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wonsiwon · 4 months ago

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cravings | s.jy

paring | futureparent!jake x pregnant!reader

sinopsis | you woke up Jake in the middle of the night with a craving, but he snapped at you, exhausted from work.

genre | slightest angst, fluff, smut.

warning | blowjob + pet names + reader it’s pregnant + swearing + praising

you woke up in the middle of the night, your eyes wide open, and your belly stretching your shirt as your pregnancy bump stuck out prominently. you inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly through your nose. then it hit you. a craving. not just any craving, but the kind that gnawed at your stomach and made your mouth water instantly. you swallowed, already knowing exactly what you wanted. the meal jake had brought home from the convenience store a few days ago. you could picture it so clearly that it almost made you groan.

turning your head, you looked at jake. he was lying on his stomach, face half-buried in his pillow, breathing steady and deep. completely knocked out. the sleeping pills had hit him hard, and you weren’t surprised. work had been hell for him lately. his boss had been piling on extra tasks, keeping him late almost every night, and when he finally got home, he was too drained to do much besides eat and collapse into bed. he hadn’t been mean to you or anything, but he wasn’t the same either. just… tired. distant in a way you couldn’t blame him for.

you’d been together since high school, and the relationship had endured a lot—college, stress, and now an unexpected pregnancy. dropping out to prepare for the baby wasn’t in your plans, but it had happened. jake started taking extra shifts to support both of you. life wasn’t easy and right now you didn’t want to wake him knowing how tired he must be, but the craving was growing stronger by the second. you hesitated before gently touching his back.

“jake?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. you shifted slightly, pressing your palm against his back and giving him a small nudge. “jake?”

at first, nothing. then, after a few seconds, he let out a low, irritated groan and turned onto his side, blinking at you through heavy, half-lidded eyes. his hair was messy, strands sticking out in different directions, and his face was puffy from sleep. he stared at you for a moment, clearly trying to process why you had woken him up.

“what?” his voice was rough, groggy. he was exhausted, and it showed in the sluggish way he blinked and the deep crease between his brows.

you hesitated, swallowing before giving him a small, sheepish smile. “i know you were sleeping, but… can you do me a favor?”

jake sighed, already looking annoyed. he exhaled slowly through his nose, rubbing his face. “you’re craving something, aren’t you?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but the exasperation was obvious.

“maybe.” you fidgeted with your fingers, glancing away for a second before looking back at him. “that meal we had on friday… from the convenience store. could you—”

“y/n.” his tone was flat, and he cut you off before you could finish. he rubbed his face again, this time with both hands, before dropping them onto the bed. “do you know what time it is?” he squinted at the nightstand, reaching blindly for his phone and bringing it up to check the time. whatever he saw made him shake his head as he let the phone drop onto the mattress.

“i know..” you said quickly, shifting closer, “but i really want it.” your voice was softer now, more coaxing. you reached out, brushing your fingers against his arm in a way that usually worked when you wanted something. “please?”

jake stared at the ceiling for a second before grabbing the blanket and pulling it over his head. “give me an hour.” he muttered, his voice muffled under the fabric. “i’ll get it then.”

you stared at the shape of him under the blanket, your fingers curling into the bedsheet. normally, he’d give in with just a little more convincing, but tonight, he seemed determined to ignore you. you couldn’t wait an hour, though. your stomach was twisting with the craving, your body practically demanding that you get what you wanted now.

you scooted closer, resting your hand lightly on his arm before tugging gently at the blanket. “jake—”

suddenly, the blanket was thrown off, and jake sat up so fast that it startled you.

“oh my god!” his voice was loud, completely cutting you off and tensing body. “couldn’t you wait one fucking hour?” he snapped, glaring at you with tired, bloodshot eyes. “jesus christ, y/n, i’m so sick of these dumb cravings!”

his tone, the way he just threw those words at you, felt like a punch to the gut. you blinked, trying to process it and stared at him, mouth slightly open.

he threw the blanket off completely and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up. the room was dark, but you could still see as he stormed toward the closet. he yanked the door open, the hinges creaking loudly, and grabbed a jacket. the hanger clattered to the floor as he pulled it off roughly, but he didn’t bother picking it up.

you watched, frozen, as he moved to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer hard enough that it rattled. he grabbed his wallet and keys, shoving them into his pocket.

“jake…?” you said, your voice trembling a bit, hoping for some kind of reaction..

he didn’t look at you. didn’t say anything. the door creaked open, and you caught a glimpse of him walking out without saying a word. the door slammed behind him with enough force to make the walls tremble.

you sat there for a moment, your lips trembling.

jake had never spoken to you like that before. never raised his voice at you like that, not even during your worst fights.

slowly, you let out a breath, sinking back against the pillows. your hand drifted to your belly, resting there lightly. with your other hand, you wiped at your face, realizing too late that a tear had slipped down your cheek.

normally, no matter how annoyed or exhausted he was, jake would at least press a kiss to your forehead before leaving.

tonight, he hadn’t even looked back.

the craving that had felt so overwhelming just minutes ago was the last thing on your mind now.

jake pulled into the driveway, the engine of the car shutting off with a quiet click. he sat there for a few seconds, staring at the steering wheel, his grip tight around it. the bag of food sat on the passenger seat, the faint smell of fast food drifting in the air. he didn’t get out right away. instead, he leaned back in his seat, rubbing his eyes and letting out a long, tired sigh.

he felt like shit. he knew he shouldn’t have snapped at you. he could still feel the weight of his words, the way they’d hit you. he was exhausted, no question about it, but that didn’t excuse it. he knew that. you didn’t deserve it.

he let out a long sigh, the kind that felt like it came from deep in his chest, and reached over to grab the bag of food sitting on the passenger seat. finally, he swung open the door, and walked toward the house. when he reached the bedroom, he opened the door quietly, expecting to find you there, maybe half-expecting you to step out from somewhere, but the bed was empty. That’s when his eyes caught the faint light coming from under the bathroom door.

then glanced around. the faint light from under the bathroom door caught his eye. he took a step toward it, and that’s when he heard it. a quiet sniffle.

he set the bag of food down on the dresser, his movements slow as he approached the door. he rested his hand on the cool wood, hesitating before he spoke.

“baby?” he called softly. “i got the food.” there was no answer, just another soft sniffle and his throat tightened. “baby, are you crying?” he asked, his voice wavering. he hated hearing you like this. he hated knowing it was because of him.

still, no answer.

“i’m sorry..” he added quickly. “please, just open the door.”

he pressed his forehead against the door, feeling the cold surface against his skin. his hand slid down to rest flat against it, feeling the pulse in his fingertips. guilt started to eat at him, and he closed his eyes for a second, trying to breathe through it.

the crying on the other side didn’t stop. if anything, it grew shakier. jake could hear your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps, and it sent a wave of panic through him.

“honey, please open up.” he repeated, this time jiggling the handle. “i don’t want you to get hurt. please, talk to me.”

the doctor’s warning rang in his head.

“stress isn’t good for her or the baby.”

jake felt like he’d failed you in the worst way possible.

“y/n, please” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.. “i know i messed up, but please just let me in so i can fix this.”

he leaned his head against the door again, closing his eyes, listening for any sign of movement from you.

finally, jake heard the soft click of the lock. he stepped back, watching the door crack open just enough for him to see you standing there. your eyes were red and swollen from crying, and your cheeks were streaked with tears. he felt a sharp pang of guilt in his chest.

without waiting, jake stepped forward quickly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. you didn’t resist, but you kept crying, your sobs shaking your whole body.

“i’m so fucking sorry,” jake whispered into your hair, his voice low and full of regret. he ran his fingers through your hair, his hand trembling slightly. “i was stressed, okay? i didn’t mean to snap. i swear, it won’t happen again.” he pulled back a bit, cupping your face with both hands, looking into your eyes, trying to make you see how sorry he was. “please, don’t cry.”

jake’s heart ached seeing you like this. the tears on your face, the way you looked so vulnerable, made him feel even worse.

he gently cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“say something.” his voice was soft, almost pleading. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.”

you shook your head, looking away from him, your face a mess of tears. “i’m so fucking ugly.” you whispered through the sobs, barely able to get the words out.

“why would you say that?” his voice was softer, quieter. “you’re not ugly. you’re beautiful. always have been.”

“i look like this.” you gasped between sobs. “and that’s why you’ve been so distant.”

jake felt a sick twist in his stomach. he didn’t know how to respond to that, how to make you understand. “no.” he said quickly, shaking his head. “no, that’s not it at all. I’ve been stressed. it’s not about you.” he reached down to lift your chin, trying to make you meet his gaze. “it has nothing to do with you, baby.”

you took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down but struggling. “i look like this… my body’s changing, and you don’t look at me the same anymore,” you said, your voice raw and thick with emotion. “you’ve been distant, right? because i’m not the same.”

jake’s chest tightened. he didn’t know how to fix this. for a moment, he was lost for words, then he wiped more tears from your face, his hand trembling slightly. “y/n, you’re not ugly. you’re carrying our baby. you’re doing something fucking incredible. i’ve been distant, but it’s not because of you. it’s me. i’ve been dealing with my own shit.”

but then you whispered, your voice cracking, “but you said you were tired of—

“i didn’t mean that.” he quickly cut you off. “i was pissed and said those things. i didn’t mean any of it. i swear to god, i’m not tired of you or anything like that. i love you, okay? don’t ever think you’re not enough.”

he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a second as he closed his eyes.

you took a shaky breath, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. your voice was shaky as you spoke, barely above a whisper. “i just wanted something to eat. i didn’t want to bother you. i knew you were tired. but the craving was so strong, and i didn’t know what else to do.”

jake’s face softened when he heard that. you could feel his fingers pressing gently into your skin, and it felt good—soothing, even though everything felt fucked up.

“i know, baby. i know.” jake murmured, his hand rubbing your back in slow, steady circles. “i should’ve been more patient. i should’ve understood. i didn’t mean to make everything worse.”

Jake’s expression softened at your words, and he pulled you closer, his hand gently rubbing your back. “I know, baby. I know.” he whispered, his voice full of regret. “I should’ve been more patient, I should’ve understood. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

you stayed in his arms, your face pressed against his neck, the warmth of his skin grounding you. you closed your eyes for a moment, just breathing him in.

before the pregnancy, you loved how his cologne would mix with his scent, but now, with the nausea and everything, the smell made your stomach turn. you’d have to hold your breath or leave the room.

jake noticed that, though, so he started wearing cologne only in the car before work, not letting it stick around you. now, with the cologne gone, you just smelled him, his natural scent.

his hand paused for a second as he gently rubbed your back, almost like he was trying to make sure you were okay. “feeling a little better now?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

you nodded against his neck, not ready to move away just yet.

“do you still wanna eat?” jake asked, his voice light, like he was trying to make things feel normal again.

you nodded again, still not pulling away from him.

jake chuckled, a low sound that was almost like a sigh of relief. it was the first time tonight you’d heard him sound anything but tense. “alright.” he said, brushing a hand through your hair, his fingers light against your scalp. “let’s eat, then.”

jake grabbed the bag of food with one hand, reaching for yours with the other. he didn’t say anything, just gently led you downstairs.

the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. jake pulled out a chair for you, setting the bag down on the table before unpacking the food.

“here it is.” he muttered, placing the container in front of you. “still warm.”

“thank you.” you mumbled, wiping your nose quickly with the back of your hand. jake sat next to you, watching closely as you opened the food. he didn’t say anything, just waited for you to dig in. you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took your first bite, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “want some?” you asked, offering him a piece.

he shook his head with a small smile, the kind that didn’t really reach his eyes. “nah, it’s all yours.”

jake leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, watching you eat. his eyes didn’t leave you. he couldn’t help it.

his head kept replaying your words. how you felt ugly, how you thought he was pulling away because of it. he couldn’t shake it. how could you think that? how could you feel so insecure, when to him, you were fucking perfect?

yeah, you’d gained some weight, but fuck, he thought it made you even more beautiful. he couldn’t stop thinking about it how sexy you looked. it wasn’t just about the pregnancy. it was how you were carrying their future, how your body was doing something incredible. it turned him on, and the thought of having you pregnant again, maybe one more time, crossed his mind more than once.

he smiled to himself, trying not to make it obvious he was zoning out. then you glanced up at him.

“what?” you asked.

“nothing.” he replied with a shrugged.

you started talking again, rambling about whatever was on your mind while eating. jake couldn’t help but watch you, the way you chewed and talked with your cheeks full. your hair was messy, some strands falling out of the bun you’d tied it in earlier. he found it kind of cute, the little things you did without even thinking about it. but then, as you took a sip of your drink, jake’s eyes followed your lips as they wrapped around the straw. fuck. his chest tightened, and he quickly bit his lip, forcing himself to look away.

it had been a while since you two had been intimate, and he didn’t want to make things uncomfortable. still, he couldn’t help but feel the attraction, even if it had been pushed aside for a while. jake couldn’t deny that sometimes he just wanted to have you underneath him again. feel your hands gripping the sheets while your body pressed against his. those thoughts came to him more often than he cared to admit, especially after a long day of work.

it was a feeling that came to him unexpectedly, even though he knew it wasn’t the right time. some nights, he’d come home frustrated, horny, just wanting to get it out of his system. but you’d already be asleep. and so, jake would sneak off to the bathroom, hoping for some kind of relief.

He hated the feeling of wanting you but not being able to do anything about it. So, instead of waking you, he’d sneak downstairs to the bathroom, hoping to get some relief on his own. As he did, all he could think about was how much he wished it was you touching him, the thought of your hands driving him crazy. But it was just him, alone.

you feel better now?” jake asked, clearing his throat as he pushed those thoughts aside. he tried to make his voice sound casual, leaning back in his chair. “you alright?”

you nodded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before finishing off your food. “yeah, much better. thanks for the food, jakey.”

jake smiled, relief settling in. “anytime, baby.” he reached over, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “if you need anything else, just let me know.”

the two of you moved upstairs, the house quiet except for the soft sound of your footsteps. once in the bedroom, jake pulled back the covers and gestured for you to get in first. he followed, pulling the blanket up over both of you. the room was dark except for the faint moonlight coming through the window. jake pulled you closer, his hand resting gently on your back.

“goodnight.” he murmured, his voice calm and warm.

“goodnight,” you replied, leaning closer and giving jake a quick peck on the lips. it was simple, but it felt right.

jake smiled softly, pulling you in a little closer, his hand settling on your waist. “i needed that.” he said quietly.

you smiled back, settling your back into him and letting the night take over.

as you drifted off to sleep, jake stayed awake behind you, spooning you with his arm wrapped around your waist. you shifted slightly, the soft movements in your sleep adding to his frustration. he felt himself getting hard in his pants, the feeling hitting him like a wave.

closing his eyes, he took deep, slow breaths, hoping the sensation would fade, but the image of you sucking that drink just moments ago didn’t make it any easier.

after a few more moments of trying to ignore it, jake carefully untangled himself from you and started to slide out of bed. his movements were slow and quiet, but they still stirred you awake. you blinked, your groggy eyes catching his silhouette as he quietly made his way toward the door.

“jake?” you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep.

he froze in the doorway, turning slightly toward you. “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. go back to sleep.” he said, his voice low but strained.

you pushed yourself up on one elbow, your eyes narrowing slightly as you took in his body language. “you okay?”

jake hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe. “yeah.” he said quickly, but it was clear from the way he stood that something was off. “just need a minute.”

you sat up fully now, your concern starting to push through the sleepiness. “what happened?”

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. the frustration was evident in his face. “i’m hard, okay? i’m super hard.” he admitted, the words coming out in a quiet, exasperated whisper.

you blinked, half-surprised and half-amused. “are you gonna jerk off?” you asked, your tone more curious than judgmental.

he let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah… i guess? i didn’t want to bother you, so i thought—”

you cut him off, raising an eyebrow. “you thought sneaking off to the bathroom was the best plan?”

jake shrugged, looking sheepish. “what else was i supposed to do?”

a small smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned back against the pillows. “you could’ve just woken me up, you know.”

jake’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. he stood in the doorway, processing your suggestion.

“you’re serious?” he finally asked, his voice uncertain, his eyes scanning your face for any hint of sarcasm.

you tilted your head. “i wouldn’t have said it if i wasn’t.”

jake hesitated for a moment, his grip on the doorframe tightening. then, slowly, he turned back toward the bed.

you reached out, catching his wrist as he got closer. jake sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with this mix of uncertainty and need. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into his lap, but he was still holding back, like he wasn’t sure if he should push things further.

“you sure about this?” he asked exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes meeting yours.

you nodded, leaning forward just enough to press a slow kiss to his lips. “i’m very sure.”

his hands moved, one sliding up your back, the other tracing down your side, pulling you closer. you shifted in his lap, feeling how hard he was under you. the friction made your breath catch for a moment, but you kept your gaze locked on his, watching his pupils dilate, his chest rising and falling as he tried to keep himself together.

“fuck, this isn’t gonna be easy.” he said, his voice rough with need.

you didn’t say anything in response, just kissed him harder, feeling him melt into it. his lips were rougher now, more urgent. you could tell he was holding back, trying to keep it slow, but you could see he was struggling to keep his control.

you broke the kiss briefly, your breathing uneven as you met his gaze. you slowly slide down jake's body, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants. his jaw clenched as you pulled them down.

“you’re gonna drive me insane.” he managed to say, as he let you take control. your hand moved, your fingers brushing against his hard cock beneath his boxers, earning a low, guttural groan from jake.

“let me take care of you.”

finally you pulled down his boxers, revealing him completely. his cock stood erect, straining towards you, and a bead of precum glistened at the tip. you wrapped your fingers around him, giving a slow stroke, and he let out a groaned. “fuck, baby, you see how you get me?” he muttered, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration and need.

you start to jerk him off slowly, your grip tight and steady.

“keep going, don't stop..." his words trail off into a moan as you pick up the pace, your thumb circling the sensitive tip of his cock.

feeling emboldened by his reactions, you lean in closer, your breath ghosting over his sensitive flesh. you part your lips and take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

you bob your head, taking him deeper, your hand continuing to pump what you can't fit in your mouth.

“look at you.” he muttered, his fingers tangling in your hair.. “choking yourself on it like that.”

you pull back, letting his cock slip from your mouth with a wet pop, before taking him back into your mouth and starting all over again. jake’s eyes snap open.

your hands rested on his thighs for balance as you pushed yourself deeper, the sensation making your eyes water, but you didn’t stop. his hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he watched you struggle to take him fully.

“fuck, baby. you’re so fucking good at this.” jake moaned, his head falling back for a moment before his eyes locked onto you again, his chest rising and falling heavily. seeing you there, kneeling, flushed and focused, only drove him insane. the thought of you carrying his baby again sent a fresh surge of arousal through him, making him harder than he thought was possible.

he missed this.

“you’re so beautiful. you don’t know what you do to me.” he muttered, his voice low and raw with emotion. “especially knowing you’re already carrying a part of me.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pulled back slightly, gasping for air before diving back in, your tongue working against him with purpose. the sound of his breathing grew heavier, and his grip tightened on your hair as his hips bucked involuntarily.

you kept swallowing, the knot in your throat tightening. you could see the muscles and the way his hands gripped the edge of the bed. after that he let out a guttural groan, his body trembling with the intensity of release. he pulled back just in time, as he finished, his warm cum painting your skin.

“holy shit..” he muttered, his chest heaving as he leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of you. he reached for a nearby towel, his touch soft as he wiped your face clean, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, grateful smile. “you okay?” he asked, his tone gentler now, his hands lingering on your skin as if reluctant to let go. you nodded, still catching your breath as jake gently cleaned you up.

jake shifted, leaning back against the headboard as he pulled you closer, his hands gripping your hips and guiding you to straddle his lap. you felt the heat of his body through the thin fabric, his hands resting on your waist, keeping you close. his thumb moved absentmindedly, drawing small, slow circles on your thigh, his eyes on you.

“you drive me crazy, you know that?”

you leaned a bit forward, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “really?” you asked, the corner of your mouth lifting.

jake hummed in agreement, his gaze dropping to your swollen belly pressed against his chest. his hand instinctively moved to rest on it, his thumb tracing slow circles over the curve. you felt your cheeks flush under his touch, but you didn’t pull away.

it wasn’t just the baby, it was you, all of you, everything he loved.

he looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. then, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and quick, just enough to get your attention. when he pulled back, his face was inches from yours, his voice quieter, almost playful.

“can’t wait to do another one again.” he said, his lips brushing your neck as he kissed you there lightly. “let’s make it happen.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “god, you’re something else.”

he pulled you in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “just wait, baby. we’re doing it again.”

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen jake #kpop fanfic #fanfic #jake sim #jake x reader #Jake

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tbaluver · 5 months ago

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Kissing His Scars- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: anonnie (anonymous) ᯓᡣ𐭩 genre: slight angst i think ( references of their past lives ) but tooth rotting fluff overall ! a/n: hihi lovelies i miss you all ! i've been really busy with school and i missed writing and interacting with you all so much ˙◠˙ this was requested by an anonnie and i apologize if this is written not the best i feel so rusty bc my exams drained me ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i hope you all are so well and i hope i can get some writing posted bc i have a couple ideas for kinktober but i feel so late ˙◠˙ anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has a couple scars from all the battles he’s been through. A couple small ones from his hands and a couple on his arms. You’ve seen them sometimes when he’s had his shirt off or when you shower together.

He was curious about why you were doing this in the first place. His eyes sparkled with affection as you kiss and caress the lines of each scar with tenderness. He'd lean in to your touch, letting you do as you please, appreciating every second and minute of it. He felt so appreciated and special that he will definitely return the favor back to you.

Every kiss on his scars reminds him that each battle he’s faced has been worth it. In this lifetime, he has found you again after losing you and enduring so much. Now, he has a loving partner to come home to- where he feels cherished, complete, and truly at peace.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on the couch, flipping through different shows and movies in search of the perfect one to enjoy while waiting for you and Xavier’s food. Just then, Xavier joins you, settling his head comfortably in your lap, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hi honey,” He says softly, his voice warm as he cups your face. His fingers gently tracing small circles on your cheek.

“Hi baby” you reply, nuzzling against his hand and placing your own atop his. Your heart flutters as you glance down at him. You took his hand, planting soft kisses along his inner palm before intertwining your fingers with his.

He watches you with a playful smile, utterly smitten by how adorable you were. Small affections made him feel loved and cherished. As you flipped his hand to face yours, you noticed the small scars that marked his skin- stories he briefly mentioned he’s gotten from childhood and battles with Wanderers from the past.

“Did you really get these when you were just a child?” you asked as he nodded. “A couple were from mishandling my sword while I was training,” he explained, earning a breathy chuckle.

You draw his hand closer, your lips finding those small scars.

“Hmm? What are you doing? They don’t hurt anymore,” He says so innocently, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. As you pull your lips away from his hand, you look down, meeting his gaze.

“I know,” you reply, your voice softening. “You’ve come some far. Those battles shape you into this strong and brave man.” A gentle smile graced your lips as he returned your smile, warmth flooding over him.

“No, it’s all those battles that have made everything worth it to have you in the end.” His voice filled with sincerity. Unable to resist, he sits up, leaning in. His eyes soften as he closes the distance between you two. Your breath caught as his lips met yours, tender and sweet, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you.

Zayne:

You were no stranger to the scars on his arms. You've memorized every part of his body by now. He always kept them hidden whenever he wore his coat, long sleeves, or cardigan. Whether or not he was insecure about them or not, you wanted to make sure every inch of him was loved.

He was a bit surprised when you first kissed the scars on his arms. When your soft lips brushed against his scars, he melted at your touch. He feels a warmth spread through his body that brings him comfort and so so unconditionally loved. As you planted gentle kisses along his arm, a smile curled on his lips.

He loves it and finds it endearing whenever you do, making sure to give you the same amount of kisses back or more to remind you how much equally he loves you back.

────୨ৎ────

You rested your head on Zayne’s lap, the TV fading into a dull hum as he immersed himself in the pages of his book. With one hand holding the book, his other hand rests against your head to act as a pillow. Curiosity piqued you as you shifted slightly to play with his hand, captivated by the contract between the sizes of your hands. That’s when your gaze fell on the scar peeking from his sleeve.

As he continues to read, you gently push his sleeve up, tracing the outline of his scar before moving to the one beside it. You remembered him telling you he’d gotten these from childhood and how he can’t fully remember how he got them. A bittersweet ache fills your heart as you think of the childhood you both missed out on, wishing you could have been there to ease his pain and take care of him.

Drawn by an impulse, you inch closer and closer to his arm, planting a delicate trail of kisses on his scars. The soft warmth of your lips draws his attention to you. As he glances down, a small smile curls onto his lips.

“What are you doing, my love?” He asks softly, closing his book and setting it aside. His free hand brushes back the stray strands of your hair that had fallen over your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

You rolled over to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of his soft smile and the warmth in his eyes, all just for you.

“Seeing these makes me wish I could have taken away your pain back then.” He’d sigh, cupping your face, his gaze continues to be filled with warmth.

“What matters is that you’re here with me now.” He replies softly as you shift closer, sitting up to rest your head against his chest. “Just having you here makes everything feel right,” He says with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m grateful that we eventually found our way to each other in the end.” He gently lifted your chin with his finger, drawing your gaze back to his before pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips.

( astra when i catch you astra.....)

Rafayel:

He is no stranger to you kissing his scars. You did it once when you kissed his paper cuts on his finger and he wanted you to keep doing it again and again.

Acts as if he's touch-starved. His reasoning would be one he loves it, two he loves and craves your touch, three he feels seen. You’ll still love him no matter what flaws he has or what he becomes.

Although there were some scars that randomly appeared on his arms, hinting untold stories. Initially you assume they might have stemmed from his artistic pursuits and whenever you bring it up, he brushes the topic aside.

Knowing Raf, you sense there’s more beneath the surface, he’s never been one to shy away from discussing his body. But you choose not to press on it and you’ll wait patiently for him to open up in his own time. For now, your love will be his comfort to whatever untold stories those scars hold on him.

────୨ৎ────

“Ouch! My hand!” He whines, flailing his hand in the air as if that might chase away the sting. You walk over to his stool, where he’s currently suffering from another paper cut from his sketchbook.

“Cutie,” he pouts, raising his finger to your face with a hopeful expression. “Kiss it, please.” You can’t help but chuckle as you take his hand in yours. You press a gentle kiss over the tiny wound to make his pain go away.

“There. It’ll be gone in a few seconds, Raf.” Just to be sure, you place another soft kiss on the same spot and notice a faint scar peeking from under his dress sleeve.

“Another one Raf? Where’d you get this scar?” You ask, gently pulling his arm to roll up his sleeve and examine it. He shrugs, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I dunno, it just appeared out of nowhere. I can’t be too focused on that if I’m always focused on you cutie.” You snort. tracing the outline of the scar with your fingertip before leaning in to place a tender kiss on it.

He smiles, his nebula colored eyes sparkling as if they imitated space and the stars. “Are you trying to make it go away cutie?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you reply softly, “but it’s also for the times I couldn’t be there to kiss it better.” He swears his heart can leap out of his chest right now and do backflips from how adorable you are. He reaches out to cup your face, his free arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Then I guess you just have to stay with me all the time," he says, a mix of playfulness and seriousness in his voice. “What if I get hurt again? Who’s going to kiss it all better? He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile breaking across his face.

He gently pulls you onto his lap, your faces meeting each other's level as you meet each other’s gaze. “You know,” he says, his voice gentle, “I could get used to you kissing all my scars. You make everything feel so much better.”

With a playful twinkle in his eye, he cups your cheek, drawing you closer until your lips brush against each other in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Sylus:

You’ve seen the scar on his chest before, whether it was during your shared showers or a cozy night in your shared bed. It often peeks out from under his robe, nestled by his sternum. He doesn’t mention much about how he got it, so you decided not to pry further into it.

The first time you did it was when you both got ready for bed. As you nestled your head against his chest, your fingers gently trace the scar that marked his skin. He’d hum in response from your touch as you pressed a soft kiss to it. He’d let out a silent laugh, finding you to be oh so adorable. He'd ruffle your hair before placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

You'd do it a lot more often after you found out he enjoys your small acts of affection towards him. You'd do it any chance you'd get.

In the steamy shower, you'd go on your tippy toes to kiss his scar and he'd respond back by gently placing a finger under your chin to draw you in for a soft tender kiss in return.

He loves it when you kiss the scar on his chest. You’re the only person he can be himself and vulnerable around, so doing an intimate act like that makes him feel safe and loved.

────୨ৎ────

Sylus was already in bed, his head resting gently against the headboard. His eyes were closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was evident to the exhaustion from a long day of work. Not wanting to disturb his peace, you quietly climbed on top of him, resting your head near his heart, hearing the soft, rapid thumps of his heartbeat. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you closer.

“Goodnight Sy,” you whisper, planting a tender kiss on his chest. Your gaze falls upon the scar that you knew so well, it’s story etched into his skin.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” he murmured back, his voice a low, soothing whisper as his fingers traced gentle circles on your waist.

You let your fingertips wander over the scar, feeling the slight indentation. He responds with a soft hum, his eyes still closed. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly, his hands still anchoring you on to him. You hum in reply, your mind drifting back to the story behind his scar.

“Where did you get this scar, Sy?” you asked, as the warm water pours over both of you in the shower.

He glances down at you, his gaze softening as he focuses on your face, careful not to let the soap get into your eyes. “That,” he paused for a moment, “is the reason I’m still here. But that’s all in the past now, sweetie.”

You remember not prying further as you traced the scar’s curves. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his scar, earning a breathy chuckle from him as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“I’m glad you’re still here with me, Sy,” you whisper, continuing to caress the scar with your fingertip.

He shifted slightly, pulling you closer, your eyes meeting his crimson ones. His gaze was sleepy yet filled with warmth. If his heart beats any faster, he swears his heart can burst out of his chest.

“And I’m grateful to always have you by my side.” A soft smile curls to his lips as he cups your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before pulling you forward to him, giving you a sweet and passionate kiss.

2K notes · View notes

lizzyiii · 3 months ago

Note

Hey girl hey. Hope you are still alive and life is treating you well. Just checking in.

you're so sweet for this omg. so ive graduated from high school, have this whole summer, but I can't really enjoy it since a broke girl's got to work. got my very first job and it's sooo draining, but I've got to get that bag

Sevenmas

pairing | aemond x wife!reader

word count | 9.2k words

summary | amid the haunting ruins of harrenhal, aemond's pregnant wife senses the looming threat of alys rivers, a witch whose presence fuels her nightmares and aemond's growing distance.

determined to protect her husband and unborn child, she delves into the secrets of warding magic, reclaiming her bond with aemond as she invites him back into her bed and vows to stand against the witch’s dark influence.

tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy, magic, fluff, soft aemond, hubby aemond

a/n | it's summer, the heat is evident, yet I've only been at work or home. I needdd to leave my house!

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

My Dearest Babe,

It has been a full moon since your father and I arrived at these dreary halls of Harrenhal. It is bleak here, cold and damp, and the walls seem to hold the whispers of the dead.

I have not known a single night’s rest since we set foot in this cursed place. My sleep grew all the more restless when your father saw fit to move me into a separate chamber.

Harrenhal weighs heavily upon him. It has changed him in ways I cannot yet understand. He walks the halls as if hunted, and I see the shadows of his unrest in his eyes.

Each night, his dreams twist into dark things—visions that wrench him from sleep, leaving him gasping as though clawing his way back to wakefulness. He grows ever more volatile, as if the very stones of Harrenhal press upon his mind, threatening to drive him to madness.

One night, he woke from a nightmare so violent, I feared for him. I reached out to calm him, but he struck out, not knowing it was I. I do not hold it against him—he was deep within whatever horror plagued him.

But he looked upon the bruise on my wrist with such anguish, fearing for my health and yours. It was then he resolved to put me in another room, to shield us both from his torments.

Yet, my sleep has only worsened since he made this change. This keep holds no comfort, only shadows and sighs, and I feel that something - someone - wicked watches us, waiting.

The sixth day of Sevenmas dawned in Harrenhal, a day to honor the Crone, she who carried the lantern of wisdom and foresight. How you longed for that guidance now, caught in the maze of cold stone walls and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.

The ancient keep, with its crumbling towers and halls seeped in ghosts of past horrors, gnawed at your spirit with every passing hour.

The days bled together, each as gray and listless as the last. Time itself felt suspended, and there was little to fill it but your prayers to the Seven and the slow, meticulous pull of thread and needle.

Embroidery was meant to calm the mind, but here it became another way for your thoughts to spiral into dark corners. How could you not let them when the halls echoed with whispers not your own and the air felt thick, laden with something unseen yet suffocating?

Your husband, Aemond, the prince with a fire in his blood and the shadow of the conqueror in his step, had become a stranger cloaked in duty.

Since Rhaenyra had laid siege to King's Landing, his days were consumed with strategy, flame-bright eyes scanning maps and murmuring with commanders until dawn kissed the horizon.

