#sometimes you just realise over time that youre in a relationship and have been for some time

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part Three | Series Masterlist

Summary: tensions between Aemond and the pianist reach boiling point | Word Count: 4.6k~ | Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, forced proximity, mummy issues

There was a sense of unease about being awake at this time. An early riser, Aemond was, but even this was pushing it for him as he sat on the creaky bus, having to listen to the way plastic and metal jolted his bones with every little divot in the road, only amplifying the disquiet that was equally happening inside his head.

Glancing at his watch, the gold hands mocked him once more. 5:49 in the morning.

That morning, Alys had made her stance painfully clear: their encounters had to end. She seemed to realise that their relationship had become merely a means to an end, a way for him to escape his pressures. The implication that she felt used weighed heavily on Aemond, even though she framed her decision in practical terms.

"You need to focus on your music, not me," she had said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. It was a logical decision, one that should make perfect sense to a disciplined musician like him. Yet, as he turned her words over in his mind, they struck a dissonant chord.

The thought of facing Otto's incessant messages about organising a meticulous solo practice session, only to nitpick at his every perceived flaw, was unbearable. So, Aemond sought refuge in the numbing scroll of social media, anything to ward off the encroaching silence of the apartment.

As his thumb flicked mechanically across the screen, a thought struck him, a reckless impulse that had been lurking in the back of his mind. He paused, his heart rate ticking upward with the audacity of what he was about to do. Swiping out of the mundane updates and into the search bar, he typed her name, the pianist who had so effortlessly invaded his thoughts and challenged his perspectives.

Her profile wasn’t hard to find, her public persona was as vibrant and engaging as her performances. There she was, in photos and tagged videos, her presence as dynamic online as it was in person. Each post, each snippet of her life and art, pulled him in deeper, her world unfolding before him through the glow of his phone screen.

The more he watched, the more he realised how much she had begun to permeate his thoughts, challenging not just his musical ideals but the very way he viewed his art. It wasn’t just professional curiosity, it was something more, something deeper. A connection he hadn’t anticipated, one he wasn’t sure he wanted, but also one he couldn’t seem to deny.

He thought perhaps a nice, hot shower would clear his thoughts with heavy ribbons of steam, near-scalding his pale skin as droplets of water slid off his body. His hair clung to his neck, falling in strips around his face as he stared at his reflection on the drain cover. Sometimes he could not bear to even look at himself.

But even with his eyelids pressed tightly shut, he did not know peace.

He was sixteen again, standing on the stage of a packed auditorium. The applause had faded, and he was left alone with Otto, whose presence loomed larger than the praise had ever felt. Otto's face was stern, his eyes dissecting not just the performance, but Aemond himself. "That was adequate, Aemond, but only just," Otto had said, his voice cold and precise. "Your bowing was sloppy in the second movement. You must control every motion, every emotion." Aemond's hands had trembled with a mix of exertion and suppressed anger. He had poured his heart into that performance, felt every note resonate within him, but Otto saw only flaws. "Control, always control," Aemond muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the neck of his cello. Otto had caught the muttered defiance. "What was that?" he snapped, stepping closer. "If you have something to say, speak clearly, boy." "Nothing," Aemond replied, his voice low, but inside, a storm was brewing. Otto’s relentless criticism after every performance, his inability to see anything but the mistakes, Aemond felt like a vessel about to burst. That night, back at the music academy, in the solitude of the practice room, Aemond stared at his cello. The beautiful instrument, which had always been his voice, now felt like a chain. In a moment of blinding rage, a desire to break free from Otto’s relentless grip, he did the unthinkable. With a shout that echoed through the empty room, Aemond lifted his cello and smashed it against the floor. Wood splintered, strings snapped, a harsh, discordant noise that was the antithesis of everything he had been taught to produce. The destruction was quick, but the silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of what he had done. But didn’t regret it one bit.

Aemond opened his eyes, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He had eventually replaced the cello, and Otto had never mentioned the incident, assuming it had been an accident. But something inside Aemond had changed that day. The act of destruction, though regrettable, had been his first real rebellion, his first step toward finding his own voice amidst the oppressive expectations placed upon him.

Now, years later, as he considered reaching out to the pianist, he realised he was standing at another crossroads. Would he continue to conform to the stringent demands of his classical training, or would he dare to explore the emotional depth that she so effortlessly embodied in her music?

Stood there, beneath the stream of water that had now ran cold, Aemond felt the old, familiar stirrings of rebellion. This time, however, it wasn't about destruction but about discovery. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to smash through the invisible barriers he had erected around his music and his heart.

The loud chattering and messy runs of various instruments made it difficult to concentrate. She found herself blinking hard and tiredly, willing the exhaustion away. Lyonel Strong had yet to arrive to conduct today's practice, and so everyone had taken it as an excuse to not practise at all.

"Can you believe this?" Jason called out from across the room, his voice tinged with annoyance. He was leaning against the wall, his violin hanging loosely in his hand. "Lyonel's late again. We could have started at least half an hour ago."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know, Jason. But complaining isn't going to make him appear any faster."

Maris, with her fiery red hair and a perpetual scowl, was plucking at her strings, each note more discordant than the last. "It's not just Lyonel," she snapped. "Half of you can't even play your parts right. Couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery.”

The others chimed in, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of complaints and criticisms. Jason and Maris continued to bicker, their frustration with each other and the situation palpable. She tried to mediate, her soft voice lost in the din, while others muttered under their breath or joined in the argument.

The pianist tuned out the noise, focusing instead on marking her music sheets. She meticulously made notes, adding small annotations to help guide her through the piece. The process was calming, a small island of order in the midst of the chaos around her. She could hear snippets of the ongoing argument, but she chose to ignore them, her mind drifting.

Their band was a far cry from Aemond's. His ensemble operated with a precision and unity that seemed almost unattainable for her group. Every member of his band knew their role, their place, and they worked together seamlessly. In contrast, her band felt like a collection of individuals, each with their own agenda, their own frustrations.

When Lyonel eventually decided to join them, having had his fill of several espressos, their practice could finally begin. The tension lingered, a constant reminder of the disunity that plagued them. As she played, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming competition, the inevitable clash with Aemond's band. She knew they needed to be better, to be more cohesive, if they were going to stand a chance.

