“How can I miss him already?”

“It’s okay, Stace, you’re allowed to miss him.”

“Lor!”

She turned to look at me, her right eyebrow raised.

“Are you gonna shut the door, or are you just gonna stand there yelling at me?”

Finally realizing I was standing inside her office, I turned around and closed the door behind me. I heard Lorelei chuckle low as her heels clicked across the hard floor. I twirled around swiftly, my hands on my hips.

“What are you laughing at?” I scoffed, the writer in me knowing better than to end a sentence with a preposition.

“You,” she replied. “No, I’m not laughing at you. I just think it’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable,” I narrowed my eyes. “None of this is adorable.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, stopping at the end of her desk to drop a couple papers in the shredder.

“It’s…” I paused, trying to find the best term. “Unfortunate.”

“How so?” Lor sat in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Because...he’s in LA...and I’m here. And he’s super busy and super famous and...and I don’t know if I’m ever going to see him again. Oh God!” I groaned as I leaned against the door.

“Stace,” said Lorelei softly, “It’s okay to miss him. I told you, I don’t think it’s silly. He likes you, I know he does. He wouldn’t be texting you and FaceTiming you and sending you flowers and buying you coffee if he didn’t. If I’m being honest, I think he’s as smitten as you are, maybe even more.”

I ran a hand through my hair and stood up straight. “Yeah?”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. “And if it’s in the cards, when the time is right, you’ll see each other again.”

I smiled, releasing a huge breath. “Thanks, Lor.”

“Anytime,” she beamed. “Now let me finish this before the hour’s up.”

I retreated back to my own office then, starting Harry’s album over again, admittedly missing him like crazy.

“Can I open it now?” Emery asked, bouncing in her chair.

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes with a smirk.

The package had arrived while we were eating dinner, but I’d told Emery to wait until we were finished, and afterwards we would go shopping for her Halloween costume. She giggled with glee as she grabbed the box and tried to rip it open.

“Hang on, Em,” I instructed, walking over to her with the scissors. I slit open the tape, allowing her to open the box the rest of the way.

“Oh! My! God!” she screamed when she saw what was inside. “I don’t believe it! It’s a Lapis Lazuli costume!”

My eyes about popped out of their sockets. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look!” Emery exclaimed, pulling a blue dress from the box and holding it up. “Oh my gosh, there’s wings!”

Dropping the dress, she reached in again and held out a set of clear wings that to me almost looked like dripping water. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Wow!” I breathed, picking the dress off the floor and examining it. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“And a wig!” screeched Emery. I chuckled when she pulled out a bright blue wig from the box. “Can I try it on, Mommy?”

“Of course,” I nodded.

In two seconds, Emery had her clothes off, ready to try on the dress. I helped her with the zipper in the back and attached her wings. I smiled as she twirled around. It fit perfectly. Then I went to the bathroom, returning with a hair tie and pins so I could pin her hair back for the wig. The blue hair made her eyes pop.

“You make a beautiful blue crayon,” I teased.

“It’s Lapis Lazuli!” she enunciated every syllable.

“Oh, okay then,” I smirked. “You look fantastic. Do you like it?”

“Yes!” she bounced on her toes.

“We need to thank Harry.”

“Yeah! Let’s FaceTime him!”

I laughed and shook my head. “He’s very busy today, monkey. He probably can’t talk right now. But how about we make a video and send it to him?”

“Okay!”

I grabbed my phone, preparing it for the video. I instructed Emery where to stand and to be sure to tell him thank you.

“Hi, Harry!” she beamed, shifting her body from side to side. “Thank you for the Lapis Lazuli costume you sent me! I love it sooooo much. And I love you!”

As she said her final words, she jumped up and down, then ran closer to the phone to pucker her lips and blow Harry a kiss. I tried my best not to giggle until I stopped the video. Setting up a text for Harry, I typed a quick message saying that it was from Emery, then added the video and sent it. Then I gently helped her take the costume off and put it back in the box where it would wait until Halloween.

I stayed up to watch The Late Late Show. I was exhausted, and I knew I very easily could have set the DVR, but I wanted to watch it when it aired.

My heart fluttered in my chest when James announced Harry’s name, and the door to “the blue room” opened. He looked amazing. I could barely take in what he was saying to James as the audience cheered. Or maybe it was the cheering coming from my own head. Either way, I was ecstatic to see him, and so was everyone else.

The interview was both comical and insightful. James, having known Harry for quite some time, was very candid with him, but also knew what questions to ask about his album and solo career. It was apparent that he was just as proud of him as I was. Kevin Hart, who sat next to Harry, made me laugh so hard I was crying. Overall, it was a fantastic show.

Then came the performance. Although I knew there wasn’t another musical guest, and James had made it a point to mention that Harry would be performing his new single for the first time on television, in my mind I suppose I was still trying to grasp the reality of it. It wasn’t until they came back from commercial break and James introduced him once again, that I finally knew it was happening for real.

I was on the edge of my seat, my hands rubbing their sweat off on the knees of my pajama pants. I sucked in my lips as he began to sing, my own nerves for him taking over. But he didn’t seem nervous in the least. In fact, by the time the chorus kicked in, I knew he was in his element, and he actually made me feel at ease. Soon I was singing along with him, a huge grin on my face as I bounced gently on the couch.

When the song was over, James returned, giving Harry a hug and a goodbye to his studio and television audiences. As the credits rolled, I watched the people cheer and clap as Reggie and his band played the outro. But the best part of all was the charismatic smile on Harry’s face as he conversed with James. He exuded pure joy and pride. And I felt myself slipping further into whatever it was I had already started to feel for him.

I couldn’t sleep. Although I’d been tired before the show, my brain was buzzing afterwards. I laid in the darkness until I decided the point was moot and I turned on my phone. I scrolled through a few more articles about Harry, including one about that night’s performance, again all positive. The world adored Harry.

I wondered what he was doing. My fingers itched to text him, but I knew it would just go unnoticed, at least for now. As I read one more short snippet, my phone pinged and my face lit up. Harry.

Tell Emery she is very welcome. And she makes a beautiful Lapis Lazuli.

Thanks :) Will do.

Two seconds after I sent my reply, my phone rang and my heart beat out of my chest.

“Hi!” I answered.

“You’re awake,” he said. I could hear noises in the background.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied. “Exciting day.”

“Oh yeah? What happened? I mean besides the costume of course.”

I laughed. “You, silly.”

“Me?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

Harry made that little contented sound he’d made during our first major phone conversation. “Thank you, baby.”

“So how does the world’s biggest star end his biggest day?” I asked him.

“I um...I’m at a party. A small party. At Jeff’s.

“Oh.” I knew who Jeff was only by reading. He was Harry’s manager as well as a close friend. “That sounds fun.”

“Yeah. I walked outside to watch Emery’s video. I’m glad she likes it.”

“She’s ecstatic. I can’t thank you enough, Harry. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, love. I was happy to do it. Although I have to thank my friend Jen for helping me.”

“Jen?”

“She’s Cindy’s cousin. Cindy Crawford?”

I stuttered, trying to get my words out. Who? What?

Harry chuckled. “Cindy’s a good friend of mine. Her cousin Jen was in Chicago while I was there. I ran into her at the toy store when I was hoping maybe I could find the costume.”

“Oh,” I sounded, the pieces connecting in my mind. “Jen.”

“She was there with her little girl,” Harry continued. “I couldn’t find the costume and she suggested I contact a specialty store that she’d bought from before. They didn’t have any in stock, so I had to have it ordered and sent to you.”

I sighed a shaky breath. Once again, first class moron.

“Harry,” I managed to say.

“Yes, love?”

“You’re something special.”

“Hmm. So are you.”

I swallowed hard. There was so much more I wanted to say. Like how he deserved everything that came to him, and then some. Sure, he was talented and worked hard. But he was also a kind soul. Someone who was willing to go out of his way for someone he cared about, or even someone he hardly knew. I’d never met anyone like him in my life. And if I thought about it too much, it might’ve overwhelmed me. Instead, I cleared my throat.

“I’ll let you get back to your party.”

“Okay, baby,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”

I hung up, laying my phone on the night stand. I curled up on my side with a contented smile on my face. I hadn’t told Harry about New York and the book tour. Today wasn’t about that, or me at all. It was his day. And all was right with the world.

The next two days flew by. I did my grocery shopping on Saturday with the girls, although I didn’t buy that much since I would be leaving in a few days. I was still on a high from the previous day, and the fact that I didn’t hear from Harry at all didn’t even bother me. It just meant he was busy, as he should be, and it made my heart swell.

My mother came over for Sunday dinner, a tradition we’d begun after the divorce for the weekends in which I had the kids. I made a roast with potatoes and carrots, she provided a squash casserole and a pecan pie.

As we ate, she made her usual discussion about her until it shifted to me. I informed her that I would be heading to New York in a couple of days for the book signing and that Jasmine and Emery would be staying with Tod. Although she didn’t care for that, she knew it was for the best.

“You know you can work it out with him if you wanna take them for the weekend or something,” I said.

She made a face. “We’ll see.”

We then got on the subject of Halloween, and I cringed when Emery jumped up and told my mom she wanted to show her her costume. As she ran to her room, my mother looked at me.

“So, you found something?”