You would catch glimpses of him, his presence fierce and distant, a sword poised to strike. And still, there was one tether left—he would always return to break his fast with you, no matter the hour, as if the morning meal was a sacred pact he refused to break.

This shared ritual was a brief light in the gloom, a moment where his brow would smooth, and he would offer a small nod, as if to say, I am still here.

Yet even then, the weight of Harrenhal seemed to press upon him, creasing the corner of his eye and stealing the little warmth from his voice.

You wished for the strength of the Crone’s wisdom, to find words that could soothe whatever haunted him, whatever pulled him into those long, silent stretches where he barely met your gaze.

And so, with the sun’s first pale rays stretching over the stone battlements, you whispered a prayer to the Crone. Let me see what he cannot. Let me guard us in ways unseen.

There was another shadow cast over your time at Harrenhal, one that gnawed at your peace like a hound at a bone. Within the first week of your arrival, an attempt on Aemond’s life had been made, a sloppy affair that left more questions than answers.

Yet the mere notion of betrayal and blood sharpened Aemond’s already fierce nature into something perilously close to madness.

In his rage and paranoia, he swept through Harrenhal like a storm, burning and executing every male Strong—lords and bastards alike, sparing none.

The aftermath left the keep haunted by its own silence, populated mostly by women and children who dared not cross his path. Yet among the survivors, there was one who set your skin crawling like no other: Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lionel Strong.

Her gaze, dark and knowing, seemed to pierce through you whenever it drifted your way. The keep’s old women, those who lingered in the kitchens and halls, were full of whispers, speaking in hushed tones about Alys and the tales that clung to her like a shroud.

They claimed she was a wet nurse with no babes of her own, that her cradle stayed empty because she offered her children to dark gods, drawing power from their sacrifices.

The word witch passed between toothless mouths with reverence and fear, a name that conjured images of blood and whispered spells in the dead of night.

You would catch Alys watching Aemond from the shadowed corners of the great hall, her green eyes glistening like the polished scales of a serpent.

There was something about the way she looked at him, a gaze that lingered too long, with a subtle curl to her lips that suggested she saw beyond what others did. Each time, a cold knot formed in your stomach, winding tighter with each day.

Aemond, for his part, seemed oblivious—or perhaps unwilling—to acknowledge her attention. He stalked the halls of Harrenhal like a restless dragon, his eyes always aflame with thoughts of war and vengeance.

But you, kept to the fringes and left with little to occupy your time, had learned to listen. You had overheard more than once the old wives’ tales, how the stones of Harrenhal bore witness to strange sights in the dark of night.

The morning light struggled to filter through the narrow, soot-streaked windows of Harrenhal’s great hall, casting long, somber shadows across the cold stone floor.

You sat at the grand table, an expanse of dark oak that seemed almost too vast with just the two of you seated at its head.

The hall’s emptiness swallowed the small noises of clinking silver and the rustle of fabric, leaving only the low crackle of a distant fire to break the silence.

You glanced at Aemond, his face severe and sharp as ever, eyes narrowed and distant as he picked at the bread before him. His hair, pale as moonlight, spilled over his shoulders, catching the dim glow of morning like polished silver.

You traced the line of his jaw with your gaze, noting the tautness there, the slight twitch that spoke of restless thoughts.

In truth, you did not know this man well—your husband, your prince, and yet a stranger in so many ways.

It had only been moons since you first met, and within days, the marriage vows were spoken, the ink on the alliance barely dry before you found yourself bound to him in name and in fate.

Your father’s fleet had been your dowry, a formidable power that the Greens could not afford to spurn. You understood your role, the politics and power that tethered you to Aemond, but understanding him was another matter entirely.

His silences were as deep and dark as the Blackwater, and he carried an anger that smoldered beneath his skin, an unquenchable flame that whispered of vengeance and old wounds.

But despite the cold armor of his demeanor, Aemond had never raised his voice nor his hand to you. He moved with a kind of carefulness in your presence, a restraint that bordered on gentleness.

He treated you with a respect that was rare among men of power, where wives were often little more than pawns on a board.

And though it was likely due to the child you carried beneath your heart, it kindled a small warmth within you to think that he had not left you behind when he marched to Harrenhal.

Instead, he had commanded that you come with him, a choice that puzzled you even as it comforted you.

Harrenhal was a desolate place, steeped in old, cracked stone and a history that groaned beneath every step. You despised it, with its drafty halls and the air that always seemed to taste of ashes.

Yet sitting here, across from Aemond as the thin light etched sharp lines across his face, you felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude.

The silence between you was not companionable, but it was not cruel either. It was a space where the two of you existed, tethered by duty and an unspoken understanding.

Your gaze lifted from your untouched plate to meet his. “You barely ate anything,” you ventured softly, the words almost swallowed by the great hall’s vastness.

Aemond’s eye flickered to you, just a moment of acknowledgment, before drifting back to the distant, unfocused point beyond the hall’s great hearth. “I have much on my mind,” he replied, his voice low and guarded, as always.

You lowered your gaze, the golden glint of your cup catching the flicker of the fire as you turned it in your hands. “Today is the day of the Crone,” you murmured, the soft words drifting into the vast emptiness of the hall.

Aemond’s eye settled on you again, this time with a sharper intensity, as if he were trying to read the thoughts that played behind your eyes. The violet of his gaze, stark and unyielding, seemed to see through flesh and bone.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but pushed on, lifting your head with a tentative, almost sheepish smile.

“I have been holding small celebratory suppers in my chambers for each of the Seven,” you said, the words trembling on the cusp of hope. “Perhaps you would join me tonight?”

Aemond’s expression remained inscrutable, carved from the same marble as the gods whose names you spoke. He was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he measured the request. You held your breath, bracing for the sting of rejection, but after a moment, he inclined his head with a slow, deliberate nod.

“I shall see if I am free to attend later, wife,” he replied, each syllable precise, as if spoken under a watchful eye.

A smile unfurled across your face, a small, fragile bloom that brightened the somber air. You nodded, your gratitude silent but deeply felt, and returned your attention to the meal before you.

The hall fell back into its familiar hush, but the silence seemed gentler, softened by the promise—no matter how uncertain—that he might sit with you as the evening drew near.

Throughout the day, you moved with a purpose that had been absent for some time. Excitement flickered within you, casting a rare warmth over the bleakness of Harrenhal’s cold stone walls.

You spent more time preparing yourself than you had in weeks, choosing a gown of deep violet, the color rich and regal, one you knew would match Aemond’s eye.

Your hands worked carefully as you braided your hair, fingers weaving strands with practiced precision. You wound the braids into a half-up style, securing them with thin silver pins, and threaded small pearls between the coils, their soft luster catching the waning light that seeped through the chamber’s narrow window slits.

As the sun dipped lower, you prepared the chamber for supper, eager to cast away the dreariness of Harrenhal’s stone embrace. The table, though small, was set with care.

You placed a modest arrangement of primroses at its center, their pale petals lending a touch of softness to the somber room.

Candles, thick and tapered, were placed with a meticulous eye, their wicks waiting to be lit and offer a warm glow that would banish the shadows lurking in the corners.

Tonight was meant to honor the Crone, a day of wisdom and reflection, yet you could not help but hope for something more—a chance to share a moment, however fleeting, with the man you called husband.

The hours had been long since you’d known any touch of intimacy, any whisper of companionship. The prospect of Aemond joining you, even for a brief supper, was enough to make your heart beat with anticipation.

Time stretched on, heavy and unyielding, as you sat alone at the small table in your chambers, a solitary figure in a room filled with muted light. The food before you, once steaming and fragrant, had grown cold, the sheen of oil on the meats congealing in the chill air.

The candles you had lit earlier had burned down to stubs, their light dwindling as shadows crept up the walls.

The fire in the hearth, once crackling with warmth, had reduced itself to a bed of glowing embers, the last vestiges of heat sputtering as they surrendered to the draft that snaked through the stones.

Your heart, which had quickened with hope earlier in the day, now felt leaden with disappointment. The silence pressed in around you, each passing moment a reminder that Aemond would not come. The anticipation that had kept your spirits aloft now left a hollow ache in its absence.

Pushing your untouched plate away, you rose from the table, your movements deliberate as anger stirred in your chest. It was not the hot, reckless kind, but the slow-burning indignation that came when expectation was met with silence.

You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and slipped into the dim corridor, determined to find him, to seek an answer rather than stew in this quiet, stinging rejection.

Harrenhal’s halls were a maze of stone and shadow, empty and vast, with only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cold. The castle held a thousand whispered secrets, and tonight, it seemed eager to keep its prince among them.

You turned corners and climbed staircases, the flicker of dying torches casting your shadow long against the walls, until the familiar paths grew strange and your resolve wavered.

Finally, as you entered a lesser hall that stretched toward a wing of old chambers, you spotted movement—a maidservant carrying linens, her head bent as if afraid to be seen. Relief mixed with frustration as you quickened your step.

“Excuse me,” you called out, your voice sharper than intended.

The servant started, nearly dropping her burden before bowing her head hastily, eyes fixed to the floor. It was a common sight in Harrenhal, the way they kept their gaze averted in your presence.

Word of your husband’s fierce reputation as Prince Regent and Kinslayer had traveled swiftly, and it seemed they feared that to slight you was to invite his wrath upon them.

With a lifted chin and a tone that brooked no disobedience, you asked, “Where is my husband?”

Before the maid could stammer out an answer, another voice cut through the dim hallway—a voice that chilled the blood in your veins and haunted your sleep with its whispers.

“I fear the prince is still occupied in the council chamber, my lady,” said Alys Rivers, her tone smooth and deceptively courteous, like the edge of a blade.

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she regarded you, taking in the sight of your tense shoulders, the protective way your hand drifted instinctively to your rounded stomach.

There was no warmth in her expression, only the sly amusement of a cat toying with a bird that dared to stray too far from its nest.

Your nostrils flared, and you straightened your back, eyes narrowing as you corrected her in a low, simmering murmur, “Princess.”

Alys tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her eyes betrayed nothing but a cold mirth. “Pardon me,” she said, her gaze sliding deliberately to your abdomen before flicking back up to meet yours, daring you to react.

“I am not your lady,” you hissed, “I am your princess.”

With a final, steely glare, you turned on your heel, the folds of your violet gown sweeping the floor as you made your way back through the shadowed hallways, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

The silence of Harrenhal enveloped you once more, and you did not pause until you reached the safety of your chambers, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the cool, unyielding wood.

The echo of Alys’s smirk lingered in your mind, but you would not let her see your fear. Not tonight. Not ever.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal, as the pain surged through you, tearing its way up your spine and scattering your senses. It felt as though your very body was being split apart, the agony sharper and deeper than any blade.

��Keep pushing, my princess; the babe is almost here,” urged the midwife, her voice steady but relentless.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to curse her, to scream at her to hold her tongue, but the pain stole all words from you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

It was a torment that came in relentless waves, each cresting higher than the last, only to drag you under when you thought you could surface for air. The burning, the stretching—unbearable, blinding.

“I cannot,” you sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat that drenched your brow. “Please… I can't,” you pleaded, your voice broken and desperate.

The pain surged again, stealing the air from your lungs, and then you felt it—a firm, familiar hand pressed gently to your cheek. Through the haze of pain, you turned your head, and your vision cleared just enough to see the sharp lines of Aemond’s face.

His single violet eye was intent, fierce, a rare expression of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask. Relief, so profound it was nearly painful, swelled in your chest.

“Aemond,” you gasped, his name a lifeline, an anchor in the storm.

Husbands were not meant to be present for the birth, tradition forbade it. But he was there, and you did not care for any rule or rite that would keep him away.

“Just a few more pushes, my love,” he murmured, his voice low, a thread of steel woven through the gentleness.

You nodded weakly, mustering what remained of your strength. A deep groan escaped you as you pushed once more, the room spinning around you. The midwife’s voice rose above the roaring in your ears.

“The babe is crowning, my lady.”

But the tone was wrong. Too familiar, too cold. Alarm jolted you to consciousness, and you struggled to prop yourself on trembling elbows. Your eyes darted to the space at the foot of the birthing bed, and dread coiled tight in your gut.

There, in the dim light of the chamber, knelt Alys Rivers. Her dark hair framed eyes as green and sharp as glass, eyes that glimmered with a knowing, malevolent gleam. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze.

“No, no!” you screamed, panic twisting your voice. “Get away from me!”

With a surge of fear-driven strength, you tried to kick her away, your limbs thrashing wildly, but Aemond’s hands clamped down on you, firm and unyielding. “Calm yourself,” he commanded, his voice cool, steady as stone.

Alys turned her gaze up to him, a shadow of mock sympathy curving her lips. “You must choose, my prince,” she intoned, each word dripping with false solemnity. “The babe, or your wife.”

A sob wrenched from your chest as you felt your breath come in sharp, shallow gasps. “No. No!” The pain was drowned beneath the torrent of fear that flooded you.

Desperately, you looked up at Aemond, seeking the warmth, the fierce protection that once resided in his eye. But what you found was a gaze distant and unreadable, as though he stood apart, watching from some cold, unreachable place. His jaw tightened. “Save the babe.”

Time seemed to fracture around you. His words, so final, crashed over you like a wave of ice. Your eyes widened, disbelieving, as rough handmaids or shadows, you could not tell—pressed you back, holding you firm as you struggled.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed, your voice raw with betrayal and terror, limbs straining against the iron grip that pinned you.

Pain cleaved through you, and you felt the weight of the babe shift within. But your focus broke as Alys moved, no longer at the foot of the bed but gliding closer, the flicker of torchlight catching on the edge of a cruel, glinting blade.

The chamber seemed to darken around her, the faint cries of the midwives fading into an ominous silence. And all you could see were those green eyes, bearing down on you like a curse whispered in the dark.

You jolted upright, heart pounding and breath ragged, the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your skin like a shroud. A trembling hand reached up to brush the tears from your cheeks, the dampness proof of the terror that had gripped you in sleep.

Your eyes drifted down, catching the soft curve of your swollen belly under the covers, rising and falling with your shallow breaths. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, a bitter mix of relief and unease.

The babe was still safe within you—at least for now. You pressed your palm over it, as if to reassure yourself of its presence.

Beyond the thin light filtering through the shuttered window, the sky remained cloaked in the indigo of night.

The stillness told you it was not yet dawn, that liminal time when dreams and waking often blurred. But sleep would not find you again; not after that vision, nor for many nights to come, you were sure.

The memory of Aemond's cold, detached gaze as he spoke words that sealed your fate in your dream clung to you. It pierced deeper than any blade, a wound festering with fear and doubt.

Yet you forced yourself to swallow the sharp sting of betrayal, directing your thoughts toward another source of your unease—Alys Rivers.

The whispers, the eyes that followed, the dark air that seemed to shift when she was near. Your fears, your husband’s torment, the sense of something wicked gnawing at Harrenhal’s bones—it all traced back to her.

Resolve steeled your spine. You pushed back the covers and rose, the weight of your pregnancy making the motion slower, more deliberate.

Wrapping yourself in a heavy fur cloak, you reached for the candelabra on the nightstand. Its small flame sputtered in protest before catching steady, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls.

The corridors of Harrenhal, once alive with whispered conversations and the hurried footfalls of servants, now loomed around you in cold, watchful silence. The draft that crept through the ancient stones nipped at your cheeks and sent a shiver down your spine.

Clutching the fur tighter against your body, you moved forward, the warm light in your grasp flickering as it met the draft.

The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of your cloak and the creak of old floorboards beneath your weight.

At last, you reached the great doors of the library, their dark wood carved with sigils long forgotten and gnarled from centuries of use. Setting the candelabra down, you pushed against one of the doors, muscles straining with the effort.

It groaned open, the sound reverberating through the stillness and sending a cold gust rushing past you. Picking up the candelabra, you stepped inside and let the heavy door drift shut behind you with a thud.

The scent of old parchment and dust surrounded you, familiar and oddly comforting. Shelves stretched high, towering sentinels filled with the stories of old and the wisdom of those long gone.

On other nights, you would have lost yourself in the tales that wove through these tomes—myths and sagas that spoke of courage and triumph. But tonight, solace was not what you sought.

You moved through the rows with purpose, eyes scanning the spines until they found those few volumes that hinted at the arcane.

The lore of witches, their dark arts, the means by which they could twist men’s dreams and cloud their minds—it all lay within reach, hidden among dusty pages that no one dared speak of.

You placed the candelabra down, its light casting a golden glow that flickered across the cracked leather and faded titles.

With trembling hands, you opened the first book, its binding stiff with age. The parchment crackled as you turned the pages, your eyes drinking in the inked words.

If there was any way to guard yourself, to protect Aemond from the shadows that had seeped into your lives, you would find it here. No longer would you be haunted by that witch’s knowing gaze or the dread that coiled tight in your belly.

With each turn of the page, the flickering glow of the candelabra cast dancing shapes upon the stone walls, warding off the chill that seeped through Harrenhal’s blackened stones.

The words spoke of charms and tokens, of age-old rituals whispered by the smallfolk who feared the unseen.

Marking doors with protective sigils or crosses to ward off malevolent forces. The purifying strength of salt, said to bar dark spirits and their ilk. Rowan wood, revered for its protective properties, best used when tied with crimson thread to seal its potency.

The hours crept by, measured by the slow guttering of candle wax. You read, forgetting the passage of time as the nightmare’s claws loosened their grip on your heart.

Knowledge was your weapon now, and you wielded it with the silent promise that neither you nor Aemond would fall victim to powers unknown.

The day’s first light spilled through the high, narrow windows, a pale and hesitant glow that bled into the room and painted the bookshelves in muted gold.

It was the day of the Stranger, seldom celebrated, yet you paid it no heed. Lost in the pages, you missed the bells that tolled the hour and forgot the warmth of your usual morning meal shared with Aemond.

When at last you closed the final volume, a resolve settled in your chest, resolute and unyielding. You would need these items—symbols of protection—and that meant venturing beyond the castle’s shadowed halls and out into the market.

The fur-lined cloak wrapped snug around you, guarding against the bitter drafts that swept through the corridors as you made your way back to your chambers.

As you reached the windows, a rare sight unfolded before your eyes—snow, soft and unrelenting, blanketing the bleak spires of Harrenhal.

Snow was a rarity in King’s Landing, seldom seen during your girlhood there. For a moment, untouched by fear or doubt, you felt the stir of childish wonder rise within you.

Three knights of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks pristine even in the snow, flanked you as you ventured to the market. The square bustled despite the cold, vendors calling out their wares with voices hoarse from the chill. Your list of protective items, hastily scrawled in the early hours, guided your every step.

Surprisingly, the rowan wood was easy to find, its branches bundled tightly with red thread as per custom.

Charms of polished crystal and talismans wrought from iron and bronze were procured with little effort, their sellers eager to part with them for a handful of silver stags.

The murmured blessings from the old crones at their stalls made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, but you pressed on, their eyes shadowed with both reverence and suspicion.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting a gilded glow over the snow-draped stones of Harrenhal, your arms were laden with your newfound protections. You returned to your chambers with purpose, setting to work immediately.

With meticulous care, you bound the red thread around the twigs of rowan wood and placed them above each entrance.

Salt, precious and fine, was spread across the thresholds, each grain catching the firelight like scattered stars.

With charcoal from your writing desk, you etched intricate symbols—wards against dark magics—onto the cold, unyielding stone walls.

But it was not just your own safety you sought to secure. For Aemond, you had combed the market for a piece both practical and protective. After much haggling, you procured a leather eyepatch, supple and black, unmarred by wear.

Returning to your chamber, you carefully stitched shards of black tourmaline into its edge, each piece glinting with a subtle, protective gleam. Your needlework was steady, each pull of the thread imbued with silent prayers.

Lost in your task, you barely noted the soft knock at your door or the maidservant who entered, setting a tray of supper on the table near the hearth.

The aroma of roasted fowl and warm bread wafted through the chamber, but your focus remained fixed.

As you worked by the fire's glow, the shadows that had haunted your waking hours seemed to lessen, replaced by the steady rhythm of thread and needle, and the quiet resolve that this time, you would be ready.

You were so absorbed in your needlework, fingers deftly stitching the dark crystals onto a supple leather patch, that the sudden clearing of a throat startled you. Your gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise as they met the cool, familiar face of Aemond Targaryen.

“Husband,” you said, breathless as you hastily hid the finished eye patch beneath a velvet pillow. Rising to your feet, you inclined your head, though your heart thudded with residual tension.

He stood tall and imposing in the dim glow, the silver-white of his hair catching the light like a crown. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the walls themselves pressed in with the weight of his presence.

“What brings you here?” you asked, voice touched with confusion and a hint of sharpness. Exhaustion dulled your sense of propriety, leaving the question more pointed than intended.

Aemond’s lone violet eye narrowed, an unreadable glimmer within its depths. “To have supper with you,” he replied, as if such a thing were the most natural answer in the realm.

Your eyes flickered to the table, where two silver plates now sat, the steam rising lazily from the dishes set by the silent servant moments before.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and sighed, murmuring, “I believe my invitation was for yesterday.”

A shadow of regret crossed his face, so brief that another might have missed it, but you saw. As you moved past him to take your seat, you caught the soft murmur that slipped from his lips, “I deserved that.”

Aemond followed and took his place across from you, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet chamber. For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearthfire. His gaze settled on you, sharp and searching.

“I have not seen you at all today,” he said at last, the words carrying a hint of something that might have been longing, tempered by pride.

Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers fiddling absently with the edge of your gown. Remorse pricked at your heart—you had broken your shared morning ritual, the one part of the day reserved just for the two of you.

“I was very busy,” you replied softly, the excuse feeling thin on your tongue.

Aemond’s expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “I heard. Visits to the market square,” he said.

You hesitated, holding back the details of the charms, the salt, the ancient warding sigils you had traced with trembling hands. He would only deem you foolish or worse, mad.

“I needed fresh air.”

His eye narrowed, a flicker of displeasure passing over his sharp features. “It is too dangerous for one in your condition to wander beyond these walls,” he said, the admonishment clear, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. “That is why I took three of your White Cloaks,” you retorted, the fire in your voice matching the spark in his eye.

For a heartbeat, the tension crackled between you, the weight of unsaid words pressing down like a heavy cloak. Then, Aemond’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, as if some silent battle had been waged and resolved within him.

“Good,” he said at last, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You are no fool, wife.”

The tautness in the room eased, and though unspoken, an accord was reached.

Aemond leaned forward, and placed a carved wooden box on the table between you. “I’ve brought you something,” he said, his voice a measured calm, yet there was an undercurrent of something softer. “An apology for last night.”

Your brows knit together, skepticism clear in your eyes. “My forgiveness cannot be bought with trinkets, husband,” you said, your tone edged with defiance. Yet even as you spoke, curiosity stirred within you.

One of his silver brows arched at your remark, and a small smile ghosted his lips. “Let us see if it is worthy,” you murmured, reluctant to give ground but unable to hide the intrigue that tugged at you.

With a careful hand, Aemond lifted the lid of the box, revealing a necklace of silver and sapphire. The deep blue stone glimmered like the sea under moonlight, capturing the room’s faint candle glow.

Your breath stilled for a moment, eyes tracing the intricate work of the silver links, each carved to mimic dragon scales.

Your fingertips brushed over the gem, the cool surface grounding you as warmth bloomed in your chest. Unbidden, a soft smile tugged at your lips, an expression so rare that even you felt its presence.

“Thank you, husband,” you whispered, your voice softened by genuine gratitude.

Aemond’s face shifted, pride flickering across his sharp features. There was something triumphant in his half-smirk that you could not allow him to savor unchallenged. You rose from your seat, skirts rustling as you moved.

“I, too, have a gift for you,” you said, your tone now light with a note of playfulness.

“Oh?” he replied, one silver eyebrow lifting in surprise, though the glint in his lone violet eye revealed his interest.

“Mm,” you hummed, stepping to the chaise where a small cushion lay. Your fingers slipped beneath it, retrieving the item hidden there. Turning back to him, a touch of shyness colored your expression, a rare sight that softened the lines of your face.

With both hands, you presented him with an eye patch, the black leather supple and embroidered with fine strands of broken tourmaline crystals, catching the dim light with a subtle shimmer.

Aemond took it, surprise giving way to careful scrutiny. His fingers traced the delicate work, the weight of the crystals and their arrangement thoughtful.

“Black tourmaline,” you said quietly, watching his gaze flick between you and the patch. “It is said to have powerful protective qualities.”

You hesitated, unwilling to speak of how it was also believed to ward against dark energies and unseen dangers—of how it might shield him from threats both known and hidden.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Aemond’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, rare and genuine. “Thank you, wife. 'Tis a very thoughtful gift,” he said, voice low and sincere.

A moment passed, and you froze in silent shock as Aemond reached up to remove the eye patch he wore. Of course, you had seen what lay beneath—the striking sapphire set into the hollow of his missing eye—but Aemond was never keen on showing it.

In King’s Landing, he would only take it off moments before sleep and replace it the moment he awoke.

Before he could put on the new eye patch, you placed a hand over his arm. “You know you don’t have to wear it around me, yes? I have no issue with it, and you should not either.”

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. For a heartbeat, you feared you had overstepped, but then he nodded, leaving both eye patches on the table.

A small, victorious smile touched your lips as you felt the weight of this unspoken understanding between you. “Allow me to have the maids bring us some dessert,” you said, the tension lifting.

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on you as you turned to the doors.

Stepping into the corridor, you quickly found a maid and requested something sweet to be brought to your chambers. When you returned, your heart faltered at the sight before you. Aemond stood at your desk, his tall frame hunched slightly as he leaned over an open book—your journal.

Panic surged within you, and you strode forward, slamming the book shut with a sharp motion. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than intended, eyes wide with both shock and alarm.

Aemond straightened, holding the closed journal in his hand. His expression was unreadable, though his eye bore into you with quiet intensity. “What is this?” he asked evenly, tilting the book slightly for emphasis.

“My private journal,” you answered quickly, reaching for it, but he lifted it just out of your grasp, his superior height giving him the advantage. “Give it back, husband. It is mine.”

Aemond’s voice was steady but carried an undertone of something raw, almost fragile. “Then why,” he began, his eye fixed on you, ignoring your protests, “do you write to our babe?” There was an ache in his tone, a depth of emotion he hadn’t yet voiced.

The question caught you unprepared, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your skirts, and your shoulders sagged as you avoided his penetrating gaze. “In case,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

“In case of what?” he pressed, his voice low and edged with a demand for understanding.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could uncover your secrets by sheer will. Unable to face him, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “In case I’m not there,” you admitted at last, the words barely audible, like a confession carried on the wind.

Aemond’s brows drew together, confusion shadowing his features. “What do you mean if you’re not—” He stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching as realization dawned. The tension in his posture shifted, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. “…There.”

His sharp features softened, a rare vulnerability settling over his face. “Women do survive the childbed,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter you.

“Not every time,” you countered, your tone edged with resignation. “And there’s also… that choice.” Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, Aemond reached out and cupped your cheek.

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“There can be more babes,” he said softly, his words a promise etched with fierce determination, “but there is only one you.”

His eye, a storm of violet and sapphire, held yours with such intensity that you felt as though he was laying his very soul bare. A tear escaped and traced down your cheek, but Aemond caught it with his thumb, his touch steady, grounding you in the moment.

“I would not choose otherwise,” he said firmly, the weight of his vow lingering in the air between you. “Not for all the heirs in the realm.”

Your lips trembled as you whispered, “You swear?”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice low and resolute. “I will not lose my wife.”

The ache in your chest eased slightly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a shield. You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently against your cheek.

With a soft breath, you tilted your head upward, letting your lips meet his in a gentle caress. The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exchange of affection that carried the weight of your unspoken fears and his unyielding promise.

Aemond responded eagerly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his hand slid from your cheek to cradle the nape of your neck.

His other hand found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer, as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it willingly.

As his tongue met yours, the kiss deepened, a slow, fervent dance that sent warmth coursing through your veins. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown.

Your hands moved up his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his tunic, before curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.

The world around you faded, leaving only the press of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, and the heat that built between you like the fire crackling in the hearth.

When the kiss broke, it was with a reluctance that lingered in the air between you. Your breaths came in shallow pants as you gazed up at him through hooded lashes, the corners of your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“My love,” you purred, your voice sultry and laced with affection, “you’ve left me wanting… again.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, the stormy hue of his violet eye smoldering with barely restrained desire. “Have I now?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then it seems I must remedy that, wife.”

You guided his hands lower, to the swell of your belly, then further down to the hem of your nightgown. “Will you show me how much you desire me?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper. “Make me forget everything but the feel of you inside me...”

A low growl rumbled in Aemond's throat as his hands moved beneath your gown, fingers tracing the curves of your swollen belly before dipping lower to find the damp heat of your core.

“You have no idea how often I dreamt of this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Of burying myself deep within you, feeling your walls clench around me...”

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it aside, revealing your naked form.

His gaze devoured every inch of you, from the full breasts that rose and fell with each ragged breath, to the soft, rounded hips and the glistening folds of your sex.

“Tell me what you want, my queen,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran through you at Aemond's bold appraisal, your nipples hardening into tight peaks as his hungry gaze seared your skin. You reached for the fastenings of his breeches, your fingers fumbling with urgency to free his straining erection.

“I want you,” you murmured, your voice low, thick with a desire that lingered like a soft melody in the air. Your eyes never left his, the depth of your longing laid bare in the way your breath hitched.

Aemond’s violet gaze darkened, the flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly, a predator’s grace, as though savoring your words before acting upon them.

You took a step back, your movements slow and deliberate, your footsteps light against the floor as you inched toward the bed. The flicker of the firelight cast a warm glow across the room, the shadows dancing across the carved posts of the bed.

As you reached its edge, you let yourself fall gracefully onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the luxurious furs and silks. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at him through lowered lashes, a sly smile curving your lips.

“You beckon me so boldly,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet drawl, the faintest edge of amusement laced within it. “Have a care, wife, for I am not a man to resist such temptation.”

Aemond watched, transfixed, as you sank onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart, the tip already glistening with precum.

He shed his clothes the rest of the way, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he stalked towards you, muscles rippling with each step. By the time he reached the bed, he was fully erect, his shaft jutting proudly from a nest of silver curls.

Lying beside you, he reached out to cup your breast, thumbing the sensitive peak before leaning in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss.

His free hand trailed over your round stomach, pausing to tease the edge of your slit before delving deeper, fingers probing your slick folds.

“You're so wet for me already.”

You gasped into the kiss as Aemond's fingers found your entrance, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his touch. “Please,” you whimpered, breaking away from his mouth to gaze up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you inside me. Fill me up, make me yours again.”

As if sensing your desperation, Aemond positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening. With a deep groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over you. It took a moment for your body to adjust, to relax and welcome the thick length filling you so completely.

Aemond's breath hitched as he bottomed out inside you, your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. For a moment, he simply savored the exquisite sensation, reveling in the tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock.

Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace.

The bed frame creaked ominously beneath the force of his thrusts, but Aemond paid it no mind, lost in the primal rhythm of rutting his mate.

“Yes, just like that,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. “Take my cock, my queen.”

You wrapped your legs around Aemond's waist, heels digging into his firm behind as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft.

“Aemond!” You wailed, your nails raking down his back as you met his ferocious pace.

The obscene slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by my wanton cries and Aemond's guttural grunts. You could feel the pressure building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

Suddenly, you were hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name as your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Aemond's eye rolled back in his head as your velvet sheath spasmed around him, your climax triggering his own. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone, his seed erupting in thick, pulsing jets.

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, prolonging your shared bliss until he was spent, collapsing beside you with a grunt. For a long moment, the two of you lay entwined, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

The chamber was awash with the warmth of the firelight and the quiet hum of your contentment. As you lay entwined, your bodies barely a breath apart, your gaze lingered on Aemond’s face.

His sharp features, so often hardened by duty and war, were softened now, his violet eye fixed on you with a tenderness rarely seen.

Your noses brushed lightly, a quiet intimacy, as his hand rested possessively over your waist while yours splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

Almost as if drawn by a spell, he leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, a gesture so gentle it felt like a whispered promise. When he pulled away, he settled back onto the pillow beside you, his arm still wrapped protectively around you.

You shifted, nestling closer, your head finding solace in the crook of his neck. Your hand lay over his heart, its steady rise and fall a soothing cadence that began to lull you into slumber.

His breathing slowed, each exhale a soft brush against your hair, and soon, the quiet comfort of his presence drew you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But the peace did not last.

You jolted awake, startled by the sudden thrashing of Aemond’s body beside you. His face, so serene moments ago, was now contorted in anguish, his brow slick with sweat.

His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets as if warding off some unseen terror.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He had spoken little of his nightmares, but you knew they haunted him—a torment born of battles fought, losses endured, and burdens carried.

Pushing yourself up, you moved with as much haste as your swollen belly would allow, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you only slightly.

Grabbing the robe draped over the chair, you wrapped it around yourself, its soft fabric barely warding off the chill of the room as you padded toward the small table where you had placed your new goods.