"Can I have a word?" Lyonel asked authoritatively as she was packing her things away with practised efficiency. The room had cleared, others wanting to escape the confining claws of his teachings.

She nodded, trying to mask the fatigue she felt. "Of course."

Lyonel glanced around the now-empty room before speaking. "I wanted to talk to you about your solo performance."

She had known for a while that she would have a solo, but the way he said it now made her stomach twist with unease. "Yes, sir?"

Lyonel studied her for a moment longer, then sighed, his stern demeanour slipping. "Look, I know our chemistry as a band isn't perfect," he admitted, his voice softer. "But that’s exactly why we need you to shine. Your solo can elevate the entire performance. It can make up for the lack of cohesion."

She bit her lip, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "I understand the importance of my solo, but wouldn’t it be better if we worked on our chemistry as a band? If we played better together, maybe the pressure wouldn’t have to fall entirely on one person."

Lyonel’s expression hardened again, though not unkindly. "I know it’s not fair. But with the time we have left, we need to play to our strengths. And right now, you are our strength."

She wished he would address the root issue instead of putting all the pressure on her, but she knew better than to argue further. "I'll do my best," she said finally.

Lyonel placed a hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of support. "I know you will. Just remember, it’s not just about you out there. It’s about all of us. We’re counting on you."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She stood there for a moment, letting his words sink in. The pressure was immense, but so was the opportunity.

“Music is in your blood, my dear.”

Memories of her family surfaced unbidden. Her father, a renowned classical musician, had always been a looming figure in her life. His talent and success were legendary, casting a long shadow over her own musical ambitions. Yet, despite his fame, he had left her mother for another woman within the same industry when she was still a child. The betrayal had torn their family apart.

Her mother, once supportive of her daughter's musical pursuits, had become bitter and resentful. The very sight of a piano seemed to deepen the rift between them. "You'll end up just like him," her mother would say, the words dripping with disdain. "Consumed by music and blind to everything else.”

Their relationship had deteriorated to the point where they barely spoke. Communication was limited to snotty texts, her mother’s disapproval seeping through every word. Her mother couldn't understand why she wanted to follow the same path that had destroyed their family.

On the other hand, her father would occasionally reach out, but his messages were infrequent and perfunctory. His busy schedule left little room for meaningful connection. When he did find time to call, his conversations were often laced with criticism.

She often found herself caught between two worlds, one that resented her passion and another that demanded perfection. She longed for approval, for a sense of belonging that seemed always just out of reach.

Her fingers hurt but she didn't care. She stood on stage, feeling like a million dollars, soaking in applause that rang in her ears, the first place medal cool against her chest. But as her eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for a familiar face, for her mother, she felt her stomach sink. Her heart pounded harder than it had during her performance, but for all the wrong reasons. The rush of victory, the adrenaline that should have been pumping through her veins, was rapidly replaced by a hollow feeling. She stepped off the stage, clinging to the hope that maybe her mother had just been late or stuck in traffic. Maybe she’d be waiting outside, apologising for missing the performance, but there nonetheless. She checked her phone, scrolling through her contacts until her mother’s name flashed on the screen. Her hands shook as she dialled. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail. The third call, the fifth, the eighth, it all blurred together as she wiped at her eyes. By the tenth attempt, her hands were trembling, and the high of winning was a distant memory. She dialled again, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. When the voicemail beeped once more, she paused, then finally spoke, her voice breaking. "I won, Mum…” She stared at her phone for a long moment before slipping it back into her bag. The title, the first-place medal,  they felt like nothing now.

Packing up her sheet music, she made her way towards the practice rooms, and as if on cue, a text buzzed in her pocket. With a sigh, she opened the message from her mother, bracing herself for the usual criticism.

Your father mentioned you have a competition coming up. 

She rolled her eyes. As if her mother had expected her to bite when that is the bait.

No ‘how are you’ or ‘how is music school’. No. It was always about how she had to not follow the same path as her father and not let music consume her like it had him.

Whenever her thoughts drifted to him, she found herself sinking into confusion. However distant he was, she still craved his approval. Longing for him to say he was proud of her. Just once.

She slipped through the doors with the hotheaded mindset that she would do better. Determined. But she halted when she heard the familiar whine of a delicate instrument she had come to know so well. If her shoes hadn’t squealed against the varnished, wooden floor, she wouldn’t have disturbed him from his practice. But like an animal primed for distractions, Aemond’s head whipped up from his cello, his expression hardening once he saw her.

“I have this room booked.”

She narrowed her eyes, her jaw tightening. "Funny, because I do too."

Aemond's lips pressed into a thin line, his annoyance palpable. "You must have made a mistake."

She shook her head, stepping further into the room. "No mistake. Maybe you're the one who needs to check the schedule.”

She slipped her bag off her shoulder, searching it with her back turned to him. Her hands shook with frustration, the build-up of the day lingering with fire in her blood. She froze when she stared at her blue tinted screen, seeing that somehow…

Double booked.

“You're not going to leave, are you,” Aemond muttered annoyed.

She turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. “Why should I? I have as much right to be here as you do.”

Aemond smirked, leaning casually against his cello. “Is that how you justify it? Riding on the coattails of your daddy’s fame?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” he continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “the big famous musician embroiled in scandal. Must be tough living in that shadow.”

Her jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything about my family.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, setting aside his instrument to taking a step closer. “Everyone does. It’s quite the story, isn’t it? Daddy leaves Mummy for someone else in the industry. Must be quite the inspiration for your music. I knew I'd seen your surname around somewhere. Turns out it was the tabloids.”

Her hands tightened, her nostrils flaring with irritation.

“Aw, sore spot?” he taunted, enjoying the way her eyes flashed with anger.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe I am.”

“That arrogance is going to be your downfall one day,” she shot back.

“And your baggage is going to be yours,” he replied smoothly.

Without warning, she stepped closer, their faces inches apart. “You want to talk about family baggage? Let’s talk about yours.”

Aemond’s eyes darkened. The smile, victoriously wiped from his face. “Careful.”