“Kind of…” I started, interrupted by Emery’s return.

“Look!” she exclaimed, dropping the box next to my mother’s feet. She pulled out the dress and wings. “I’m gonna be Lapis Lazuli!”

“Do huh?” my mom asked, making Emery giggle.

“It’s a character from Steven Universe!”

“That’s pretty,” my mother smiled. “I bet that looks great on you.”

I held in my breath as Emery, bless her heart, nodded and dropped the costume back in the box and ran back to her bedroom with it.

“What time’s your flight Wednesday?” my mom inquired, changing the subject.

Any other time, that would have drove me up the wall. But this time I was grateful. If Emery had spilled the beans about Harry, we would have gone into a round of twenty questions. I just wasn’t ready to divulge any information on Harry Styles, how I knew him, and why he had sent my nine-year-old a Halloween costume.

Later that evening, however, while the two of us were playing cards at my kitchen table, Harry texted me.

Just wanted to say I miss you x

I miss you too, I texted him back with a grin.

What are you doing?

Playing gin rummy with my mother

Oh, hi mum!

I giggled, resting my chin in my hand as I tried to concentrate on my cards in the other.

“Stacey,” my mom scoffed, “that’s rude.”

“What?” I furrowed my brows.

“Texting someone while I’m here.”

I rolled my eyes. Whatever.

Are you winning?

Yes

Good. Can I call you tonight?

You can call me anytime, Harry.

Even with your mum there?

She’s leaving soon. Probably about an hour.

“Stacey, do you want that card?”

“No,” I shook my head and drew a new card from the pile.

She’d love me anyway.

I laughed again.

I have no doubt. Even though she’s giving me the evil eye right now.

Oops. Off to my last interview of the day. Call you later.

Can’t wait.

My mom ended up staying until it was time to put the girls to bed, but fortunately Harry didn’t call before then. She requested that I call her when I arrived in New York, but I reminded her that my flight got in late, an hour later than Texas, and she would be asleep. She settled on my agreeing to text her when I landed, and she would call me the next morning.

I’d already changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and was rummaging through my closet when my ringtone sounded.

“Hey you,” I said, quickly putting him on speaker so I could have my hands free.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice,” he groaned.

I smiled. “You just heard it two days ago.”

“Are you in bed?” he asked, sidestepping my remark, but also adding to the fire.

“No,” I chuckled. “I’m going through my closet, trying to decide what to pack.”

“Pack for what?”

“Well, Mr. Styles, on Wednesday yours truly and her best friend will be embarking on an adventure. We’re officially doing this book tour thing.”

“Ah, baby, I’m so happy for you. Where are you going?” he inquired.

“We’re starting off in New York City. Then we’re doing Chicago, Nashville and Dallas.”

“Stacey…”

“I’m so nervous and excited at the same time,” I expressed.

“You’ll be in New York on Wednesday?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. Well, late that night. Is New York cold the first of November? It probably is, huh? I should pack a coat.”

“Stacey. Baby…”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be in New York this week,” he announced.

My throat suddenly felt dry and the blood rushed to my head. “What?”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled. “I’m recording Ellen’s show in the morning. It’s gonna be airing on Tuesday, but by then I’ll be in New York. I’ll be there until Saturday.”

“Harry!” I exclaimed.

“It’s fate, baby,” he said.

“Oh my God,” I clutched a fist to my chest.

“I mean...I’m assuming you wanna see me,” he teased.

“Are you kidding?” I squealed, making Harry laugh.

“What time’s your flight?” he asked.

“Late,” I replied. “It doesn’t get in til almost eleven.”

“Oh. Well, we’ll work it out. No worries. I’m not about to miss seeing you.”

“I can’t believe this,” I sighed, dropping my shoes on the closet floor and crawling onto the bed. The packing was suddenly unimportant.

“It’s meant to be, Stacey,” said Harry, his voice low.

“Yeah.”

Lying down on the pillow, I listened to Harry tell me some of his schedule for the week. It was all so thrilling, and I continued to be full of pride for him, though I couldn’t help but wonder how I could fit into all of it. But he reassured me by expressing his excitement of seeing me again, as though I was top priority.

We talked into the night until he finally insisted I get some sleep. My thoughts were too much of a whirlwind to fall asleep though. I was going to see Harry again. In person. In the flesh! Holy shit, was I nervous. I was more nervous than I was that night he came to my apartment. I was more nervous than I was before either of my previous book signings. I tossed and turned for over an hour until I finally got up to make some decaf herbal tea.

As I sat at my kitchen table, my head rested in my hands, it finally occurred to me why I was so nervous. It was because of something Harry had said on the phone.

“I plan on seeing you again,” he’d said. “And I plan on taking you out. And I’m gonna kiss you again.”

My body shook as I let out a breath. He’d also made a comment about his hotel bed being lonely, and he’d wished he was holding me. I knew what that implied. I wasn’t naive. But I suppose at the time I hadn’t expected to see him again, not really. Sure, I’d hoped, but I guess I just didn’t think it was actually going to happen. Now it was going to. I was going to be with him and…

Yeah. I was nervous as hell.

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venus-haze · 2 years

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Is a Dream a Lie If It Don’t Come True (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Your new job at the Memphis Evening Observer is the breakthrough you’ve been looking for after years of dead-end jobs. You strike up a friendship with Elvis, a handsome and charming man you meet at a nearby park during your lunch breaks. As you work more closely with the paper’s crime reporters, your eyes are opened to the dangerous aspects of Memphis you’d been blissfully unaware of. Good thing Elvis is looking out for you, right?

Note: Based on an anonymous request for a non-famous Yandere!Elvis AU. The reader is gender neutral, and no descriptors are used. I made up a name for the newspaper you work for, and I based the crime reporters on Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart. The title of this fic comes from one of my absolute favorite Bruce Springsteen songs, The River. Elvis is more of a “soft” yandere in this.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation, and stalking, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Mentions of sexual content that involves coercion but nothing explicit. Descriptions of violent crime, fighting, and feelings of anxiety and paranoia/being unsafe. Age gap (Elvis is in his late 30s, reader is in their 20s).

You woke up unreasonably early on the first morning of your new job, but you supposed it was better than waking up unreasonably late. Your first real office job, no longer in the throes of retail chaos was something you were undoubtedly excited for, yet your excitement quickly turned to anxiety as eight in the morning grew closer. Thanks to the typing skills you tirelessly practiced in your free time, you landed a job at a local newspaper, exaggerating your experience with the industry just a bit. You wouldn’t be a reporter, but in more of an administrative role, typing up whatever was asked and getting paid almost double what you used to make.

The first hour or so at the paper consisted of a whirlwind of introductions, and you knew you’d have to ask everyone for their names again at some point. Your new coworkers seemed friendly enough, even Hugh and Lara, the crime reporters, a husband and wife duo who spent the morning drinking black coffee while mumbling to each other about the weekend police reports. You sat in on the weekly staff meeting, trying to focus on what the editor-in-chief was saying and also what a fellow typist was whispering to you about the different people who spoke and topics that were discussed as the meeting proceeded. By the time you were on your lunch break, you felt like your brain was going to melt.

You’d prepared lunch at home, your brown paper bag in hand as you crossed the street to the park. The weather was comfortable as you walked around a bit, looking for a good place to sit. It was busy for a weekday, mostly retirees sitting around and other people from nearby businesses who had the same idea you did, enjoying lunch outside. You found an empty bench with a perfect view of the pond and made yourself comfortable as you watched the ducks swim around while you ate.

The autumn breeze felt nice as it blew by, calming your nerves a bit. You knew part of you felt overwhelmed by how different your new job was compared to your past ones, and you were afraid the editor-in-chief would know you were under-qualified and fire you right back to retail hell. You took a sip of the drink you had with you, trying to shake the negative thoughts from your mind.

You spent the next ten minutes or so people-watching, but no one seemed to be doing anything interesting. Silently, you cursed yourself for not at least bringing a book with you to pass the rest of your lunch break. Just as you were going to gather your stuff and go window-shopping to kill time, you were interrupted when a man approached.

“Mind if I join you?” the handsome man asked, holding a to-go bag from a nearby sandwich shop. “I usually sit here, but I don’t mind the company if you don’t.”

You shook your head, scooting over for him. “There’s plenty of room. I’m Y/N.”

“Elvis, nice to meet ya,” he smiled. “You work around here?”

“I work in that building, over there,” you said, pointing to one of the skyscrapers behind you. “Seventh floor, for the Memphis Evening Observer. I’m not a reporter though.”

“You wanna be?” he asked.

You thought back to the crime reporters you met that morning and shook your head. “No way. I’m happy being a typist. How about you?”

He pointed to a building adjacent to yours. “Sixth floor, accounting.”

“You like it?”

He shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

As the next few weeks went by, you found yourself eating lunch with Elvis almost everyday. He was kind and well-read, yet you found yourself preoccupied with how incredibly attractive he was. He had to be at least ten years older than you, but since you didn’t notice a ring on his finger, you figured there was no harm in subtly flirting with him, especially since he’d flirt back. You wondered if because of your age, he didn’t take your dropping hints that you were interested in him seriously–or maybe he was married and just allowed himself to indulge in the slightest bit of emotional infidelity.