Your hands rummaged through the items with purpose, your fingers finally curling around a small vial. You held it up, peering at its contents even in the dim light. The faint, familiar scent already began to calm your racing heart.

Lavender oil.

You returned to the bed, the vial clutched firmly in your grasp. As you sat beside him, Aemond's thrashing began to subside, though his breaths were still ragged, and his jaw clenched tightly.

Carefully, you uncorked the vial, the soothing aroma of lavender wafting into the room. You poured a small amount onto your hands, warming the oil between your palms before leaning over him.

With gentle, deliberate movements, you began to anoint his temples, your touch light yet firm as you traced small, calming circles.

The oil left a faint sheen on his skin, its scent filling the space between you. "Aemond," you whispered softly, your voice low and steady, a tether pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare.

His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing under your ministrations. You moved to his wrists, massaging the oil into his pulse points, your hands steady despite the ache blooming in your lower back.

“You are safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I am here.”

You whispered a silent prayer under your breath, invoking the gods for protection and peace. Your gaze stayed fixed on him, your heart clenching as you watched his features begin to soften, the tension melting away.

You held your breath, waiting. When his form finally stilled, his breathing evening out, you let out a soft sigh of relief. The lavender and your quiet vigil had worked.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and you slid back into bed beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you. But just as you were about to lay your head against Aemond’s chest, you froze.

A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on your arms stood on end as an inexplicable sensation swept over you.

You were being watched.

Your eyes darted to the chamber doors, which you now noticed were slightly ajar. Beyond them, barely visible in the darkness, you caught the faint glimmer of glowing green eyes.

Your heart raced, a primal fear coursing through you. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with an unseen presence.

But you steadied yourself, your breathing slowing as you reminded yourself of the protections you had set in place earlier that day.

You had taken every precaution, warding the chamber with runes and incantations, ensuring that no ill intent could cross its threshold. Alys Rivers might wield her strange gifts, but she would not claim Aemond—not without a fight.

With a courage you hadn’t known you possessed, you tightened your arms around Aemond’s sleeping form, drawing strength from the warmth of his body against yours. Lifting your chin, you stared directly into the glowing eyes, refusing to show weakness.

“I won’t let you have him,” you whispered fiercely, your voice a low, steady vow. “Not without a fight, witch.”

For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. The green eyes lingered for a moment longer, unblinking and cold, before retreating into the darkness.

Only when the oppressive feeling lifted did you allow yourself to exhale. A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your head, nestling into Aemond’s chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, became a soothing rhythm, lulling you out of your fear.

As the night enveloped you once more, you clung to him, your resolve unshaken. Whatever forces sought to disturb your peace, you would face them.

For Aemond, for your babe, for the family you were building together—you would fight.

Hope You Enjoyed!

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #aemond targaryen smut

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finelinefae · 11 months ago

Text

match one [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's struggling with harry's coaching before the first tournament and harry's feelings control him more than he controls them

word count: 10.2k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals, strict parents, fluff, harry being a boy and not being able control himself around y/n

this is part 2 of the game, read part 1 here

. . .

“Again,”

Y/N gritted her teeth and bounced the tennis ball on the ground before throwing it into the air with a straight arm and hitting it with the racket, watching as it pierced through the air to the opposite end of the court.

She heard a sigh come from the bench on the side of the court, “Again,”

She inhaled sharply through her nose to try and contain her temper as she repeated the same serve.

“Again,”

Y/N spun around on the heel of her New Balance trainers, her pleated, white skort twirling as she did. She crossed her arms and glared at the boy lying on his back in his school uniform which was now crinkled and unkempt after the school day. “You’re not even watching,” She replied for the first time after having done the same serve more than ten times already.

“I don’t need to, I know you’re not doing it correctly,” He replied, monotonously.

She clenched her jaw, “Well as my coach, aren’t you supposed to show me how I’m meant to do it correctly?”

“I can show you but it won’t change anything,” He said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs and sits up, “You already know how to do a flat serve, I’ve seen you do it. You’re just not hitting it hard enough. I can hear it in the way the ball lands on the other end of the court.”

“You could have just told me to hit it harder,” She retorts.

“Am I meant to play the game for you as well?” He quips which makes her blood boil.

This was their third training session, and Y/N had reached her limit. With her first proper tournament just three weeks away, she had hoped that seeking help from the best tennis player at Crestwood would elevate her gameplay.

However, Y/N was getting frustrated with each session being a monotonous repetition of drills she had already learnt herself. It grated on her nerves and she felt as though she was back to square one.

She was beginning to regret having enlisted Harry for his mentoring in the first place. Whenever they’d try to talk mutually to each other, it would just end up in an argument of some kind where they’d end up needing ten minutes to cool off.

Y/N had already qualified for the Academy Slam before she even asked Harry to coach her. There had originally been sixteen academies from the surrounding counties competing in the games and now there were only half and Y/N was one of them. She’d passed the qualifiers all by herself and maybe she could pass the games that way too.

“Again,” He said that one word Y/N was beginning to hate.

Who knew what she was capable of if she had to hear that word one more time.

Feeling a surge of anger, Y/N tossed the ball into the air and hit it with all the strength she could possibly summon. She watched as the ball made a fast and straight trajectory towards her target area which just so happened to be right beside Harry’s place on the bench.

He jumped up, a look of surprise on his face. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, eyes following the ball as it hit the fence.

Y/N's smirk wavered as he approached her, her surprise matching his when he spoke again. "Let's move on, shall we?"

By the end of the session, every inch of Y/N's body throbbed with exhaustion. She drained an entire water bottle in one go, her fitted polo shirt clinging to her damp skin. She had thought she'd engaged every muscle in her body, but the way her calves screamed at her with every step told a different story.

“Same time tomorrow?” Harry asked, standing above her and blocking the sunlight.

“I want to start training properly,” Y/N stated.

“We are training properly,” He argued.

“You realize you haven’t shown me a single tactic since you started coaching me right?”

“And?”

“How am I meant to win the first tournament if all I know how to do is basic drills?”

“Do you know how many times my coach made me practice flat serves before we could move on?” He asks but she doesn’t answer, “A month. I went home with blisters on my hands because I was doing them non-stop six hours a day.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raise, “You think tennis is just about being tactical then you’re not playing it properly. The only way you’ll ever be a good tennis player is if you master the techniques.” He explains, “I’ve seen you play Y/N. For someone who has never had professional coaching, you are one of the best players I’ve seen but you lack confidence in your technique. That flat serve you just aimed at me? One of the best flat serves I’ve seen in a while. If you can do that in every game, you’ll have no problem winning but if you want tactics? I can draw you a diagram and it’ll save two hours of my day no problem.”

Y/N tries not to show her surprise at his words. Instead, she takes them all in, “Shouldn’t we at least be analysing my opponent?”

She was playing against Vanya Maddison in her next game. She was tall which was a major advantage in the game but her spatial awareness wasn’t exactly on par.

“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.

“My speed?” Y/N frowned.

“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”

Y/N had no idea whether to take it as a compliment or not. She’d never heard Harry say anything good about her so was taken off guard by his words. “So are we still on for tomorrow because I have to meet Mitch in thirty minutes and if the answer is no at least I can actually plan on getting wasted tonight.”

Y/N took a moment to think. She had never expected him to say something positive about her, especially about her anger. It was a side of herself she often struggled to control, but hearing Harry acknowledge it as a strength left her feeling conflicted.

As much as she considered training on her own which would give her some peace and quiet, she wanted to see where her training with Harry would go. If he was right, maybe she’d actually have more of a chance of winning than she did on her own.

She stood up and put her gym bag over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow,” She walked past him, wanting to avoid the satisfied grin on his face.

“Y/N!” Harry called, she could hear him jogging towards her before she stepped out of the courts, “I wanted to give this to you.”

He placed in her hands a cassette tape with white masking tape on it with the words ‘Y/N’s theme songs’ scribbled onto it in black ink. “What is this?” She asked, looking up at him.

“When I was in Australia, I used music to help me get in the zone before a match. My coach told me to use a cassette tape because phones were too distracting,” He explained.

“You made this for me?” She frowned.

“What? You’ve never been given a gift before?” He chuckles.

Y/N looks down at the plastic in her hands. It’s not that she’d never been given a gift by anyone before- she and Sarah always exchanged gifts over Christmas and for each other’s birthdays- but it was rare for her to ever receive anything from anyone else. Her parents would often give her practical things at Christmas or transfer money into her bank account on birthdays.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at her lack of reply but she cleared her throat, “I don’t have a cassette player,” She said but Harry quickly removed his backpack and pulled out a walkman.

“You can borrow mine,” He handed it over to her, “I won’t be needing it anytime soon since I’m not playing,” She noticed the downcast look in his eyes as he mentioned the fact he wasn’t currently able to play with his injury.

“Um, t-thanks?” She said, unsure of how to respond to his sudden kindness. It felt unusual.

“I picked a few songs that reminded me of you,” He smirks, “Don’t worry, they’re not all about a girl with an attitude problem.” With that he turned back around and walked towards the other exit to head to the car park.

She felt ease on her chest as the usual teasing remarks returned, “Asshole,” She called out to him to which he just put his middle finger up in reply.

. . .

After taking a long shower in the girl’s shower rooms in her dorm block, Y/N headed back to her dorm after changing into a white shirt and sweatpants. She could feel the strain in her arms and legs as she flopped down onto her bed.

Luckily Sarah wasn’t back from spending time with Mitch, so she took in the peace and quiet which came rare to her these days as all her mind had been on recently was the Academy Slam.

Her mind wandered off to Harry and his words from earlier. Y/N knew she was a good tennis player but it was the first time she had heard someone else tell her that. She wasn’t expecting it, especially not from her tennis rival of the past ten years.

Her eyes glanced at the cassette tape and the walkman she had placed on her desk before she headed off to the shower. Sitting up, she grabbed it and stared down at it for a moment before putting the cassette into the player and putting the headphones on.

She laid back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling of her room. Her fingers hit the play button and the first song began to flood her ears. The first few beats of Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ began to play and she immediately rolled her eyes. Then afterwards, ‘Fergalicious’ by Fergie.

She wondered how many songs Harry had managed to put on the cassette and how many were female anthems of empowerment.

The next song seemed to catch her attention even further when Gorillaz ‘She’s my collar’ began to play. The beat now permanently injected into her bloodstream along with the rest of the album from the number of times she had listened to it.

She wondered if Harry had known he had included a song by one of her favourite bands and whether he knew the meaning behind the song too. Maybe it had been a coincidence which was a thought Y/N had decided to settle on as she listened to the rest of the song.

‘Nothing to be justified yet

She the first I'm running with

She the one that get my collar

She the one I'm running with (she's my collar)’

. . .

The next day at school, Y/N sat in the library during her study period to study for her biology exam at the end of the week. Even though she was set on the scholarship, she still needed something to fall back on if she lost out in the next few games so she made sure she was still getting the best grades she could. It had also been ingrained in her to be the best in every class and she didn’t think that trait of hers would ever leave her.

“Y/N!” Sarah called, her voice echoing within the silence of the library.

Ignoring the irritated glances she received, she paced towards Y/N and sat in the empty seat beside her. Y/N smiled at her friend’s excitement. They were foils to each other and that’s what made them get on so well. Whilst Y/N had a black cat personality, Sarah was sunshine in a person which was probably why she was so perfect for Mitch who was equally as bright. “What’s up?”

“I need to ask you something and you’re probably going to hate me but Harry’s already said yes and-”

“Sarah,” Y/N placed her hands on her shoulders, “Breathe.”

Sarah did exactly that before continuing, “Would you do a feature with Harry for the school newspaper?”

Y/N frowned, “What?”

“The school newspaper? You know the club I’ve been part of for the past two years? They want to do a feature on your training for the sports section and I told them I would ask you.” Sarah explained.

“Oh I don’t know about that-”

“Pleeeassseee,” Sarah gripped her arm that was resting on the desk and batted her eyelashes.

“You know I’d do anything for you Sarah but I don’t know if I have the time and my focus is on my next game,” Y/N replied.

“Harry’s already said yes to it,” Sarah interjected.

“You asked him before me?”

“Well actually,” Sarah hesitated, “Luke, the boy who’s writing the article, asked him this morning,”

“Why didn’t he ask me?”

Sarah gave her a pointed look, “You’re not exactly the most approachable,” Y/N’s frown deepened at her words, “So will you do it?”

Y/N sighed, considering it before giving Sarah an answer. The last thing she wanted was for someone to be asking unnecessary questions in time that could be used to train for the first round of the competition but Sarah was her best friend and she knew how much the school newspaper meant to her and her university applications too.

“Alright,” She relented, “I’ll do it.”

Sarah squealed, receiving another round of vicious glares from other students in the library. Her arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, “Thank you,” She pulled away, “They’ll come by tomorrow afternoon during practice, is that okay?” Y/N nodded a response.

. . .

It was raining outside.

Y/N’s eyes stared out the window as she bounced a tennis ball on the hard floor of the gymnasium and wondered if the weather foreshadowed the next hour.

“Will you sit down?” Harry muttered, “You’re giving me a headache,”

“He’s late,” Y/N says, “We could have been practising,”

“Do you ever just do anything else?” Y/N shot him a glare at his sarcasm, “I get this is important to you but don’t you just want to, I don’t know, have fun?”

Y/N walked over to her seat right next to his and straightened herself for the interview the school newspaper had organised for them. Sarah had told both her and Harry to dress smartly for the occasion which, according to Harry meant a designer sweatshirt and trousers whilst Y/N had gone for a dress and pumps. It wasn’t overly smart for either of them but enough to make it seem like they had made an effort.

“The fact that you’re even suggesting that tells me you have no idea how important this is to me,” Y/N responds, monotonously.

She hears a scoff from beside her, “What?”

He turns to face her, his face rather too close, she notices three moles on his right cheek that she hadn’t ever seen before, “I think I know better than anyone how important this is to you but I also know from experience how important being in high school is with people your own age.” She forgets sometimes that even though he was whisked away to fulfil his place in the Australian Open, that his time of being a kid was cut short, “I don’t go out of my way to coach just anybody,”

“What do you mean?” She frowns but before Harry could reply, the doors to the gym open and in scrambles a sixth year with a messenger bag and a tripod with a camera dangling from his neck.

“It means,” he leans forward, murmuring, “if you had half the belief in yourself as I have in you then you wouldn’t need me at all.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Luke’s voice echoes as he steps towards them and places all three legs of the tripod on the ground and scrambles to screw his camera to it.

“What’s with the camera?” Y/N asked.

“O-oh, we’re recording the interview so I can write everything up later and we’re going to need your pictures together afterwards,” Luke explained.

“You want us to take a photo together?” Y/N frowned.

“Did Sarah not tell you?” Luke replied.

“Calm down, love. It’s just a photo,” Harry murmured and she tried not to react to the nickname he had used for her.

Once everything was set up, Luke sat across from them with his laptop on his thighs, questions already typed out, “So, you two have known each other for a while now?” Luke asked as he sat across from them.

As Y/N was about to tell him how they didn’t exactly know each other on a personal level but knew each other through tennis, Harry spoke up, “Since we were both in third year. I was eight and Y/N was seven but we’ve been in the same class since we were infants.”

Luke nodded, “That must help a lot in your partnership,”

Harry chuckled lowly, “Something like that,”

Luke types a few things down in his computer before turning his attention to Y/N, “Um, Y/N what made you turn to Harry for his coaching other than the fact he won the Australian Open?”

Y/N frowned, what more reason did she need to give? “Well, the fact he won is a big reason as to why I approached him,”

“But isn’t he injured?” Harry stiffened beside her. The way he asked made it sound like he was defective, unusable.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, “Yes but I’ve seen Harry play games with a dislocated shoulder. He’d just pop it right back in and start playing again. His current injury doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s one of the best tennis players I’ve seen at Crestwood.” Y/N ignored the looks from the two boys. She knew she’d have to compliment Harry at some point during this interview, especially if they needed to show a united front for the games.

“And do think the same about Y/N?” Luke asked Harry who now seemed irritated by him.

“I think,” Y/N was prepared for a backhanded compliment but what she got was something entirely different, “Y/N has all the potential in the world to go for what she dreams of and I hope to watch her do it all even if that means I’m watching from the sidelines.” This time it was Y/N’s turn to glance at Harry, taken aback by his words.

Luke spoke again, “You know some people are calling you the underdog in this tournament?” Y/N froze, it was the first time she had heard of it, “all the other women competing have had professional coaching and the school invests heavily in their tennis players.”

Y/N cleared her throat, “I didn’t know that but I have every intention of proving them wrong,” Harry bumped his knee with hers but she ignored it.

“And What do your parents think about you doing this before leaving exams?” Luke asked.

Y/N ignored the sting she felt at the thought of telling her parents what she was doing and the looks of disappointment she envisioned, which had been gnawing at the back of her head since she qualified. She answered confidently, "They're happy for me and excited to see me in the final."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as Luke leaned in, his expression curious. "You think you'll get to the final?"

Harry scoffed, “Are you insinuating she won’t?”

Luke backpedalled slightly, sensing he’d struck a nerve. "I didn't mean to suggest that at all. It's just that some people doubt the capabilities of those who haven't had professional coaching."

"Hey Luke, do me a favour and invite those people to the first game in three weeks' time. Let them witness firsthand what it's like watching a player as skilled as Y/N, without any professional coaching," Harry's frustration was palpable, catching Y/N off guard with his assertiveness. Typically, she would be the first to break in such situations but it seemed Harry already had.

Luke’s face warmed as he realised he overstepped, “R-right, let’s move on.” He scanned through his list of questions to find something more light-hearted to break up the mood, whilst Y/N straightened her shoulders, thankful they’d gotten to the final round of questions. “What do you both like to do outside of training?”

“Together?” Y/N cringed, trying to picture spending time with Harry in a normal setting.

“Not necessarily,” Luke shrugged.

“My best friend is dating her best friend so we’ve been spending a lot more time together recently. Normally, I play guitar or recite poetry whenever I’m not coaching Y/N to volley properly,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the lies that left his mouth.

“I study,” Y/N stated.

“That’s it?” Luke’s eyebrows creased.

Her cheeks turned slightly pink, “I’m top of the class in all of my classes, that doesn’t just happen without hard work.”

She could feel Harry’s eyes on her and for the first time, she turned her head to catch his eyes. She noticed the frown on his lips and something in his eye that looked a lot more like concern or sympathy than the desire to tease her about her lack of social life.

“Well, I think that will be enough,” Luke stood up and grabbed his camera, “Do you mind if we take a few photos now?”

Y/N and Harry stood from their seats, side by side and looked into the lens of the camera. Y/N’s cheeks hurt from forcing a smile as Harry did the same, “You’re standing too close to me,” Y/N spoke through her teeth as the camera flashed.

"Look who's talking with their giant foot squashing my shoe," Harry retorts, a playful glint in his eyes. Y/N inhales sharply, her gaze dropping to her foot to see what he's referring to. But before she can react, Harry smoothly slides his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side with practised ease. Their eyes meet, and just as the camera flashes, capturing the moment, Y/N side steps out of his grip with an annoyed huff.

“Okay, that will be all,” Luke smiled.

As Luke packed his things away, Y/N and Harry stood awkwardly side by side without saying a word. Y/N glanced out the window and saw the sky had cleared up and the sun was setting. She needed to get back to her dorm to study for her French exam tomorrow as well as binge-watch tennis matches on YouTube which she’d been doing a lot recently.

“Did you really mean that?” Harry asked, catching her attention, “All you do is study outside of school?”

Y/N looked at him, “I hang out with Sarah some days but yeah, I mostly study. I don’t really have a lot of choice and I’m not naturally smart.” Harry’s head tilted to the side like he was secretly questioning her in his head, “What? Aren’t you meant to crack a joke about me being stupid or something?”

Harry's eyes softened, his voice gentle. "I could never think you're stupid, love," he said, the nickname slipping from his lips with a tenderness that caught Y/N off guard. She found herself speechless, unable to figure out what had gotten into him recently.

He pulled out his car keys from his back pocket and motioned his head towards the gymnasium exit, “C’mon,” He urged, “I wanna try something out and before you ask, it’s nothing to do with tennis or studying.”

Y/N’s feet stayed glued to the ground as he walked away and expected her to follow. She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms, wanting to refuse his invitation so she could get back to her dorm. But curiosity got the better of her and she followed a few paces behind him as he led her to the empty car park.

Harry pressed the button on the car keys and the lights flashed on a black Audi hiding in the corner, “What are we doing?” She asked.

“Have you ever driven a car before?” He wondered, looking at her with a hint of mischief.

“Never,” She replied and was bewildered to see him open the door to the passenger seat instead of the driver’s seat.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, love,” He smirked.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “N-no! Harry, I'm not driving your stupidly expensive car.”

“C’mon,” Harry chuckled, “Don’t be chicken.”

She scoffed, “I’m not being chicken, I’m being sensible. If I crash that car, I don’t even think my parents will have enough money to fix it.”

“My parent’s will,” He grinned, cockily, “Get in,”

“No, I’m not driving that car.” She insisted.

Five minutes later, Y/N sat in the driver’s seat of Harry’s Audi with her fingers over her eyes as he instructed her on how to start. “Are you crazy?” She whimpers as he switches the engine on.

“Stop worrying, I’ve got my hand on the break.” She looks down to see his hand already wrapped around the hand break, “Just stay calm and do what I told you to do. Clutch down, first gear and then ease your foot gently off the clutch.”

“You’re supposed to be teaching me tennis, not driving laps around the school parking lot,” Y/N argued.

“Think of this as a team bonding exercise,” He shrugged, “Okay now foot down on the clutch,”

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” She strangled out, placing her shaky hands on the wheel.

“Relax,” Harry chuckled, “You’re being dramatic.”

“It won’t be so dramatic when we end up in a tree,” Y/N retorted as she carefully felt the pedals and pressed down slowly on the clutch. Feeling the car rise, Y/N gasped and removed her foot.

“Calm down, it’s just because you put your foot on the clutch,” Harry was trying his best not to laugh at her, “Okay, now do it again.”

Y/N squeezed her hands on the wheel and repeated her actions, moving the gear stick “Okay, now carefully raise the clutch,” Harry instructed and as she did, he lowered the handbrake and the car slowly began to move forward.

“Holy shit,” Y/N wailed, “We’re moving,”

This time, Harry did laugh unable to stop himself after seeing her reaction, “Make sure you turn the wheel or we really will end up in a tree,”

Y/N did as she was told and turned the wheel slowly, “Okay, I’ll move into second,”

“Harry no!” She gasped but put the clutch down so he could move gears.

“Atta girl,” He beamed.

Y/N’s worried expression soon turned into shock and then excitement as she moved slowly around the car park, “I’m driving Harry!” Y/N grinned and Harry swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“You are,” He praised, “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

After switching between first and second gear and Y/N complaining that her feet were aching from how tense she was using the pedals, Harry offered to swap places and show her what it was really like to go out on an evening drive.

“Harry!” Y/N choked on a laugh as he went all the way up to sixth gear down the empty streets in the middle of nowhere, “Slow down,” She squealed.

Harry glanced at her, grinning when he saw how wide the smile was on her face. He pressed his finger on the button to wind down all the windows, “Oh shit I love this song,” He turned the volume up on the stereo as Beyonce’s ‘Love on Top’ started playing, blaring loudly through the speakers of his car.

“Baby it’s you! You’re the one I love! You’re the one I need!” Harry screamed the lyrics of the song and Y/N’s laughter sounded through the entire car as her hair blew behind her. “Sing it, baby!” He cheered, neither of them realising what he had called her.

“I’m not gonna sing it,” She shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut as the engine revved.

“It’s the only way I’m gonna slow down,” He teased as the build-up to the chorus played.

Y/N giggled as Harry began to sing solo to the chorus again, giving her a look that had her rolling her eyes before she screamed out the lyrics alongside him, “When I need you, make everything stop! Finally, you put my love on top!”

Their laughter merged together as the song played out. Harry slowed down the closer they got back to town and cast a sideways glance at Y/N who was brushing her wind-swept hair with her fingers. “You okay?” He asked, seeing the glow on her face.

“Yeah,” She bit her lip, “I’m okay. I just don’t get to do stuff like this… ever really.”

He nodded in understanding. Harry had met Y/N’s parents a few times before. His parents were frequent visitors to their country club so he knew what they were like but he had no idea of the extent of the pressures they had put on Y/N to do well. It reminded him of his own parents and the last thing he wanted to do was allow someone to feel the same way he did whenever his parents were too hard on him.

“Wanna pull in somewhere to get something to eat?” Harry asked. It was getting late and they both had school tomorrow but he couldn’t seem to allow himself to let her go- not when she was having so much fun.

“Okay,” Y/N nodded.

He pulled into a dessert shop that was still open. Y/N followed him inside and to a booth in the corner. Harry ordered both of them bowls of soft-serve ice cream and Y/N even asked if she could have a strawberry milkshake to go with it. “I shouldn’t really be eating,” She told him.

“Hmm I heard drinking strawberry milkshakes improves your footwork. They served them all the time in Australia,” Y/N shot him a look that told him she knew he was bullshitting her but it made him smile.

“Are you nervous about the game coming up?” They’d been training non-stop every evening and Y/N was quickly improving everything she had already learnt on her own. After considering Harry’s words a few days ago, she knew Harry was right. He had been good for her technique and she felt even more sure of herself than she did at the beginning.

“No,” She said coolly, “I don’t have time to be nervous.”

Harry scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

The waitress came over and placed their desserts in front of them, along with a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and a cherry on top. “Mitch says he’s going to throw a party at my place if you make it through to the semi-finals.”

“A party at your place?” Y/N quirked a brow.

Harry sighs, “He came up with the idea of throwing a party and then just kind of decided it would be at mine.” He explained.

Y/N nodded and took a sip of her milkshake. It had been so long since she had had something so sugary and sweet. She hummed before realizing she was being watched by the boy opposite her, “Just so you know, even though you bought these desserts and taught me how to drive, doesn’t mean I like you.”

Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling and dimples carving into his cheeks. Y/N’s heart stuttered but she pushed the feeling down, “Okay, tomorrow you can go back to hating me again and we’ll pretend today didn’t happen.”

“And you can do the same,” She says.

Harry gives her a look, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t put a label on, “I don’t hate you Y/N.”

She frowns, “You’ve always hated me,”

“No,” He shook his head, “Never.”

“But you’re always making fun of me,” And she always did the same.

“Because it’s the only way I get to speak to you.” He admits.

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, unable to believe what she was hearing. She had always assumed Harry had hated her since their rivalry had gone on for so long. She didn’t know what to say, confused by the sudden revelation.

“Ew,” It came out before she even had time to think, “Don’t be nice to me, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Harry seemed to deflate but quickly placed a smile on his face, “You make me uncomfortable and you’re singing, by the way, is awful.”

Y/N scoffed, "At least I don't sound like a dying goat." Despite the return of their familiar banter, her heart seemed to continue to flutter under Harry's earnest gaze, stirring a mix of emotions within her that she’d never felt before.

She didn’t know what was going on with her but the last thing she needed to think about was her emotions when her biggest goal to date was right before her.

. . .

Three weeks had gone by far too quickly for Y/N’s liking.

“Again,” Harry drawled.

Y/N gritted her teeth and repeated the backswing technique Harry had shown her but the angle was all wrong and the ball ended up going completely off court.

“Fuck,” Y/N spat, throwing her tennis racket on the floor and squatting, balling her hands into fists on her head.

Harry sighed, walking over. “You’re nervous about tomorrow,” He stated like he didn’t need her to confirm despite the fact she had constantly told everyone she wasn’t nervous about anything.

“I just need to win,” She mumbled.

“Get up,” Harry ordered.

Y/N did as she was told and stood up. He grabbed the racket from the floor that she’d thrown across the court like a toddler throwing their toys out a pushchair and flipped the racket between both of his hands. He handed it back to her and grabbed his own.

“I want you to mirror my actions,” He says and stands a few steps away from her.

He steps forward, tossing the tennis ball into the air before swinging his racket with both hands, expertly landing it in the left corner of the opposing court. Y/N tracks his every move, mimicking his actions as if she were his shadow.

Y/N’s ball lands slightly off target and Harry bites his lip to stop himself from smiling at the scowl on her face. He walks towards her and comes up behind her. Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels his fingertips press gently on her arm.

“You need to straighten this arm more,” He advises, his fingertips sliding down her arm and leaving a trail of goosebumps as he straightens her arm out. “Calm down,” he murmurs, his mouth near her ear, “I can feel your heart beating.”

Y/N seems to lose every ounce of oxygen when he places his hand flat against her back where he can feel her heart beating, “Breathe,” He says, “You will win tomorrow, I will make sure of it.”

The warmth that flooded Y/N’s body quickly left as Harry took a step back, “Try it again,” He nodded towards her racket.

Y/N sighed, tensing her muscles again after Harry had practically managed to turn them into liquid. She tried to ignore the flutter in all of the pulse points in her body that were screaming to make contact with that new presence and swung her racket, landing the ball exactly where she wanted.

“There y’ go,” He murmurs, almost as if he was saying it to himself. “I think we should call that it for today,”

“What?” Y/N frowned, “The game is tomorrow, I need to practice.”

“Y/N, we’ve been practising for half the day already. You’re going to wear yourself out if you carry on,” Harry tells her.

“Fine,” She huffed but Harry gave her a knowing look.

“Come to my place,” He offers.

“Why would I do that?” She goes to grab her sweatshirt on the bench and pulls it over her head. It was getting colder now that the sun was going down.

“Because I know you’re just going to come back here once I leave and trust me, you don’t want to do that.” She opened her mouth to refuse but he continued, “We can watch Wimbledon on TV and order pizza.”

She wondered how he knew that Wimbledon was one of her favourite movies and pizza was her favourite food. “Is it the DVD exclusive?” Y/N asked.

Harry’s lips tilted upwards, “Of course,” Y/N nodded, following him to his car so he could drive them to his apartment.

Y/N remembered the last time she was in Harry's car three weeks ago. It was the first time Y/N truly enjoyed being in his company and the first time she had allowed herself to have fun and relax.

The day after, they resumed their usual arguing as if the previous night hadn't occurred. However, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by a surge of unfamiliar emotions swirling within her.

Despite the bickering, she kept noticing things about Harry—like the way he smiled and talked. It made her feel weird like there was something more between them that she hadn't noticed before.

The air was silent between them as the radio played lowly in the background. Harry turned into a block of apartments that looked far too expensive for a student to afford all by themself. “This is where you live?” Y/N asked, her eyes widening as he pulled into a spot.

“For now,” He says.

Y/N trailed behind Harry as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor and made their way to his apartment. When he swung open the door, flooding the space with light, Y/N couldn't help but notice the spaciousness of the apartment, as well as its emptiness.

“I haven’t had time to unpack,” Harry said, walking to the kitchen after kicking his shoes off, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’ll just take a glass of water,” Y/N’s eyes darted to all of the boxes that covered the floor.

She walked to the kitchen area and leaned against the counter, “Are those your trophies?” She asked, seeing the metal cups in an open box.

Harry smiled, “Yeah, I’ve kept all of mine even the ones that didn’t count.”

“They all count,” Y/N grins, walking over and pulling one out, “The battle of the sexes trophy.”

Harry smirked, walking round to stand beside her, “I still remember the look on your face when they handed me that trophy. If looks could kill, love, I don’t think I would be here.”

“It was a big deal to me okay?” Y/N replies, “I seemed to blame you for all my losses when I was a kid.”

Harry’s expression softens and his head turns to look at her, “Will you blame me if you don’t win tomorrow?”

Y/N’s smile falters, “No, I’d blame myself. I think if I lost this, I don’t know who I would be anymore. Tennis is my life.”

Harry’s eyes glint underneath the soft lighting of the kitchen, “God,” He whispers, “You drive me crazy y’ know that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think you could love anything more?” He asks, ignoring her question.

“I can’t think of anything, if I did I’d have to love it an awful lot.”

“Okay,” He nods like he’s accepting a challenge.

Y/N narrows her eyes, “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” He shrugs, “But I want you to know-”

Before Harry could finish his sentence, the door swings open and the shrill sound of his mother’s voice fills the air. Y/N stands straight and she notices Harry tense up, taking a step in front of her, he pushes her behind him.

“Harry,” His mother sighs, “How are you darling?”

“Mum,” He replies, curtly, “What are you doing here?”

“Your father’s running late home so I thought I would come by to see how you were,” She says and then looks behind him.

Y/N doesn’t need Harry to introduce her as she steps forward and holds out a hand, “Hi Mrs Styles, it’s nice to see you again.”

"Y/N?" Anne gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. "You've grown so much, you're beautiful." She reached out, taking both of Y/N's hands in hers and giving her an appraising look.

Y/N's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Styles," she stammered, feeling a mixture of nerves and warmth.

Anne smiled warmly. "Oh, call me Anne," she insisted before turning her attention to Harry. "I didn't know you two were such good friends."

Y/N and Harry exchanged a quick glance, both unsure of how to respond.