“Why? Can’t handle it?” she challenged. “Maybe you throw accusations of daddy issues because you have them yourself—”

“Watch it.”

“Or what? You’ll keep me from practising? You’ll sabotage me?” she retorted, stepping closer. “You're a fucking coward—”

The door to the practice room opened abruptly, and the sound of footsteps interrupted their heated exchange. Without thinking, Aemond grabbed her arm and pulled her into the storage room, shutting the door quietly behind them. They stood in the cramped space, their breaths mingling in the darkness.

The footsteps in the practice room slowed, followed by the unmistakable murmur of voices. Aemond stiffened, his body going rigid against hers, and for a split second, all he could smell was her perfume and feel the rapid fluttering of her heart against his chest. The weight of the voices hit him hard, and he recognised them immediately.

Otto.

And Lyonel.

His heart pounded harder now, not only from the closeness of her body, but of the two men outside the door.

Otto's voice carried through the thin walls. “I trust you’ve got a firm hand on your group.”

Lyonel made a noise of agreement, but there was a subtle edge to his tone. “They're a bit disjointed, but not as much as I hear yours are.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched. Neither of them dared to breathe too loudly, straining to hear the conversation outside, but the pressure between them, physical and emotional, was unbearable.

“That is none of your business,” Otto's voice was guarded. Icy.

Aemond’s breath hitched, and she felt the sharp intake of air against her ear, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His hand slid to brace himself against the wall beside her, his body pressing more firmly against hers not out of seeking comfort, but simply because he had no choice.

“Hmm, your grandson I hear is a bit of a wild card.”

“He’s difficult, but I’ve trained him for this. He just needs focus.”

The footsteps shifted, and for a moment it seemed like they were heading toward the door of the storage room. Her mouth opened but Aemond’s hand shot up, covering her mouth as he leaned in even closer. His eyes widened in silent warning. 

Her pulse quickened.

"Your grandson is a good player," Lyonel said, a hint of frustration in his tone. "But from what I've seen, he’s too rigid. No room for improvisation. He might fall apart when things get unpredictable."

Aemond’s teeth clenched, his hand now gripping the edge of the shelf beside her. She could feel the tension vibrating off him, and she fought the urge to push him back and say something. But they couldn’t risk being heard.

“That’s why you’re counting on her, aren’t you?” Otto’s voice was quieter now, almost conspiratorial. “Your pianist, what’s her name again? She’s your only shot at taking the solo.”

Lyonel chuckled softly. “She’s going to win it for us. I have no doubt about that.”

The footsteps began to fade, the two continuing to speak about where the final performance would be held, and she heard the distant click of the door closing. Aemond finally released her, but the tension between them was far from gone. The room seemed smaller, the air heavier with the weight of everything unsaid.

She pushed against his chest suddenly, a sharp shove that didn’t budge him an inch. “What the fuck was that for–”

I am no fucking coward.

“Just stop fucking talking," he growled, cutting her off with a kiss that was as furious as it was desperate.

She felt the hardness of the wall behind her as Aemond shoved her against it, grounding her as he deepened the kiss, exploring with an urgency that made her breath hitch. Coupled with that was the hardness that pressed against her stomach. It was a fight in that of itself, the clashing of their lips and teeth only intensifying what was already a fiery dynamic.

There was something exhilarating about it. And as her fingers weaved into his hair, pulling him closer, no matter how small the gesture, it solidified the simple fact that he needed this. She was intensity personified. And he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, in his personal and in his musical life, combined in one dangerous cocktail that was her. It wasn’t only lust, it was an addiction to the thrill of the chase, the danger that came with being so close to her. His rival, his obsession.

He trailed kisses down her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat beneath his lips as she arched up against him in silent encouragement. But he was the one who pulled her legs around him, rucking her black skirt up to her hips and ripping ladders into her tights as he shoved them down her legs, his movements frantic and needy, as if he were a man starved of water. She was soft and yielding beneath him, yet there was a strength in her grip that intrigued him still.

Clothes. Fucking clothes.

He perhaps thought that if he tried to mould himself to her. If he could just be inside her for a moment, would he be able to understand her? To absorb her.

The urgency of their actions felt reckless, yet a part of him revelled in it. It was the kind of intimacy he craved, the kind that made him forget everything else. 

She gasped against his mouth as if completely not expecting the blunt head of his cock against her, his fingers having wrenched the gusset of her underwear aside to press against her bare skin. And she felt heat rise to her cheeks when she glanced down between them, watching the way his length glistened as he teased himself against her slit. The spontaneity of the moment meant that while she was not completely wet, it was embarrassing that she was at all.

She dare not look him in the face. He was doing this to prove he knew what he did to her. To let her sit in this feeling of resentment for responding to it.

And yet she would not admit how it stole her breath away when he firmly pressed into her. There was something exciting about the feeling of being partly unprepared. Her ego somewhat inflated that he simply couldn't wait a moment more. But the sting of it as he slid to the hilt reminding her that she would most certainly be sore the next morning.

He wanted her to feel it.

But equally, she wanted him to want it. And the breathy whimper he gave when he pulled back to push his hips back against her, made her think that he absolutely did.

And he didn't wait. His movements became frantic, each thrust igniting a fire deep within. Her breath hitched, and he felt a flicker of satisfaction at how easily he could provoke such a response from her. There were no words. If there were, they would have carried the same fire that had simmered for days, weeks.

Had it only taken weeks for him to crave her.

Her nails dug into his back, grounding him. And so his grip tightened around her thighs as he drove into her, as if holding on to her could tether him to something solid, something real. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the sharp gasps escaping her lips, the way she arched into him. And he knew, he knew this wasn’t just him.

They were both lost in it, both fighting against and succumbing to whatever this was. He wanted to hate her, to despise her for how easily she got under his skin, but in this moment, all he could feel was her, the way she wrapped around him, the way she pulled him deeper.

She wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, just another obstacle, another rival to conquer. But her taste was on his tongue, her scent filled his lungs, and her body felt like the answer to a question he’d been too afraid to ask.

He raised his gaze from where they were joined, plunging into her with abandon, less about pleasure and now more about the release. 