When you had commented that he seemed familiar, as if you’d seen him before, he mentioned that a little over ten years earlier, he had a burgeoning music career and seemed almost embarrassed when your eyes lit up in recognition. He didn’t go into detail about his short-lived music career, but you knew there were a decent amount of teeny boppers who found mild success during your teenage years only for you to never hear about them again except in commercials for various household products.

It was obvious he loved music, but there was a sadness in his eyes when he’d speak about it, a longing for something that was lost, or never came to be in the first place. In another universe, you could see him being a star. Though you never pried, you did want to know what happened—did his music stop charting? Was there a scandal?

“It’s never too late to try again,” you said. “Some bars have open mics on weekends. I’d go with you, even.”

Elvis smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

When you got to your apartment that evening, you looked through your 45s, hoping to see one of his singles among your collection. You weren’t surprised when you didn’t have any, but disappointed nonetheless. That weekend when you went out with your friends, though, one of his songs was on the jukebox. As ‘Trouble’ played throughout the bar a few minutes later, you were brought back to listening to the song in your youth.

“Wasn’t this in a movie?” one of your friends asked. “I swear the guy who sings this was in a movie.”

Another friend shrugged. “Probably something from forever ago. Why’d you even put this on, Y/N?”

“Just wanted to hear it, I guess,” you said, now determined to get Elvis to go to one of the open mic nights.

As luck would have it, the very bar you and your friends were spending your Saturday night in did have open mic on Thursdays after seven. When you informed Elvis of this on Monday afternoon, he let you know he’d think about it. You didn’t want to pressure him, but it was clear that music was his passion, and he wasn’t entirely happy with how his life had turned out.

In the meantime, you found yourself feeling unsure about your own choice of profession. You’d never been scared of being in Memphis before, living in the city for years with no issues. You didn’t have the best relationship with your family, and had essentially been on your own since you were sixteen, though you couldn’t remember exactly what made you settle down in Memphis in the first place. Still, it seemed like you were the one increasingly tasked with typing for the small crime team, and some days, the stories would send a cold chill across your body.

Despite your deep-rooted horror at the subject matter, you found yourself hanging around Hugh and Lara’s desks, listening in on their conversations about the latest robbery or murder. Perhaps you’d been living in naivety for longer than you should have, as you started looking over your shoulder more, suspicious of even casual day-to-day interactions.

“You think that has any significance?” Hugh asked.

Lara raised a bemused eyebrow, “The fact that it was six feet away or the fact that her head was detached from her body in the first place?”

Hugh shrugged. “Either. Both.”

“New kid, whattya think?” Lara asked, startling you as she caught you eavesdropping. She still called you ‘new kid’ even though you’d been at the paper for months.

You walked over to their desks, standing next to Lara to get a look at what you assumed would be a police report.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, quickly turning your head away from the photo on Hugh’s desk. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a photo of it?”

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s grotesque. I don’t understand how anyone could do that to another person,” you said. “I think whoever did that probably knew the victim and was really angry at them or something. Going through that much effort seems so…personal.”

“So it’d be a crime of passion or a fed up stalker,” Hugh said.

Lara slapped the top of her desk. “That’s what I was saying.”

“You’re right, you happy?” Hugh conceded.

“He’s disappointed there isn’t a pattern.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What, like one of those killers—what do they call them?”

“Serial killers,” Lara answered. “I don’t know why he wants one here so bad. I barely get enough sleep as it is.”

“I don’t want one here, but it’d be a hell of a story. Could maybe even get a book deal out of it,” Hugh said.

You’d zoned out from Hugh’s rambling, somehow your gaze fell on the photo again. It was grainy, black and white, but the longer you stared at it, you swore it was your face on the decapitated head. Had you been so blind to the dangers of Memphis this whole time? You weren’t stupid, you knew cities were prone to higher crime rates, it just came with having a lot of people living in such close proximity to one another. Before working for the paper, though, it had all been in your peripheral. Being face-to-face with statistics, reports, and photos made you wonder how Hugh and Lara hadn’t gone crazy.

“Shit,” Lara said, noticing your dazed expression. “Y/N, c’mon, let’s get you a cup coffee or something.”

Just as the two of you started to make your way across the office to the breakroom, you noticed Elvis standing near the receptionist’s desk, an umbrella in his hand. His face lit up when he saw you, and you did the same.

“This the guy who makes you practically skip off to lunch every day?” Lara asked, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

You felt your face heat up at her observation as you approached Elvis.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” you asked.

“Weather’s not great today,” he said, lifting up his wet umbrella, “but I was wonderin’ if I could take you out to lunch? If you’re not too busy.”

Lara gave you a small smile as she nudged you with her elbow. “Go take an early lunch. I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks,” you said as she walked back to her desk. “Let me just get my things.”

It was a short walk to the sandwich shop that Elvis would regularly buy lunch from. If he didn’t bring something from home, he would have one of their to-go bags with him. As he was a regular customer, a man behind the counter greeted him, though he seemed surprised that Elvis was dining in and with someone.

The two of you were handed menus, and while he didn’t so much as pick up his, you took a moment to decide your order. Service was quick, since you’d come in just before lunch rush. While you were normally pretty hungry this time of day, you found yourself picking at your food and letting Elvis lead the conversation.

“You alright, Y/N? You’ve been awful quiet today,” Elvis asked.

You swallowed the lump in your throat that had been there since your conversation with Lara and Hugh earlier. “I swear I’ve never been afraid of living in Memphis, for as long as I’ve been here, but now, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not safe.”

“Livin’ by yourself ain’t safe, that’s for sure.”

You sighed, picking at your food. “I don’t know. I always thought I was fine on my own, but–”

“You don’t have to be on your own anymore, Y/N. I’m here,” he said, his voice sincere as he reached across the table and held your trembling hand in his. “I’ll look after you.”

“Thanks, Elvis. That makes me feel a lot better, really,” you said, giving him a small smile.

He let go of your hand after a moment and said, “I don’t know if this’ll help any, but I thought about that open mic thing tomorrow, and I think I’m gonna do it.”

“Seriously?”

“What’ve I got to lose?” he said. “I can pick you up from work, and we can go together, if you want.”

“I’d love that! You have no idea how excited I am.”

Having lunch with Elvis made you feel a lot better by the time you got back to the office. He was so easy to talk to, and you had to admit your crush on him blossomed more when he said he was there for you. Maybe a bit of liquid courage at the open mic night would be just what the both of you needed, and if you had misread everything, at least you’d have a fallback.

When you got to your desk, Hugh walked over and apologized for not warning you about the photo, explaining that it was just part of the job for he and Lara. They were so used to it that he’d forgotten it would affect you so much. You appreciated his apology, but it still left you somewhat rattled that people could even become desensitized to such violence. It made sense, though, they saw it so often in their line of work, that it was almost normal to them.

You didn’t sleep well that night, waking up every few hours, every sudden noise making your heart beat out of your chest. At one point, you could swear you saw someone’s face in your bedroom window, but when you turned the light on, there was no one there. Still, you closed the blinds and pulled the curtains shut.

When your alarm clock screamed at you in the morning, you jolted awake, finding yourself in a cold sweat. As soon as you stood up, you could feel the exhaustion through your body, and considered calling out of work. You decided to push through your morning routine with a hot shower and hotter coffee, not wanting to let Elvis down by not being there for him that evening.

You’d taken the bus to work instead of driving, since Elvis would be picking you up afterward. The day flew by, and all you could focus on during lunch with Elvis was prying information about what he planned to do for the open mic, but to your disappointment, he insisted that he wanted it to be a surprise.

The rest of the day at work was spent helping Lara on a low-stakes story about how there’d been reports across the city of someone stealing gasoline from people’s cars. You were grateful for the change of pace, but were still restless until five, when you grabbed your things and headed downstairs to wait in front of the building for Elvis. You realized you had no idea what kind of car he drove, but luckily he had the windows rolled down, so you could see inside as you quickly got in so as to not hold up traffic.

“Nice car,” you commented as he drove up the street.

“She does alright. You know, I used to have a pink Cadillac,” he said.

“No way.”

“Sure did. Bought it for my mama; she couldn’t drive, though, and it started gettin’ old and rusted. I loved that car.”

Unsure of how to respond, you placed your hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. He looked at your hand, then at you, and smiled.

There was still time before the open mic at the bar started, so he drove to one of his favorite restaurants for dinner. It was a cozy place, and the comfort food seemed to calm his nerves. He explained that while he loved music and still sang and played guitar on his own time, he hadn’t performed in front of people in years.

When you arrived at the bar, there was a decent amount of people for a weeknight, and someone was already on stage singing. Elvis looked a bit nervous as he held his guitar in one hand, his other arm around your waist. You suggested getting a drink first, which he didn’t hesitate to agree to. His eyes darted around the bar, and you noticed his leg bouncing.

“You’ll do great. I know you will,” you assured him.

He huffed out a laugh. “We’ll see.”

A few more people went up to perform, all of them pretty talented in their own right. The bar had filled up even more. You had no idea the open mic nights were so popular. Suddenly, Elvis decided he was ready, and you walked with him to the side of the stage, where the host for the night was standing.

“Yeah, man, you can go on right after her,” the host said, motioning toward the woman who was presently on stage.