"I'm her coach," they both blurted out simultaneously, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Anne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What?" she exclaimed, her gaze flitting between them. "You're coaching?"

Harry nodded, his expression serious. "Yes," he confirmed quietly.

"But Harry, your injury," Anne interjected, concern evident in her voice as she glanced down at his leg. "You're not meant to be—"

"I'm fine, Mum," Harry interrupted sharply, his tone making no room for argument.

"Harry, you know you can’t be playing-"

"I said I'm fine," Harry's voice rose, his frustration evident as he cut her off, causing Y/N to jump at the sudden outburst.

Anne's concern softened into a resigned sigh, her eyes reflecting a mixture of worry and understanding. "Alright, Harry," she relented, her tone gentler now. "Just promise me you're taking care of yourself."

Harry's features softened, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes. "I promise, Mum," he said, his voice softer now, more subdued.

Anne nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. That's all I ask."

As the atmosphere relaxed, Anne turned her attention back to Y/N, her smile warm and welcoming. "Well, it's lovely to see you again, Y/N," she said kindly. “Tell your parents we’ll be stopping by in the spring.”

Y/N returned the smile, her earlier nervousness dissipating in the warmth of Anne's acceptance. "It was nice to see you too, " she replied sincerely.

Harry glanced at Y/N, a softness in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat. After seeing his mother out following her very brief visit, Y/N finally mustered the courage to ask, "What was she talking about?"

Harry's expression turned grave, his features shadowed by a sense of burden. "It was nothing," he replied.

"Why can't you play?" Y/N pushed, her concern evident in her voice.

"Y/N, I'm telling you to leave it alone," Harry warned, his tone firm.

But Y/N couldn't let it go. "If it's nothing, then why can't you tell me?" she insisted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Because it's none of your business, that's why," Harry snapped, his words cutting like a knife.

"Nothing I do or say has anything to do with you, so go back to hating me because it's a hell of a lot easier than what I have to deal with."

Y/N's heart sank at his harsh words. With a deep breath, she crossed her arms, her resolve hardening. "You know, now I remember why we never got along in the first place," she retorted, her voice laced with bitterness. With a sharp turn on her heel, she made her way to the front door. "You're such an asshole, Harry."

"Y/N," Harry called out, his voice tinged with regret as she stormed out of his apartment towards the elevator. "Y/N, come on, don't be like that."

"Go suck a dick," she shot back, stepping into the elevator before Harry could stop her.

As the doors closed, Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Let me drive you back, at least," he pleaded, his voice barely audible over the sound of the closing doors.

"Fine," Y/N huffed, her tone clipped with annoyance.

The car ride back to her dorm was tense and silent. When Harry pulled into the front of her dormitory, Y/N moved to open the door finding the silence far too uncomfortable. Then, out of nowhere, Harry's voice broke the silence. "I can't play tennis anymore," he confessed, his words heavy.

Y/N's heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat. "What do you mean you can't play anymore? That's ridiculous," she exclaimed, her disbelief evident in her voice.

Harry's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. "I mean I can't ever play tennis again," he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Are you serious?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling with shock.

"I tore my ACL during practice for the French Open. I—" Harry's voice trailed off, unable to continue, “It was so bad Y/N and I was in so much fucking pain and no one would listen to me. I went through multiple surgeries and rehab but the doctors sat me down and said I couldn’t play unless I wanted to fuck up my leg for the rest of my life.”

“Harry…” Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears.

Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of Harry's words sank in. She glanced over at him, seeing the pain etched in his features, and felt a surge of empathy wash over her. It was a devastating blow for someone who had dedicated their life to the sport they loved.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with genuine sadness for the boy beside her.

Harry managed a small nod, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, “That’s why I had to come back here. My father can barely look at me and my mother won’t leave me alone. At least here I can be around people my own age but when I’m at home, it’s fucking suffocating Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine losing the one thing she loved above anything else in the world and have to re-construct everything she had ever known to find something else to love just as much.

“I don’t expect you to say anything but I’d appreciate it if you showed me a little mercy,” He spoke.

“Why would you offer to coach me then? Would that not make things worse?” She asked.

He looks at her, really looks at her, like there was something on the tip of his tongue he wanted to say but couldn’t, “I figured it would alleviate the pain.”

“But I saw you play, I watched you and you beat me,” She exclaimed.

“Yeah and it hurt like a bitch afterwards,” He shook his head.

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wondered why Harry had been unwilling to play against her during the training sessions and now she knew why. She felt awful, her heart was hurting for him.

“I don’t want you to feel pity for me and I don’t want this to change anything between us. I’m tired of being treated like a broken toy and I think it would kill me inside if you looked at me differently.”

Y/N stayed quiet, facing forward and collecting her thoughts before saying, “Thank you for telling me,” She murmured, “And it doesn’t change anything. You’re still an asshole,”

Harry laughed and then his pinky brushed the side of her hand, “You will be everything tomorrow.” He whispered.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the soft edge of his words, “You think so?”

His eyes softened, “I believe in you, more than anyone in the entire world.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and looking out the window. The tension had settled and now a newfound respect lingered between them.

She would win tomorrow, for herself and for him.

. . .

It had been a while since Harry had been to a tennis tournament. The last time he was on a court for an official match was well over six months ago, it was a challenger match he participated in during his training for the French Open before his life took a vast turn.

He sat in the stands with everyone else from Crestwood who had come to watch the first game. Although Crestwood Academy invested more in the football team than any other sport, the turnout had been pretty good and nearly every seat was occupied by a student or teacher.

On the opposite side was Eaststone Academy who seemed to have invested heavily in their merchandise for Y/N’s opponent. Everyone was either wearing a t-shirt with Vanya’s name on it or carrying a sign with supportive catchphrases written in bold marker.

Harry craned his neck in hopes of seeing Y/N preparing herself somewhere outside of the court but couldn’t find her anywhere. He’d sent her a quick message this morning and asked her if she needed anything but she insisted she wanted to be alone.

“Fuck, it’s good we got in the queue early,” Mitch came by with an anxious Sarah, holding two cokes in his hand. They were both wearing navy shirts and sweatbands around their heads, Sarah was holding a sign that had Y/N’s name on it.

“She’s gonna hate you for that,” Harry tried not to smile.

“Oh I already know,” Sarah said, “She watched me make it last night and then almost ripped in half when I asked her if I should bedazzle it.”

Harry’s expression changed into one of concern, “How was she?”

“She’s nervous but she insisted she was okay,” Sarah rolled her eyes, “You know how she is.”

He did, which was why he was willing to accept the fact she wanted to be by herself even though he was desperate to drive over there with strawberry milkshakes just so he could see that smile he had been dreaming about for the past three weeks.

Suddenly, Eaststone Academy stood from their seats and cheered as Vanya Maddison came onto the court. “I’ve never seen such long legs,” Sarah gasped, saying what both Harry and Mitch were thinking.

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as the people around him stood on their feet. He glanced down to the court and his eyes fell on Y/N as she walked onto the court with a dip between her brows and her tennis bag over her shoulder.

She was wearing a white, pleated skort and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt. Her hair was slicked back as tightly as possible into a braid and her white runners were tied up on her feet. He noticed she was wearing earbuds in her ears and then found the walkman he had given her clipped to her skort. He smiled at that, wondering which of the many songs he had put together she was listening to.

“There she is,” Sarah pointed and then waved to get her attention.

Y/N held a hand over her face to block the sun and looked up at the crowd. When she caught sight of Sarah, she offered a friendly wave before her eyes landed on Harry. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement and then walked to her seat on the other side of the umpire.

“C’mon,” Harry murmured, feeling his palms sweating at the sight of her.

“She’s got this in the bag, H.” Mitch puts a hand on his shoulder.

Through the speakers, the umpire calls out the start of the match and everyone falls silent as both players walk to opposing sides of the court. Y/N bounces on her feet and swings her racket backwards and forwards as though warming herself up before the match starts.

When the first serve came, Y/N's reflexes kicked in. She returned the ball swiftly, keeping the rally going with her quick movements, remembering what Harry had taught her. Each exchange became more intense, but Y/N stayed determined, chasing down every ball.

When Vanya hit the ball for the other corner, Y/N ran towards it and returned the ball swiftly, earning the first point with a well-placed shot. The crowd erupted into cheers as Y/N gained an early lead.

“That’s my girl!” Harry clapped his heart in his throat.

But Vanya wasn't about to let up. With determination in her eyes, she fought back, winning the next two points with powerful serves and precise shots. The score was now in Vanya's favor, and the pressure was on for Y/N.

“Fuck!” Y/N released a growl and hit her racket against the floor before storming off to her seat. Harry was tempted to walk down and help her but he needed to let her see what she was capable of on her own.

Her anger was radiating from her, “I’d hate to get on her bad side,” Mitch said.

Harry couldn’t seem to reply as he leant forward with both his elbows on his knees. “C’mon, c’mon, you can do it.” He mutters, thinking of the first bit of advice he had given her.

“Do you know what your biggest strength is in this game?” Harry asked.

“My speed?” Y/N frowned.

“Your anger,” He replies, “Off the court, it’s a little annoying but on the court, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Use it.”

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and stood on her feet. She walked back to her line on the court and bounced the ball up and down on the ground before throwing it up in the air and hitting it with a flat serve, exactly the way Harry had taught her. Her anger radiated from her as she slammed the ball with her racket and hit it with such force it went flying to the other end of the court but not before bouncing inside the square right by Vanya’s foot.

Harry stood to his feet and pumped his fist into the air, “Holy shit!” Mitch exclaimed as Sarah cheered beside him.

They were now at match point and Y/N had to win this next round if she wanted to win the entire game.

The tension thickened in the air as people sat on the edge of their seats to see who would come out on top. This time, it was Vanya’s turn to serve as she launched the ball into the air and hit it with her racket to Y/N’s side of the court.

As Y/N unleashed powerful serves and precise shots, Harry found himself captivated by her every move. With each grunt of exertion, each flex of her muscles, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Despite the shifting heads of the spectators around him as they followed the ball back and forth, his gaze remained fixed solely on her.

Every aspect of Y/N's play had him in a trance—the way her muscles rippled as she sprinted across the court, the intensity in her expression as she anticipated Vanya’s next move, the graceful sway of her hair with each swing of her racket.

But as Harry watched, something stirred within him. A warmth spread through his veins, igniting a fire deep within him. Suddenly, he felt a tightness in his shorts, a physical reaction to the raw power and determination radiating from Y/N on the court.

"Oh, fuck," Harry muttered under his breath, his heart racing as he glanced down and saw the undeniable bulge in his shorts. Panic surged through him, his mind reeling with embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Mitch's voice cut through his thoughts, and Harry quickly lowered his drink to conceal his arousal.

“N-Nothing,” Harry forces a smile, “I need to use the bathroom.” He doesn’t wait for Mitch to respond as she pushes past everyone to get away from the crowd.

He walks quickly over to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He didn’t know what to do. He felt like he was thirteen years old after experiencing girls for the first time again. Was it wrong to rub himself off in the middle of a tennis match when all he was looking at was the girl who played his favourite sport better than anyone he had ever seen, dominating the game with her anger and intensity like she was a complete animal?

He couldn’t shake the image of her from his mind and his cock seemed to ache the more he thought about how beautiful she was on the court, completely in her element, anger and passion emitting from her. Every grunt and groan she made as she hit the ball with so much fervor had his head spiralling.

He looked down and tried to will it away, he needed to get back out there to see her win the game. He thought of every disturbing thing he could possibly think of and even took out his phone to google the quickest way to get rid of an erection.

The excited yells of the crowd told him someone had won and he prayed he would return and see Y/N with the medal around her neck.

After about ten minutes of taking deep breaths, he finally felt composed enough to leave his car. With a flustered face, he made his way back toward the court, silently praying for some kind of cosmic intervention to erase the embarrassing moment from his memory.

As he turned the corner, he spotted Mitch and Sarah engaged in conversation with Y/N, who was proudly wearing the gold medal around her neck. She had won - he knew she would.

Y/N's eyes lit up as she noticed him, a wide smile spreading across her face as she proudly displayed her medal. Unable to resist, he grinned back in response.

Sweat glistened on her skin, her cheeks flushed with exertion, and delicate strands of hair framed her face. At that moment, she radiated beauty, and he couldn't deny the sudden surge of emotions that had slowly been weaving themselves into the fabric of his feelings ever since he had returned to Crestwood.

If the past fifteen minutes were anything to go by, Harry knew this was more than just a game of tennis.

He was in trouble.

. . .

People cheered as Y/N entered Harry’s apartment with Sarah at her side, holding beer cans in the air and patting her on the shoulder as she sifted through the crowds of people. S&M by Rhianna played over the speakers as the apartment that was previously empty was now filled up with student’s from Crestwood.

“There she is,” Mitch’s voice yelled over the music, “Crestwood’s very own Serena Williams,”

“I wouldn’t go that far Mitch,” She chuckled, unable to stop herself from smiling so hard after the excitement of her first win.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room as she went in search of the one person she wanted to see whilst everyone fell into conversation around her.

That’s when she saw him, leaning against the wall with a red solo cup in his hand. His hair was a tangled mess, and his body was adorned in a loose, white shirt, its u-neck revealing the inked pair of swallows beneath his collarbones and gold chain around his neck. On his legs, he wore a loose pair of black trousers.

Y/N held back a smile as she made her way over to him until she realised who he was talking to.

Her face fell as she saw the angelic blonde, tanned and glowing like she’d just come back from a holiday somewhere south of the equator.

Harry’s face lit up as Y/N approached until he realised what was going on.

“Hey,” He smiled, trying to distract her.

“Where were you?” Y/N snapped her gaze towards him.

“What do y’ mean? M right here,” He spoke, “You were incredible out there.”

“Who’s this?” Y/N ignored him, folding her arms and looking at the girl he was speaking to. Y/N knew exactly who she was but felt the need to act as though she had never seen her before.

Harry hesitated for a moment before introducing her. “Y/N, this is Astrid.”

Astrid flashed a dazzling smile at Y/N, her demeanour friendly yet confident. “Congratulations on the win today, Y/N. I’m looking forward to our match in the semifinals.”

Harry's reaction was immediate. “What?” he stammered, clearly taken aback.

“You didn’t know?” Astrid asked, surprised. “Y/N and I will be facing off in the semifinals.”

Y/N grit her teeth and forced a smile, the two girls eyeing each other up and down as Harry’s eyes darted anxiously between them.

Now that Y/N was into the semi-finals her next opponent was Astrid Anderson, one of the best junior, female tennis players in the county.

Who just so happened to be Harry’s ex-girlfriend.

1K notes · View notes

itsonlyjoseph · 4 months ago

Text

Make Me Hurt || Eddie Munson x Reader

synopsis: Y/N lives her life coping torment from Eddie Munson day in and day out, but after a certain encounter, everything changes

warnings: Bully!Eddie, angst,

word count: 4.5k

The fluorescent over head lights bounced off the white linoleum and burned into your eyeballs. It was currently 8:30 am and the morning rush of Hawkins High School had already began.

People gathered in their cliques around the parking lot and in the halls. Cheerleaders, jocks, band geeks, honour roll student, slackers, stoner, all of them.

You were by yourself, obviously, as you trudged your way down the hall towards your locker. You hated this school for many reasons. The food, the facilities, the people. Actually, mainly just one person. Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson... were to begin...

He was a tall, dark, metalhead who hated everyone and everything and he made it known. Eddie wasn't popular by any means. He too was an outcast. Him and his friends dubbed satanists and cultists by everyone around them, and even though you too were an outcast, you were an even bigger loser than him. He made it known that you were dirt beneath his dirty white sneakers. Sure, he'd felt that way about everyone but for some unknown reason, it was personal with you. He made your entire high school career a living, breathing hellscape.

You didn't even know what you did to him to make him target you personally. You had barely ever spoken to him, aside from when you had to. Eddie wasn't the most approachable guy so people rarely went up to him unless they were looking to end the day with less teeth. He was happy get into his fair share of school yard fights.

You felt the atmosphere change as your ears perked up at the familiar sound of sneakers slapping the floor. You sighed out an already exhausted breath, just knowing that today would be no different than any other day.

Just as the footsteps got closer, you felt a large, rough hand grip your shoulder and swing you around. You came face to face with Eddie's broad chest, making you look up timidly to his his sneering face staring you down. He had a look of hatred that always sent a wave of anxiety and sadness through you.

What did I ever do to you?

"Hi." You squeaked out, meekly.

"I told you to keep your shit out of the Hellfire room." He seethed.

Ah, yes. The Hellfire room. An empty class room down in the west wing that Eddie and his friends occupied every day. No one knew what actually happened in there. Many people said they did their devil stuff in there. Once, someone even said they sacrificed a baby lamb in there. You didn't believe that one. Much.

"But I haven't been down there." You tried to defend yourself. Eddie didn't care. His fist came up and collided with the locker behind your head before he walked away.

You didn't know what stuff Eddie was talking about. You really hadn't been down there. At least not with any item to leave behind. Maybe he just wanted a reason to torment you.

Eddie wasn't the only person that tormented you. You also had to cop it from the jocks and cheerleaders. They called you names, kicked your bag across the room, tripped you, the usual nasty high school stuff.

It was different with Eddie. It didn't feel like the typically high school bullying. It felt worse. Angrier. Meaner.

The school day felt like it was dragging on, they way it did every day for you. Every day was the same. School. Eddie. Work. Repeat. It was draining. Your parents expected the most out of you and wouldn't settle for anything less.

Lunch was your favourite period because you could disappear for a while and be by yourself. You could take a breath. Typically, you sat in the library or behind the gym but considering the heavy rainfall today, you sat in the library.

The library was only ever littered with dorks and the quiet kids. They never spoke to you but you felt safe with them. It was almost impossible to find one of the popular kids in the library. Even less of a chance of seeing Eddie in here.

The rain pelted heavy against the windows as you found your usual spot under the staircase. You sat on an old beanbag and were surrounded my bookcases. You were pretty undetectable here. Opening your sack lunch and the book you were currently reading, you settled in. You were calm and happy, not a care in the world for the next 45 minutes. Or so you thought.

The library doors squeaked open after a few minutes but you paid no mind. Until you heard that all too familiar voice.

Your eyes widened, half in fear and half in exhaustion. You had never encounter Eddie in here but now this little slice of solitude was tainted.

From your place under the staircase, you had a perfectly hidden view of where Eddie was standing. He was being looked down at by Principal Higgins and it seemed like he was being reprimanded for something. For the first time in your whole life, Eddie looked almost… Scared? Beaten down? Nervous? Sad?

You couldn’t quite tell.

“Listen, Munson. I want you out of my school more than anyone but I have half a mind to keep you back again. Teach you a lesson on respect. You think people like you go far in life? You think your dad got very far?” You listened to Principle Higgins berate Eddie whilst he stood there and took it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost feel bad for him.

“Keep in line or I’ll ruin what little chance you have at a future.” Principal Higgins threatened before taking a breath and stepping forward. “And don’t think I won’t enjoy it.”

He finally left after that last comment and Eddie stood still, a completely unreadable look on his hard face. Your place under the stairs hid you just enough to keep looking at him and analysing him.

You saw Eddie take a deep breath and rub his forehead with the back of his hand. Suddenly, your hiding spot was sorely revealed when the little foam balls in your bean bag shifted, making a rather loud sound.

Eddie turned his head slowly to the source of the noise, his face turning from unreadable to angry the moment he spotted you.

With wide eyes, you whipped your head back round to completely hide your body from view. You took a few deep breaths to calm your racing nerves.

In a few seconds, Eddie would most likely round the corner of the staircase and rip your book from your hands, screaming at you until you cried.

But he didn’t. Eddie didn’t round the corner to yell at you. Nothing.

You braved another look the where Eddie was standing and saw that he was gone. That was definitely odd. You’d accidentally heard Eddie getting in trouble and he didn’t do anything about it. He just left.

Maybe he was taking Principle Higgins words seriously and actually keeping himself in line. Maybe that meant no more bullying.

After a short while, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. You’d packed up your items and stuffed them back into your bag, distracted. For once, your mind was elsewhere. You weren’t scared of walking around the school like you normally were.

Placing your Walkman over your ears and turning it on, the sound of Fleetwood Mac flowing through your ears, you walked out of the library humming along. Your mind of occupied with thoughts of what you’d do after work tonight, what pyjamas you’d wear to bed, what movie you’d watch along tonight.

You were blissfully unaware of the looming presence behind you.

Eddie had waiting for you outside the library to give you a piece of his mind for eavesdropping on him like that.

Just before you could turn down an empty hallway, you felt a rough hand come down harshly on the shoulder, yanking you back against a wall with a yelp.

Eddie ripped the Walkman from around your ears and out of your pocket and smashed it on the ground. You watched the little pieces of plastic spread out on the floor around your feet.

“Why are you always lurking somewhere, huh?” Eddie yelled in your face. “That was my business!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You pleading, Eddie’s hands pressing your shoulders roughly into the wall and tears welling up in your eyes.

Eddie was pressing you into the wall so hard, your feet just barely scraped the ground.

“You shouldn’t have heard that!” He continued. The anger intensifying.

“I’m sorry!” You sobbed. You had tears streaming down your face as you looked up at Eddie with wide, unblinking eyes and for a moment all Eddie could see was his mother, terrified and pleading for his father not to hurt her. “Please don’t hurt me Eddie.”

Eddie’s hands loosened for just a moment. “I’m not my dad!” He shouted and stepped back, stomping off down the hall and leaving you all alone.

You fell to the floor in a crying heap and tried to catch your breath.

Sure, Eddie had been tormenting you for years. Saying all kinds of nasty things but never once had he gotten physical. Eddie pushing you against the wall didn’t necessarily hurt but you were scared that he wanted to hit you.

You also weren’t sure what he meant when he said he wasn’t his dad. You’d heard Principal Higgins talk about Eddie’s dad just before but you didn’t know the extent of it.

After you’d wiped your tears and calmed down, you gathered up the pieces of your smashed Walkman and shoved it back into the front of your bag.

You’d cycled to school that day and decided for the first time ever, you’d skip. Beat the rush and go home for a few hours before work tonight. You might even call in sick.

At home, your dad was sitting in the armchair in front of the TV when you’d walked through the door.

“Hey Button, what are you doing home so early?” Your dad wondered. He was a gentle man with a pot belly and kind eyes.

“Oh, I just wasn’t feeling too hot. I think I might be approaching my ladies days. I just wanted to relax a bit before work.” You lied. You never lied to your dad.

“Okay, baby. You feel better soon.”

“Thanks dad.”

In your room, you placed the pieces of Walkman on your desk, along with the equally broken tape. It was your favourite.

You’d spent 65 dollars of your hard earned money on that thing and another 8 dollars on the Fleetwood Mac tape.

Lying down on your bed, you snuggled into yourself and just stared at the wall. For some reason, you felt bad for Eddie Munson. Sure, you didn’t deserve the things he said to you but you didn’t have to be genius to see that he was troubled. He probably had a bad home life and was taking his anger out on others.

You shouldn’t feel bad but you did. It was your best and worst quality. You felt things too deeply. No matter how terrible someone seems to be, you can’t help but feel sorry for them and want to help them and protect them from whatever’s hurting them. You wished whatever pain was inside Eddie’s head, you could transfer over to you so he didn’t have to feel that way.

Your eyes began to get heavier and heavier and soon enough the next thing you know, it’s pitch black outside and a patch of drool coats your cheek. You’d fallen asleep. You felt a little better but considering the sky was dark, you’d missed work today.

You rolled over and looked at the bright red numbers on your alarm clock.

3:19 am.

You definitely missed work tonight. Oh well, you decided you’d just give them a call tomorrow and explain that you were sick. Surely, they’d understand. You were a good enough worker that they wouldn’t think you just bailed.

The next morning, your opens opened to the sound of your dad gently tapping on your door. Looking over at the clock, you saw that it was now 8:30 am.

“Hey sweetie. How are you feeling?” Your dad asked as he opened the door.

For a moment, you forgot. You forgot that Eddie wanted to hurt you. You forgot your broken Walkman and you forgot the look of hatred in his face.

“Uh.. I’m not sure. My stomach hurts still.” You wheezed out. You added a fake little cough for good measure.

“Alright, you rest up and I’ll call Principal Higgins. I might even stop by Scoops and get you a sundae.” Your dad smiled down at you. You smiled back up at him. He was so kind and he was such a good dad. It made your mind go back to Eddie’s dad. You wondered what he was like.

“Thanks dad.”

Your dad closed your bedroom door and you rolled back over to face the wall again.

You couldn’t feel Eddie’s hands on your shoulders anymore but you remember exactly what it was like.

“God, why does he hate me so much?” You mumbled quietly to yourself.

A day later, it was Saturday. You had never been more thankful for the weekend. You were working at the diner tonight, thankfully, and you had a few hours before your shift started.

Standing in front of your vanity, you brushed out your hair and applied your favourite blue eyeshadow lightly across your lids. Your typical shift went from 5pm up until 12:30am.

It was a long and tiresome shift but you appreciated the money and liked having something to do on your free days. You also had your fair share of loyal customers that you enjoyed seeing and speaking to.

Riding your bike to the diner probably wasn’t the safest considering you left after midnight, but you didn’t have another option. You didn’t own a car and you didn’t want to ask your dad to stay awake for you.

Pulling your uniform out of your wardrobe, you placed the pale yellow dress over your body and tided the frilly white apron around your waist.

Downstairs, your dad was already snoozing in the armchair as the 4 o’clock news played quietly in the background. Placing your keys and lipgloss into your purse, you made your way outside to your bike.

The diner was quiet, as usual. Only a few older guys here and there. Putting your belongings down in the back, you made your way out start your shift.

You noticed your favourite regular sat at the diner bar sipping his coffee quietly and reading the paper.

“Afternoon, Wayne.” You smiled at him.

He looked up and smiled brightly behind his moustache. “Hey there, sweet thing.”

Wayne was a regular for a long time and even though you’d only been working at the diner for a few months, the two of you chatted like old pals every time you saw each other. You talked about movies and music and occasionally talked about work and school but not often.

“Overnight, tonight?” You asked as you topped up his coffee.

“Same as every night. How’s school.”

“Schools whatever.” You mumbled.

“That still giving you a hard time?”

“Is the sky blue?”

Wayne mused.

“You know, if I’ve learnt anything in my time here on earth, boys pick on girls they like.”

You huffed outa breath as if to laugh.

“Nah, I doubt it.”

“Never know.”

“I guess but, this feels different. Just the way he looks at me.”

“Well, maybe there’s something else going on. Maybe he’s troubled or scared of his feelings.”

You looked up at Wayne and noticed he had a sympathetic look on his face.

“Okay love guru.” You laughed. “You hungry yet?”

Wayne smiled and looked over the menu once more before speaking.

“No, just the coffee tonight. I gotta pick up my nephew before I head to work. Lost his license again.” Wayne said as he finished off his coffee and stood.

“Uh, of course.” You replied. You’d heard vaguely about this mystery relative of his. I’ll you knew was that he got himself into trouble and they were each others only family.

Wayne dropped a five dollar bill on the counter and smiled before walking out. It was 4 dollars and 30 cents too much but Wayne had already left by the time you realised.

The rest of the shift was boring and uneventful, as usual and by the time 12:30am rolled around, you smelled like burnt coffee and bacon grease. No wonder you had little blackheads on your chin.

“Okay bye Al!” You called out to the line cook as you mounted your bike.

The weather was cooling off as the summer was coming to an end but it was still nice enough weather to not need a jacket after midnight. It was times this like when you wished you had friends to hang out with and go to parties with.

You took your usual route home but considering it was past midnight on a Saturday, the few dive bars around town were crowded with people. The bar that was on your way home was called The Hideout. It was a sketchy biker bar that housed the towns drunks and heavy metal enthusiasts.

Cycling past, you peered over and felt your stomach drop when you saw who was standing around a group of scary looking guys, all smoking.

It Eddie.

The very same Eddie that you had seen since he pushed you up against the wall.

Coming to a stop on your bike, you needed to catch your breath. You were on the other side of the street and it was dark so you figured it wouldn’t see you but he did. He looked right at you.

His face soften as if he was recognising you. He held an unreadable expression as he stubbed out his cigarette.

The exchange only lasted a moment before you turned back to the road and peddled on down the road and towards home.

For the next several days at school, you’d managed to avoid Eddie at all costs. You saw glimpses of the back of his head or his shoulder but managed to sneak away completely unseen by him.

Normally you hated it when he was mean to you because it hurt your feelings but now you were scared of him. You didn’t really know if he was capable of hurting you physically but you didn’t like to think about it.

You hid in the library or down in the lower levels and raced home afterwards.

You had another late shift on Wednesday after school so instead of going home you decided to take your uniform to school with you and just get your homework done during the quiet periods.

Wayne hadn’t arrived yet when you got there so you decided to brew a fresh pot of coffee for him.

The doorbell chimed just as the pot was finishing brewing. You turned around to greet who you assumed would be Wayne but your blood ran cold when you were met with Wayne… and Eddie.

What is he doing here, and why is he with Wayne? You thought to yourself

Before you realised, you let go of the coffee pot in your hand and it smashed on the floor, coffee spilling around your feet and staining your old white Keds.

“Oh, Y/N. You okay?” Wayne asked concerned.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You stuttered out, quickly dropping to the ground to clean the mess you’d made. “It slipped.”

“Here, I’ll help clean it up.” Wayne said as he walked to you.

“No!” You exclaimed. “It’s okay, I got it.” You forced a smile.

It was obvious you were incredibly anxious right now, anyone could see it.

“Uh, okay. Well, Y/N, this is my nephew, Eddie.”

You slowly stood back up, still nervous to meet Eddie’s gaze. You didn’t want Wayne to suspect anything so you finally looked up.

Eddie held that same unreadable look on his face that he did on Saturday at the hideout. It was one you hadn’t seen before then. He usually looked so angry and full of hate but now he just looked… like nothing.

“Hi, there.” You mumbled.

Eddie didn’t say anything. He simply turned his lip up to give you an awkward smile.

“Two coffees to start?” You said to no one in particular.

“Yes please, thank you darlin’” Wayne mused back.

The two men sat down at the counter as you turned your back to brew a new fresh pot of coffee. Even though your back was turned, you could feel Eddie's eyes burning holes into the back of your head.

You placed the two cups of coffee down in front of Wayne and Eddie without looking up. You had never felt this on edge in his presence before.

Eddie watched you float around the diner from the corner of his eye, not listening to Wayne speaking, for most of the time he was there. He noticed that you seemed more carefree and happier here then you were at school but he could tell his presence made you anxious.

He hated it.

He didn't really know why he hated you so much. He couldn't place why he tormented you to the extent he did. Sure, he was an asshole to everyone he encountered at school, students and teachers alike, but there was something about you he didn't understand. Something that burned inside him so hot that he saw red every time he saw you. He just wanted to hurt you the way he hurt.

"Alright boy, let's go. I got work soon." You heard Wayne mumble, finishing off his coffee and standing.

You turned and faced the two men for the first time since placing Waynes eggs in front of him.

Eddie was already looking at you.

His usually hard face still held that unreadable expression on it.

"Goodnight, Y/N." Wayne smiled after dropping his money on the counter.

Normally, you would have smiled and waved and said goodbye but tonight you simply raised your hand as the two left. Your eyes lingered on Eddie for a moment longer and then he also left.

When the doorbell chimed, signalling that they were gone, you let out a deep breath you didn't realise you had been holding. Now that Eddie and Wayne were gone, no one else was in the diner. Normally this was the perfect opportunity to finish off some homework but your mind was completely busy elsewhere. Tonight was a lot to take in. First, you'd finally met Wayne nephew and it turned out to be Eddie. You didn't understand how Wayne and Eddie could be related. Wayne was so kind and Eddie was... Eddie.

Secondly, you had no idea what the neutral, unreadable look on Eddie's face meant. Would he continue to terrorise you at school, maybe worse this time? He now knew where you worked too, which wasn't ideal.

You biked home once again after your shift and collapsed on your bed, falling asleep in your uniform.

It had been an eventful few days to say the least.

It didn't help your fatigue that you were working another shift tomorrow night. Your worries for tomorrow washed away however. You knew it was Wayne's night off, meaning he didn't come in for dinner beforehand. You'd be able to relax without seeing either of them.

Waking up the next morning, you quickly showered and dressed yourself before shoving your uniform into your bag again.

You noticed Eddie wasn't around in the morning. You thought he was probably out doing a drug deal or just late but you noticed that he wasn't in the cafeteria at lunch other. Perhaps another detention. But he also wasn't in the library, which was odd.

Even though Eddie hated school and everyone in it, it wasn't typical for him to skip. Whatever the reason may be, you were thankful for the day of peace and calm.

By the time the day come to an end, you had almost completely forgotten about the whole situation. Almost.

Walking into the diner, tightening the apron around your waist, your stopped in your tracks, blood turning cold once again.

Eddie was back. He was alone this time. He sat stoically by himself at the counter with his arms folded close to his chest, head looking down.