Aemond's grip shifted, his hand trailing up her neck, his fingers curling gently around her throat. Not in a way that threatened, but in a way that demanded attention.

“Look at me.”

She hesitated for a beat, then her eyes flickered up, locking with his. A flush spreading over her cheeks, a soft pink bloom that travelled down her neck. His gaze was relentless, searching her expression.

Look at me.

He could see it now, the way her composure was slipping, the way she was coming undone beneath him. That small, vulnerable break in her guarded facade was everything, and it only drove him deeper into the need to witness her fall apart, to be the one who made her unravel.

Aemond felt the shift in her body first, the subtle tremor that ran through her as she neared the edge. Her head tipped back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as she finally surrendered to the intensity between them. He felt her body tense and then shudder as she came apart beneath him, the quiet, breathless moan escaping her lips like music. Soft, involuntary, raw.

It wasn't the feeling of her trembling around him, more the sight. He couldn't hold back any longer. His grip tightened around her hips as he followed her over the edge, his body trembling with the force of his release. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breaths ragged, the tension that had been coiled inside him snapping with a fierce, undeniable rush.

After, they stood still, bodies pressed together, the lingering heat between them slowly dissipating. For a brief moment, as he felt her skin warm under his hands, there was a flicker of vulnerability. But as quickly as it came, it was drowned out by something darker. Regret. A sharp, suffocating regret that sank deep into his chest.

He had given her power. Ammunition. She could use this, twist it, turn it against him. The walls he had carefully built around himself felt as if they had cracked in her presence, and that thought made him recoil internally.

She let out a quiet breath as he pulled away, feeling the loss of him instantly, followed rapidly by the warmth dribbling down her thigh. His hands worked swiftly to do up his belt, his movements mechanical and detached. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn't let her see the conflict etched across his face.

If he had looked. He'd be more irritated by what he saw.

She stood there, half-naked and breathless, the flush of their shared moment still on her skin. He didn’t stop to think about how she might feel, the confusion, the embarrassment, the sense of being used. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t let it matter.

She was never going to see that side of him again.

Without so much as a glance back, Aemond turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating quiet, half-naked and stunned.

Aemond snatched up his cello as he left.

Leaving her behind, vulnerable and half-dressed, he had merely traded one form of destruction for another. But he’d rather face the self-imposed torture of his strings than the unpredictable vulnerability of human connection.

Swapping one prison for another, the cello felt safer. At least this was a pain he knew how to manage.

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[peachy-skies-writings]

Bachelors Being Jealous Headcanon

For @erinksss

Thanks for the request, sorry it took so long! it's been a super busy week. Hope you like it :)

💚🏈 Alex 🏈💚

Alex gets super jealous. Stereotypical jock jealous. He wouldn’t be horrible about it though. It’s just in his nature, you’re his partner and he just kinda wants to keep you to himself. 

He knows it’s not feasible but whenever you’re off doing tasks for the townsfolk, he wishes you were next to him. Especially if the townsfolk was male. Would be a grumpy old man about it.

If you were out and about with him, he’d place an arm around your waist or shoulder. Otherwise he’d go on a run to clear his head and then give you the biggest hug when you get back in. 

🧡📖 Elliott 📖🧡

Elliott wouldn’t get jealous too often. He’s not really the jealous type. Not in the relationship anyway.

What would make him a teeny bit jealous would be if you were swooning over a new writer that happened to be super hot. Like he’s all down for you reading and liking novels and then you turn up to a book signing with Elliott and he’s like OH NO THEY’RE HOT! Just a teensy bit jealous.

He’d probably not admit it to you because he’d be embarrassed he even felt that way but you’d definitely catch him pouting.

🤍🩺 Harvey 🩺🤍

This man does not get jealous at all in your relationship. 

The only time he’d feel a pang of jealousy would be when you went to Evelyn for old-timey herbal remedies and teas. It’d be a tiny little pang and then he’d move on. He just wants to bring you tea!!

Harvey would start bringing you teas or buying different ones so you didn’t have to go over. Once he found out that you were still going over, he realised it was for companionship for Evelyn and he felt a bit silly as he looked at the full cupboard of tea.

💙🎸Sam 🎸💙

I kinda headcanon Sam as a lil clingy boi tbh. He’d get jealous often but not in a toxic way at all. It’d not be jealousy in a way where he’s mad or anything. More like whiny lmao. Never gets actually the angry type of jealous. He’s pretty chill.

If you were taking too long by talking to someone, he’d start kinda tugging on your sleeve or grumbling that he was bored.

You’d definitely know if he was jealous, mainly because he’s vocalise it.

💜🎮Sebastian 🎮💜

Lil grumpy jealous baby. He has really low self-esteem in general and that leads him to be jealous quite a bit.

He’d probably get the most jealous during festivals when everybody is wanting your attention. He’s quite a loner so losing ‘his person’ would be a bit of a bummer for him. He’s not entirely sure if he’s envious that you have so many people who want to talk to you or if he’s jealous of the people who get to speak to you all day.

Sebastian would be quiet about it and try not to let it bother him, even if it’s eating him alive. You’d definitely notice and would, depending on how insecure you thought he was about it, talk to him or give him a super tight hug and remind him you’re his.

🖤🐓Shane 🐓🖤

Shane would get jealous quite frequently. He would try not to be toxic about it (sometimes is though) and he’d bottle it up, thinking it was his problem.

The most jealous he’d be is when you’re in the saloon and laughing a little too hard at one of the other bachelor’s jokes. He knew you were a bit tipsy but he still felt self-conscious about it.

Shane would bottle it up until it kinda explodes. He’d be a ball of emotions. He’d try not to take it out on you (but might be a bit snappy) and would eventually tell you (after coaxing, he’d be embarrassed for sure).