“I know you got this, but do you need anything?” you asked.

Elvis gave you a sly smile. “How ‘bout a kiss for good luck?”

As if he needed luck, but you nodded, thrilled to finally get to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours, and you gently cupped his face with your hand, caressing his cheek with your thumb. He pulled you closer, your chest pressed against his, and you gasped as he gently bit your lower lip. The moment was cut short by the host telling Elvis it was his turn to go on, and you would’ve been annoyed if it wasn’t your chance to see Elvis perform.

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve done this, and I doubt any of y’all remember me,” Elvis said into the microphone. “But for those of you who ain’t dinosaurs, I’m Elvis Presley—“

There was a faint cheer and some light applause from the throughout the bar, which seemed to make Elvis relax a bit, as he bantered a little with the audience before going into ‘Blue Suede Shoes’ to the delight of the bar patrons. People clapped along to the beat or got up to dance, and you knew you must have looked like a fool sitting next to the stage with a wide smile on your face.

Elvis’ voice was deeper and stronger than the recording from early in his career that you’d heard just a week before. His stage presence was unbeatable, and you couldn’t help but giggle when he sent a wink your way. Just as quickly as he started singing, the song was over—but his performance wasn’t, if the crowd had anything to say about it. Someone drunkenly shouted “encore!” which led to a chant throughout the bar until Elvis acquiesced with ‘Hound Dog.’

You noticed someone else waiting near the stage for their turn to go up, and you almost felt sorry for them, having to follow up Elvis. The smile that spread across his face at the bar’s overwhelming applause for him was infectious. You didn’t hesitate to run over to him as he walked off of the small stage, throwing your arms around him and kissing his cheek.

“Elvis, you were incredible!” you exclaimed.

“You’re somethin’ else, Y/N. Got me dreamin’ again,” he said, laughter in his voice.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

He merely smiled in response, as several people had gathered around him to praise his performance and mention that they loved his music and had wondered what happened to him, glad to see him on stage again, even in a little dive like this. You whispered that you’d be waiting for him at the bar while he spoke with the small group of fans. He nodded, giving you a quick kiss before you walked away.

You ordered another two of what you and Elvis had been drinking before, and you couldn’t help but feel proud of him, hoping this would be the first open mic of many that he’d go to. Maybe he would never reach his former level of stardom, but Memphis certainly hadn’t forgotten about him. You were pulled from your thoughts by some intoxicated patron who clearly had no concept of what personal space was.

“Hey, baby,” a man slurred as leaned next to you against the bar. “What’re you drinkin’? I’ll buy you another.

“Thanks, but I’m here with someone,” you said, trying to stay as a calm as possible.

“I don’t see anyone here.”

“He’ll be right back,�� you answered quickly.

He rolled his eyes, laughing as if you were joking. “That means I can’t buy you a drink?”

“Please leave me alone. I’m not interested.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the man raged, grabbing your arm.

You tried pulling your arm from him, but panicked when you realized that even drunk, he was much stronger than you. “Let go of me. Let go!”

It felt like you blinked, and the man went head first into the bar. His face slammed against the hardwood, and you wanted to throw up at the sound of his nose definitely breaking upon impact.

You looked to Elvis, who, instead of leaving the man he had just shoved in his misery, grabbed him by his collar and practically dragged him out of the bar. Immobilized by shock and fear, you stayed frozen in place until Elvis stormed back inside a few minutes later, his hands bloody as he slammed a few dollars on the bar and gathered you and his guitar.

“Party’s over,” he said, a darkness in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m sorry the night got ruined,” you mumbled.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for. Sons of bitches like that make me sick,” he spat. “I’m bringin’ you home. Shouldn’t be out so late anyway.”

“Can I stay the night with you?” you asked anxiously as you followed him to his car. “I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“‘Course, darlin’,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

During the drive to his place, your gaze kept drifting to the steering wheel, and how he seemed unfazed by the blood that had dried on his hands. You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what conversation to make with him, so the drive was silent except for the radio playing softly.

He pulled into his garage, his house a carbon copy of every other on the block except for the paint. You figured a suburban neighborhood would consist of mostly families, rather than bachelors like him. If he hadn’t kissed you the way he did back at the bar, you’d still be wondering if he were married or not.

“I’m gonna wash up,” he said, nodding in the direction of what you assumed was the bathroom. “You make yourself at home, baby.”

You poked around his living room while he was washing the blood off of his hands. His bookshelf had a lot of interesting titles that ranged from religious topics to fiction, and you felt a bit of pride seeing some of the books you’d recommended to him among them. The walls had two dozen or so picture frames, each with photos of what appeared to be his family, some of him with other men in army uniforms, and a few of him as a young man during his singing career with various celebrities. None of the photos were recent, however, and you noticed a few frames didn’t have photos in them at all.

When he returned from washing up, he regaled you with the stories behind each of the photos, the two of you staying up until late in the night. Most of the photos had some happy or funny memory associated with them, but there was always a hint of yearning in his voice with the ones from the height of his fame.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said.

He nodded. “Shoot.”

“Why did you stop making music? It seems like your career was going really well, and then you just stopped.”

“It was, but uh—I had a girlfriend who my manager wanted me to stop seein’, her name was Dixie. I kept seein’ her anyway in secret. After I made my fourth movie, I got her pregnant, so I took a break from singin’ for a little while so we could get married,” he explained. “I got drafted not long after that. My mama died, and my break from music just got longer and longer. I still sang at our church, but after me and Dixie split up, they said they didn’t want a divorced man singin’ in the choir.”

“Oh my god, Elvis, I’m so sorry,” you said, moving to console him. You gasped when you accidentally put too much pressure on your arm, still tender from where you’d been manhandled. Elvis’ expression darkened as he looked at the faint bruises blossoming on your skin.

“I shoulda killed ‘im,” he growled.

You’d never been afraid of Elvis before, but you could tell he meant it. “It’s nothing. He just grabbed my arm—“

“What if I hadn’t been there? No one else was jumpin’ up to help you, were they?”

“No,” you answered quietly.

“No,” he repeated. “When I said I was gonna look out for you, I meant it, Y/N. You got no one else.”

“My friends—“

“Your little friends can’t look after you, not the way a man can. You need a man to take care of you, don’t ya baby?” he said, the double-meaning of his words not lost on you as you looked at him wide-eyed.

You nodded, all of the fear and anxiety you’d felt the past few weeks coming back to you. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He exhaled, as if ready to argue if you disagreed. “Good, I’m glad you see I just want what’s best for you.”

It made sense, Elvis had so much more life experience than you, being older and having such a whirlwind career, even if it was short lived. Meanwhile, your naivety led to you essentially being traumatized at work, so green to the dangers of city life despite considering yourself capable and independent before. When you commented how late it was, that you still had to work in just a few hours, Elvis offered the spare bedroom–or his. You felt your face heat up when you timidly told him that you wanted to sleep with him, and he teased you for your embarrassment, assuring you nothing would happen.

Of course, fifteen minutes into sharing a bed, half-naked with a man you were incredibly attracted to, so much happened, too much. You found yourself almost overwhelmed by his intensity, and though he certainly did take care of you, he did so like a man possessed, as if he were taking what he was owed, entitled to even. You supposed, in your dazed state afterward, it was the least you could do after everything he’d been through and had done for you. You both called out sick from your respective jobs in the morning, and you spent the rest of the weekend at his place.

Within a month, you’d completely moved into Elvis’ house, subletting your apartment until your lease was up and the new tenant could take it over for you. You felt safer living with Elvis, especially since he’d drive you to and from work, and you’d still have lunch every day with him. It didn’t take much convincing for you to agree to sell your own car. You didn’t go anywhere by yourself anymore, you didn’t want to. When you’d brought it up the first few weeks of living with him, he’d remind you of the dangers that await you in the world on your own, and you were quick to change your mind.

You were still a nervous wreck from work, even though the editor-in-chief had agreed to stop having you work with Lara and Hugh so closely—at Elvis’ request, of course. In your free moments, you were practically glued to Elvis’ side, whether at the grocery store or when he’d perform at the occasional open mic night in Memphis. Every time you thought things weren’t so bad, got a little too comfortable on your own, something would happen that’d leave you as terrified as ever, crying in Elvis’ arms as he’d softly scold you for not being with him, reminding you that not everyone was as good of a person as he was, that he was the only person you could really trust. As long as he could do anything about it, it would stay that way.

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @crash-and-cure @kittenlittle24 @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan @djsjs13949 @butlerslut @ash-omalley @powerofelvis @sad-bisexual-bitch @peachy-deaths @kibumslatina @adoreyouusugar @raefoxiegirl @donnamarie23 @ilovehobi101 @memphis-menace @animeketsu-yander

#austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis

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clatoera · 9 months

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🧸 🫂 💄 🌟 for Clove!!

BESTIE I WAS SO EXCITED TO DO THIS I HAD TO WAIT BECUAS EI WANTED TO MAKE SURE I GOT IT RIGHT!!

These are always in ARWBFB AU bc...I said so :)

Thank you thank you i'm so excited to do this.