You shuddered out a breath. You figured he was here to confront you and yell at you for playing nice with his uncle. If this was any other diner or restaurant, you'd make a co-worker go and serve him but you couldn't do that. The was no one else here. It was just you.

You took a deep breath and slowly walked over, bracing yourself for hell.

"Hi.' You muttered, but he didn't look up. "W-would you like another coffee, Eddie?"

Eddie took a moment before he looked up at you. He had a soft, calm expression on his face. You hadn't really noticed it before but when he wasn't seething with hatred, Eddie was handsome. Large brown eyes, round like a baby cow and a long eyelashes with a dusting of freckles across his nose.

You shook away the thought, waiting for him to respond.

"I'm sorry I hurt you at school last week." He deadpanned.

"I-wh- Sorry?" It caught you off guard.

"And I'm sorry I hurt you when you did nothing wrong."

You didn't say anything, just looked at Eddie like a deer in headlights. You never once expected to ever speak to him in a normal setting, let alone have him apologise to you.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, so I'll leave you alone." Eddie said as he stood up to leave but before he could turn around, he pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the counter.

"This was mine, but, you know," He mumbled.

It was a Sony Walkman. Not the same model as the one you had but one just as good.

"I also got you this." He said quieter this time. "I don't know if this is your kind of music but,"

I also placed down an Iron Maiden tape next to it. You still hadn't moved. Your were still too in shock too.

Eddie spared on last look you before he walked out. Your eyes slowly dropped down to the counter and softly reached out to take the Walkman and tape into your hands. In theory, it was an incredible gift. Eddie gave you his Walkman and apologised for hurting you.

You were conflicted and you had no idea what to think.

All you knew was that you wanted to say thank you. You just had to find out were Eddie lived. You couldn't confront him at school. That could go badly.

You needed to hatch a plan and speak to Eddie. All you wanted was to know why he hated you so much. Or didn't?

You had no idea.

Part Two

#Eddie Munson #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson angst #eddie munson x fem!reader #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie Munson #enemies to lovers

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hwonnrinji · 4 months ago

Text

THE FIRST SNOW

kim minji x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : you were in a long-term relationship with minji since the start of high school. after graduating, minji broke the news that she's going back to canada. a long-distance relationship wasn't an option, so the next best thing was breaking up. you were still in love with her for a period of time but eventually started to move on– until you bump into someone on the street.

{ a/n } : tsbu lara fic hasn't seen the light of day since creation, i feel bad -v-

{ tags/extra } : 2 years after break up, lovers to exes to ???, light angst, hyein and reader are sisters, may or may not have projected a little

═════════

now playing : the first snow - exo

⤷ "if i met you,

would tears rise up?"

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"Y/N! IT'S SNOWING!" hyein shook you awake while she rambled about the snow in excitement, pulling on your arm to go outside and see. you gave a half-ass protest but hyein insisted you check it out. "it might be one of the prettier first snows."

"hyein, do you have any idea what time it is?" you rubbed your eyes tiredly, the glare from the streetlights were rather annoying. the snow was as pretty as hyein said it was but you'd prefer to see it when you're fully awake.

"it's six in the morning," hyein answered. you turned to look at her, having to slightly look up to see her face. now that you're getting a better look at her, she's in her school uniform. "i have to leave for school in a bit."

"oh. i'll go get ready." as you were about to make your way to the bathroom, hyein quickly stopped you.

"it's okay, dain will pick me up."

your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you stared at her. "can dain drive yet?" seeing her tense, you sighed, putting your hand up to stop her from talking. "whatever, i don't care. just get to school safe and on time."

"why are you making it seem like i'll skip?" hyein pouted, clinging onto your arm.

"it's because you do. if you skip one more time, i'm sending you back to incheon with mom and dad," you warned. blood seemed to drain from hyein's face

"what?! noo, i like seoul," she whined while shaking your shoulders to take back your threat. you groaned, swatting her arms to let you go. "plus, haerin is the one driving."

"really? ok, have fun."

"hey! why are you suddenly ok when i mention that cat?"

"haerin value her studies so of course i trust her." you shrugged. a sudden voice called out for hyein down the street– more like a couple voices –signaling that her friends were here. "don't spend too much money on snacks, ok? love you."

"love you too, bye!" hyein rushed out of the house, turning the corner. you peeked your head out to see haerin's hyundai parked at the end of the neighborhood. you softly smiled seeing hyein run happily to her friends, reminding you of your high school years.

"well since i'm awake now," you headed back inside to get ready for the day, thinking about whether or not to go to class a little earlier than normal. since that's too much work, you decided to get coffee first.

your phone kept buzzing with endless notifications from god knows who, and while you tried to ignore it to admire the snow around you, a sudden call interrupted you. with an annoyed huff, you took your phone out of your pocket to see danielle calling. "hello?" you answered as you continued to walk to the coffee shop.

'did you hear?' she asked on the other line.

"hear what?"

'minji's back from canada.'

you paused for a moment, your lips parting in shock. minji, your ex that broke up with you two years ago to leave to canada, was now back in korea. "wait, i thought the move was permanent."

'it was never permanent?'

that little liar. "she told me it was," you said almost bitterly.

'really? before she left, she said she'd come back. look,'

danielle sent you a screenshot of minji's instagram story, the photo being her on an airplane with the caption 'back home.' you were absolutely furious, your hand gripping your phone so tightly that it might break. "she told me she wasn't coming back."

'maybe you remembered wrong? 'cuz that's not what she said to me nor haerin.'

"no, i'm sure. if she was coming back then we would've gone long-distance."

'y/n–'

"look, i don't wanna talk about this anymore. i'm gonna go." you didn't give danielle a chance to talk any further, your finger already pressing the hang up button. great. just when you were finally moving on, minji decided to come back. you shook your head and continued on your way. to say you were pissed would be the least similar way to describe how you were feeling. how could she lie and come back like nothing?

you finally reached your destination, your hand reaching out to grab the door handle until another hand appeared in front of you. "oh, sorry–" you backed up from the door but stopped midway once you saw who was holding the door.

"y/n?" god, you hated that voice.

"what're you doing here?" you asked with no interest, yet the sting in your eyes and the tug at your heart says otherwise. minji glanced inside the building before returning back to you, a confused look smothered on her face.

"getting coffee?..." right. it's a coffee shop. you fought back the urge to roll your eyes and cry at the same time, stepping back to let her go through. "you can go first."

"just go already." minji hesitated but reluctantly opened the door to go in first, pushing back the door behind her just enough so you can enter as well. you scoffed but didn't reject the offer, stepping inside to feel the warm atmosphere, a contrast to the outside. you placed your order quickly before finding a seat at one of the tables near the window.

minji sat in the seat in front of you, startling you a bit. her eyes seemed like she wanted to talk to you but you weren't sure if you were ready for that conversation yet. "can we please talk, y/n?"

"stop saying my name." you leaned back in your chair, your arms crossed over your chest. "you lied to me."

"it was the only option," she confessed. the sting in your eyes grew with each word she said. you ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the loose strands in frustration.

"only option? was i not enough to deserve the truth?"

"i didn't mean it like that..." her eyes were sad, practically begging you to let her explain. "i got accepted into a university in a toronto," she started, "i wanted to keep our relationship but i was going across the world. it would drive me insane to hear you say that you miss being held by me because, fucking hell, y/n. i'd miss it too."

your bottom lip started to quiver as tears welled up in your eyes, droplets falling down onto your lap. you're can't cry. not here, not now.

"i didn't wanna hear you say you wish i was there with you, i didn't wanna see myself crying in front of the bathroom mirror after calling you," minji continued on, "i didn't wanna have to pretend like i wasn't affected. so, i left."

"but why? why did you have to go? you could've stayed."

"it was the only university that accepted me. if yonsei accepted me then i would've." you sniffled, your hand coming up to wipe the tears from your eyes. you hated yourself for crying at that moment. "i was young and naive, but now, i know what i want." she reached across the table, holding your hand dearly. "i want you. i want us to start again."

"minji, you can't just leave and come back to ask for a second chance."

"please, y/n, please. i'm still in love you and i'm sorry it took this long for me to realize." her pleas were convincing but you weren't sure if you should give in. "let us be us again."

"i... i don't know." you pulled your hand back, slipping out of your seat. you left minji sitting alone as you walked out of the building, too caught up in your emotions. you felt a firm hand grab your wrist and turn you back around.

"love, please–"

"don't call me that!" your chest rose and fell rapidly as tears streamed down your cheek. "no. you don't get to break up with me and then call me love." minji only stared at you, half sorry and half full of pity.

"please think about it," she begged. "text me when you have an answer."

"don't boss me around." you took back your arm, stuffing your hand in your jacket pocket. "hyein still hates you."

"i'm sorry."

"stop, just stop. your number is still blocked and i don't plan on unblocking you." your hands curled into fists in your pockets out of anger. "see you around."

- tbc -

#hwonnrinji #newjeans #newjeans fic #kim minji #kim minji x reader #minji x fem reader #kim minji x fem reader #nwjns #nj #newjeans minji #kim minji newjeans #kang haerin #hanni pham #danielle marsh #lee hyein #뉴진스

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gf2bellamy · 2 months ago

Text

library — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: draco joins you in the library content warnings: mention of school stress , eating in the great hall

Charms class dragged on, as Professor Flitwick went over the details of next week’s homework. You slouched in your seat, propping your head on your hand while your gaze drifted around the room. Beside you, Pansy was doodling aimlessly in her textbook, entirely uninterested in the lecture.

Your eyes landed on Harry and Ron, who were scribbling furiously in their notes—but not about Charms. Judging by their muffled laughter, they were playing some sort of game, much to Hermione’s dismay. She swatted Ron’s arm with an exasperated glare, clearly trying to get him to pay attention.

The scene made you smile faintly, but your attention shifted again, landing on Draco Malfoy. He sat slumped in his chair, his pale hair falling across his forehead as his eyes threatened to close. He looked like he was seconds away from dozing off completely, the faintest scowl tugging at his lips.

You found yourself watching him longer than you intended.

“Enjoying the view?”

Pansy’s whispered voice jolted you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head toward her, and she raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, giving her a half-hearted grimace as you straightened up in your chair.

Pansy didn’t buy it for a second. She had caught on to your not-so-subtle crush on Draco ages ago, though she’d promised to keep it to herself. That didn’t stop her from teasing you at every opportunity.

Professor Flitwick’s voice cut through your embarrassment. “I’ll see you all next week!” he announced, dismissing the class.

Grateful for the excuse to leave, you hastily shoved your books into your bag, ready to escape to the Great Hall for dinner.

“You two coming?” Blaise Zabini asked, stopping in front of your desk. Draco stood just behind him, lazily slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Pansy snapped her textbook shut and stood, brushing imaginary dust from her robes. “I’m starving,” she declared, already heading toward the door.

“Me too,” you murmured, falling into step behind her and Blaise.

Draco, however, matched your pace, walking beside you as the group made its way down the corridor. You tried to keep your focus straight ahead, even as you were hyper-aware of him beside you.

“Long class, wasn’t it?” Draco drawled, his voice low and smooth.

You glanced at him, startled that he was talking to you. His gray eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of amusement in them.

“Yeah, Flitwick really knows how to make time crawl,” you replied, managing to keep your voice steady.

Draco smirked faintly, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he looked ahead. “You didn’t look like you were paying much attention anyway.”

“Neither were you,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at Draco out of the corner of your eye. “Saw you almost falling asleep.”

He looked momentarily caught, his gray eyes widening just a fraction before he shrugged it off with practiced nonchalance. “Long day,” he replied simply, though the slight curve of his lips hinted at his amusement.

The conversation didn’t go further as you and the rest of your friend group reached the Great Hall. The familiar buzz of chatter and clinking silverware greeted you, and you slid into your usual seat at the Slytherin table.

Pansy wasted no time piling food onto her plate. You followed suit, your stomach reminding you how long it had been since lunch. Double Potions with Snape followed by Professor Flitwick’s monotone lecture had drained you completely.

You sighed heavily, spearing a few fries with your fork before popping them into your mouth. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the simple comfort of food, but the looming pile of homework waiting for you made it hard to relax.

Draco’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “What’s up with you?” he asked, his tone casual as he reached for a bread roll.

“Don’t feel like spending the night in the library,” you mumbled around a mouthful of fries. “Again,” you added with a groan, thinking back to the endless hours you’d spent surrounded by dusty books and half-finished parchment the night before.

Draco’s gaze flickered toward you, his attention drawn away from his plate. Blaise and Pansy were too busy bickering over the last piece of bread to notice at first, their playful banter filling the space.

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said suddenly, his voice cutting through the background noise.

You froze mid-motion, your fork hovering just above your plate before you slowly set it down. Turning to face him, you raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You?”

Draco met your gaze with his cool, gray eyes, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Draco Malfoy. In the library?” you said, your voice laced with disbelief as you studied him.

“Why not?” he replied nonchalantly, shifting his focus back to his food, though you didn’t miss the flicker of amusement in his expression.

At that moment, Pansy and Blaise stopped mid-argument, their heads snapping toward the two of you.

“What was that about the library?” Pansy asked, her eyes darting between you and Draco.

“You’re going to the library with her?” Blaise chimed in, his tone equal parts surprise and amusement as he leaned forward.

Draco didn’t look up, slicing into his food with an air of indifference. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” he said, but his smirk deepened ever so slightly.

Pansy’s lips curled into a knowing grin. “Oh, it’s not a big deal,” she said, dragging out the words as her gaze flicked to you. “Not at all.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “I need to finish my essay, that’s all,” you muttered, trying to downplay the situation as you returned your attention to your plate.

“Sure, that’s all it is,” Blaise teased, exchanging a sly look with Pansy.

Draco finally glanced up, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly at the pair of them. “You two should focus on your food instead of other people’s business,” he said smoothly, the authority in his tone enough to quiet them for now.

After dinner, the chatter and laughter continued as everyone polished off their meals. Blaise and Pansy eventually decided to head back to the Slytherin common room, but not before Pansy grabbed your arm, pulling you aside with a teasing grin.

“So, the library, huh?” she whispered, her voice dripping with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, trying to appear unaffected. “Don’t make it weird, Pansy.”

She leaned in closer, her grin widening. “Oh, it’s already weird. Malfoy volunteering to study? With you? That’s rich.”

Before you could respond, she gave you a playful wink and flounced off to catch up with Blaise. You let out a sigh and turned back toward Draco, who was waiting patiently at the base of the stairs.

His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gray eyes as he watched Pansy retreat.

“What did she say?” he asked casually as you joined him.

“Nothing important,” you replied quickly, brushing it off.

The two of you began climbing the grand staircase toward the library, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridors. The conversation turned to your respective workloads—essays, spell theory, and the looming deadlines that Hogwarts always seemed to pile on.

Once you reached the library, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The warm, hushed air was filled with the faint rustle of turning pages and the soft creak of chairs as students worked at scattered tables. The librarian shot a warning glance in your direction as you entered, and you both instinctively fell silent.

Draco scanned the room before selecting a free table near the back, far enough away from the busier sections. He pulled out a chair and sat down. You slid into the seat across from him, pulling out your books and parchment with a quiet efficiency.

The two of you worked in near silence, save for the occasional scratch of quills on parchment and the soft rustling of pages. Draco’s focus was surprising—he wasn’t just idly pretending to work.

You stole a glance at him from behind your textbook, unable to help yourself. His usually sharp, guarded expression softened slightly in the dim light of the library, and the way he absentmindedly tapped his quill against the edge of his ink bottle was strangely endearing.

“What?” he asked suddenly, not looking up but clearly catching you in the act.

You snapped your gaze back to your parchment, your cheeks heating. “Nothing. Just surprised you’re actually working.”

Draco smirked faintly, his quill pausing mid-scratch. “I told you, I’m full of surprises.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you returned to your work.

You focused on your parchment, the rhythm of writing and flipping pages creating a peaceful backdrop.

Every now and then, you’d exchange a wordless glance across the table—a raised eyebrow when Draco sighed in frustration at his essay or a subtle laugh when you dropped your book.

“Why does Snape insist on us writing essays on potion theories we’ll never use?” Draco muttered under his breath, breaking the quiet. His voice was low enough not to earn the librarian’s wrath, but it carried just enough irritation to make you stifle a laugh.

“Probably because he enjoys watching us suffer,” you whispered back, unable to resist teasing him.

Draco snorted softly, a rare but genuine reaction that made your heart skip a beat. “You might be onto something,” he said, his smirk widening as he leaned back slightly in his chair.

You returned your focus to your work, but a few minutes later, Draco spoke again.

“You’ve got ink on your nose,” he said casually, leaning forward with an amused glint in his eyes.

“What?” You immediately raised a hand to your face, swiping at your nose.

Draco shook his head. “Not there. Here.”

Before you could react, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wiped the spot just above the bridge of your nose. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle, that you froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat.

“There,” he said softly, his voice almost tender.

You managed a quiet “Thanks,” barely able to meet his gaze as heat flooded your cheeks. Draco didn’t comment, but you noticed the faintest flush creeping up his neck as he returned to his essay.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet concentration, shared glances, and the occasional murmured exchange.

By the time you both decided to call it a night, the library had emptied out.As you packed up your things, Draco stood and waited for you, his posture relaxed but his eyes attentive.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder. When you reached the staircase that would take you to your own rooms, Draco paused, glancing at you.

“You work too hard,” he said after a moment, his tone light but his expression sincere.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “Says the person who just spent two hours in the library with me.”

Draco smirked, his usual confidence returning. “What can i say ? I had a lot of free time.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his smirk softening into something warmer as he watched you descend the stairs.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff

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bernardsbendystraws · 17 days ago

Text

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of family death

A/N: I love Matt but I hate Matt but like ???

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P8: Don't

wc: 2400+

Part of me is begging for Matt to walk in through that door—tear me away from this horrid tension as Chris stares down at me with his arms crossed over his chest. But he doesn’t. The door stays deathly still, the entire room falling into an uncomfortable silence as I sit up straighter on the couch.

“Why’re you in my house, hm?” he questions, cocking an eyebrow at me as he stalks closer. He lazily plops down on the opposite side of the couch, petting Trevor as the dog curls into a ball between us, “-and why’re you telling my dog you need to piss?”

“Why are you eavesdropping?” I huff, shaking my head and keeping my eyes set infront of me while standing up and walking down to the bathroom.

How long was he standing there?

What did he hear?

I do my business quickly. I take a deep breath, sighing and looking at my reflection in the mirror. God, I look tired—drained, even.

Walking back into the living room, I see Chris nearly completely sprawled out on the couch. His arm crossed beneath his head, his legs extended but slightly bent—leaving the smallest amount of room for me to sit back down.

“Trev went to keep my dad company,” he says. I nod while sitting stiffly in the open space. Of course he had to sprawl out—make this entire situation even more uncomfortable.

“-and, I wasn’t eavesdropping. It’s hard not to hear when you’re yapping so damn loud. In my house, with my dad. Fuckin’ weird if you ask me.”

His tone is almost bitter—a certain sharpness to his words that felt a little different than his usual insults or remarks.

“Shut up, Chris,” I breathe, rolling my eyes as I stare around the living room. The only light seeping in through the curtain is that damn streetlight—flickering and blinking on the verge of its life.

What’s taking Matt so long?

“Hey, don’t take your shitty date out on me, I didn’t do anything–”

“Really?” I cut off, staring at him with squinted eyes.

Chris shrugs, his tongue prodding from the inside of his cheek. “Sorry. I guess I’m just upset that you’re in my house, talking to my dad. Don’t you have anyone else to talk to?” he snorts.

As his eyes gaze into mine, I feel my face fall. “Not really.”

The statement makes his glare soften to an unreadable expression. He clears his throat, adjusting and sitting up further. He almost looks… sorry?

“Do you know when Matt will be back?” I ask, tapping my foot on the floor as I look towards the front door.

“I have his location, but my phone is in my room,” Chris announces, his eyes glazed over while he stares at his lap.

My hands rub together as I hesitantly look over at him. “Can we… can we go look, maybe?” I offer.

Chris nods, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth as he nudges his head for me to follow. I get up, following his steps as we make the familiar path towards his room, my feet stumbling to a halt as I hover in the doorway.

He rummages towards his nightstand, holding up his phone attached to a charger. His face creases as he looks over at me. “It’s dead. You can, uh—you can sit if you want to.”

I hesitantly shift further into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed while looking towards my hands. I can feel the rummaging thoughts piling over top of one another, the sensation of panic settling in as the silence consumes the room.

“Why do you look so nervous, damn,” he laughs, sitting down on his bed with his back resting against the headboard.

I shrug, sucking my lips between my teeth while briefly shaking my head. “Because,” I trail off, sighing as I feel him stare at me, waiting for a response, “-you’re just… I don’t know—you, ugh.”

Chris shifts, his feet tapping on the floor as he sits on the edge of the bed next to me. “I’m just what?” he taunts.

My mouth opens to respond, but my face tilts as I see a bright illumination from his phone screen—not the display when the device wakes up after being dead.

“I thought your phone was dead?” I question. His eyes bulge. He shakes his head, leaning over and turning the device face down. What the fuck? “What am I in here, Chris? What—what games are you playing now?”

Chris scratches the back of his neck. His eyes wander everywhere around the room, avoiding my gaze at all cost.

“Whatever,” I huff, starting to stand up.

My actions are halted by a warm hand landing over my thigh. I look down, seeing his fingers spread with a rough grip, softening as he sighs. “I—just—fuck,” he curses, removing his hand as if it had been burned.

The thump of my pulse gets quieter. I analyze his face, watching as his jaw clicks tighter. Some part of me seems to soften. I reach out, hesitating as I hold my hand above his shoulder before laying it gently on him.

“What’s going on? I’m not mad, I’m just…” I shake my head, looking into his eyes as I try to take a deep breath, “-confused.”

Chris licks over his lips, his hand rubbing over his face as he slumps down and stares at his lap. “I… I wanted to, um—well, I—fuck, this is so hard,” he hisses.

I watch as he tugs at the roots of his hair, hunching over and placing his elbows on his knees. I let my hand slide down, gently rubbing on his back. He’s been a real dick, but something about him makes everything seem so hazy, like I can never really tell what his true intentions are.

He was hurt—brutally hurt. And I could understand that more than I wanted to. I knew how it felt to lose someone and have everything change.

“I don’t know how to even explain—”

“Then don’t,” I interrupt.

Chris stares at me over his shoulder. His lips press into a thin line, his eyes squinting as if he’s in pain. “Why are you not mad?” he asks.

I shrug. My eyes drift to his window before tracing back to his face. “I can see you’re trying. Even though whatever is going on seems hard for you… you’re trying,” I answer.

“Not hard enough,” he snorts, sitting up.

My hand falls from his back. I hesitantly place it back into my lap, staring at my fingers as I nervously fiddle with them. “Maybe ‘cause you’re not giving yourself any credit.”

The pointed statement seems to make the silence sink in once more, but this time, it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels calm—peaceful, even. Like he’s letting my words wash over him.

He lets himself hunch over once more, his hands knotting through his hair aggressively. I wince hearing him hiss as his fingers get stuck in a tangle, my hands shooting up before I can stop myself.

“What are you doing—”

Chris falls silent, uncomfortably tilting his head as I try to drift my fingers through the knot. “Just let me help.”

The hair is stubborn. It probably wouldn’t be so knotted if he wasn’t yanking at it so harshly.

“Just…” I huff, “-just lay down. It’ll be easier.”

He goes stiff, slowly relaxing as his head falls into my lap. I slowly start from the bottom of the knot, working my way towards his scalp. His hair is soft despite the tangle.

“Chris?” I whisper, my hands clutching towards my chest as I wait for him to move.

But he doesn’t. The only movement is his shoulders sliding up and down with deep breaths. He’s asleep—his head cradled in my lap as I sit on the edge of the bed.

My eyes start to droop, my hands guiding back into his hair as I brush through the soft strands. Every breath starts to get deeper. I feel myself leaning forward and to the side, crossing my free arm under my head as I rest on his shoulder.

I like this side of him. I just wish I got to see it more.

___

“-wake up, c’mon,”

Peeping one eye open, I see Matt standing in front of me, his hand gently shaking my shoulder. I look down to see Chris in the same position.

“I’ll take you home, sorry,” Matt whispers, nudging his head towards the door as he walks out.

What time is it even?

My body shifts slowly as I move him to lay on the bed. A frown crawls on my face as I watch Chris’s face furrow, his hands grasping onto the sheets as if he’s looking for something.

I reach out, petting my hand over his cheek and watching him relax once more. His lips puff open with a subtle snore. Hazily, I stand up, analyzing his face as I creep backward.

“Ready?” Matt asks, looking up from his phone with a shit-eating grin.

I nod, squinting my eyes with a smile as I wiggle my brows. He blushes, tucking his phone back in his pocket before stalking further with quiet steps.

As soon as we step out the door, he hands me his phone. I look down at the screen, my eyes going wide as a smile covers my face. It’s a picture—him and Mia, her lips pecking his cheek as he smiles towards the camera. She seems to be holding the phone, her nose crinkled upward and smushed against his cheek.

That’s adorable.

“Oh my god! See—you didn’t need me,” I laugh, slapping his phone back into his chest.

Matt slips the device back into his pocket, walking by my side as we stroll down the path back to my house. “I know, but—thank you. I know you didn’t exactly wanna go,” he remarks.

Do I tell him? I had already vented to Jimmy. There was no point in spoiling his night with my shitty experience.

“Is this why you woke me up? Wanted to brag, hm?” I taunt, bumping into his shoulder playfully.

The quiet neighborhood is deathly calm, but I can feel his excitement radiating off his energy. He’s so giddy—it’s relieving.

At least it was worth that dumb fucking date.

“I did wanna tell you, I’m not gonna lie,” he mentions, laughing as we turn down the corner to my street, “-but, I also wanted to make sure you got home and your mom wouldn’t be mad or anything, I guess. Or that you wouldn’t have to spend the night with fuckin’ Chris again.”

The scoff in his tone pokes at something in my chest, a sharp sensation flooding over me as I mutter beneath my breath, “It’s not like it’s bad. He was actually being—”

“Don’t.” Matt says.

My steps halt on the pavement. I look up to Matt, watching him stop and stare back at me with a sigh falling from his lips.

“Look,” he starts, tugging on my sleeve as we continue walking again, “-I’m saying this as your friend. Chris… he’s not ready for this type of stuff. You—you’re only gonna end up hurt, okay? Just… don’t.”

Oh.

My tired eyes flutter with fast blinks. Maybe it was the exhaustion—maybe it was because the air felt too cold blowing into my eyes, but I could feel the heat rush upward, my vision becoming blurry as I blink away tears.

“I’m not… I—I don’t know what’s going on. He just seems so…”

“Lost? Lonely?” Matt fills in.

I nod, pulling at my clothes as my nose starts to twitch from the cold wind.

“Chris… he just—he hasn’t coped well, you know? Losing our mom was hard, but our brother–-Nick—that… he can’t look at me anymore. He can barely look at himself,” Matt sighs.

The lump in my throat is uncomfortable. I swallow thickly, wincing as I feel it glide down into my chest and create a distracting pressure. “I’m confused. What do you—what do you mean?” I ask.

I feel the energy shift before any words escape his mouth. Everything seems to get eerily quiet, the comforting silence gaining tension as curiosity rings through the air.

“Nick, our brother. We, um—we’re triplets, or… were? I just… Chris was the most dependant, “ he huffs, laughing dryly, “He was the only one to never be away from one of us for 24 hours, the kid literally couldn’t go a day without saying goodnight to both of us and—”

Matt chokes up on his words. He sniffles, shaking his head furiously while looking down at his feet as we walk slower. “I thought he’d rely on me after everything. But, we’re triplets—identical. He—he couldn’t even look at me without—”

I place my hand on his shoulder as his sentence falls flat. Matt takes a deep breath, sighing as he places his hand over mine, pulling it towards his chest while holding it tightly.

“Listen to me,” my ears perk at his words, his eyes looking into mine with raw emotion, “-don’t. He’s not ready, he’s…”

“I get it,” I interrupt, watching as Matt nods, slowly dropping my hand. He stays put as I walk up the two cement stairs to the entrance of my house.

I pull out my keys, inserting them slowly into the keyhole of my front door, gently pushing it open before giving him one last look over my shoulder. “Thanks,” I mouth, trying to be as silent as possible as I hear the dark home echo with the slightest whisper.

“Thank you,” he whispers back, nodding affirmatively before turning on the heel of his shoe, walking away as I shut the door.

It shouldn’t hurt. Chris was more mean to me than anything else. In fact, I’d never even had him truly apologize—not with his words.

But I didn’t really crave an apology.

I just want to understand.

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bvbygrl-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Wrong House

Pairing: Stu Macher x Nerdy!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: A step into wrong house leads to a night of the right fun.

A/N: I was not supposed to upload this tonight but I'm too excited about it. I'm not proof reading this long ass shit either so if something is spelled wrong use your imagination to fix it, mwuah! <3

Warnings: reader has afab anatomy breaking and entering, knife play, homoerotic themes (they kiss but nothing more than that), mentions of murder, eiffel towering, loss of virginity, coercion and ultimatums, rope bandage, panty kink, and panty sniffing.

THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE.

(Y/n) was naturally an anxious girl but, with her parents out of town and the string of murders happening, she was on edge. She had every single light on in the house, the downstairs tv on, anything to make it seem as though the house was full of life. The reporters on the radio had told people to stay together and while most of the students in school had that option, she didn’t. Nobody wanted to be friends with the quiet girl who still wore Care Bear sweaters and could recite Star Trek lines from memory.

Nibbling the end of her pencil, she let out an exasperated sigh. She had been staring at the same math problem in her textbook for a good 45 minutes. “Focus, (Y/n/n), focus. If you do end up living through all of this, you’ll want to get into a good college.If you fail, mom and dad will make you wish you were dead.” she said out loud to herself, a sad laugh falling from her lips. At that same moment, her stomach began to grumble. When was the last time she ate? Reaching for the phone, she dialed the number to her favorite chinese food place. She loved it because the food was cheap and they were one of the only places that delivered something other than pizza after 10PM.

“Alright, thank you!” she said, placing the phone back on the receiver. It’d be about a 20 minute wait, giving her time to focus more on her work. Sighing she sat back down in front of her textbook, staring at the page until the numbers started to blur together. “Well, that’s enough of that! I should get the money for the delivery driver seeing as it’ll be here in…” glancing at the clock on her wall she sighed, “Twenty minutes.” ignoring that face, she stood up, bunny slippers stomping over the carpeted floor to the piggy bank on her dresser. She pulled out a 10 dollar bill along with a 5 for the tip. But before (Y/n) could even get to her door, she heard a noise at the front door.

“Th-that’s weird. There’s still nineteen minutes an-” she shrieked at the sound of the door bursting open. Every anxiety filled thought she had had since being home by herself was coming true. The blood drained from her face, her body growing light at the sound of the voices coming from the living room. Tears began to form in the corner of her eyes as she turned off the lights and closed her bedroom door. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs put in perspective just how real this all was. She silently cursed her dad for never fixing the damn lock on her window. She might’ve broken a few bones from jumping, but that’d be better than being completely dead! Looking around her room she made the decision to jump in her closet, closing the accordion door.

She became aware of how loudly she was breathing, clamping her hands over her mouth. Her body trembled with terror. ‘Is this how I die? Alone, never experiencing friendship or love?’ Was this really the time to be feeling sorry for her lack of social and love life? ‘Well to be fair, this may be one of the last times I’m able to feel anything whatsoever.’ The sound of her bedroom door opening instantly made her mind go blank. The girl felt as though she was having a heart attack and honestly? She would have preferred that to whatever death she was about to experience.

“Are you sure this is the right house? This doesn’t look like Chelsea’s room.” A male’s voice remarked, the lights flicking on. She could see through the small slots on the folding door that there were two men. One had dark hair and a knife in his hand. The other one was taller with blonde hair and a backpack with god knows what inside of it.

“Yeah, dude! This is 345 Avalee Lane.” the other one exclaimed, an almost sinister grin on his face. The dark hair one made a sound that was a mix of a growl and a sigh.

“You fucking idiot! Chelsea lives in 348, we’re in the wrong house!” he pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking over the little trash can near her desk across the room. (Y/n) relaxed a bit. Maybe since they weren’t looking for her they’d just leave?

“Well at least no one’s home, we can just get out of here.” The blonde one rasped out, eating a piece of candy off of her dresser before tossing the wrapper on the ground. ‘Rude’ she thought.

“The lights and the tv were on. Someone’s definitely in this house. I’m going to go check the other rooms and you look around this one a bit better. We can’t take any chances.” The brunette exited the room and in the distance he heard the sound of different doors being opened.