[heavenbarnes]

The way olderbf!simon and reader met is so cute even if it’s cliche, because I don’t see that man interacting with anyone unless he’s forced to lmao. If you’re up to it, could you maybe do a drabble on how the beginning/talking stage of their relationship goes? This man probs has to rehearse what he’s going to say 25 times (literally me) and still fumbles over his words but reader is still just 😍 yes this is the man I’m going to marry

they definitely needed a meet cute to me cause honestly? where are their paths ever going to cross without manual intervention? 🫶🏼

after you get that “it’s simon” text from older bf!simon it’s you that actually has to make the first move.

that’s not to say he doesn’t text you or anything, god when doesn’t he text you?

at all odd hours and just about anything-

“at the supermarket”

“what you watching? i’m watching top gear”

“what’s your favourite colour?”

“i’m at the gym”

you were a little confused at first by how abrupt and to-the-point his messages could be.

and then you remembered that this was the same guy who prefers a grunt to the common conversation, he probably thought he was doing great.

so when you were getting in your own head about why he hadn’t asked you out yet, you also remembered that this was the same guy who thought he could fuck up a cappuccino.

he was probably- scared?

whatever it was, you realised if you wanted to see him as bad as you did, you were going to have to pony up and ask yourself.

“did you want to maybe get dinner sometime?”

he called you.

no sooner had the ‘seen’ shown up, he was calling you.

“uh, hello? simon?”

“are y’forreal?”

excuse me?

if anyone else had asked you that question you probably would’ve scoffed and hung up.

he was lucky he was so hunky.

and subtly insecure.

“yes, i’d like to get dinner with you”

he paused, a quiet moment passing between the two of you with only a little shuffling in the background of his line.

and a little shouting in the distance.

was he on base?

“yes please”

you’d been a little distracted trying to pick any little bits of information you could (more than just his favourite colour, it’s green by the way) that you didn’t get his response.

instead, you hummed a little ‘huh?’

“i’d like t’get dinner with’ya, yes please”

“oh- great, i can text you some details?”

“yeah, i’d like that”

you weren’t really sure how to end the call or why he’d even called in the first place- but he wrapped it up with a few mumbles.

“jus’ wanted to hear y’say it, wanted t’make sure”

he shows up at dinner without a mask on and you’re sure you’re staring up at him like he’s made of moonlight but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

fuck he’s handsome.

and broad, the buttoned shirt he’s wearing just stretches over his arms where he’s rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

borderline pornographic.

you try to shut your own mind up, realising all the man’s done is open the restaurant door for you and you’re literally have salacious thoughts about him.

have some decorum!

he pulls out your seat for you but insists on sitting with his back to a wall and a line of sight to the door. you don’t mind, it means the light behind him virtually makes him glow.

fuck he’s handsome.

his voice is so deep you have to lean in on the table to hear him and all it means is you can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of him.

when he locks eyes with the waiter he does a subtle little flick of his fingers and the man’s heading right for him- he really exudes an air of dominance.

if you don’t marry this man you might die.

he asks you a lot of questions and seems genuinely surprised when you ask ‘and you?’ after every one.

surprised that somebody would care.

he answers with an endearing honesty and you feel all the better for knowing he prefers tea to coffee and starts his day with a cold shower.

his hand fidgets on the table part way through dessert and you have to ask what’s wrong.

“y’got a little somethin’ there”

he gestures to the corner of his mouth. it isn’t lost on you that his fingers immediately go back to flexing around the table cloth.

your hand doesn’t even move to wipe your mouth, your eyes soften just a little as you speak instead.

“you can get it if you want?”

his heart all but stops.

big hand rising to your face, fingers cupping your jaw as his thumb wipes the smudge of cream from the corner of your mouth.

he brings his thumb to your mouth when your tongue peeks out to lick the tip of it.

simon’s knee hits the underside of the table.

and you giggle.

fuck he’s handsome.

reluctantly, he lowers his hand but leaves it on your side of the table so you can hold it. his skin feels rough but he thinks it’s never been softer than when you’re holding it.

you both opt to walk home (hand still in hand) and you’ve never felt safer. you spend the entire walk talking about nothing and everything and you could scream when you end up at your front door.

it does allow you both to linger, neither one of you wanting to call it a night quite yet.

simon seems good at lingering, at yearning, at putting off what he doesn’t and does want.

so, like you were the one to make the first move-

you’re the one to make the second.

(his tongue feels great on yours)

you go to bed alone that night and it makes the most sense but it also fucking sucks because you know-

you know what you want.

and what you want is currently walking home beneath streetlights with the biggest smile he’s had this side of enlistment.

you accept the fact you’ll need to take things slow, that he obviously needs time and a lot of reassurance and you’d hate to push him too far with your own desire and-

and your phone buzzes.

“coffee tomorrow morning?”

“yes please”

the talking stage really doesn’t last long.

not when you’re kicking your feet in bed and hugging your phone to your chest.

not when johnny texts simon asking how the date went and he’s responding ‘not bad, might be in love’

talking stage doesn’t last long but everything else does.

it’s simply a doorway into a long and happy life.

[20-th-centurygirl]

summary: just a little something about jude <3

navigation masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

●bf jude who cannot get enough of gossiping with you. literally the highlight of his day is getting into bed with you at night and getting allll the gossip

●bf jude who cannot go a day without telling you how much he loves you. will tell you 50 thousand times a day and still worry he hasn't told you enough

●bf jude who adores suprising you with gifts no matter how many times you tell him to stop because you can't reciprocate them "shut up if i wanna spoil my girl i will"

●bf jude who always makes sure you have fresh flowers no matter where you both are. he's away on international duty, you're back home while he's in spain whatever he's always gonna find a way to get the biggest bunch of fresh flowers to you

●bf jude who just has to shower you with compliments everyday. there hasn't been a day in your entire relationship where he hasn't called you beautiful at least once

●bf jude who is so incredibly touchy. cannot ever keep his hands off you and has to be touching you in some way. even something as small as holding your pinkie with his

●bf jude who loves cooking with you even if it ends up being a disaster each time

●bf jude who values the little things with you. things as simple as brushing your teeth together in the morning make him realise how painfully inlove he is with you

●bf jude who loves nothing more than spending the whole day after a game cuddling in bed binge watching the most rubbish reality tv to exist

●bf jude who only feels truly comfortable enough to be vulnerable around you and isn't afraid to express his emotions

●bf jude who will never allow you to go to sleep on your own after an argument no matter how bad it is