🧸 A headcanon about their childhood

-As we know..Clove was raised by a grandmother who resented her and a father who pretended she didn't exist because that was more convenient for him. The resentment of her grandmother, and her often absent guardianship, is why Clove learned to cook at an early age. She was four and a half when she figured out how to crawl onto the counter top and reach the bread and peanut butter, and she subsisted on peanut butter sandwiches for weeks at a time. Her grandmother never questioned when her seven year old grandchild knew how to make fried eggs before school, or when she was ten and would walk by with pan grilled chicken on a plate. She did, however, get questions when eight year old Clove discovered grocery shopping. She came home from school with a backpack full of ingredients for spaghetti, and it isn't until she is walking past later that her grandmother realized she didn't even have noodles int he house that morning. She's self sufficient.

🫂 A friendship headcanon

Cato was Clove's best friend their entire lives. That's well known by anyone who spent more than half a minute with them. However, once Cato's title switches from best friend to something much much more, it is Glimmer who ultimately does claim the role of her best friend. And While Clove would like to pretend she isn't... she is absolutely her best friend. Clove's love language somehow becomes cooking after the war, when all her friends (her family) chose to pile into her home and ask for meals. She pretends it irritates her, but really, it lowkey makes her feel good. In fact, when Glimmer calls her in the middle of the night (or Marvel calls for Glimmer, because she doesn't want to bother Clove) when she's pregnant or has new babies Clove bitches and complains to Cato but she goes every. single. time. (Cato goes too, even on the middle of the night trek to D1, he isn't passing up his chance to hold babies, like it's not fair she gets to go do it just because she's useful). Her love for those friends runs so deep, her loyalty goes so deep, that when the children of her friends are old enough to eat real people food she is over there weekly making them new things to try. She isn't even asked to do so.

💄 An appearance headcanon

Clove was absolutely teased for her size. Compared to D2 girls she is training and competing against she is significantly smaller than most of them in all ways. She is severely underestimated and as a result had to develop that fierceness we all know in love. Not only is she underestimated by girls, she is ignored by boys who do not look at her too long in the way they do the other girls their own age (which, she doesn't mind, she's not interested anyway). It is not until she is an adult that she finds out that the reason those boys never looked at her too long is not because of her size or the way she looks, but because Cato had threatened to break the neck of anyone who did (jealous jealous jealous possessive boy).

🌟 A headcanon about their desires/wishes

Clove's biggest wish/desire/goal her entire life was to go into the games and win. However, once she achieves this, she realizes that she has never, not once, thought about what comes after. It is somewhat of an identity crisis, even more so years after the war when the games were no more. Clove does not know who she is other than a trainee for the games. It is such a dilemma after the games ends. She never even thought about getting a pet. Once she achieved her goal..she was a little lost.

Thank you thank you THANK you my friend this was SO FUN! @bodyelectric77. I love my girly pop.

#arwbfb tag #clato #cato and clove #clove tag #arwbfb au #clove kentwell

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bomberqueen17 · 6 months

Text

ok if you start typing a post title and then backspace you lose the entire field to have a post title and there's no way to get it back, so here we are, untitled.

So I spent two weeks at the farm, and was trialing Adderall, and it was sort of impossible to make any judgements about the medication because when I'm at the farm there's such a routine and task lists and stuff it's easy to just follow along, which is part of the reason I go there. But now I'm home and after a three-minute video consulation that cost $210 after insurance I am just doing two more weeks of the same thing. So I'm going to try to conscientiously log symptoms and side effects and things, so that at my next $200+ consultation I can get like some actual advice maybe.

(Whatever. I have the money in my HSA I might as well.)

So I'll go on about that after the cut probably but first: Eclipse!

My niece and mom are coming to hang for the eclipse, and my mother-not-law will join us. We may end up hanging out at her house or at mine, I'm meant to be scouting locations-- there are many many events going on locally, some free and some not, but there is also an estimated tourist load of about three million excess people expected in the region, and I just feel like traffic is going to be so terrible. I don't want to go anywhere I have to drive to! And I don't want to be stuck sitting in a venue somewhere.

So I'm gonna come up with snacks and a couple of activities (probably involving cameras!) at my house or at M-N-L's if her view is better (she has a paved patio that faces south so I suspect it will be; my best vantage point is my unshaded concrete stoop, as my sunporch has a western view and is not totally unimpeded).

Ideas for snacks and activities welcome, my starter list below the cut.

Activities:

Beforehand, I will get either white or black t-shirts, and we can decorate them with dye or bleach, and make ourselves commemmorative shirts. I have everything I need for this but the shirts.

Set up a camera on a tripod to record the eclipse? Set up another one pointed at a white sheet to record shadows.

Have several objects prepared to cast shadows with. I probably can't get a leafy branch this time of year, but a couple of colanders, a grid or something, a stretch of lace, that kind of thing, mounted in embroidery hoops or whatever, to look at the cool shadow shapes.

Of course I have eclipse glasses.

Snacks: oh i can't put this one in bullet points thanks tumblr, no i don't want this to be a gigantic asterisk never mind

frosted cookies cheese plate we can pretend are in festive shapes, my ass is not going to bother with that vegetables lol

Anyway I'm still sorta brainstorming that. My niece is ten, so it's not like i need little-kid stuff, I just want things that will actually be cool to observe. I haven't researched this yet I just remember watching leaf shadows at the 2017 eclipse.

So that's that. Currently I'm tidying the house kinda lowkey, because it's in better shape than usual and also it's just BIL and niece stopping overnight, but it's a good trial run of the guest bedroom. I'm mostly there and am on a 15-min break just now. Still have to set up the guest bed which means moving shit out of the way in that room.

Now: Symptom log.

Adderall makes me very dehydrated. I drink and drink and drink until I can't stand water anymore, and I'm still sorta thirsty and I pee like. Twice a day at most. Kinda weird.

During the two weeks at the farm I had one incidence of a terrible 20-hour headache, and another incidence of vertigo, and I think both were just plain dehydration, because I was drinking water like a normal slightly thirsty person. No, I need to have a huge mug next to me at all times and just drink out of it every couple of minutes. it's intense.

I also sweat really easily. it doesn't seem to be affecting my actual stamina; I get overheated and kind of huff and puff with light activity, but once I'm moving I'm fine and can do a normal day's amount of work without undue fatigue. I'm not sweating enough to explain the dehydration, but I am sweating a whole lot more than normal for this time of year. I may have problems with this in the heat and am already preparing to give that some thought.

Insomnia: not really anything outside my normal. I've had problems for a few years where I'll not be able to sleep, or will wake ultra-early and have trouble returning to sleep, and I've continued with this but no more often than normal and have in fact had several *very* good nights of sleep. I also, the first or second day I took this stuff, had an *incredible* nap around 2pm when I think the dose wore off, and then slept fine that same night. So. I feel kind of lucky with that and will not complain.

But: what is the medication actually doing?? Is my concentration better?

Short answer: not that I've noticed. Hard to observe, at the farm; there's an external schedule there, and I've never had much trouble just getting on that. It's something I've done for years; I love hitching a ride on a household's schedule and then I don't miss meals or lose hours to accidental procrastination. "What's got to get done today? Here's the list, pick what you want and when to do it" has always been my ideal situation. I was able to accomplish more than the list most days, and my motivation was good, and as usual my limitation was not drive but physical pain. (Yes, the PT has helped my bad hip so much, but my "good" hip was a bastard the entire time, with the awful radiating nerve pain from my knee through my lower back. Don't like that, PT isn't fixing that nearly so well.)

So, now that I'm at home, I've had two days totally on my own schedule, and the results are uh. not good. I still don't know how to make my own to-do lists very well, still don't have any clear notion of what I can expect to achieve in a day, still don't really know how to break down tasks well, and super don't know how to initiate them. I fell back on my old junebugging ways, where you just say "ok go!" and do whatever pops into your mind in the order it occurs to you, and hope some of the things on your list get done, and that's got me through a fair bit of housecleaning and putting my stuff away and such.

But I've been having, the same as or more than usual, problems where I pause and then get stuck. I go to pee and wind up on my phone on the toilet scrolling some app or other until my leg falls asleep. I go in the kitchen intending to make lunch and wind up staring out the window a while. I set out to do the dishes and wind up cleaning every window I can reach.

So it's frustrating, I can't tell if this is better or worse than before, and I also think the medication wears off in the early afternoon so my effective window of testing is really short and not really getting me anywhere. But we'll see, I still have a week and a half so I will try some more non-medical frameworks to see if I can't prop the meds up into giving me some more function. And yes, I'm sorta recovering from the relocation, that's always an issue, so maybe the last two days being not ideal are inevitable and I just have to settle more into routine. But that's frustrating.

Anyway. OK. Off my ass and back to work.

#about the author #solar eclipse #adhd #idk

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totowlff · 2 years

Text

chapter twenty-five — edvard

➝ an intimate moment between elisabeth and toto goes public. they decide they need to have a serious talk with niki.

➝ word count: 6k

➝ warnings: smut

MAY, 2016

Elisabeth absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the half-empty cup of espresso. The three-pointed star made from cocoa powder in the froth was now misshapen and distorted. She had already eaten breakfast at the Hôtel de Paris, where she was staying for the race weekend. However, she could never resist having one of Barbara's meticulously prepared espressos.