The blonde one began to hum, snooping around her room. He walked over to her dresser, opening up her panty drawer. A smile grew on his face as he held up a pair of white ones with a pink lace trim, shoving them in the back pocket of his baggy jeans. “Cute.” he said to himself (or so he thought). Walking over to her bed, he tossed the covers back before bending down to check under the bed as well. Next, he walked over to the cupboard of her collectable figurines, opening up the door. “Hm.” he shrugged before beginning to exit the room. She removed her hands from her mouth, placing them on the floor beside her as she let her body relax. However, before he could leave, she could see a lightbulb go off in his brain as he turned around walking towards the closet. The girl’s eyes went wide as she shook her head. As he opened the closet door, she couldn’t even manage to make a sound. A look of surprise made its way onto his face before he began to grin. “You’ve got cute little undies. Hey Billy!”

All (Y/n) could do was sit there in shock. She recognized this boy, he was in her art classes although he rarely showed up. Now that she could really see his face, he was quite attractive. Before she could delve into why she was letting herself think that, the other one (who she assumed was Billy) appeared right next to him. Although he had a scowl on his face, he was just as attractive. ‘Well, you always said you wanted a cute guy to notice you. There’s two! But you should’ve been more specific, huh (Y/n/n)?’

“She’s kind of cute in a dorky little way, ain’t she?” Stu commented as Billy used his knife to lift her chin. She didn’t dare stop making eye contact with Billy for fear of what he might do with that knife the second she did. He tilted her face around, examining it from all sorts of angles before he chuckled.

“She is. (Y/n), right? You’re the girl that’s always winning those sciences awards at school. We have AP English together.” he said in a calm tone. This was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. Why were they dragging this on so much when they could just kill her and get it over with?

“M-mmm-mhm!” she stuttered out, nodding her head ever so slightly so she didn’t cut herself on the blade.

“Although I agree with my friend here, you still find yourself to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. See, I’ve got a plan and if I let you live, there’s a big chance you’re going to blab and ruin it for me.” he said, his words coming out through gritted teeth towards the end. “So unfortunately, your time’s up.”

“No, no please! I-I-I won’t blab and tell! I don’t have any friends or anyone to tell I won’t tell please! I promise!” she sobbed, begging for her life as he pressed the knife against her neck harder. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, which would also explain the sensation happening between her legs. Fat tears continued to stream down her face. “I promise please there’s gotta be a way!” she continued to plead for her life, waiting for something, just anything to happen. Whatever it’d take for this situation to be over. However, she was surprised when the knife suddenly was no longer pressed to her neck. Looking up, she saw the blonde one’s hand had moved it away and he was whispering something into Billy’s ear. Their eyes kept flickering to parts of the room and then back to her before Billy gave a singular nod.

“It seems my friend Stu here has taken quite a liking to you so here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a bit of fun with you and if we enjoy it, you live and we’ll be back to get you after we finish some…business. And if not, I’ll slit your throat right after we finish. Does that sound fair?” Billy said, tugging her from her sitting position to be in between the both of them. She nodded frantically, happy to have even a small chance of living. She knew they were probably going to kill her when they were done, but at least that moment was suspended for a bit longer.

“Wh-what do I need t-to do?” she asked, her heart racing as she looked up at the two of them. They were completely dwarfing her with their size, it was like being trapped between two incredibly hot trees. Stu grinned at her once again before stepping back a bit.

“Well you can start by stripping!” he instructed, phrasing it like a suggestion even though she knew it wasn’t. She nodded, taking off her cream colored sweater, sliding her Power Rangers pajama pants down right after. She began to hesitate slightly as now she was just in her slippers and underwear.

“Allow me.” Billy said, using his knife to snip off her bra. He started at the shoulder straps, taking a moment to stare at her breast before tearing the backband as well. She didn’t try to cover up, knowing her chances of survival would dwindle to none. He went to pull down her panties but Stu stopped him, shaking his head.

“Leave those on her.” he said, before getting down on his knees in front of her. Billy held her arms behind her back with one of his, peeking over the girl’s shoulders to see what his moronic friend had planned. What she didn’t expect was for him to bury his face into her underwear-clad pussy and sniff. Stu let out a low moan as he did, eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continued to sniff at her front, his nose nudging her clit through the fabric. “God that’s amazing. Looks like she’s enjoying it too.” he said, rubbing his finger on the wet spot forming on her panties. He gently pressed his fingers against the fabric causing (Y/n) to squirm a bit, a gentle moan falling from her mouth.

“Oh, that’s such a pretty noise.” Billy purrs lowly in her ear. Standing from the floor, Stu lifts his fingers up to Billy’s mouth and without thinking, he opens it. The girl watches in awe, her clit beginning to throb at the way the two men were interacting with one another. Stu slowly pulls his fingers from the man’s mouth, biting his lip as the other man licks his. “Did you want a taste?” he asks in a deep tone. At the same time, they both lean over and begin to share a passionate and heated open mouth kiss. Little moans and grunts fall from them, a gasp falling from her own lips as Stu grips at her waist, beginning to grind against her front, his bulge slotted between her slit. Billy mimics his actions, grinding his cock against her ass. She was glad the two were holding her up, because at the current moment she wasn’t sure if her legs would work. This was a whole new world for her. She had never been kissed or even touched by one man let alone two. The noises falling from her mouth were completely out of her control, the sensation of their rhythmic rubbing along with the scene of them kissing above her was all too much for her to handle.

As though they could hear her thoughts, they pulled away from their kiss, turning their attention back to her. She hadn’t even realized that the knife was completely gone now. If she wanted to, she could’ve ran and gotten away. If she wanted to. Billy gripped her arms once more, beginning to walk her over to the bed. She felt her face grow warm at the collection of stuffed animals, causing her to look at the ground. “They keep me warm at night.” she defended weakly. Stu laughed, cooing at her before picking one up and turning it to face the wall, repeating the action several times with the other one.

Billy groaned, annoyed. “Seriously?”

“What? I know how the girls get about that sort of thing.” As Stu continued with his antics, the brunette reached for his friend’s bag. (Y/n) eyed him curiously, thinking he had changed his mind on their deal but was relieved when all he pulled out was a bit of rope. Wait, rope? He tossed it up and down smirking at her before positioning himself behind her as he began to tie her hands together. ‘This is better than whatever they usually probably use this for.’ She tugged at the rope, the friction causing a mild irritation from the action. He pushed her a bit, causing her to fall forward onto the bed. Her ass was in the air while the upper part of her body fell down due to having no support. She listened to the sound of belts and pants clambering before feeling the bed dip down behind her. At that same time, a pair of legs kneeled in front of her as well. She felt as a hand carded it’s way through her hair before tightening, lifting her face to be eye level with a cock. Peering up, she saw that it was Billy.

“Are you gonna open up or am I going to have to do it for you?” he asked, causing a bit of panic to flash through the girl’s (e/c) eyes.

“S-sorry. I’ve never done any of this before.” she muttered, causing a whistle from behind her. She could imagine the grin on Stu's face.

“A cute virgin?! How lucky are we tonight? Oh this is going to be fun. I haven’t popped a cherry in quite a long time.” Stu gushed, rubbing his hands together. “I can barely contain myself!” her panties were then pulled to the side, long fingers beginning to rub all along her slick covered folds. She let out a whimper, her knees trembling as he began to rub circles on her clit. As he slid a finger in, her mouth fell open which Billy saw as the perfect opportunity. Gripping her hair a bit tighter, he began to slide his cock into her mouth slowly. He stared down at her face, watching as her mouth began to struggle with the girth of him, tears falling down her face.

“You better stop with all those tears, I really don’t wanna cum this early.” Billy teased, beginning to rock his hips back and forth. He hissed in pleasure at her tight and warm little mouth, tossing his head back as he let out a guttural moan. Behind her, Stu had managed to work the third finger in, stretching and scissoring them around.Gripping her hip with one hand, he used his other to glide his cock along her lips causing them to both moan. “Hurry up, I wanna pick up the pace but I’m trying to make it easier for you.”

“I’m going!” and with that, Stu slid his cock in with one swift motion. His grip on her hips tightened at the same time her walls did as he fell forward for a bit, head resting against the small of her back. “G-god, oh fuck! You’ve got a tight little pussy, huh?” he said through gritted teeth, beginning to pound into her at an almost animalistic pace. Her pussy drooled around his cock as she continued to moan around Billy, choking as he also picked up his pace. Their thrust were alternating. As Stu would pull his cock out some, Billy’s would enter her throat deep, barely giving her a chance to get used to anything. She had already came around his cock twice, the feeling being overwhelmingly pleasurable.

They were using her like a doll, holding her up and angling her just right. All she could do was sob and take it, the only thing on her mind was their cocks and her life. She didn’t even care if she was going to die after this, this was the best thing she had ever experienced in her life.

“You look so helpless when you cry. God, Stu I wish you could see her right now.” Billy moaned out, staring down into those wet (e/c) eyes. Picking up his pace, he gripped at her scalp, full on skull fucking her now. His thrust had grown sloppy and so had his counterpart’s.

“Tr-trust me, my view is just as good. I’m cl-close!” he whined out, reaching a finger down to rub at the girl's sensitive and swollen clit. (Y/n) screamed around Billy’s cock sending him over the edge. Pulling out, he coated her face and hair in a load of sticky white cum. Watching Billy stroke his cock over her face pushed Stu over the edge as well, causing him to bounce her back on his dick, whimpering as he came deep inside of her.

The room fell silent and as (Y/n) came to her senses, the question of the hour came back to haunt her. Was she going to live?

“Are you satisfied, Stu?”

“More than, man.”

“Well..” Billy trailed off, stepping off of the bed. As Stu pulled out, she felt cold and exposed. Both men stood behind her, staring as the load of cum began to roll down the back of her legs. The brunette reached forward, grabbing her wrist rather roughly before untying her. “I guess you live. We’ll be back. In the meantime, get cleaned up.” the sound of the doorbell ringing caused the two men to look out the window, thinking she had somehow managed to get in contact with help. However, they both relaxed at the sight of the delivery truck on the outside of the house.

“Make sure you save me some chow mein!” Stu said. The girl rolled over on her back, letting out a breathless laugh watching as the two quickly got dressed. Before they headed for the bedroom door, Stu took her panties off of her, sticking them in the front pocket of his jeans.

“For good luck!”

#scream #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x stu matcher #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu macher x you #stu macher x y/n #stu macher x billy loomis #scream imagine #ghostface x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy x reader x stu #stu macher x reader x billy loomis #stu x reader x billy

2K notes · View notes

lcriedlastnight · 8 months ago

Note

Y/n and Lando have a friendly competition to see who can get more numbers and y/n gets upset when Lando gets the number of someone who actually likes him

omg this is such a great idea, thanks for trusting me to write it anon! ily!

tw: fem! reader, swears, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 1.2k

"truth or dare?" lando asks. neither of you are even that drunk so how you had resorted to playing high school party games in the middle of the club was beyond you, all you knew that is if lando wanted you to jump off the nearest bridge you would be pulling up the directions on google maps on your phone seconds later.

"dare" you grin, thinking your choice to be bold, especially when you were playing with lando. your fears are confirmed when he smiles like a cheshire cat at your answer, like it was exactly what he wanted.

"okay well this is kinda a dare for us both, a challenge if you will.." lando trails off as you stand there, drink in hand waiting for him to continue with what was probably going to be a god awful plan or 'challenge' as he called it. you hum out to show you were listening and interested.

"it's simple really, we go around the club and try and see who can get the most numbers, whoever gets the most in the next two hours wins." lando explains. you honestly do not think you have ever heard of a worse game in your life. you guess it does not help if you were in love with your competition. you knew how hard it was seeing lando flirt with random girls in the clubs you had joined him in every weekend or so. you sigh as you contemplate his offer.

"what do i get if i win?" you ask, wanting to make watching the man you were in love with flirt it up with other girls, worth it. it is lando's turn to think as you watch on, desperate for him to decide to call it off, the idea of him getting other girls numbers unsettling, but you knew you could never pull out without hearing the end of it from your opponent.

that smile returns and before you can focus too much on the swirly, fuzzy feeling it creates in your stomach he's speaking up. "the winner gets a whole week of favours from the loser." you probably do not think hard enough about how badly this could end for you before you agree and you are both on your separate ways, hunting for your first victim. you do not feel very comfortable flirting with these random guys, promising to call them and the likes, when you knew that your heart belonged to the stupid boy who had probably only suggested this so he could get girls numbers for when he was lonely.

after an hour you had near enough given up as it felt draining talking to so many men, when none of them even cared enough to ask your name. it was exhausting and this point you knew you just wanted to go home but you knew you still had an hour of this left so you soldier on, continuing your bland and boring conversations with the lamest guys you had seriously ever met.

an hour and a half in and you had only gotten ten phone numbers., you knew as soon as you and lando had counted them up to see who the winner was they would be getting thrown away so you did not really care much to keep them pretty or even safe as you were sure you lost a few navigating through the club crowds.

you had tried not to watch lando jump from girl to girl, most of the time not even having to lay on any charm or anything. you decided in that moment to hate him for the rest of your life. even though you love him it was literally killing you to see this happen right in front of your eyes, and you had no one to blame bar yourself as you had literally encouraged this to happen by agreeing to his stupid dare/ challenge. at this point you had stopped caring about losing and started thinking about how what lando would make you do for the next week straight could never be as bad as watching him throw himself at hundreds of different girls. your eyes are glued to lando as you watch him saunter over to a group of girls, one you could recognise from a million miles away. it was that stupid model that was always liking and commenting on lando's instagram posts. you knew for a fact that she genuinely already had a liking towards lando and the thought of him handing her his number had made you feel sick to your stomach. there was no way in hell you were sticking around to see this one, you were sure this one would be the one that broke you.

you sling the coat that is hanging over your arm around your shoulder and slide your arms into the arms of the jacket before weaving through the crowd to the club exit. you knew lando would probably be going home with blonde model for the night, you heading home by yourself like always. you tried not to be bitter but you were so tired of begging anyone and everything that it would one day be you that lando begs to take home, even for just one night, you would take that over never knowing his touch easily.

you wait for your uber outside in the cold, hearing the noise of the club come and go as the doors to the building open and close as people enter and exit as they please. one of the last times you hear the door open and close you hear footsteps approach you slowly, you cannot even find it in you to be scared because you can tell exactly who it is from the footfall alone, nevermind the overpowering scent that seems to follow you around even after you had left the boys presence.

"y'going home already? cause y'know 've won?" lando teases but you are not in the mood so you fimd it hard to muster up even a fake laugh. lando frowns at you, confused.

"wait what's wrong?" he asks, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, spinning you around to face him.

instead of answering his question you reply "i have an uber coming. it's on its way." lando nods but speaks up again anyway.

"did you not like the game? did someone say something to you?" he presses, his sudden protective nature doing nothing to help the heart eyes you feel forming as you stare at him.

"no one said anything. how many numbers did you get?" you ask. lando frowns at the way you change the conversation, worried for you.

"i didn't get any." he says, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. you furrow your brows in confusion.

"i seen you talk to loads of girls?" you tell him, eyes trailing over his face trying to catch him out in a lie. you could not.

"didn't get any of their numbers though? realised after the first girl i talked to that none of them even held a candle to you, sweetheart." lando smiles as his thumbs trace a path down your cheeks.

"not even that blonde model who liked all of your instagram posts?" you ask, feeling a little insecure because of lando's out of the blue, kinda confession.

"nah, just went around talking about you all night." lando confesses. "i would've came back to you sooner but you know me, can't give up on a challenge first." you roll your eyes at his words. you link your hand with his and pull him to stand beside you to wait for your uber and he does so without a complaint.

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simp4wom3n · 1 year ago

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Why Don't I Know You?

Requested: Yes/No ~ How about Regina having a crush on the reader but not saying anything bc she thinks the reader won't like her, but when the reader starts talking to her and everything, Regina is suddenly possessive ykwis

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Summary: Shocked when a face she doesn't recognise shows up in her class, Regina makes it her goal to learn everything about them, even if it leads to her gaining a massive crush. ~ Word Count: 4.1k ~ Warnings: lotta swearing, one slur, otherwise mainly fluff

A/N: HI!!! FIRST RENEE/REGINA FIC!!! she is criminally underwritten, so I thought I would do my part (other people pls do right for her I need stuff to read). I love her so so much, and I had a blast writing this, so pls enjoy <3 + I will be creating a Renee rapp taglist so comment or message me if you wanna be on it :)

The halls of North Shore High were like a second home to Regina. Some would call it her hunting ground. Each year, she relished her opportunity to prowl the hallways, hunting the new freshman as she committed every new face and name to mind, with the intention of digging up all the dirt she possibly could. With thanks to Gretchen, she knew everything about everyone.

But then there was you.

"Alright, we have a new student joining us today."

Regina's eyes widened in pure shock as you walked into the room. With your bag casually slung over your shoulder, you make a beeline for the empty tables surrounding Regina. Ignoring the intensity of her gaze, you drop your bag and settle into the chair next to her. The faint strains of music emanated from the headphones hanging from your ears as you began organizing your belongings, only to be interrupted by the teacher.

"Y/n, if you could please stand and introduce yourself."

Your eyes flicked nervously towards the teacher, and the entire class turned to look at you. The intensity of Regina's gaze made your cheeks glow with a faint red before you sighed dejectedly and reluctantly stood up, pulling out your headphones.

"Um... Hi, I'm Y/n... not really much else to say."

The teacher nodded at you before turning around to start the lesson. Watching as you sat down, Regina's focus shifted entirely to you.

She couldn't tell whether it was because she knew nothing about you, or that you were just so damn hot.

Maybe it was both.

As soon as the bell rang, signalling the end of the class, Regina wasted no time storming off to find Gretchen. Having watched you for the entirety of the class, she was desperate to find out everything about you.

Strutting through the packed hallway, everyone staring at her in fear, Regina locked onto her target as she came into her view. "Gretchen!" she called irritatedly. The small girl quickly turned around as her eyes widened in fear. "Tell me... How is it that I don't know anything about this new Junior, Y/n? Why wasn't I informed? I need all the details now!"

Gretchen, scrambling to keep up with Regina's relentless pace, stammered out an apology. "I-I'm sorry, Regina! I didn't even know they were coming."

"God, you are useless!"

In only a week, not only had watching you become her routine, but she had even started to develop a crush on you, as painful as that was for her to admit.

She was supposed to be chased, not the one chasing.

Seeing you had become the favourite part of her day, even above having the whole school bow at her feet. She hadn't even talked to you. She just watched.

She meticulously studied your every move, subconsciously committing all of your subtle mannerisms to memory. Like the way you would take notes, or the way you would nibble at your fingers when you were focused. Or her personal favourite, when you knawed at the end of your pencil when you were nervous or stressed.

Fuck, she wishes she was that pencil.

She hated to admit it, but the thought of talking to you terrified her. Her usually overbearing confidence drained away whenever you sat in the chair next to her, your mysterious yet comforting presence causing her to malfunction.

And yet, as she sat at lunch with Gretchen and Karen, she refused to mutter a word about you to them. The furthest they pushed was when Gretchen asked about you after catching Regina staring at you, and the look Regina gave the poor girl made her shut up immediately.

The lunch tables were packed as usual, but Regina's eyes scanned the hallway beside them. She was well aware that you never sat at any of the tables, so she patiently waited for you to return to your locker, which was conveniently placed within sight of her table.

Karen and Gretchen's incessant babbling went unnoticed as you finally appeared. She couldn't help but notice your slouched posture and sluggish movements. You looked exhausted. Your headphones, which you always had on you, dangled from one ear as you forcefully opened your locker.

As if she wasn't already concerned, the table of varsity jocks had also noticed you, taking your clearly irritated mood as a green light to push even more of your buttons. From across the room, Regina watched with a clenched jaw as three of them stood from the table and made their way towards you.

Her body ached with anger as she watched them grab you by the shoulder and throw you against the lockers. Your exhausted expression turned to one of fear as they held you up against the cold metal doors. The guy forcefully snatched your headphones away, callously tossing them to the ground and obliterating them with a single forceful step.

Regina choked on a gasp. She knew how much you loved those headphones.

She was annoyingly out of earshot as she watched them continue to laugh at and berate you whilst shaking you against the lockers. Her blood was boiling. The others had noticed her expression and cast confused glances towards the commotion, which only confused them more.

The Regina they knew would be laughing.

After Regina's next victims finally let you go, your body shook as you realised that the whole school had just watched you get shamelessly belittled. As soon as your gaze locked with Regina's, your embarrassment grew unbearable, triggering you to hastily get your belongings before moving to make a swift escape.

The last Regina saw of you, you were frantically running away, desperately trying to hide your state as tears streamed down your face.

Those jocks had no idea what was coming for them.

The next time she laid eyes on you was the week after. She had already exacted her revenge on the jocks, having called their parents and telling them they all had STDs, yet when she caught sight of your weary expression as you entered the classroom, the familiar sense of triumph eluded her.

As the lesson passed and the teacher blabbered about a new group project, Regina's eyes never left you as you buried yourself in your notebook.

"Ok, listening, please." the teacher announced, garnering both of your attention. "The groups are as follows," you patiently waited for your name to be read out so you could go back to absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your book, whilst Regina similarly waited to hear the name of the poor soul who would be stuck with her. Yet, to her surprise, she wasn't disgusted by the name read beside hers.

"Y/n and Regina,"

With eyes wide and fixed on the teacher, Regina failed to notice the sudden blush that crept onto your cheeks, causing you to quickly lower your head. "You have the rest of the lesson to plan." the teacher mumbled before returning to their desk, where they sat silently.

Neither of you moved. After a second of secretly hoping Regina would make her move, you figured she wasn't interested in you or the project. Opening your computer and immediately diving into research, Regina sat at her desk, trying to build the courage to talk to you.

God, she hated being a coward.

After a few minutes and a few internal pep talks, she decided to take her one excuse to talk to you as she finally scooted her desk towards yours and turned to face you. As she inched closer, your heart began to race, sensing her gaze fixed on you. With a bashful smile, you diverted your attention from your screen and finally made eye contact with her.

She was breathtaking.

Clearing your throat, you quickly turned back to your computer as you scratched the back of your neck. "I-I'll just do it all when I get home," you spoke nervously, presuming THE Regina George would want nothing to do with you or the project.

"What makes you think I'd make you do it alone," she retorts, her tone more flirtatious than she had intended, but she wasn't mad about it. You looked back at her, lost for words for a second as you tried to scramble together a response.

"Well... I-I just presumed you wouldn't want to help." A small smile formed on her lips as you briefly glanced at her, "I mean, you hardly pay attention, so I just... figured." She softly giggles at your words, her laughter sending a flutter of excitement through your body.

Little did you know she was distracted by you.

"Come to mine later. We can do it together." Regina's unexpected display of confidence caught both of you off guard as her usual flirtatious demeanour made a comeback. Meanwhile, you stared at her in disbelief, trying to process what had just happened. "Ugh... Yeah, sure, if that's ok?"

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't"

As the school bell rang through the corridors, you were overwhelmed with both relief and anxiety. After enduring a tedious day at school, you were now faced with the terrifying task of not only talking to Regina but also spending hours alone with her at her house.

Walking out the doors and towards the car park, the sound of the bustling school fading into the background, your eyes catch a familiar blonde leaning up against her Jeep. Your heart began to race faster as you approached her, your bag feeling heavier with each step.

Her expression softened as she noticed you approaching, a warm smile gracing her lips, and she pushed herself off her car. "Hey," she greets softly, a soft shade of pink painting her cheeks as you both smile at each other. "Hi," you said breathlessly with a small chuckle.

Without another word, Regina moves to get in, and you follow suit, chucking your bag into the backseat next to hers before climbing into the passenger seat.

The breeze gently tousled your hair as you drove to her house, the soothing tunes of music filling the air, matching the nervous excitement between you both. Your heart beat along with the music as you snuck glances at the girl sitting next to you. With her eyes focused on the road and the wind softly brushing her skin, you were utterly mesmerised by her.

Of course, you had heard of Regina George's horror stories, but this girl was different.

Sure, you hadn't spoken till this morning, but there was something about her you couldn't quite describe. Something that brought you to school every day, comforting you as you sat in undoubtedly one of the most boring classes, and that gave life at North Shore High purpose.

Frankly, you rejected any idea of her being a heartless bitch.

When you eventually turned into her driveway, your gaze was forced away from her as you caught sight of her house, or should you say mansion. The house was almost cinematic in grandeur, your eyes growing wider by the second as you drove closer before eventually stopping at the door.

"Wow," you mumbled under your breath as you exited her car, your eyes not leaving the building as you reached for your bag. You heard Regina chuckle lightly as she led the way to her door. "My mum's not home, thank god, so we have the place to ourselves."

You nod mindlessly as you follow her through the front door. As you trailed behind her, the pristine marble floors beneath your feet echoed with each step, a stark contrast to the scuffed linoleum of the school corridors.

Just when you thought you had gotten used to it, Regina led you to her room. Stepping inside, you find yourself mesmerised by everything around you. "This is your bedroom?" you asked, clearly taken aback. Regina glanced back at you, a shy smile on her face.

"Yeah, It was my parents, but I asked them to trade me." "Right...". You couldn't help but be captivated by the array of decorations adorning the walls, taking in the posters and photos that offered a rare glimpse into her life beyond her reign as the queen of North Shore.

Sitting on her bed and removing her shoes, she motions for you to do the same. Dropping your bag next to her massive bed and grabbing everything you need, you carefully sit down next to her, leaving enough room between the two of you so you don't seem invasive.

Opening your laptop and notebook, you place them on the bed as you pull up the project materials. You can feel Regina's gaze on you even though she's trying to be subtle, and the thought instantly makes your cheeks glow softly.

"So, uh, where do you want to start?"

The next few hours flew by as you worked on the project together. Regina was surprisingly helpful, the two of you moving closer as your work drew to a close. Now that the project was over, the familiar awkwardness lingered in the air as you searched for something to talk about that wouldn't embarrass you.

"You're really good at drawing, you know." Regina compliments softly, pointing at your notebook margins before you can say anything as you blush at her words. "Thanks... I've been doing it more since-" "Your headphones broke." Regina cuts you off as you look at her surprised.

"Yeah... How did you know that?" It was Regina's turn to blush as she realised that she had just revealed herself. Stammering to find an excuse, she looks away for a second, embarrassed. "I-I'm just a very observant person."

You look at her suspiciously with a small smile gracing your lips, the thought of Regina watching you making your heart flutter.

"You're different." you find yourself blurting out, "from how everyone else describes you, I mean." you finish quickly. Regina chuckles as she smiles at you softly. "You're different too. Good different. I like it."

The tension between you grew as you stared into each other's eyes. A softness behind her pale blue eyes drew you in, and before you knew it, you were slowly leaning in. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you caught Regina glancing down at your lips, her own caught between her teeth as your faces grew closer.

"Regina, honey!" You scramble backwards as Regina's bedroom door flies open, revealing who you believe to be her mum. "Oh. Hi there!" "Mum, seriously!?" Regina yells in disbelief. Your ears begin to ring as your head pounds, thinking about what would have happened if you had not been interrupted.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't realise you had anyone over." While Regina's mother was apologising, you could hear Regina sighing in frustration next to you. "I'll just go to the kitchen." Her mum suggests as she begins to leave the room, but you beat her to it. "No, Ms George, it's okay. I was on my way out anyway." You offer her a smile you hope appears as genuine as you quickly throw everything into your bag.

Trying to ignore Regina's pained gaze, you threw your bag over your shoulder, grabbed your shoes, and quickly exited her bedroom, making your way out the front door. You had no plan on how to get home, but you would rather walk than have to sit in that room after what had happened.

Walking into school the next day was like walking straight into a nightmare. You already weren't fond of the school, having been called slurs and made fun of constantly, but adding to that, your usual excitement of seeing Regina had been replaced with pure fear.

In just one night, you managed to spin every interaction you ever had with the girl, leaving you incredibly embarrassed about how you had let it all happen. Who were you to think Regina might actually like you? You were probably just a pawn in some big game.

Unlocking your locker and throwing it open, already fed up with the day before it had even begun, you began to unpack your stuff, completely ignorant of the approaching jock.

Walking into school with a similarly distraught look, Regina's mind was stuck reeling over the events from last night. The question of why you ran away was all she could think about until she heard a sharp bang.

Before you could react, you were once again thrown against the lockers, an irritated grunt leaving your lips. Your eyes met the same bastard who had made bullying you their new hobby. "Back for more, dyke?" he taunted you, your fists clenching involuntarily as you awaited the verbal abuse he was undoubtedly about to unleash on you.

Regina's head immediately whipped in its direction, a new sense of anger rushing through her body as she saw your saddened figure being pinned up against the lockers. Without hesitation, she storms towards the jock holding you against the wall with a fire burning behind her eyes.

"Fuck off, asshole!"

The boy's expression quickly shifted, causing him to release his grip on you and hastily retreat in terror. You sighed in relief as you observed Regina approaching you, her face contorted with unmistakable rage.

You found it quite amusing how scary everyone found her, causing the boy who had just been full of confidence to shrink into insignificance, like a tiny ant that she was about to step on.

"Look in her direction again, and it won't just be STDs next time."

The boy's face flashed in realisation before hurriedly scrambling off. All eyes were fixed on you as Regina directed her gaze towards you, her expression instantly softening with a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you ok?" you managed a nod as the softness of her voice filled you with a comforting warmth.

"Yeah… Thanks," you replied softly, your familiar awkward energy filling the air. She watched you momentarily as you remained silent, hopeful that you would acknowledge her. Yet, as you continued to avert your gaze away from her, she gave you a soft nod before turning to leave. Her stomach sank as the failing state of your relationship grew more and more obvious.

With an unfamiliar burn of tears behind her eyes, her pace quickened as she tried to get as far away from you as she possibly could.

But you stopped her.

"Regina, wait!"

Looking over her shoulder and meeting your sorry gaze, her heart can't help but flutter as she watches you slowly jog after her. "Sorry, I-" you hesitated, feeling a surge of nerves as you came the closest you had been to Regina since yesterday. "Did you want to maybe... hang out at yours after school again?"

"Didn't we finish the project?" She seems confused, completely missing that you wanted to spend time together outside what was needed. "No, we did. I just thought we could, you know, just watch a movie or something, but if you're not into that-"

"I would love to." She interrupts your anxious babbling with a gentle laugh, her gaze filled with admiration as you stare at her in a state of surprise and joy. "Meet me at the same place, ok?" "Yeah". Regina walks away from you with a smirk as you stand there frozen.

Holy shit, you just asked Regina George out.

The trip to Regina's after the bell finally rang was much like the day before.

She waited for you by her car, dismissing her other friends when she spotted you. Greeting each other warmly before jumping in the car, you once again listened to music whilst the wind swept through your hair, a nervous yet warm sense of anticipation falling between you.

Pulling up to her house, which you were still in awe of, you jumped out of the car and walked towards the front door behind Regina. "This time, my mum actually isn't home and won't be. I made sure of it. So we really do have the place all to ourselves."

You both laughed at her words as a small blush crept onto your cheeks. You walked behind Regina as she entered her bedroom, studying the now familiar walls as she set up everything you needed to watch a movie.

After sitting on her bed with the TV switched on and Netflix loaded up, you still remained standing in her doorway, nibbling on your pencil, which you always kept stowed away in your pocket, causing her to glance at you with a puzzled expression. "You seem distracted. Everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft yet discerning.

Snapping back into reality, offering her a sheepish smile, you replied, "Yeah, just lost in thought, I guess." taking the pencil from your lips, you slowly moved towards her bed, your eyes subconsciously scanning every inch of her body, your mind going wild seeing her so comfortable.

Her gaze fixated on you, her piercing blue eyes captivating in the sunlight pouring through the window. She laughed softly, the sound filling the room with a pleasant melody. "Lost in thought or thoughts of me?"

The comment caught you off guard, and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I… um, what makes you say that?". Regina, who reclined into her bed, gestured towards your hand, occupied by a chewed-up pencil.

"You always chew on that when you're nervous," she spoke softly. Your eyes widened in astonishment as the familiar burn returned to your cheeks. "How do you know that?" She smirked, "I notice everything." Regina's gaze never wavered as she continued watching you, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So, what's got you so nervous, Y/n?"

You felt a lump form in your throat as Regina's question hung in the air, filling the lavish room with tension. You couldn't help but fidget with your pencil, trying to find the right words to capture the overwhelming mix of emotions that Regina's presence constantly stirred within you.

"I, uh… it's just… everything, I guess. School, people, this…" You gestured vaguely between the two of you, unable to articulate the chaotic mess of feelings inside. Regina leaned up, her voice softening. "Well, you don't have to be nervous around me." Her eyes locked onto yours, a sincerity beneath the confident facade. "Now sit."

Slipping your shoes off and sitting on the bed, you move closer to Regina, who is lying against her pillows, her gaze unwavering. Eventually settling next to her, you turn to look at her, your heart fluttering as her soft eyes meet yours.

The room seemed to buzz with an unspoken energy, and all you could hear was the sound of your shared breaths. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, watching Regina's eyes analyse your face. A blush painted her cheeks, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Regina seemed hesitant, her mouth opening as if searching for the right words. "You know, I've been infatuated with you ever since you first walked into class." Your heart did a somersault at her words. A dreamy smile spread across your face, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of joy and disbelief.