●bf jude who will never let you go to sleep after an argument without saying sorry and telling you he loves you no matter how petty or angry he is

●bf jude who does cheesy romantic stuff with you as a 'joke' but he adores it deep down ( you know he secretly adores it but you pretend not to)

●bf jude who is fiercely protective over you and his heart breaks everytime he sees you cry

●bf jude who loves stupid nicknames

●bf jude who won't answer when you call him jude, he only answers to baby

●bf jude who sometimes feels guilty about his fame because it stops you both from being able to do normal couple things

●bf jude who loves a coffee date with you more than anything

●bf jude who loves subtly matching outfits with you. something as simple as the same shoes or the same colour shirt

[maxlarens]

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they’ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”

[thatnewweeb]

Collab | Kozume Kenma

Summary | Fans of you and Kenma wanted a collab, but didn't realise you've been together for a year

Content | Fluff, I guess kinda hidden relationship

Word Count | 0.5k

A/N | I like the idea of this, I might rewrite this to be longer at some point

Fans of both you and Kenma have been begging for a collab between you two for a long time. People had started to realise that you followed each other on Twitter and would regularly reply to each other.

When someone asked about the possibility of a collab between the two of you, you confirmed that you'd like to, and that you've known Kenma since high school.

Many collabs later, you're sat in your gaming chair playing League of Legends on stream with Kodzuken.

"Kodzu, you're pretty cute, you know," you say into your microphone, smiling. He immediately starts stumbling over his words, blushing slightly.

You giggle, glancing at his stream on your third monitor, watching him struggle with his words, face dusted with pink. Switching your attention to your chat, you smile at the chat messages flying in.

"Come on, don't do that to me," he mutters, getting his focus back on the game.

Smiling, you shake your head slightly, muting yourself briefly to talk to your chat, laughing at how many people are enthusiastically agreeing or questioning you. You don't respond to any of the questions, just smiling at them.

A while later, you glance at your chat and a certain question jumps out at you. "Hey, Kodzu."

He hums in response to you, taking a sip of either water or some other drink in a G-Fuel cup.

"Are we ever gonna meet up in person?" you ask, repeating the question asked to you in your chat.

He chokes a little on his drink but manages not to spit it everywhere, placing the cup back down. He stumbles over his words for a moment before his response comes. "I'd like to."

You giggle, looking at the chat messages coming in calling you guys cute, saying they ship you guys, or expressing jealousy of either one of you.

"Yeah? I'd like that a lot, Kodzuken," you whisper in a jokingly flirty voice. The look on his face makes you laugh.

Not long later, you both say goodbye to your chats and end your streams. You and Kenma stay on the Discord call once the streams are finished.

"So," you smirk, leaning forward with your head resting on your hand "When are we meeting in person?" you ask teasingly.

He rolls his eyes at you. "You're such an asshole sometimes," he says before ending the call.

With a smile, you lean back in your gaming chair. Only a moment later, the door swings open, your boyfriend walking in.

"You know what calling me cute and stuff on stream does to me," he complains, pouting slightly.

Laughing, you hold your arms out to him. "I know, I know, but I just can't resist! You're way too cute!"

He shakes his head but walks over to let you hug him anyway, even though he doesn't hug you back. "If you keep acting like that, they're gonna figure out we've been dating for ages," he says, hiding his soft smile in your hair.

[ann1eee]

Misunderstandings

You and Satoru have had a beautiful relationship. You both understand each other and compliment each others personalities perfectly. That is, until Satoru attempts to take a step forward.

The plan was perfect. He’d checked your schedule and made sure there was no extra work for you the night he wished to proposed. He had spent the last few months ensuring everything went smoothly, and he was 99.99% sure you’d say yes.

He’d be waiting at your favourite restaurant, which he had fully booked just for the two of you. Then, he’d treat you to to a 7 course meal, and spill his heart out after dessert. He had memorised a whole speech summarising your relationship with him. He’d probably cry, and you’d say yes.

You had no idea what he was planning, he’d been really discreet. You’d gotten used to running into him at the Jujutsu faculty, and he’d flash you a stunning smile each time. Your colleagues knew about you two, you were pretty serious about each other. As you climbed up the ranks, the higher ups decided it was time for you to have your very own secretary. However, the person appointed as your secretary was not who you expected. He was a man in his late twenties, a few years older than you.

Honestly, sometimes being in close proximity with him made you uncomfortable. He’d even invited you to dinner once, and you had politely declined. You had chosen to barely speak to him about work (preferring to do most of the work yourself) let alone personal lives, so he didn’t know about your relationship with Satoru.

Fast forward to the night of your to-be proposal, and you were finally done with work (as Satoru had planned). Just as you were about to leave, you were stopped by your assistant. You had planned to meet Satoru at the restaurant, since he was called in for an emergency mission. Your assistant stalked his way over to you, and was undeniably flirting with you. You declined his affections, and finally blurted out that you had a boyfriend. He seemed surprised and shocked at that, but continued trying to make moves on you. He pulled you in by your waist, and once you finally came to your senses about what he was trying, you slapped him. Hard.

What you failed to notice was Satoru, hoping to surprise you outside your office with a bouquet of flowers. He saw the way your assistant pulled you in, eyes wide with betrayal. He left right after that, discarding the flowers, not seeing you slap your assistant and push him away.

You were a bit shaken after the incident, and wanted to quickly get to Satoru and tell him about it. When you reached the restaurant, it was completely empty. No people, no Satoru.

You were confused, wondering if you had mixed up the dates? No, that couldn’t be. Perhaps the mission was taking longer than anticipated? Maybe. You decided to sit down, waiting for Satoru. You really expected him to show up, he got late to dates sometimes, yes, but he had never stood you up.

You spent the next 3 hours sipping measly at your bottle of wine, before you decided to head home. You called a taxi and went back home, disappointed.

As you unlocked your door, you were startled to see Satoru sitting on your shared couch, head in hands.

“Satoru..?” You called out softly.

You were greeted by an expression on his face you’d never seen before. Shock? Disgust? Anger? You couldn’t tell.

“What’s wrong? Why didn’t you show up? Did something happen on the mission?” You inquired, hoping he’d offer you an explanation for what was going on.