As she sipped the rest of her drink, she watched the yachts moored in the marina, gently swaying in the waves and sun. Elisabeth wasn't generally a fan of race weekends in Monaco because of the hustle and bustle, however, she couldn't deny that the place had a charm and beauty that she couldn't explain. She was fairly certain that her opinion of the little piece of land squeezed between France and the sea had been influenced by the fact that it had been the setting for some of the most important moments in her history with Toto.

It was there that she had celebrated the first victory of the new phase of the team, under his and her father’s command. It was there that she’d thought she had lost him forever. It was there that she had summoned the courage to face her fear of the public in order to impress him.

Monaco would always be special.

Elisabeth downed the rest of her coffee in one gulp and heard commotion coming from the entrance of the motorhome. Setting the cup down on the pale wood table, she realized from the clicks of the cameras and cries for a statement that someone important must be arriving in the motorhome. Considering she was in Monaco, it wouldn't surprise her if the visitor was a super model or a famous football player.

However, it was a familiar face that came into the hospitality area — the first face she’d seen when she woke up that morning. Toto burst into the hospitality area with Bradley, the team’s director of communications, hot on his heels. It didn't take her more than a second to realize that he wasn't at all happy about the crowd of photographers and journalists he’d had to fight his way through.

The current season was shaping up to be a bit different from previous ones. Before, the rivalry between Nico and Lewis was under control. This year, however, both drivers seemed determined to make the lives of everyone on the team a living hell.

As if the W07's reliability issues and the organizational changes carried out in the garage weren't enough, Nico was deeply committed to not falling behind Lewis for the third year in a row, while Lewis would never give up fighting for the title as long as he had the chance. It was a recipe for disaster.

Niki and Toto both noticed that there was something different between the two drivers and tried to intervene as soon as possible. There were numerous meetings with both of them, all with the aim of calming down the tensions between them and trying to keep them focused on a common objective, which was the team's success.

When Elisabeth saw Nico lose control of the car and crash into Lewis at the third turn of the Spanish Grand Prix, she knew that they had reached a point of no return.

She had never seen Toto as angry as he was that day, to the point of almost getting into a fight with one of his drivers. After Lewis and Nico returned to the garage, he spent ten minutes yelling at them, with the entire team as witness. As if the situation wasn't tense enough, Nico thought it would be a good idea to give a wry answer to one of Toto's questions. It was enough for the team principal to lunge at the German.

— No, Torger — Elisabeth said softly, putting herself between him and Nico, hands flat on his chest, pushing him back slightly, a suggestion for him to back off — Take a deep breath. Calm down. It’s not worth it.

The effect of her words on Toto was almost immediate, and it didn't go unnoticed by her father.

— I wish I had your influence over him — Niki laughed, as they drove back to their hotel near Barcelona's Port Olimpic.

Watching Toto walk with heavy steps towards the stairs that led to the upper floor, she started to wonder what the press outside had asked to have made him so upset. However, Elisabeth was pulled from her thoughts when she heard someone calling her name. When she met the team principal's eyes, she didn't even have a chance to answer before he nodded quickly, indicating for her to follow him.

She got up and followed him up the stairs to his office, behind a frosted glass door. Toto held the door open for her and Bradley to enter. His office inside the motorhome was a cramped cubicle, with only a desk, an office chair, an armchair, and a small table in the corner.

There were two long shelves on the wall, decorated with potted plants, awards, some framed photos of the team, photos of the kids, and a photo of him with her and her dad. She stared at the group picture of the team taken the day they’d won the first Constructors’ title, and it took her a while to realize that the communications director was talking.

— Toto, I don't understand, why did you bring Elisabeth here with us? — he questioned.

— I need her opinion, Bradley.

— About what? — she asked, curious.

The team principal rubbed his face, sighing.

— Can you explain the situation to her? — Toto asked.

Bradley took his phone out of the pocket of his khakis.

— Well, Elisabeth, last night I got some emails from a few Austrian magazines and newspapers asking for official statements about some photos that had started to circulate…

She felt her hands go cold.

— Which pictures? — Elisabeth asked. She was surprised by how shaky her voice sounded.

— These pictures — Bradley said, handing her his phone.

The first image was a close-up shot of Toto walking on the deck of a boat. He didn’t have a shirt on, drops of water running down his body indicating that he had just come out of the sea. In the next image, he had a wide smile on his face and was accompanied by a woman who was laying on a futon, her back to the camera.

However, it was the third photo that had her stomach threatening to bring up her breakfast. Sitting with his back to the camera, Toto had the woman on his lap, while she had her head pressed into shoulder, as if she were marking the white skin with her lips, her hair covering her face.

— What are they asking? — she questioned.

— These are the first images of Toto with another woman since breaking up with Aurélie Droz, and there’s some speculation about who she could be, since the photos don't show her face.

Elisabeth looked at Toto, a lump forming in her throat.

— What did they ask you in the emails?

— If Toto has anything to say on the matter — Bradley replied — I've recommended that he make a statement that he won't comment on his personal life.

The team principal looked at her, an anxious expression on his face.

— What do we do? — he asked her.

— I don't know — Elisabeth whispered, her voice still tense and shaky.

Keeping the relationship out of the public eye and hidden from her father had taken a lot of effort from them. There had been countless excuses they'd come up with for their families and friends so they wouldn't discover that their friendliness toward each other was hiding something deeper.

She knew that, someday, her and Toto would have to face the consequences of the choice they had made that night in Sochi, but Elisabeth was hoping to be able to do it on her own terms, in her own time — not because the paparazzi had photographed her in a private moment with him.

However, the damage was done, at least for Bradley, who was staring at them. It finally dawned on him why Toto had requested her presence.

— It's you — he stammered, looking a little shocked.

Elisabeth looked at Bradley, a nervous smile on her lips. There was no point in denying it, especially when he had pictures of her straddling Toto's lap on his cell phone.

— Since when?

— 2014 — Toto muttered, glancing at the communications director.

— And you are…

— Together, yes — she said, trying to focus on the conversation and not on all the catastrophic possibilities that crossed her mind.

— Secretly, I assume.

Elisabeth nodded again.

Bradley stared at the photo on his phone screen for a few seconds, seeming to absorb the news. He turned his head toward the shelves, his eyes finding something that made him look back at her.

— Does Niki know?

She took a deep breath. Elisabeth knew he would ask that.

— No, he doesn't and I — she stopped, looking quickly at Toto — Well, we would like to keep it that way for the time being.

The communications director blinked.

— Elisabeth, you know I don't have the power to stop those photos from going around...

— No, I'm not talking about the pictures. I’m talking about you, Bradley. If you can keep this confidential, I would be very grateful. Not just me, but Toto as well.

Bradley looked back and forth between her and the team principal, as if he was trying to figure out if they were trying to convey the same message. The seconds of silence dragged on slowly, tension building with every movement of the communications director's eyes.

— It's okay, Elisabeth, I won’t say anything — he said, making her feel a bit of relief in the midst of all the agony that was settling in her chest.

— Thank you — she said softly, giving Bradley a grateful smile.

— What should I do regarding the emails asking for statements, though?

She turned to look at Toto, who was leaning against the pale wooden desk with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes were glued to the floor, the concentration on his face indicating that he was considering the options and the risks that each one involved, like the good investor he was.

— We'll go along with your suggestion, Bradley — he said, finally, looking up at her, as if seeking her consent — It’s a simple and straightforward statement. I'm not discussing my personal life.

The communications director nodded, typing something into his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.

— Well, I'll try to handle the crowd outside — he said, heading towards the office door — You can relax.

She gave him a shy smile.

— Thanks, Bradley.

— I'm just doing my job, it’s no trouble — he replied, leaving the room.

Elisabeth and Toto were alone.

The inside of the office sank into sepulchral silence. Toto was still leaning against the table, staring into space again. Her heart was still beating heavily in her chest. It felt like she was finally realizing the gravity of the situation they were in.

— Fuck — Elisabeth whispered, feeling her throat tighten again, her eyes filling with tears. She replayed the day before in her head, trying to understand where they had gone wrong, when they had been so careless.

She didn't want to leave the hotel that Friday in the first place. With fatigue taking over her body and two intense days ahead, her plan was to take advantage of the free day to disconnect from the hustle of a race weekend for a few hours. However, Toto had other plans for them.

— I thought you wanted to marathon 'The Godfather' with me — Elisabeth muttered, a little annoyed.

— Your offer is tempting, but mine is one you can't refuse — he replied, the Vito Corleone quote making her smile.

— E qual è la tua offerta, Don Toto Wolff? — she asked in clumsy Italian, reminiscent of the years she lived in Modena while her father worked as a consultant at Ferrari.

— My offer is a surprise.

— A surprise?

— Yes, a surprise — he said, a mischievous smile on his face.

— What kind of surprise? — she asked, her fingers caressing his cheek.

Toto laughed.

— If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

Elisabeth sighed. “Well, he has a point”, she thought.

— And where is this… Surprise?

— Well…

— Don’t tell me it's in your suitcase like this one was — she said, lifting her right hand, where the ring he'd given her the day she signed the Amira Air contract was nestled. The diamonds sparkled in the soft sunlight that entered the room through the balcony curtains.

— It's not in my suitcase — Toto said, lacing his fingers through hers — I don't think it would fit.