"Regina George. Infatuated with me?" you teased playfully, her confession coursing adrenaline through your veins. With a gentle laugh, she hides her face briefly behind her hand before looking back at you, matching your wide smile.

"Shut up."

Leaning towards you, Regina's hands delicately wrapped around your neck, a slight shiver travelling down your spine. The room appeared to tighten as Regina held you, her touch confident and gentle. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes never leaving Regina's as she closed the distance.

Time seemed to stand still as her lips met yours.

The touch of her lips against yours was gentle, her hands brushing your neck with a mix of desire and passion. Everything else faded away as you fell into the kiss.

Her breath mingled with yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart echoing your own. The room seemed to buzz with an electrifying charge, and the only sounds that reached your ears were the shared breaths between you two.

As Regina pulled away, a shared moment of breathless silence hung in the air. Once buzzing with unspoken energy, the room was now filled with the soft sounds of your intertwined breaths. Regina's cheeks were tinted with a deeper blush, and a subtle smirk played on her lips.

Your mind still reeling from the feeling of her lips on hers, you speak with a breathless chuckle, "What's everyone else gonna think?". Regina smirked at your question, a glint of defiance in her eyes as she pulled you back in, mumbling her response on your lips.

"Let them talk."

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leaderwonim · 8 months ago

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𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — fourteen: because you tolerated me

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

author’s note: wrote this at 11pm and just finished at 12:25am 😭 my roommate told me to head to bed but i haaaaad to update for you guys so!!! enjoy the lore, hopefully it’s not too confusing ??

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Hanni isn’t so sure what to do. On one hand, she thinks she hates your guts, but on the other, she knows that she really doesn’t.

In fact, Pham Hanni had lived across from you at the ripe age of three, your moms having shared the same apartment complex. Hanni hated everything about that place, it was poorly managed, and quite frankly, cheap.

“Nini!” Little you yelled, your chubby baby hands reaching out for the girl in front of you. “Nini!”

You never knew her actual name because you were so young, referring to her only as Nini.

Hanni loved playing with you, she would beg her mom to bring over some spoiled bread they had in the pantry to pretend to play tea party and eat.

By the time Hanni turned six, her father took custody of her. Her father worked under a man named Park Hyunwook, and that was where she met Park Seojun.

He was a fairly skinny boy, but he made himself look charming nonetheless. Seojun took Hanni under his wing whenever her dad was busy in his father’s company, and soon enough, the two of them became best friends.

They became close to the point where that he made sure his father secured a spot in Decelis for Hanni.

“I’ll quit football if you don’t do it,” he threatened, which earned him a painful slam into the door by his own father.

It worked, though.

Hanni met Jungwon in her sophomore year of high school. He was a cute, rather calm composed boy who reminded her so much of a cat. She swore she fell inlove in an instant.

They talked for quite a while, and eventually, Jungwon did ask Hanni to be his girlfriend.

He stumbled upon Seojun and her hugging after class, and even though Hanni swore to her heart that it was platonic, the younger boy wasn’t having any of it.

So she spilled it out. She told him why they were hugging—of course she did—she loved Jungwon, how could she let her relationship just go down the drain like that?

“My dad’s threatening to pull me out of Decelis if I don’t tell my mom to stop contacting him.” She explained, and Jungwon didn’t understand what Seojun had to do with it.

Turns out, Seojun’s father was the one paying the tuition. If she was pulled out of Decelis, she would never see any of her friends ever again.

“Well, I don’t care if you’re rich or not Han, I love you.”

Despite Yang Jungwon promising his love to her, all Seojun could think about was how scandalous it could be if word ever got out that his father was paying for Hanni’s spot when millions of scholarship kids were still waiting.

So he killed him. Pushed him off a cliff. Seojun wasn’t a monster—maybe he was an awful person—but that didn’t mean he hated Jungwon. He just couldn’t risk it. His reputation was far way more important than some guy his friend was dating.

Besides, Hanni was a pretty girl. She’d find loads of boyfriends by the time Jungwon was gone.

“Are you listening to me? Hello?”

Heeseung waves a hand in front of your face, a playful smile comes to his face when he sees you snap out of your daze.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was just…”

He looked over at your direction, sighing when he sees Sunghoon and Hanni all close to each other. “Looking at the newly inlove couple? Yeah, I know.”

“Inlove is a reach.”

Heeseung shrugs. “I just want class to end so I can take you out for dinner.”

You practically choke at his confident tone. “We made up literally a few days ago.”

“So? I mean it when I say you’re important to me, Y/N.”

Any girl in your spot would’ve dropped dead at Lee Heeseung practically melting in a puddle in your presence.

“You should smile more,” Sunghoon says from the table across yours, his hands coming under Hanni’s chin to smush her two cheeks together.

She slaps his arm away, annoyed. “You’re lucky Seojun didn’t kill you.”

Sunghoon grows tense at that, his eyebrows furrowed. “What did you say to me?”

“Nothing.”

Danielle grows uncomfortable in her seat, her eyes dashing around the room. “How’s home life Hanni?”

Hanni shrugs, stabbing her fork into the mushy mashed potatoes the school had served. “Nothing better than before.”

She wanted to cry so badly in her seat. But if anyone had caught onto the tears that were forming at the edge of her eyes, she would lose the reputation she so desperately worked hard to maintain.

“Excuse me.” She hurriedly rushed off. Sunghoon stands up after her, but Danielle places a hand in front of him.

“Just let her be Hoon.”

And who was Sunghoon to argue with Danielle?

She practically grows limp as she reaches the end of the empty corridor, far away from the cafeteria. Her mascara is probably smudged like crazy, and she doesn’t even want to think about how insane she might look to a passerby.

“Are you okay?” You don’t register the crying girl as Hanni at first. You had just bid goodbye to Heeseung and dropped him off at his business management class, so you were in a rush to get to your class before your teacher gave you detention.

“Just leave me alone.”

Your eyes widened. “Hanni?”

Hanni never felt more embarrassed in her entire life. She didn’t even know why she was crying so hard.

Sunghoon, despite always being around her, was never truly there for her.

Sure, he was there when she broke down in tears complaining about her dad, but he only used that as collateral against her when Seojun had threatened him after he too found out about how Seojun’s dad had been paying for Hanni’s tuition.

Hanni had opened up to him more than she knows she should’ve. She told him how much she hated her dad, how everytime she went home from Decelis, she couldn’t wait to go back because she couldn’t stand an day in that house, let alone an hour.

And what did Sunghoon do with that information? He used it against her.

Sunghoon wasn’t like Yang Jungwon. Seojun couldn’t just kill him off, he was an important asset to the Park Administration for the local politics, the same ones that Seojun’s father was running for.

Killing Sunghoon was too much of a big risk for everybody involved.

Sunghoon knew he had that power over Seojun. He knew Park Seojun couldn’t cry to his daddy about him and he knew that he could destroy Hanni’s whole life with a snap of his fingers.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t fun that way. Plus, like Seojun said, Hanni was a pretty girl. Much prettier than other girls at Decelis. Sunghoon actually liked her.

Heeseung just had to get in his way. The boy knew Hanni first, but Sunghoon managed to squeeze his way to the top within months of joining the friend group. He knew Lee Heeseung had too much of a weak stomach to keep secrets like this. Lee Heeseung was a coward, and would always be in Sunghoon’s eyes.

“Drop him.”

“What?”

“Are you deaf? I said drop him.”

Hanni didn’t want drop Heeseung. She just wanted to feel loved. Heeseung made her feel loved. Sure, she didn’t like him enough to actually pursue him—but she loved the attention and adoration he had for her despite seeing through all her faults. Lee Heeseung cared for her, she just didn’t have the energy to care for him back.

So she let herself reject Heeseung’s confession on the night of Seojun’s gala, she let Sunghoon humiliate him in front of their whole friend group, she agreed to become Sunghoon’s girlfriend.

Why? Because Pham Hanni’s reputation was too big for her to let a man destroy it.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, you know, I won’t judge.”

“God, I hate you.” She whispers, hands harshly rubbing away the tears.

“Why Hanni? What did I ever do to you?”

“Because you tolerated me.” She cries even more. “Because you never once called me out on my behavior, because despite me being a total bitch, you were always nice to me.”

You had no idea what to say, so you didn’t say anything. You just rubbed Hanni’s back, wondering why the hell you were actually feeling bad for the girl who made your life a living hell for weeks.

452 notes · View notes

writtenbyan-aries · 3 months ago

Note

i have a request for sam. so basically it’s like divorced dilf!sam and reader is the babysitter for the kid and one day the mom picks up the kid and sam says she should come over. and it’s like lowkey really smutty

Summary: reader gets invited to her job after hours.

Warnings: SMUT18+, swearing, dad!sam, babysitter!reader, flirting, kissing, scratching, hair pulling, oral (m rec), unprotected sex, creampie, general filth

Word Count: 4.5k | unedited

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Come on, sweetheart. You gotta get your shoes on. Mom will be here any second to get you!” You sigh quietly as you watch the crazy four year old running around the living room, “Zoe, honey. Mama is coming.”

She sighs, plopping down onto the couch with a small groan, “I have more fun with you.”

You stifle back your laughter as you walk over to her, “don’t say that, Zo, you have lots of fun with mom.”

She rolls her eyes and you raise your brows, “Who taught you to do that? Mommy or daddy?” She giggles as you slip her shoes on, “Mommy.”

Figures, you think as you shake your head.

The door bell rings and you gasp, “Is that mom?” Zoe gets up and squeals, “Mommy!” She runs to the door and you follow close, laying your hand on her shoulder before opening the door.

“Hey Lilly.” You smile, “She just had lunch, so she should be good for a little bit.”

Lilly smiles, “Perfect.” She points to you, “Did you tell y/n, bye?” You drop down, giving the child a big hug, “Be good for mom, okay?”

She laughs, “I will, y/n.” She turns taking Lilly’s hand, “Bye!” You wave as you hand her backpack to Lilly, “everything she came with is in there. Sam gave me a list and I double checked.”

“Also perfect. Thank you.” She smiles, “I’ll see you.. Monday morning when I drop her off, right?” You think for a second, “Yes, Sam has to work later Monday so I’ll also pick her up from school.”

She gives you a thumbs up, “You’re great.”

You laugh slightly, “I try.” You smile at Zoe, “See you Monday, Zoe!” She nods and walks with Lilly to the car. You close the door and look at all of the toys strewn all over.

You let out a sigh and walk over to pick up the toys, then make your way to the kitchen to clean up from lunch.

As you’re washing the dishes, you hear the door open and you glance over, “Hey.” You give Sam a smile, “Lilly came to get Zoe like twenty minutes ago. I’m just cleaning up our mess from the day.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” Sam laughs slightly and you shrug, “Hey, I made the mess. I can clean it. Lilly was a lot earlier than I thought she’d be.”

“Yeah, usually she runs late.” Sam rolls his eyes and you laugh, “Sorry. I’m not- Zoe rolled her eyes at me today and she told me learned it from mom, but.. now I’m starting to think it could go either way.”

He smirks, shaking his head, “Oh, no.”

“She was good. She ate all of her breakfast and lunch.” You reach in and unplug the drain, watching as the water goes down the drain for a few seconds before reaching to dry off your hands, “She did fall and hurt her elbow, but she was using it just fine after a little bit of ice and time.”

“That’s good.” Sam crosses his arms and leans against the counter, “We’re still good for Monday, right?” He looks over at you and you nod, “Yep, i will be here in the morning and I told Lilly I’ll pick Zoe up after school.”

He nods, “perfect.”

“Alright, if that’s everything.. I guess I’ll see you, Monday then.” You walk by him, his eyes following you, “Monday evening.”

“Right, yes. Monday evening.” You smirk, “Have a good night Sam.” You grab your bag and walk over to the door, stopping, “Oh.” You turn around, “There is some leftover lunch in the fridge if you want it.”

“Sounds good, thank you, y/n.” He smiles and walks over to the door, opening it, “Drive safe.”

You nod, “Always.”

You turn, walking out and down to your car. You get in, and start your drive home. On the way, you can’t help but think about Sam.

How him going into dad mode is one of the hottest things he does. How he stares at you for just the right amount of time, and just how perfect he is in general.

Sam is literally the perfect guy, and anyone could be lucky to have him. Your mind starts racing, what if he’s seeing someone, is he seeing someone? You start racking your brain, has he mentioned anyone?

You gasp, slamming on your breaks as you see the car in front of you growing closer and closer at a slightly fast and scary rate.

You tilt your head, taking a deep breath before letting out a sigh, hoping no one saw that.

You feel your cheeks grow hotter as the thought of Sam creeps back onto your mind. You shake the thoughts away, moving around in your seat as you try to drive home without almost causing anymore accidents.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I need you.. to tell me I’m crazy.” You sigh, laying your hands over your face, “Like an-y-thing to calm my delusional ass down, Mel.”

She laughs, “I mean, from what I’m hearing, there’s something there.”

“No.” You whine, “Don’t say that.” You laugh, “Like, I was thinking about him on the way home, like.. I almost caused an accident.”

Mel gasps, “Oh, you got it bad, girl. B. A. D. Bad.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you want my help or not?” She scoffs, “I’ll gladly ha-“

“No, no. Please.” You laugh slightly, “Like, the way he looks at me, like isn’t the way you should look at a babysitter, right? Like it’s like.. fuck, I can’t even-“

Mel cuts you off, “Like he’s undressing you with his eyes?”

“Yes!” You sigh, “Exactly that. It’s like he’s trying to get me nervous or something, and I mean, if that’s what he’s doing, it works. But, I’m not going to let him know that.”

“Maybe you should tell him, call him out on his shit.”

“What, so I can spend the rest of my days as his babysitter feeling awkward around him? No thanks.” You shake your head, “I just, wish there was a way for me to get over this, like he’s just..”

“A total dilf.”

“Yes.” You sigh, and Mel continues, “He really is though. Like, I’m jealous you get to see him everyday.”

“Not everyday.” You correct, “I mean, do I wish it was? Yeah, but I think the less days I spend around him, the more I’m able to keep my composure around him.”

Your phone dings and you sigh, “I got a text.”

“Who is it?” Mel asks and you walk over to your phone, “I don’t know, probably Lilly saying I forgot to pack something for Zoe.”

“She isn’t my cup of tea. Good for Sam getting divorced.” She laughs but you stare at your phone, in shock mostly.

“Hello? You still there?” Mel speaks louder, “Hello?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” You scoff, blinking as you read the text over and over again, “Sam just texted me.”

Mel gasps, “What did he say!?”

You laugh slightly, “He just said he has a question.” You tap the screen, What’s up? You hit send, “I just said, what’s up?”

“Maybe he’s going to invite you back over. I mean..” She changes her tone, “he’s kid free all week, you can’t tell me he doesn’t get lonely over there in that big house when he’s all alone.”

You roll your eyes, “I doubt that, Mel.”

You see his text pop up at the top and your heart skips a beat, “He wants to know if I’m busy.” Mel scoffs, “No. you’re as free as a bird flying high in the sky.”

You laugh slightly, tilting your head, Just waiting for my laundry to dry so I can fold it and put it away.

You read what you sent and Mel groans, “Why did you say that?!” You groan, “He makes me nervous, Mel, fuck.”

You purse your lips as he responds, Well that’s exciting, lol. The reason I asked is because I was wondering if you had dinner yet?

“Did he answer? What did he say?” Mel asks and you sigh, “Nothing, he hasn’t answered yet, but my laundry is done, so I’m going to go take care of that.”

“Bor-ing.” She laughs, “Have fun, talk to you later.”

“Talk later, bye.” You hang you and sit down, typing back to Sam, I haven’t actually, that was my next thing. Your eyes watch as the bubbles pop up and get replaced with his text, Would you want to have dinner with me?

Your heart was racing, along with your mind.

Was this a date? What it a casually dinner between friends. A professional dinner?

You lick your lips, nodding to yourself as you type, I would love to have dinner with you, Sam. I can come over in a few?

You stand up, immediately thinking about what to wear and your phone dings. You pull it up, reading over his message, text me what you want from Melinda’s and give me like thirty to pick it up.

You let out a relived sigh, typing out what you usually get, Thank you, see you in a little. You add a smiley face and hit send, immediately regretting the smiley, “Oh my god. I’m going to make a fool out of myself.”

You press your palm to your forehead and walk to the bathroom.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After your quick shower, you get dressed. You didn’t know what to expect, so you just settled for a cute sweater and leggings.

You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your keys, giving Sam a quick, I’m on my way, message before heading to your car.

The whole way there, you kept having to wipe your palms on your pants because they were growing sweaty from your nerves, “Oh my god.” You felt like you were a mess, “what the fuck.”

Maybe Sam did like you. Maybe you both have a mutual pining for one another, and just maybe, it was finally going to work out in your favor.

As you pulled into the driveway next to his car, you took a shaky breath, “Fuck, okay. You can do this.” You nod to yourself, “Come on.”

You get out, walking up to the door and knocking.

The door swings open and Sam smirks at you, “You practically live here during the day. You don’t need to knock, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat as you desperately try to form words, “I-I just- sorry.” You close your eyes, “I’m a little nervous, if you can’t tell. That’s why I brought this.” You extend the bottle of wine out and Sam takes it, raising a brow, “this shit is good, and expensive, how’d you get this?”

You walk in, “from my old job, a coworker during a secret Santa thing.”

“I take it you’re big into wine?” Sam asks as he closes the door and you nod, “Well, not like I’m always drinking it or anything. I promise I don’t drink on the job.”

Sam chuckles as he walks over, “You need to relax, y/n. I know you don’t drink on the job.”

You let out a small sigh, “Sorry, I just-“

Sam cuts you off, “Here.” He walks over to the table and pulls two glasses towards him before opening the bottle, “Drink this and take a breather.”

He probably thinks I’m a fucking loon, you think as you force a smile, “Thank you.” You take the glass and take a sip, “Oh, this stuff is good.”

“You haven’t had this kind before?” He asks as he brings his glass to his lips, “This is my favorite wine.” He takes another sip before motioning to the table, “Shall we eat?”

“Yes, please. I’m starving.” You walk over and Sam pulls the chair out for you. You give him a smile as you sit down, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Mhm.” He walks around, sitting across from you, “I didn’t realize how much this looked like a date.. I’m sorry if-“

“I was stressing about what to wear, so I think we’re on the same page, Sam.” You were shocked you said that, maybe you aren’t as nervous as you thought?

“Yeah, I think I can say the same. I got a suit out and then I was like no, I’m at home not at work.” He laughs, “So I hope you’re not offended by my sweatshirt and sweatpants.”

“Oh, Sam. I’m appalled by your attire tonight.” You tease and he smirks, looking down as he nods, “My apologies, I’ll get right on that.” He laughs and looks up at you, “I was nervous you were going to say no.”

“What made you think I’d say no?” You tilt your head and Sam shrugs, taking another sip of his wine, “I just, wasn’t sure if you thought it would be weird to have dinner with the dad of the girl you babysit.”

You purse your lips and take another sip of your wine.

Sam furrows his brows, “It is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I-“

“No, no. It’s not weird at all, Sam. I’m actually.” You laugh slightly, “I’m actually really glad you asked me.”

“Really?” He smirks and leans back in his chair, “I mean, that’s a relief, I’m glad I’m not the only one who felt something.”

You smile, “Right, now I can stop almost causing accidents on my way home because I’m too busy thinking about you.” Your eyes go wide, “Oh that just.. came flying out..”

“Oh.. my god.” He tries not to laugh, “Yeah, that’s not, I mean. I’m happy you think about me, but I’d rather you not crash your car.”

You nod, “Yeah, me too.” You laugh, finishing your wine, “I’ll have another glass if you don’t mind.” He smiles, leaning forward to grab the bottle and fill your glass halfway, “Good?”

You nod, “Good.”

“So..” Sam glances up at you, “What were you thinking about, exactly?”

You tilt your head, giving him a subtle shrug, “that’s a conversation to have with me when I’ve had a few more glasses.” You smirk and he raises his brows, “Mm, I see.”

“So, if I can ask..” you glance up again, “And please, stop me if I’m overstepping in anyway.” Sam shakes his head, “Ask away.”

“What happened with you and Lilly?”

He chuckles slightly, “That’s.. a funny story actually, well. It wasn’t as the time, but now that I think about it..” he sighs, “Lilly and I met back when I used to explore abandoned places with my brother, Colby. She owned, well, her grandfather owned an old hotel that’s been on my bucket list for months at that point. She basically kept up with making sure people stayed out and what not.”

You nod, “Right.”

“We met the day Colby and I went over and hit it off right away.” He shrugs, “One thing led to another, we started dating, then a year later, Zoe made her grand entrance and then I got this idea to propose and after another year, I guess I just wasn’t enough for her anymore.”

“She filed for divorce?” You frown and sam laughs, “Nope. I did. The day I came home from work to find her in bed with her boss.” Your jaw drops and he clicks his tongue, “It’s funny because that day, it was like a big weight was lifted from my shoulders, I just focused on work and Zoe, and that’s really all I needed.”

He takes a sip from his glass, “Or that was until you came along.”

“What do I have to do with it?” You tease, downing the rest of your glass, “I’m just the babysitter.” You smirk as you extend your arm across the table and Sam smirks slightly with a small shake of his head, “You’re really not, though, y/n.”

He lifts the bottle and pours you more, “You’re literally.. everything when I’m not here, correction. Even when I’m here, I still think Zoe would prefer you over me.”

“This.. is going to sound bad, and I kind of feel bad for saying it, but earlier today, right before Lilly got here, Zoe told me she has more fun with me than her.”

Sam purses his lips, “Zoe has told me that before, too. About you, and being fun.” He smirks, “She always asks about you, when you’re coming back. If we can call you. I never wanted to bother you on your off days so I just tell her you’re busy.”

“Sam.” You lean forward, “I have no life other than taking care of that sweet girl.”

He chuckles, “That surprises me. With a pretty face and a perfect personality, it actually shocks me that you aren’t already spoken for.”

You shrug, “haven’t found the right one yet.”

“Oh, so you’re looking?” He teases and you roll your eyes, “Please, I look at you every time I’m around you.”

“I know.” Sam flicks his brows up, “But, I’m not one to talk, because I do it, too.”

You can’t help but smile, “I have no idea why I was so nervous about this. You’re really easy to talk to, Sam.”

“You mean flirt with.” He winks and you sigh, “Whatever you wanna call it, Mr. Golbach.” Sam laughs, “I remember.. when you used to call me that. It took forever for you to call me Sam.”

You shrug, “I was trying to be professional, I think? But, you made me nervous the second I saw you, my mom never told me that the guy I was interviewing with was so.. hot.”

You can see his cheeks turn a shade darker and he tilts his head, “that what you were thinking about when you almost crashed your car?” He tried not to laugh but fails, “sorry.. sorry.”

“No, no. You’re right.” You nod, “And maybe some other things, but we’ll just-“

“No, no. Tell me.” Sam smirks, “I wanna know what runs through that pretty little head of yours when you leave here, or when you’re here, with me. Just the two of us. Whatever.” He shrugs, “I’m all ears.”

You giggle as you remember what Mel called him, a dilf.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asks and you shake your head, “just a term that my friend uses to describe you.” You look up at him, “when you texted..” you groan, “Oh this is so embarrassing.”

You look at him and he smirks, “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

“When you texted, I was actually on the phone with my friend, and I was basically trying to get her to talk me out of my.. feelings, for you. I thought I was just being delusional, you know.”

“I’m glad she didn’t talk you out of it.” Sam smiles, “But anyway, I’m curious about this, term, she used to describe me.”

You laugh, shaking your head before taking a sip of wine, “She called you a dilf.”

He chuckles, “I’m sorry, a what?”

“A dilf.” You repeat, your eyes moving to his, “A dad, I’d like to fuck.”

Suddenly, everything shifted.

“Was she talking about her, or you?”

“Me.” You swallow, setting your glass on the table, “She basically said what I was trying to say.”

“Am I.. the dad you’d like to..” he purses his lips, a smirk fighting to appear, and you nod, “I mean, I’d like to do more than that, of course, but right now, that’s all I can think about.”

“So why don’t you stop thinking..” he sets his glass down, “and do something about it?”

You slowly stand up and walk over to him, laying your hand in his as he holds it out. He pulls you towards him, your legs on either side of his as you sit down on his lap to face him.

Your eyes scan over his face and you smirk before leaning in to kiss him.

His hands slide to your hips, a small groan leaving his lips as they move with yours in a slow motion. You earn another by grinding down onto him, gasping when you feel his cock growing harder under his sweats.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers as he kisses down your neck, “Can I take this off?” His hands slip under your sweater and you nod, “Only if you take yours off.”

“Deal.” He pushes your sweater up your body, pulling it up over your head. You slip your arms out or the sleeves and immediately reach for his sweatshirt.

You bite your lip as you watch him pull it up over and toss it to the ground to pile with yours. Your eyes rake up and down his body, head tilting as you lean back in to kiss him.

You kiss down his neck, earning small gasps and groans as you nip and suck at his skin.

Your hand drags down his chest and torso, slipping into his sweats. You kiss back up to his lips, swallowing his moans as your hand wraps around his cock, slowly twisting up and down.

“F-fuck.” He groan, “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

You give him a shrug, “I can show you, rather than tell you?” He bites his lip and nods, “Please.” You slide down off of his lap, sitting between his knees.

His hips raise from the chair as you work his sweats down over his hips and pull them down to his mid thigh. You rise up, spitting a little on the tip and he groans as your thumb slowly spreads it around.

His eyes are on you, watching as you lean in to wrap your lips around the tip. His breath hitches in his throat as his hips buck upward at the touch.

You tilt your head back, flattening your tongue on the underside before licking upward.

He lets out a shuddered breath, “Fucking hell.”

You take him into your mouth, slowly working your head up and down as your tongue swirls around. He reaches down, his hand slowly pulling your hair into his grasp, “Fuck, that’s it.”

You pick up the pace, going a little faster and he tightens his grip, “Doing so good, baby.” He groans, “Fuck, just like that.”

Your heart starts to race at his praise, the walls of your cunt squeezing around absolutely nothing in full desperation.

Sam’s breathing grows faster, “Fuck, okay. Okay.” He pulls your head off of him and you lean back, a smirk resting on your lips, “What?”

“You know what.” Sam smirks, pulling you up for a kiss, “Take your pants off.”

You nod, stepping back to push your pants down your legs. You kick off your shoes, stepping out of them and you walk back over to Sam.

He stands up, his arm wrapping around your waist as his lips crash onto yours. Your hand moves up to rest on his cheek and you moan against his lips.

He reaches back behind you, swiping stuff out of the way and lifts you to set you down on the table. You lift your leg, reaching down to guide his cock into you.

You both pause, gasping as he slowly pushes into you more. Your head tilts back, moans slipping from your lips as you feel the pleasure from him stretching you floods through your body.

“Fuck.” You gasp, arm sliding around his neck, “Feels so good.”

He nods, his lips pressing to your forehead, “So good.”

He slides out, thrusting back in with a grunt, “Fuck, baby.” His hand slides up to rest on your cheek as his lips reconnect with yours. He swallows your moans with ease, his hand dropping to grip your thigh.

Your other leg hooks around his hip, “F-fuck, harder.”

He groans at your words, his fingers pressing into your skin as his thrusts grow harder. You gasp out, sliding your hand down in between your bodies.

Sam tilts his head down, lips parted as his eyes bounce between his cock going in and out of you and your fingers circling your own clit, “That’s it, baby. Does it feel good?”

You nod, eyes squeezing shut, “Y-yes.. so, so good.”

He bites his lip, leaning in to press kisses along your jaw, “Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You gasp at his words, the pressure of your fingers growing harder, “Y-yes, yes.” You open your eyes, locking them onto Sam’s, “Fu-fuck. Don’t..” you tilt your head back, moaning loudly, “don’t stop.”

“Didn’t plan on it, baby.” Sam smirks, his read tilting to the side as your cunt squeezes around him, “God damn.”

You tighten your leg around his waist, moaning out constantly as he gets you to tip over the edge. You pull your hand away, sliding it to the back of his neck as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You were a whining, moaning mess before him, and he loved it.

“Fuck, fuck, there you go.” Sam groans, “That’s it.”

Your nails dig into his skin, “Fuck, Sam!” You pull him in for a kiss, moaning against his lips as his thrusts keep the fast pace, “You make me feel so good.” You tilt your head as his lips trail down and back up to your lips.

“I knew you’d feel good.” He moans, thrusts deeper into you, “I didn’t know it would be this good.”

You whimper at his words, smashing your lips back onto his. After a minute of making out, he leans back slightly, “Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, giving him a shrug as you pull him in closer, “Wherever you prefer, baby.” You bite down on his lip, earning a gasp from him and he groans, “Fuck.. okay.”

He slides his hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he kisses you deeply. You swallow his moans, gasping as he thrusts into you, holding himself in as his cock twitches inside of you.

You moan at the sensation, gently pressing a few kisses to his cheek and jaw.

He slowly pulls out, gently setting your leg down. You sit up, taking a deep breath as you look at him, “That was..”

“Incredible.” Sam smirks, nodding as he lays his hands on your waist, “Literally better than I ever thought it could be.”

You nod, “Oh, yeah. I agree. And trust me, I thought about you a lot.” Sam smirks and nods, “Yeah, I’m guilty of that, too.” He tilts his head, “So, is that what you’d think about?”

You nod, “yeah, that and whether or not you were seeing anyone.”

“Did that answer your questions?” Sam laughs slightly and you nod, “This whole night answered everything.”

Sam smiles, leaning in to press his lips to yours, “So I think I have a solution for you not crashing your car on the way home.”

“Oh yeah?” You smile, looking up at him, “What’s that?”

“Just stay here.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

First fic of the new year! Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading! I love you all SO much! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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slaytheusurper · 23 days ago

Text

⭑ Salty Kisses ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: We are all in desperate need of Quinn fics!!

Pairing: Quinn Mossbacher x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, +18 mdni, smoking weed, Olivia being a bitch, nudes, mastrubation (m), making out, heavy petting, p in v sex, handjob, sort of public sex, creampie.

Summary: Joining your best friend Olivia on vacation meant facing your crush on her brother once again, but this year, you would make a move.

Word count: 7.6K (My longest one shot yet)

“Oh my god, who are these people?” Olivia sighed next to you. Looking at her from the corner of your eye, you smiled. She had a flair for the dramatics and could be a bit self important but you have known her since elementary school. After quickly becoming best friends, you often were allowed to accompany her and her family on their luxurious vacations.

This year was no exception as you had joined them on their vacation to Hawaii. Even though you felt like you and Olivia had slightly drifted apart, you joined them anyway. She was two years older than you but she had always said how that didn’t matter to her, and how mature you were for your age.

After a draining flight and almost losing your luggage at the pickup, you were glad to be relaxing on the boat. Both you and Olivia had separated yourselves from the other passengers, her parents and brother included.

As you peered down at them from the heightened open cabin up top, you secretly checked out her brother. Quinn was a special type, and you’ve always had a thing for pathetic and nerdy boys. So how could you help yourself when your best friend had a brother exactly like that?

“So those two,” Olivia suddenly spoke up again, nodding towards the newlyweds at the back of the boat, “they just got married in the Hamptons. Her parents have a place there.”

You observed the obnoxious couple taking cringey selfies. “I bet they met on Raya.” You added with a grin.

“Totally.” Olivia smiles, both of you watching as the woman hangs off of her new husband. “She’s in fashion.” Olivia then announces. “Marketing.” You correct her. “He went to Dartmouth, international finance.” You add. Watching as Olivia’s dad takes a picture for the couple.

“She loves him but-” Olivia starts.

“He’s got a small dick.” You laugh. Olivia chuckles before adding, “He’s a closet adderall snorter.”

“Gives him an edge at work.” You agreed. “Makes his dick even smaller.” Olivia says before the both of you burst out laughing. The couple has no idea as they take even more pictures.

You continue to make up stories about the people that joined you on the boat before Nicole, Olivia’s mom, calls for you. “Hey girls.”

“What mom?” Olivia responds annoyed, the mood between you stale again. “Liv come up front, I think you can see the resort.” Nicole points, gesturing for the two of you to follow her. She was right however, The White Lotus slowly came into view.

Olivia sweetly took your hand to help you off the boat. The wooden dock rocked slightly beneath your feet before you stepped onto solid ground, the warmth of the island air wrapping around you. It felt good to be steady again.

You exchanged a glance with Olivia, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, maybe amusement, maybe something else. A man with a neatly groomed mustache stood waiting, flanked by resort employees in crisp uniforms, their polite smiles already plastered across their faces.

As you approached them, the moustache man’s smile grew. “Mr. and Mrs. Mossbacher, hello! I’m Armond, the resort manager. Welcome to the White Lotus.” The man, apparently named Armond, greeted you with a thick Australian accent.

“How was your journey here?” He asked as Nicole accepted the flower necklace from a staff member. You drowned out their conversation as you took another glance at Quinn, who was completely lost in his videogame on his Nintendo.