“How long?” Was all he said.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been having an affair with him?”

You shot him a confused look, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

He simply chuckled at your expression.

“Don’t act so shocked now. I saw what happened in your office. Just tell me the truth”

A wave of realisation washed over you. Satoru saw the way your assistant had touched you, and left before you rejected his advances.

“Toru, it’s not like that. He tried to make a move on me, but I pushed him away. I promise” You were almost crying. There was no way you’d let your relationship with your boyfriend end over a misunderstanding like this.

“I swear, I’ve never cheated on you Satoru. He made me so uncomfortable, I never imagined he’d do such a thing. I only want you. Please, believe me.” You were sobbing. You were already overwhelmed from taking on most of your assistant’s job, and after what he did, you wanted nothing more than to just melt into your boyfriend’s arms. But no, you had waited and waited for him to show up and he didn’t. Now he was accusing you of an affair and you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. You hunched over onto the floor, sobbing into your hands.

Satoru’s eyes widened. He knew you weren’t lying, his six eyes could tell. He can’t believe he just accused you of cheating on him so casually. You, out of everyone? Someone who had given him nothing but happiness for the past few years? You were the most precious person in his life, he couldn’t afford to lose you. You were the light at the end of his tunnel. He felt ashamed of himself for causing you so much pain. His heart hurt looking at you in such a worried and desperate state, and he rushed over to you.

“Baby, I believe you. I’m so sorry I thought of that.. I don’t know.. I’m sorry” He pulled you into his arms and stroked your head.

You leaned into his touch and buried your face into his shoulder.

“I wanted tonight to be perfect, and when I saw what he did.. I just assumed the worst. I’m so sorry baby, please.. just don’t cry”

You pulled away and looked into his eyes. He looked so flushed, and genuinely sorry.

“I would never cheat on you Toru.. I love you” you whispered.

“I love you too baby.” He stuck his hand into his jacket pocket and fished for something.

Your eyes widened as you saw him shift his weight to one knee and pull out a small, blue velvet box.

He flung it open and carefully took out a dazzling diamond ring.

“I love you, y/n. I wanted tonight to be perfect, and I’m so sorry it wasn’t. But I just can’t wait any longer. I want you to be mine forever, I promise I’ll make you so, so happy. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, y/n. You’re my best friend, my girlfriend and now I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

You felt tears of joy running down your cheeks. You had never wanted anything more than Satoru being your husband.

“Yes.” You said as he pulled you onto his lap and kissed you desperately. He slid the massive diamond onto your finger and cupped your cheeks.

“I love you so much.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

“I love you more.”

[giannaln4]

Do You Miss Me?

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Four months after your breakup, Lando needs to know if you miss him as much as he misses you, or at least if you still think about him, even if the answer might kill him.  (3k words)

warnings: angst, breakup, cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of one-night stands, use of Y/N, happy ending

a/n: FINALLY i wrote some angst. honestly i had this idea in mind sometime last week, but i didn't know where to start. not gonna lie, i really do like how it turned out but i never know how to end fics so it sucks a little towards the end. anyway pls let me know what you think!! feedback is very much appreciated 🫶🏻

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Four months. It had been four months of pure agony. Four months since you left him, and for four months, he couldn’t think of anything else than you. 

You wouldn’t say you ended on good terms, considering the last conversation you had was more of an argument about how little you thought he cared about your relationship. 

That was far from the truth, and he tried so hard to convince you otherwise, but clearly it wasn’t enough. You broke up with him that night, leaving his apartment immediately after and never looked back, leaving a broken Lando behind. Two amazing years beside you down the drain just like that. Maybe he should tried harder.

He really shouldn’t have waited till the last second to express how much he cared, and you would probably never know that, but he still does. 

After the first month, he started to give up. You wanted nothing to do with him, and honestly, he didn’t blame you, so when he realised he would never be able to fix it, he stopped trying, but that doesn’t mean he stopped loving you. 

He still remembers vividly when he got back home after a race weekend and went out for a drive, something he thought could help him get his mind off many things that were going on. It worked, at first, it was going great, really, the fresh Monaco air running through his hair as the music blasted through the speakers, Lando singing at the top of his lungs every single word, until he paid attention to the passenger seat and spotted a shiny little tube. He reached for it, and his world went back down when he realised what it was. Your lipgloss. Not any lipgloss, but your favourite one. The one you used to wear every single day and the one he got so used to tasting and smelling. 

After that, it was like something shifted inside him. Lando tried hard to forget about you, going to parties, and getting involved with anyone he could take back to his hotel. He never took anyone back to his apartment, the space contained too many happy memories of the two of you; it was almost sacred to him. He would never dare to stain those with one-night stands. 

Every time he sat on the couch where he watched you leave, for some reason he waited for you to come back. It was stupid; he knew that, but maybe one day you would. And if it wasn’t you, he prayed that at least it was someone just like you. 

Maybe that’s what he was looking for every other night. Sometimes they were good enough to make him forget, but most of the time, they weren’t. They weren’t even close to that, because he thought about your lips when he kissed someone else, he thought about your hands when he felt his hair being pulled softly, he thought about your legs when he had someone else’s wrapped around him, he thought about your eyes when he looked at anyone else. 

Just when he thinks he’s getting over you, something happens that pulls him back in, and he thinks it’s slowly killing him inside. 

Tonight was one of those nights. He was at the club with some of his mates, his mind fully enjoying his surroundings, not a trace of you up there, until that song started playing, that stupid song that you used to hum when cooking a meal for the both of you, his mind bringing him back to all those times he hugged you from behind as he watched you and helped you, humming along with you and planting soft kisses every now and then. Or when you were taking a shower and didn’t care to keep it down, and he would just enjoy the little concert while he laid on your shared bed, waiting for you to come back to him. Or when you played it in repeat every time you were in the car, messing up a few words even though you had heard it a million times. God, he hated that he got a little sick of it back then.

He stopped moving immediately, and instead, he looked around him, only to spot everyone else dancing along with the melody. 

Did no one else care about what that song meant? Did no one else think of you? 