The hint made Elisabeth raise her eyebrows.

— It wouldn’t fit?

— No — he whispered, smiling.

— So, if it's not in your suitcase, where is it?

— Get dressed and I'll show you.

She placed a tender kiss on his lips before getting out of bed and going to her luggage, looking for something to wear. However, as she took the jeans out of the suitcase, Elisabeth heard a laugh behind her back.

— What's the problem? — she turned to face Toto, finding him sitting on the bed, a smirk on his face.

— I don't think this is the best choice for where we're going — he replied.

— Any suggestions on what would be better?

— That bikini of yours would be nice.

— Which one? — Elisabeth raised her eyebrows again.

— The black one. You look beautiful in it.

With flushed cheeks and a smile on her face, she found the bathing suit Toto had mentioned and went to the bathroom to change. Elisabeth put on a light white linen dress over top of the swimsuit, and put a pair of sunglasses on while taking one last look in the mirror before turning back to Toto. He was in the process of pulling a white t-shirt over his navy blue shorts.

— How’s this? Good? — she asked.

— Perfect — he smiled.

They left the Hôtel de Paris through different entrances, getting into the car Toto had rented for the weekend — a black Mercedes-AMG S500 Coupe with tinted windows. As she settled into the passenger seat, Toto looked over at her and smiled.

— Where to, Miss Lauda? — he asked Elisabeth, his tone formal.

— With you? Wherever you like, Mr. Wolff — she replied, her voice thick with certainty. It didn't matter where he wanted to go, whether it was Oxford, Vienna, Monaco, or even hell — she was willing to go with him.

Driving through the narrow streets of the Principality, Toto took her away from the crush of race team employees, celebrities, fans, and journalists who were crowding downtown Monte-Carlo. When she saw signs indicating that they were approaching the French border, she couldn't stop a question from escaping her lips.

— Are we getting close?

— Yes — he replied, carefully going around a roundabout to enter a narrow alley. A few meters later, the team principal parked the car in a tight space along the sidewalk, near a marina.

As he switched off the car’s ignition, he looked at Elisabeth with a smile.

— We’re here. Shall we?

After a short walk along the pier, where boats of different sizes and levels of luxury were moored, Toto stopped in front of one of them. As she took a closer look at the white yacht, she noticed an Austrian flag attached to the top canopy, flapping in the ocean breeze.

— Toto…

— Yes?

— Is this your boat?

— Well… I would prefer to say that it’s our boat.

Elisabeth looked at him, eyes wide.

— Did you buy a boat?

— Yes, I did.

— Why?

— Because I saw how much you enjoyed sailing with the kids in Porto Cervo. You were so happy that day, I thought it was a good idea to have a boat of our own, so we can sail whenever we want.

She cracked a wide smile as she looked at the vessel. It was smaller than many of the other yachts in the harbor, but it was elegant, with clean lines and light-toned decor. As she took a few steps along the dock, she glanced at the side of the boat, where there was a single word written in elegant handwriting.

— ‘Edvard’?

— Yes.

— Did you choose that name?

— Yes. The previous name was something in an aboriginal language from Australia, I think. It was nice, but for us, it didn’t mean anything. I wanted to give it a name that meant something to us.

— So you chose the name of the restaurant where we first met?

— Exactly — Toto said with a smile, placing his hands on her waist, his eyes scanning her expression — What do you think?

Elisabeth paused for a few seconds, searching for the right words. It was one thing to get a dress or a ring chosen by Toto, but to get a boat named after the restaurant where they had met was quite another. It was unique, just like him.

— It's wonderful — she stammered, bringing her hands up to his face — You're wonderful, Toto Wolff.

— I try to be — he replied with a smug smile, before capturing her lips in a slow, gentle kiss, one capable of making her melt in his arms, completely inebriated by the love she felt for him. It was deliciously intoxicating and she wanted more, always more.

After a few seconds, she pulled her face away from his, looking at him with a smile.

— I love you, my dear.

— I love you too, baby — Toto replied, kissing her forehead — Shall we set sail?

Elisabeth nodded, and the team principal loosened the vessel’s mooring rope from the dock tie. He took her hand and helped her step carefully onto the yacht. Crossing the deck towards the cockpit, she couldn’t help but feel a little tense as she saw Toto sitting at the helm.

— Do you know how to pilot a yacht?

— I do — he said, pressing some buttons and fiddling with some levers. It didn't take long for the engine to roar to life below them.

— Do you really? — she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders.

— Do you think I'd buy a boat without knowing how to pilot it, Elisabeth? — Toto asked, slowly maneuvering the yacht out of its slip and out of the marina. She leaned in, bringing her face closer to his.

— Never, Captain Wolff — she whispered, kissing Toto on the cheek.

Leaving the docks behind, she stood alongside him as they sailed along the coast, exchanging laughs and knowing looks. They had left behind the cameras and prying eyes, and it felt like they could step out of the roles of “just coworkers” they played and assume their true places in each other's lives, if only for a few hours. In a way, doing it outside the walls of their Oxford house and of their penthouse walls in Vienna was liberating.

As Port Hercule came into view, Toto began to slow the yacht down. Elisabeth was practically mesmerized by the sight of the crowded vessels and left her spot at his side to walk across the deck, towards the futon that sat at the stern. She sat down, settling herself amongst the blue, green, and turquoise cushions, and heard the boat's engine turn off, leaving just the sound of the waves lapping against the yacht’s hull. A comforting warmth spread through her chest — she felt like she was finally at peace and could relax.

Elisabeth was so relaxed that she didn't hear Toto drop the vessel’s anchor, or his footsteps right behind her.

— I'm going for a swim, do you want to join me?

She turned around to face him, smiling as she realized that he had already removed his white shirt, leaving his toned torso exposed.

— I'll stay here. I want to get some sun.

— I think you'd better take off that dress of yours — Toto smiled, walking past her, climbing over to the edge of the boat.

— Why?

— Well, you don’t want to get any strange tan lines — he said before jumping gracefully into the sea, splashing water onto the deck.

Smiling, Elisabeth took off the dress she was wearing as a coverup, tossing the fabric into a corner of the futon before settling back into the cushions. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. The high, wheeling calls of shorebirds and the motion of the waves gently rocking the vessel was lulling her into a state of deep relaxation.

She had no idea how much time she spent laying there, enjoying the kiss of the warm sun on her skin and the cool breeze that kept her from getting too hot. However, she was almost dozing when she felt something cold fall into her belly. A drop of water. Elisabeth grumbled a little as she ran her hand over her warm skin, trying to dry it off. But then another came. And another. Each one made her skin crawl a bit from the chill.

Opening her eyes, Elisabeth discovered the source of the cold water that was dripping onto her. Sitting next to her, Toto had his wet hand stretched out over her body, wiggling his fingers to make droplets fall onto her skin.

— Toto — she growled, running a hand over her abdomen, trying to dry herself off.

— What, Liesl? — he purred, teasing her.

— Could you stop? — Elisabeth asked through gritted teeth, a shiver running through her body after more water dripped onto her.

— Stop what?

— Stop getting me wet.

He chuckled as he placed a cool, wet hand on her stomach.

— I'm just bringing the sea to you, baby — Toto replied, his thumb caressing her skin.

She sat up on the futon and felt the last drops of salt water that had fallen over her body slide down to the bottom of her bikini.

— If I'd wanted to get wet, I'd have gone with you, Mr. Wolff — she said, trying to ignore the goosebumps erupting over her belly.

Toto smiled smugly as he looked down at her.

— Well, there are lots of ways to get wet out here — he whispered, as he bent down, taking her lips in a soft, salt-flavored kiss. The slow exploration Elisabeth made with her tongue was accompanied by her fingers as they slid along Toto's arms, feeling the muscles move beneath the wet skin.

Before she knew it, Toto had his hands around her waist as he sat down on the futon, maneuvering her body so that Elisabeth was with one knee on either side of his leg, straddling him. His hands roamed down the curve of her ass and he gave her a less-than-gentle squeeze that had her moaning against his lips, heat coursing through her body toward her pussy, wetness pooling between her legs. The power he held over her never failed to impress her.

— Toto — she stammered, her nails gently raking over the back of his neck.

— Yeah?

— Did you buy a boat just for this?

He turned his face away slightly, confusion clear in his eyes.

— Just for what?

— To fuck me on it — Elisabeth whispered, the word sounding even dirtier coming out of her mouth.

A mischievous smile broke out on his face.

— Oh, you like that idea, don't you? — Toto asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She bit her bottom lip.

— I don't think so — she said softly, feeling his fingers caressing her skin.

— You don’t?

— It rocks too much — Elisabeth replied, trying to mask the excitement in her voice.

Without saying a word, Toto brought one of the hands that was on her thigh to the bottom of her bikini. As he pushed the black fabric aside, his fingertips slipped into her folds, finding that she was already wet. A gasp escaped her lips as his fingers sent a surge of electricity through her body.

— I think your body disagrees — he said, his tone husky and sensual.

Elisabeth wanted to sass him a bit. She wanted to give Toto a response that would get him to give her one of his scolding looks, maybe a smack to her ass. She wanted him to whisper that good girls don’t talk like that. But, with his fingers at her pussy, she couldn't think of anything other than the delicious feeling that his touch was giving her. Elisabeth wanted more.