When everyone started walking, you hurriedly joined them on the golf cart who was driven by a typical white surfer dude. During the short ride to the resort, you made small talk with Olivia, such as what you would do when you had unpacked, and before you knew it, it was time to get off.

The resort was very impressive, a beautiful calming design that still felt very luxurious. You expected nothing less from the Mossbachers who always booked VIP suites. The room itself was even better, beautifully decorated with a nice balcony and a pull up couch.

You wondered where Quinn was going to sleep since there were only two designated beds, one for you and Oliva to share and one for her parents in an adjacent room. As you set your stuff down, your question is answered when Olivia orders Quinn to sleep in the tiny kitchen, while her parents are out of earshot of course.

It surprises you how Quinn actually listens and locks himself in the stuffy room. Olivia pulls you with her and the two of you change into your bikini’s. When you were finished, you checked out the large balcony and agreed on going to the beach. Before you could actually leave, Nicole already called for you.

“Girls!”

“Yeah?” Olivia responds as you strut back inside. “I would like to talk to you guys about, you know, just some of this clutter. Because this is going to be our common space, and I would love to try to, you know, just clear it out.” Nicole rambles as she walks around moving luggage.

“Mom! We can take care of it later-” Olivia starts, but before she can even argue further her mom insists on taking care of it now. Of course.

Nicole pulls open the tiny adjacent kitchen galley and is met with Quinn hunched over on the tiny bed, playing on his phone. “Quinn, why is your bed in here?” She says as she drops the stuff.

“Olivia said I have to sleep here.” Quinn sulkingly responds. Stupid butterflies already swirl in your stomach upon hearing his voice after the long time he hadn’t spoken.

“Olivia, your brother is not sleeping in the kitchen.” Nicole scolded, turning to the two of you, bags in hand and ready to go. Olivia then walks over to peer inside the room that Quinn was residing in. “Why not?” She shrugs.

“Because it’s a tiny galley kitchen, and we’ve got this whole beautiful room.” Nicole scoffs. Olivia looks inside, Quinn already back on his phone again.

“Mom, he's doing fine in there. Look, he's stimming. He can entertain himself for hours with just his own hand gestures! He’s fine in the kitchen.” She says sauntering back over to you.

Your brows furrowed at her words, feeling kind of shitty for being in such a beautiful place and then making her brother sleep in a windowless, suffocating room. “Olivia, no!” Her mother argued back, but Oliva already took your hand and led you to the door.

“Mom you want him to sleep in here with us, he’s gonna jerk off to my best friend while she’s sleeping!” Olivia turned, as her mom stopped the two of you. “I don’t think-” You tried to interject but Olivia cut you off already.

“Mom! He’s fine, he’s being himself, gaming and fapping- and byeee!” Olivia yelled as she now fully pulled you with her out the door. The rest of the afternoon you and Olivia tried to catch as much sun as possible on the beach, occasionally taking a dip in the water to cool off.

As the sun started to set, you headed back to the suite to get dressed for dinner. You chose a beautiful but still casual flowy dress you bought for the vacation, Olivia dressed in shorts and a halter top. You were excited to see how the lobster bake turned out and had gotten quite hungry as you didn’t bring any snacks to the beach.

The outside dining area took your breath away, beautiful lights hung everywhere and you took it all in as you were being led to your table. To your delight, Quinn took a seat next to you and gave you a small smile as you sat down, which of course, you returned.

You knew Olivia had always been very bitchy towards her brother, it had been normal in their relationship, but you still felt a tiny sting of guilt everytime you didn’t speak up to her about it. You also knew Quinn didn’t have any friends, apart from online, so you always tried to be nice to him.

The food arrived after fifteen minutes, while Olivia started a discussion with you about Hilary Clinton, something you were not entirely in the mood for tonight, but she could get offended if you didn’t indulge. Soon Nicole intervened and Olivia was quick to drop it.

On your side, you could hear Quinn play one of his video games on his nintendo, finally you gave into the urge to ask him about it, to talk to him about anything. “Quinn, what game are you playing?” You asked sweetly, peering over to look at his screen. Olivia raised a brow at you.

Quinn visibly became red. “Oh uhm, just a game about an assassin, it’s really cool, I’ve been playing it for a while-” He couldn’t even finish talking before his sister cut him off. “Yeah, yeah she gets it. So we should probably head out for that walk you mentioned earlier.”

You felt bad for Quinn, but remembered what Olivia meant. “Sure yeah. Maybe you can tell me more later, Quinn?” He nodded at your words, his cheeks still flushed as the light of his screen made it more noticeable.

“Great, let’s go.” Olivia didn’t even ask her parents before she practically jumped out of her seat.

Excusing yourself at least, you followed her. As you joined her side, she led you to one of the younger guys working around the resort. “What did you think about the dude who drove the cart?” She asked with a smile, you already knew where she was heading.

“Not my type, such a typical smooth brained surfer boy, I can’t with them.” You rolled your eyes. She laughed but composed herself as you approached the cute guy. Olivia had always been a bit obsessed with boys, it was all she could seem to think about, that and weed.

You stood idly by her side as Olivia put on her flirtatious face and started to talk up the guy. Still, your eyes lingered on Quinn, who remained in your vision a couple feet away. He looked so adorable tonight, his short sleeve blouse really suited him and his hair was curly and messy, secretly just the way you liked it.

Getting lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt Olivia poke at you.

“Dude, hellooo? I said let’s go back to the room, I brought some weed we can smoke.” She suggested.

“Sorry, zoned out a bit. But sure, let’s go.” Olivia followed your earlier line of sight, but she wasn’t convinced you might have been checking out her brother, so she ignored it.

The guy had gone back to serving and you followed Olivia back to the Trade Winds suite. You couldn’t get Quinn out of your mind as you undressed into your pj’s and put your hair up. Olivia rummaged around in one of her bags while you took a seat on your cutely made pull out bed.

“Where the fuck is this thing.” Olivia cursed, sifting through multiple bags. After a while she found it and joined you with a grin. With a water bong and a ziplock bag of weed in her hands, the party could begin. But before she could stock the thing with the green substance, the door opened.

Olivia hurriedly shoved it under you guys’ bedsheets and grabbed her phone, pretending to be busy. “Hey girls, already in your pajamas?” Nicole asked as she strolled through the room with her husband, Quinn following behind them.

“Yeah we just wanted to chill and catch some sleep so we have more energy for the rest of the trip.” You answered. She smiled at you and headed for the bathroom with Mark. Quinn shot you a quick smile before disappearing in the galley kitchen.

After a while, they still remained in their rooms and it was around 10 pm already, Olivia presumed it was safe so she pulled the goods out again. “Fucking finally, sorry my family is so annoying.” She scoffed.

“I think you dislike them more than I do.” You chuckled, pulling out the lighter you had brought. “Sure.” She shrugged. Olivia stacked the bong and took the first hit. The lighter crackling through the quiet room. “Shh.” You giggled. Olivia tried not to laugh while taking another hit, before finally passing it to you.

As the smoke flowed through your throat and into your lungs, you felt a wave of relaxation hit you. You passed the bong back and forth, talking about some guys from school. After about fifteen minutes, you both really felt it. Your brain felt all woozy and fuzzy, your skin like a warm blanket wrapped around you.

The whole room felt more serene and pretty. It had been a while since you smoked weed and it didn’t take long before you and Olivia giggled quietly among yourselves. “You know what we should do?” She laughed all of a sudden.

You raised your brows at her. “Truth or dare.” She wiggled her brows at you, causing you to burst out laughing. Shushing you, she leaned in as if she was about to tell you her darkest secret. “You go first.” She whispered. You thought for a moment. “Truth.”

“Boo you’re so boring.” Olivia giggled. “Whatever, just let me ease into it.” You said, leaning back on your hands. “Fine, have you… ever taken and sent a nude?” She asked with a lower tone, taking caution not to alarm anyone. You rolled your eyes at her.

“God you’re really going to hate this answer- no I have not.” You replied. She looked at you shocked. “Really? But you’re so hot. Like why haven’t you?” Shrugging at her words, you decide to turn the tables. “Truth or dare Livs.” Olivia let it go and picked dare.

“Okay, I dare you… to go over to the next room and knock on their door!” You giggled. She gasped but climbed off the bed anyway. Sneakily you followed her as she opened the door as quietly as possible. You stayed in the doorway, watching as she quickly knocked and sprinted past you back into the room.

It caused you to close the door quicker and harder than you meant to but luckily no one woke up. As you ran back to the bed, Olivia layed back on, you waited with bated breaths- nothing happened. You then fell into a fit of laughter.

“Okay you know what, I pick dare too.” You said after a while, the weed pushing you to be more bold. “I know a good one, I dare you, to let me take nudies of you!” She laughed. You cringed at her words. “I’m not sending them to anyone though!” You shrieked.

“Duh! Get up and take those clothes off girl!” Olivia ordered, grabbing your phone and pressing on the camera. You did as she said, the weed completely derationalising you. “Jesus you look hot.” She said, snapping pictures of your naked form.

When she was done, you put on your clothes before she showed them to you. You both crawled back in bed after that, the exhaustion hitting you hard.

Golden sunlight spilled through the grand windows, painting soft patterns across the sheets as you stirred. Just as your mind drifted between dreams and waking, a hand pressed against your shoulder.

“Wake up,” Olivia murmured, her voice groggy with sleep. “We’re getting breakfast soon.”

Sitting up, the door to Nicole and Mark's bedroom opened and they walked in the room, Mark sitting on the edge of you and Olivia’s shared pull out while Nicole checked on Quinn.

Your mind felt clouded, weighed down by the remnants of sleep and the blurred edges of last night. Flashes of laughter, the ocean breeze, and the smell of weed hang at the edges of your memory, but nothing pieced together quite right.

Then, a sharp voice shattered the quiet.

“What the hell? Quinn! What are you doing on the floor?”

Nicole’s exasperation cut through the morning peace, snapping you into focus. You and Olivia turned your heads in unison, eyes landing on Nicole as she stood, arms crossed, staring down at Quinn with a mix of disbelief and irritation.

You could hear Quinn’s voice from the small galley kitchen. “There’s no air in here.”

“Olivia!” Nicole shouted, you were in no mood for a fight between them but Nicole surely was. “What?” Olivia groaned, her head falling back on her pillow.

“Your brother is stroking out in the kitchen!” Nicole stressed. “What? Dad- what the hell are you doing?” You sat up to see Mark massaging his daughter's foot. “You're so beautiful.” Mark muttered. “You're so smart.” He continued. “Don’t you think?” He turned to you.

“Yeah.” You replied, Nicole now moving a bunch of stuff around in the living room, muttering to herself about the mess you guys made last night. Your heart sank as you noticed the water bong was still on Olivia’s makeshift nightstand. Mark noticed it too.

“Is that a water bong?”

You turned to Olivia, your heart racing. “Hey, did you guys bring pot on the plane?” Mark asked, Olivia pulling her foot away from him. “We found it on the beach-” “It’s prescription-” Both of you spat out. Mark to your surprise simply rolled his eyes.

Quinn appeared out of his room with his duvet wrapped around him, “They were partying all night and making weird lesbian noises.” He uttered while walking past, on his way to the bathroom. “We weren’t being lesbians dad.” Olivia sighed. “Uh- okay.” Mark mumbled.

After Quinn finished getting dressed, you and Olivia changed quickly, eager to start the day. The three of you made your way to breakfast, the scent of fresh coffee and tropical fruit filling the air as you grabbed a quick bite. Conversations buzzed around you, clinking silverware, the occasional burst of laughter, the tranquil energy of resort life.

Once you’d eaten, Olivia’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Let’s check out the pool,” she said, already tugging you toward the suite. Back in your room, you grabbed your swimsuits, a towel, and a book before heading out again, the promise of cool water and warm sun pulling you toward the massive, glittering pools.

As you took in the pool area, your eyes swept over the impressive layout, barstools submerged in cool, glistening water, a shallow kiddie pool, an overwhelming number of lounge beds, and a designated diving section on the far side.

It was the kind of luxury that felt almost surreal, but Olivia barely spared it a second glance before settling onto one of the larger canopy lounge beds, unimpressed.

“Today, I just want to read my book and ignore my family,” she sighed, sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose before flipping open her book. The way she said it was so casual, yet so completely Olivia.

You smirked, shaking your head. “Alright, well, I’m going for a swim first. Be back soon.”

With that, you turned toward the steps, toes brushing against the water’s surface. The initial cold made you hesitate, but before you could psych yourself out, movement on the other side of the pool caught your eye.

Quinn.

His bright orange shirt clung to his torso, completely soaked as he trudged through the water, holding his phone and Nintendo high above his head in a desperate attempt to keep them dry. He was heading toward the bar, a little further from where you stood.

You hesitated, then took a breath. This was your chance to talk to him alone, without Olivia hovering nearby. That thought alone propelled you forward. Careful not to dunk your head under, you waded into the water, the coolness wrapping around you as you made your way toward the bar.

As you got closer, you noticed the familiar white stems of his AirPods in his ears. He probably hadn’t even realized you were there. A mischievous thought crossed your mind. Would it be too cruel to startle him, just a little?

Biting back a grin, you crept up behind him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Quinn jolted, nearly dropping his devices before whipping around, wide-eyed. His tense expression melted into relief when he saw you.

You laughed, settling onto one of the barstools beside him. “Sorry, it just seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

Quinn paused his game, looking at you with something between surprise and uncertainty. He fumbled for words, and you suddenly became hyperaware of how rare these one-on-one conversations were. There had only been a handful of times you’d spoken to him without Olivia around, and every single time had been… well, awkward.

“Uhm- was I interrupting?” you asked, shifting slightly.

“No- no, it’s okay! I really don’t mind,” he rushed to say, his words stumbling over each other.

You smiled, sensing him relax. “Good, that’s good. So, tell me more about your game. Yesterday, Olivia kind of rudely interrupted our conversation.”

That got a reaction out of him. Quinn huffed, pulling his AirPods out completely. “Yeah, she’s just so annoying. Every time I even start talking, she tries to embarrass me.”

“I know. Sorry.” The words slipped out automatically, but when Quinn turned to you fully, you realized he wasn’t just brushing it off.

“Don’t apologize for her,” he said, his voice quieter but more serious. “I noticed you do that a lot around other people.” He hesitated before adding, “I don’t get why you’re friends with her. You’re so much nicer than she is.”

His words caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that, especially not to you.

“Thanks,” you said, a little softer this time. “But I’ve known her for a long time. She can be nice and fun… she just has her moments.” Even as you said it, you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Quinn let out a small chuckle. “If you say so.”

Not wanting the conversation to turn too serious, you quickly shifted gears. “So… back to your game,” you prompted.

That was all the encouragement he needed. For the next half-hour, Quinn talked, really talked- rambling and info-dumping about Assassin’s Creed with an enthusiasm that was almost contagious. You listened, asked questions, got completely caught up in his excitement. It was easy, effortless.

And then Olivia ruined it.

You caught sight of her from across the pool, waving from her lounge bed, beckoning you back.

“Shit- Olivia’s looking for me,” you muttered, more annoyed than you meant to sound.

Quinn’s expression faltered slightly. “Oh. Right. Well… I guess I’ll see you later.”

You hesitated for just a second before offering a small smile. “Later.”

Then, with a reluctant push off the barstool, you made your way back to the deeper part of the pool and swam toward the steps. As soon as you reached Olivia, she wasted no time launching into a round of questions about why you’d been hanging out with her brother instead of her.

You brushed it off, deflecting as smoothly as you could. “What chapter are you on?”

That was enough to distract her. She went on about her book, and soon, the conversation drifted into nothing. Before long, you found yourself relaxing again, even dozing off under the warm Hawaiian sun, though a part of your mind still lingered on your conversation with Quinn.

After dinner, you and Olivia headed to the bar to unwind before it got too late. A lingering tension still hung in the air from earlier, but you chose to brush it off, letting Olivia distract you as she scrolled through Tinder, nudging you to rate guys between sips of your drinks.

The evening passed quickly in a haze of casual conversation and clinking glasses, and before long, you made your way back to the suite, the warm night air wrapping around you like a heavy blanket.

When you stepped inside after changing, you noticed Nicole already in her pajamas, her expression tired but neutral. Quinn was there too, standing stiffly as his mom dragged out a spare bed into the open space near the kitchen galley.

Olivia barely glanced up, already occupied with her phone as you plopped down onto the pull-out couch beside her.

It wasn’t until Nicole started adjusting the sheets that Olivia looked up, her brows furrowing. “Mom, what are you doing?”

You held back an annoyed groan. You already knew where this was going.

Nicole barely acknowledged Olivia’s tone, pressing the mattress down to smooth out a crease. “Your brother is gonna suffocate if he sleeps in the kitchen.” She huffed, setting the bed down just outside the galley kitchen.

Olivia scoffed. “So get him his own room.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed with warning. “Olivia. This is perfect,” she continued, ignoring Olivia’s attitude. “Quinn, you sleep here. You girls, be nice.”

You shot Nicole a small smile, hoping to ease the tension. She nodded in approval before disappearing into her room, her voice softer now. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nicole,” you replied automatically.

Quinn sat down on his makeshift bed, shifting uncomfortably on the thin mattress. His expression was guarded, but when you caught his eye and gave him a small, reassuring smile, he returned it.

For a brief moment, there was silence. Then Olivia broke it.

“We don’t want you in here.”

You barely had time to react before she cut off your attempted protest.

“Leave.”

Quinn stiffened. His fingers curled into the sheets before he scoffed, anger flashing across his face. “Fine! I’ll sleep on the fucking beach!”

Before you could stop him, he grabbed his stuff and stormed out.

“Liv, seriously?” You turned to her in disbelief.

“What? It’s better this way, trust me.” She barely spared you a glance, already getting comfortable under the covers.

You knew arguing wouldn’t change anything, so you swallowed your frustration. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, unease crept in. Maybe you should’ve gone after him. Maybe you still could.

But the thought of drawing attention to how much you cared, how much you wanted to go after him- kept you frozen in place. So you stayed.

And then, hours later, the door slammed open.

You jolted awake, Olivia stirring beside you. Quinn stormed inside, dripping wet, sand clinging to his clothes and hair.

Nicole and Mark scrambled out of their room, their voices laced with confusion and concern.

“Quinn, where have you been?” Nicole demanded, taking in the state of him.

“I slept on the beach,” he grumbled, shaking water from his arms.

“Why?”

“Because of her!” He pointed directly at Olivia, his voice rising with frustration. “She made me! And now all my stuff is ruined! My iPad, my phone, my Nintendo- everything is soaked!”

Your heart sank.

If you had brought him back last night, this wouldn’t have happened.

Nicole’s expression darkened. Before she could say anything, Quinn stormed off, locking himself in the galley kitchen.

Nicole turned to Olivia, fury in her gaze.

“It was his idea!” Olivia defended.

Nicole shook her head in disappointment. Without another word, she turned and walked back to her room, Mark following with a sigh.

“Told you,” you muttered before getting up, already grabbing clothes for the day.

Breakfast was tense. Quinn had calmed down somewhat, though his mood remained sour. He sat stiffly, barely touching his food as Nicole’s patience wore thin.

“I need your computer, Mom,” he said flatly.

Nicole exhaled through her nose, irritation clear. “Well, I do have work to do.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do all day?” Quinn snapped.

“Enjoy Hawaii. Get in the ocean.”

His expression barely shifted. “The o-” He hesitated. “I did see a whale last night. That… that was pretty cool.”

Nicole sighed, setting down her fork. “Well, you’re not sleeping out there again.”

“Mom, he likes it. He’s communing with nature,” Olivia said mockingly, rolling her eyes.

Nicole shot her a look. “It’s funny how you have so much compassion for strangers, yet you don’t care about your brother.”

Olivia scoffed, brushing her off.

Quinn spoke up again, his voice quieter this time. “I’m gonna need someone’s phone today.” His gaze flickered around the table.

His dad shook his head. His mom didn’t even entertain the idea. Olivia didn’t even pretend to consider it.

Then his eyes landed on you.

You hesitated for only a second. “Sure, you can use mine.”

Olivia’s head snapped toward you in disbelief. “What?”

You ignored her, unlocking your phone. “Here, let me just remove the password so you don’t have to ask me all day-”

“Dude, why would you give him your phone?” Olivia laughed like it was absurd.

You handed it to Quinn, ignoring her. He took it carefully, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer. “Thanks,” he said, quieter this time, but genuine.

Nicole smiled approvingly. “That is so kind of you. If only his sister was like that.”

Olivia ignored the comment, stabbing at her food.

The day passed under the Hawaiian sun, the ocean cooling your skin between lazy dips in the water. From across the beach, you caught glimpses of Quinn, completely engrossed in your phone. He looked happy.

When Olivia wasn’t paying attention, you smiled.

Dinner was a lavish seafood spread, accompanied by a special performance from local staff members. You tried to enjoy it, but Olivia and her mom quickly fell into another argument, souring the evening.

Afterward, you took a long shower before playing a few rounds of cards with Olivia, your phone still in Quinn’s possession. You won, much to Olivia’s dismay, but even that small victory felt hollow.

By the time it was dark, Quinn still hadn’t come back.

His parents had already retreated to their own space. Olivia was brushing her teeth, unaware of your growing concern.

You glanced at the clock. 11 PM.

When Olivia emerged from the bathroom, you made a silent decision, one you should have made the night before.

If Quinn wasn’t back by the time you finished getting ready for bed, you were going to find him.

With or without Olivia’s approval.

As you brushed your teeth, did your skincare routine and brushed your hair, you listened for the door opening but it never did. After fifteen minutes you came back in the room, Olivia had fallen asleep already and you knew it was the perfect moment to look for Quinn.

You snuck out of the room as quietly as possible, letting the door close behind you with a soft thud. Barefoot, you made your way down the hall before reaching the elevator. When the doors opened on the ground floor, you started to follow the signs to the beach. Presuming he was in fact sleeping there.

The cool air of the night blew across your skin, reminding you you were in soft thin pyjamas that didn’t provide much warmth. You glanced around but didn’t see him yet. So you made your way through lounge beds and chairs, heading towards the beach.

QUINN'S POV:

Quinn huffed, stomping his feet on the sand, for the second time this vacation he dragged a lounge bed towards the water along with his duvet. He still had your phone clutched in his hand. When you handed it to him he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach, you cared about him enough to give up your own phone and you trusted him with it.

He positioned the bed on the sand and got comfortable, pulling the duvet over his body. For a moment, he stared at the waves going back and forth. It was already dark but he didn’t feel scared, it was kind of relaxing to be able to sleep outside. Then he remembered your phone.

As he didn’t have to unlock it, it opened immediately. He was kind of getting bored of the mobile games and was thinking of what else to do. Would it be so wrong to take a look through your phone? He shouldn’t, but the idea was very tempting. Maybe he could find out if you somehow, in some universe, returned his feelings.

He knew it was a bullshit excuse but he was nosy, and how would you know? He started in your notes, nothing too special and mostly confusing things that were out of context. Next his eyes stilled on the ‘photo’s’ app, maybe he would find something on there.

His stomach churned at the idea of violating your privacy like this, but the urge to sift through it pushed the feeling aside. Clicking on the icon, the app opened.

Holy mother of god. Quinns mouth fell wide open as he was met with pictures of your naked body- in their shared suite.

Your tits on full display, your bare pussy too. There were about six different pictures, all were different poses. It must have been the night you smoked weed with his sister and had forgotten about it in the morning. Some were blurry but about four of them were crystal clear.

He couldn’t help it, his cock was swelling the longer he stared at your perfect body. Usually just the image of you in a bikini at the beach did it for him but getting to see your naked body- jesus christ.

Quinn felt horrible, he really did, he shouldn’t be seeing this. It wasn’t meant for him. Or was it? No, he shouldn’t think this way, it’s wrong...and yet his hand clicked on one of the better pictures, the full photo filling the screen. Your hot, naked, beautiful body filled the screen.

His cock was now so painfully hard, he had to take care of it, and he had already seen your naked body now. His free hand snuck under the covers, slid into his shorts and boxers. He let out a groan when his hand wrapped around his length.

Shit- this was so fucked up, but he was not going to let this opportunity slide. His boxers were too tight for his hand to move freely, he put down your phone and removed his hard on from his underwear. With a quick glance around the beach, he resumed his movements.

Phone back in hand, other hand wrapped around his cock again, he let out soft grunts as he jerked himself off to your picture. And fuck did it feel good, your naked body completely on display for him so he could pleasure himself to it.

Quinn tugged harder at his cock, letting his thumb occasionally glide over the precum that was now collecting in beads on his tip. Using it as a lube, it let his hand glide more comfortably over his length. “Oh fuck- yes-” He whispered to himself.

God he wished you did this on purpose, and right now, in his mind- you did. The thought spurred him on as his entire body burned with need. A sheen layer of sweat had spread over his skin. His eyes rolled back and lips parted in bliss.

He pumped his cock faster, eyes locked on the picture before him, he felt like he was going to cum already- much faster than normal. He was so fucking close.

YOUR POV:

Your feet got swallowed by the sand, making your footsteps soundless as you made your way down the beach. Eyes flicking over the horizon, you noticed a familiar mop of hair laying on a lounge bed. Quinn.

Feet carrying you faster, you almost reached him before you heard the quiet groans and heavy breaths coming from him. Was he- jerking off? Everything in you screamed to leave right now but when you got a bit closer, you noticed our own phone in his hand.

Oh. My. God.

Your own naked body filled the screen- the nudes Olivia took as a joke when you were high. You completely forgot about them, and now you saw how Quinn's hand was moving frantically under his sheet, sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.

Weirdly enough, anger didn’t bloom in you, but something else entirely. Your heart sped up at the sight of him, that familiar feeling starting to throb between your thighs. Was it even more wrong of you to get off on this? Clearly he was into you as well.

Before you could regret it, you walked to the side of his lounge bed. His movements immediately stilled as he scrambled to turn your phone off. “Holy sh- I’m so sorry! No- no- no- no, I- I’m sorry!” Quinn fully freaked out now, both his hands above the duvet.

He didn’t notice the smile on your face. “I’m so sorry! Please!” His eyes started to tear up, still he refused to look at you. “Quinn- Quinn!” You interrupted him. “I’m- I’m not mad at you. It’s okay-” He looked at you finally, shock plastered on his face.

“What?” He couldn’t believe what was happening, did you leave these for him? “Olivia and I got high and we did truth or dare, she dared me to take nudes, I forgot about them in the morning.” You explained, now taking a seat by his covered feet. He did not say anything.

“Do- do you like me?” You decided to ask instead. His entire face was red at this point, and he was embarrassed to admit to himself that he was still hard. Quinn nodded shamefully, he didn’t dare say anything, he was too ashamed of himself.

“Maybe I like you too.” As those words left your lips, Quinn’s eyes blew wide. Did you really mean that, or was his sister around too and were you playing a prank on him? “And...maybe, I find it kind of hot, you found those photos.” He still couldn’t believe it.

“What?” It was the only thing that he could say at the moment. Your laugh broke the silence. “You never noticed huh? Why do you think I’ve been trying to make an effort lately? I like you Quinn.” His lips parted once more, eyes still wide, was this a joke?

“I didn’t- notice, are you serious?” He looked at you, still in disbelief as you sat in front of him. You nodded. He looked around the beach, no one else was here. “Can I uhm- touch you?” Now it was him who nodded.

So you leaned forward, closing in as you scooted closer to him. His eyes were hooded, a pink flush across his cheeks. Quinn’s gaze was now on your lips. Your hand rose to meet the soft skin of his cheek, he closed his eyes upon feeling you.

Leaning in, you closed your own eyes, before your lips carefully met his. They slotted together perfectly and after a gentle sweet peck, you backed up. “How was that?” You whispered. “G-good.” He replied, his eyes opening, begging for more.

“Have you ever, you know, been with a girl?” His red cheeks deepend at your question, shame filled him once more when he shook his head. “That’s okay, would you like to?” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he nodded. “Tell me Quinn.”

“I want to, really really badly, especially with you.” He whispered, too afraid to speak up. You smiled and leaned in again. This time he met you halfway and you could taste the lemon soda he had earlier. But he didn’t back up, he placed his hand carefully on your thigh, while your hand rested on his cheek again.

It was him who deepened the kiss, growing more hungry by the second. Quinn couldn’t help himself when you placed your other hand on his neck and softly traced your tongue along his bottom lip, he whimpered.

You could feel how you were throbbing at this point, it had been a while since a guy had you this worked up. When he allowed you to fully tease him with your tongue, you too let out a muffled moan. Quinn was still hard beneath the sheet, and the kiss only made it worse.

He became more and more desperate, his tongue now met yours and it set your entire body on fire. You really hoped Olivia wouldn’t come out here, because if she did, she would be faced with her brother's tongue down her best friend's throat.

Your hand that rested on his neck gently went down his body, feeling his warm chest still covered by his blue t-shirt. So you sat there under the cover of the stars, sloppily making out with your best friend's brother.

After a couple of minutes, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to touch him, for him to touch you. So you separated yourself from him. “Would you like to take this further?” He nodded at your words, before his face fell. “I don’t really know what to do though.”

“That’s okay, I do, don’t worry. If you want to stop we’ll stop.” He chuckled at your words, “Trust me I don’t want to stop.” It earned a smile from you before you kissed him again. “Mh- I’m still hard.” He confessed, muffled against your lips. Did he want to spur you on more?

“I would absolutely love to suck you off, but I need you inside me right now.” You whispered once you parted from him again. His eyes followed your movements as you removed your pyjamas, your bare tits met his eyes and he couldn’t look away.

You removed your underwear as well, before climbing in his lap. “Don’t we need a condom?” He stammered out. “I’m on the pill, we’re good.” You said before pecking his lips. Then you helped him remove his shirt, finally you could gawk at him without it being weird.

“You’re so fucking hot Quinn.” You almost moaned, it drove him to quickly remove his shorts and boxers beneath the sheets. When you pulled back the sheets, you looked down to see his erection leaking pre-cum.

“Fuck- a good dick too.” You bit your lip, Quinn’s ragged breathing filled the salty air. “Please- It hurts-” Quinn begged, his hand wrapping around his cock to squeeze himself. You positioned yourself right over his groin and placed your hand on his to drag his tip through your soaked folds.

You both moaned in unison, it felt way too good. Already you were addicted. Quinn removed his hand to let you take the lead, allowing you to guide his tip to your entrance. You were so wet at this point, the head of his cock easily slipped in.

Quinn choked on his breath- it was the best thing he had ever felt. Finally he would know what it was like. He begged for you to continue, so you sank lower on his hard length, moans leaving your own lips as he stretched you out. “Fuck Quinn- you’re thick-” You gasped.

When you had fully taken him, you allowed yourself a moment to adjust. Leaning your forehead on his, both your breaths mixed. Quinn then set his feet on the lounge bed, preparing for your movements.

Stabilising your knees, and hands on Quinn’s chest, you started with gentle grinds on his cock. “Fuck!” Quinn strangled out, the way your walls clenched around him made him see stars. You too started to moan when you fully fuck yourself on his dick.

Switching between rocking and bouncing, you set a delicious pace as you both chased your highs. “Please- feels so good-” Quinn babbled as his hand now shot to your hips, holding you steady as you fucked him faster.

If anyone wanted to enjoy a nice night walk now, you were screwed. “Quinn! Fuck baby!” You lost your own mind, but you needed more. You couldn’t cum from just his cock inside you and you noticed he was already getting close.

“Put- put your thumb on my clit-” You breathed out. Quinn started to lightly panic, he had no idea what to do. After a while, you grabbed his hand and guided it between your thighs, halting your movements.

“Here, put your thumb- like that yes- and just press and move it- fuck like that!” Quinn quickly got the hang of it and you resumed your movements. Your mind was in the clouds and Quinn’s moans and whines only spurred you on more.

Sure his movements on your clit were sloppy as he was very focused on the way you bounced on him but it still did the job. His other hand couldn’t resist grabbing at your left breast, massaging it in his hand. He knew he was not going to last much longer, he wanted you to finish as fast as possible.

“I’m close Quinn- don’t stop-” You moaned, your mind going hazy and movements sloppy as you felt your orgasm near. With particularly fast movements from Quinn on your clit, your breath hitched and you clenched hard around his length as you came.

It was impossible to hold in your cries as your climax consumed you, you held on to Quinn for dear life, who tried to warn you before his own orgasm hit him. It was too late, with a cry of your name he filled you with his cum. The two of you holding on to each other tightly.

“Fuck yes baby fill me- fill me-” You gasped, his spent warm inside you. “Such a good boy-” He moaned at your words, he was sure he had never come this hard in his life. Wrapped around each other, you stayed like that for a while.

“Was it good? Your first time?” You asked, leaning back a bit to kiss his cheek. His dick had softened inside you, but neither of you dared to move. “It was amazing, thank you.” He breathed out, still on a high.

“Good.” You chuckled. It felt good to be wrapped up in his arms, to hold him. His spent still inside you, leaking out already. What you did not realise was a person standing far, far away at the entrance of the beach. Your eyes flicked over as you noticed them.

Shit- Olivia.

Dividers by: @v6que

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