She tried to lower her hips, moving in search of more friction. However, he moved his fingers away from where she wanted them. Elisabeth looked up and found Toto with a smirk on his face, the kind of smirk that could only mean one thing.

He wanted to see her beg.

— What do you want, baby? — Toto asked, lifting his middle finger a bit to lightly brush her clit. The sensation made her gasp, eyelids fluttering.

— Toto — she stammered, trying to move against his hand. It was to no avail, as he pulled away again. A groan of protest escaped her throat. He was provoking her.

— I asked you a question, Liesl — he whispered, his brown eyes analyzing every detail of her face, taking in how she was responding to him.

— You, I want you — Elisabeth said in a thin voice.

He smiled.

— You need to be more specific, Elisabeth — Toto said, causing her to whine a little — There are so many ways you can want me…

— Please — she said, pressing her lips to his, as if a kiss from her could convince him to give her what she wanted.

However, Elisabeth was mistaken.

— What do you want, baby? — he whispered, his lips brushing hers — Do you want my cock inside you, filling you to the brim with my cum? Do you want my mouth, sucking your clit until you scream loud enough for all of Monaco to hear? Or do you want my fingers, touching that spot inside of you that only I can reach?

His words made her heart race and a hot sensation surge through her belly. The desire to feel him any way she could was overwhelming, almost painful.

— Fingers. I want you to use your fingers — Elisabeth managed to say, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly, as if her life depended on it.

— As you wish, my pretty little girl.

As Toto touched her clit again, a wave of heat spread through her body, a groan of relief escaping her lips. His fingers moved in a slow but steady rhythm while her hips moved almost involuntarily, trying to maximize the pleasure she was feeling. Elisabeth started breathing heavily, her heart pounding in her chest.

— Do you like that? — Toto asked, testing some circular motions with his fingers against her clit. Her response came in the form of a loud groan, which he muffled with his own lips as he kissed her, his fingers slowing considerably. Her moans of pleasure turned into moans of protest.

— Faster — Elisabeth stammered as she pulled her face away from him, her desperation evident in both her voice and the erratic motion of her hips — Faster.

— Oh, you want me to go faster? — Toto asked her, his brown eyes turning dark.

— Yes, yes, yes — she replied, nodding fervently.

— Funny, I thought you didn't like speed — he chuckled.

— Toto — she whimpered, trying to slide her clit faster against his fingers — Please, please, please.

— Then you'll have to be quiet. Can you do that for me, Liesl?

She gave him another vigorous nod.

— Words, baby.

— Yes — she sighed.

That was the key for him to move his fingers with increasing intensity once more. Elisabeth squeezed her eyes shut. It didn't take long for her thighs to start shaking and she threw her head back, smothering her own moans by pressing her lips together.

— Just like that, Liesl — she heard Toto mutter — You have no idea what a mess you're making of my fingers. So wet. And it’s all for me, isn't it? I’m the only one capable of making you feel this way, aren’t I?

She wanted to answer him. She wanted to tell him how much he turned her on, about the things those long, slender fingers made her fantasize about, simply because of the power he held over her. Toto was the only man she'd been able to completely let her guard down with. He was the only one she felt comfortable enough to shed her fears, apprehensions, and inhibitions with. He was the only one who had managed to disarm her enough to give herself over to him completely, body and soul. Elisabeth had yet to regret it.

— I'm yours — she gasped, before placing her hands on his face and pulling his lips against her in a hot, urgent kiss. His hand was still between her legs, his fingers left her clit and snaked up to her entrance, slowly penetrating her. A moan escaped her lips at the sensation. The sound made Toto smile.

— Are you my pretty little girl?

Leaning her forehead against his, Elisabeth nodded silently, eyes squeezed shut as her hips moved more, trying to get the friction she so desperately needed.

— Does my pretty little girl like to ride my fingers?

— Yes — she groaned.

— Show me how much you like it, baby. Come on my fingers.

His words urged her on to increase her pace, tears building up in her eyes at the effort she was making not to scream with pleasure. She was so wet that his fingers slipped easily inside her, massaging the right spot each time she moved her hips forward.

Her legs were shaking.

Her muscles started to contract.

— I can feel you squeezing me, baby — she heard Toto whisper. His voice sounded far away and muffled now as her pulse started to roar in her ears. Elisabeth felt the delicious pleasure building up in her abdomen, and she was still trying not to scream.

But then, a wave of pleasure ripped through her as she came at last.

Dropping her head forward, her mouth found Toto's shoulder. She sank her teeth into his warm skin, muffling her cries into something like a quiet growl. Elisabeth could feel her whole body shaking, her heart pounding in her chest, ringing in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Between her legs, she felt Toto's fingers starting to move more deliberately, trying to draw out her orgasm as long as possible.

It took a long time for her to come to her senses. Toto held her in his arms, tenderly, as she came back down to Earth. After a few minutes, Elisabeth felt the sun warm her skin again and the sound of the ocean waves and Toto’s voice in her ear. He had already removed his hand from between her legs. Her orgasm was so intense, so all-consuming that she hadn’t actually noticed him remove it.

— Yes, relax, Liesl — he purred, his hands resting on her hips, caressing them gently — You did so well for me. You managed to keep quiet for me the way I asked you to. You're so amazing, Elisabeth. You deserve to feel good. I love to make you feel good. I love you so much.

Raising her head again was a Herculean task. She felt completely spent from her orgasm. All she felt like she could do was lie there, falling asleep in the sun, but Elisabeth didn't want to close her eyes. Closing her eyes would mean that she wouldn’t be able to look at the man who just had given her another mind-shattering orgasm.

— I love you — she whispered, looking into those chocolate-colored eyes.

— I love you too — he replied, nuzzling his nose against hers.

Nestling her head in the crook of the team principal's neck, she allowed herself to close her eyes and relax, enjoying the lapping of the sea and the seagulls flying over the Mediterranean.

However, the memory of that moment had just been destroyed.

— Elisabeth — Toto said. However, his voice sounded distant, a whisper in the corner of her reeling mind. Questions piled up, faces multiplied, suspicions grew. She just couldn't understand where they went wrong.

— Fuck, fuck, fuck — she repeated. Her voice was loud and clear, now.

Her chest hurt. She felt like she was hyperventilating. Her cheeks were wet.

Suddenly, she felt something warm enveloping her body in a tight embrace.

— Liesl — Toto sighed, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

— We should have never left the hotel, we shouldn’t have, we shouldn’t have — she stammered, as hot tears streamed down her face — We should have stayed in the room, watching a movie and eating pizza, we didn't have to leave…

— Elisabeth — Toto said, his voice stern.

— Now there's a fucking picture of me having sex with you all over the magazines in Austria, do you understand how serious that is? — she turned her face away to look at him.

His expression was a mix of sadness and resignation.

— No one knows it's you, Liesl.

— But I know! And now everyone's curious who is with you, and they're going to pay more attention to you, and they're going to connect the dots and I...

Toto brought his hands up to her face, directing her to look into his eyes. His hands were gentle, but firm.

— Elisabeth — he said, stiffly, making her fall silent, her bottom lip quivering — When we started our relationship, we knew that, at one point or another, it would go public.

— But…

— Just listen to me, please — Toto said, moving his right thumb to one of the tears that had been standing on her cheek — We were lucky enough to have some time to ourselves outside of the public eye, but I always knew this would, one day, end.

— I didn’t want…

— We can't live in hiding forever, Liesl. It's more comfortable to live without the attention and scrutiny, but to be honest, I was getting tired.

— Tired?

— Yes. I’m tired, Liesl. Tired of not being able to hold your hand when we walk down the street. Tired of not being able to take you out to any new or interesting restaurants. Tired of not being able to share a hotel room during races with you when we literally share a house. Tired of hiding how much I love you every time I look at you.

Elisabeth lowered her head. She couldn’t think of anything to say in response.

— I know you're tired of all this juggling too.

— Honestly, I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore, Toto — she said, eyes staring blankly at the floor of his office.

— My guess is that you’re tired, you’re stressed out, you’re afraid — Toto said. He gave her a sympathetic smile that she couldn’t return.

— Some days I want to shout about how much I love you from the rooftops — she said — But the idea scares the hell out of me.

— Why? — he said, raising an eyebrow.

— Because — she hesitated for a second — I feel like I'm betraying my father.

Toto sighed.

— Liesl, you're not betraying your father. Do you know why?

She shook her head.

— “Because the strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in the loyalty each has to the other.”

A smile formed on her lips.

— Quoting 'The Godfather' again?

— Soon, you're going to realize that your loyalty over the years to your father has made your relationship strong enough to withstand any impact. And yes, I’m quoting 'The Godfather,' again — the team principal said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Elisabeth looked up at him, staring at him in silence for a few seconds. He wasn't wrong — she’d proven her loyalty to her father time and time again. She fought her own feelings for years to avoid even the possibility of hurting him. Would that trust, that loyalty, be broken by something as strong as what she felt for Toto?

— What now? — he asked her.

— What do you mean?

— What do we do?

— Well, I don't know about you. But I…

— Are you going to tell him?

Elisabeth pressed her lips together, clenching her jaw a bit.

— Yes, dear. It's time to tell him.

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