But there was one main topic invading his mind. Did you also think of him when you heard that song? Did you remember all the little moments? Do you even think of him anymore? There was only one way to find out, and even though he promised he wouldn’t do it anymore, he just needed to know. 

Lando took his phone out of his pocket and started walking away from his group, already looking up your contact. 

“Hey mate, where are you going?” Max stopped him, catching a glimpse of what was on his screen. 

“I just need to step outside for a moment.”

Max looked at him in doubt. He knew how stubborn Lando was when it came to you, so no matter how hard he tried to convince him, there was no stopping him. “Alright, just don’t do anything stupid.”

Lando nodded, not really caring what he thought, and kept moving until he finally found a way out of the loud club. He clicked on your contact without even thinking, nervousness washing over him when it started to ring. He waited, and waited, and waited, until it went to voicemail. 

He was not surprised; it has been like that for a while anyway, but he couldn’t deny he was a little hurt. 

Once the beep ended, he cleared his throat, ready to utter all those questions that he had been dying to know, but he didn’t even know where to start. You hadn’t talked in so long, how was he supposed to ask such things?

“Y/N, it’s me, uh- sorry, I know it’s late and you’re probably sleeping right now, or you just saw my name and didn’t feel like picking up, which I get, I don’t expect you to… you know… anyway, uh-“ 

He has no idea where he was going with this, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of segue that made sense. What he truly wanted to ask doesn’t make sense either. 

“I know that you probably don’t want to see me again- I don’t know but, uh- I wanted to tell you that… you left your lipgloss in my car- and I was wondering if maybe you wanted it back, I could stop by one of these nights.” He cleared his throat again, mentally cursing himself at how stupid and desperate he sounded. “Anyway, please call me. Bye.” 

He hung up and went back to his car, looking for the lipgloss once again and putting it safely in his pocket before making his way back home. 

Even with alcohol in his system, it was hard for Lando to go to sleep. If he couldn’t ask you over the phone, how could he possibly stand before you and say all those things?

In reality, it was simple. He had nothing to lose if he had already lost you, and who knows, maybe you never stopped loving him either.

The last thing he wanted was to get his hopes up. He wanted to see you come back to him, but seeing you again would be enough.

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

The next morning, you stared at your phone screen for a little too long, debating whether you should listen to his voicemail or just ignore it. 

You wanted to hear it so bad, but it took you so long to forget about him that you knew you probably shouldn’t. Not that you ever forgot about him completely, no, but just enough to go on with your life and pretend to be fine. 

Curiosity got the best of you, and before you knew it, you were listening to it. You could tell he had been drinking, the alcohol influence was notorious in his voice, and he sounded unsure of what he was telling you. However, you knew he was telling the truth. You did leave your lipgloss in his car, but there had to be another reason for his call, right?

The day went by and you didn’t get back to him, but his voice and words lingered in your mind all the time, and at this point, you had convinced yourself that he had an ulterior motive; why else would he call you at 3 AM, drunk, telling you about something you left in his car months ago?

You would be lying if you said you were never close to giving him a call while being drunk, but your friends never let you do something so stupid, telling you to remember why you left him in the first place, but sometimes you wonder just that: why?

It wasn’t because you didn’t love him anymore; you did, even now, but the heat of the moment made you utter those words without you realising it until it was too late. 

Your pride would never let you take it back anyway, so you just left his apartment after packing your stuff, with Lando following every turn you made as he begged for you to listen. Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if you never broke up with him, and instead, you listened to what he was telling you; they weren’t excuses, you know he meant every word, and maybe you should’ve given him one more chance.

You weren’t sure why, but your mind decided you should see him. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but god, he had been living in your mind more than usual, and you needed to know if he truly just wanted to give you your lipgloss, and if not, what were the reasons he had, so you texted him the next morning.

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

His heart nearly stopped when he saw your name pop up on his screen. Five simple words that could change everything. Or at least he hoped so. 

‘You can stop by tonight’ is what the message read, and he immediately started to get nervous. 

After not getting a response from you the first day, he pretty much gave up and figured you were done with him and would never see you again. He thought you either didn’t buy his dumb excuse or didn’t care to even listen to his voicemail. But there he was, on his way to see you after four long months. 

Lando parked outside your apartment, taking a deep breath and rehearsing what he’s been meaning to ask you, his heart pounding with every step he took as he walked towards your door. 

He kept your lipgloss in his pocket, like he had been doing for the last couple of days, and knocked on your door, a little unsure of how tonight would turn out. 

The door slowly opened before him, and there you were, standing in front of him as beautiful as always. 

“Hi,” he said nervously as he tried to give you a smile. 

“Hi. You can come in.” You stepped to the side, almost melting at how his delicious scent invaded your nostrils as he walked past you and into your apartment.

“Thanks.” He looked around and he felt… weird; it was all so familiar yet so strange. That used to be your apartment before you moved in with him, and the memory of all those nights he would stay over came back in a rush. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thank you.”

“I see you finally got that lamp,” he said, your eyes following his and finding the green lamp that rested on your console, one that you had been wanting for a while when you still lived with him, but he was never a big fan of it, saying the colour didn’t really match with the rest of his apartment. 

“Yeah. I know you always thought the colour was hard to match, but I like it.”

“Right. It looks good,” he said, his eyes finding yours again. “You look good.”

You didn’t know what to say; you wanted to say it back, but something in you didn’t let you, so you just nodded and tried to utter a little ‘thank you’, but you weren’t sure he heard it. 

“Anyway, uh- I have your lipgloss. I know it’s your favourite one, so I thought I should give it back.” He took it out of his pocket and placed it in your hand. Somehow, it was hard to let it go; it was almost as if he was giving up the last piece of you. he had, apart from the memories.

“Thanks,” you said as you took it, your hand brushing his for a split second. You locked eyes with him, waiting for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped to his now empty hands. “Is that really why you are here?”

He thought about it for a moment. No, there were a million reasons he was standing before you right now. He shook his head and took another deep breath, getting ready to finally let it all out. 

“I miss you,” he looked at you again and saw your intention to say something, probably to stop him from going back to that topic, so he decided to interrupt you. “I know- I know we’ve been over this a million times, and a million times you have given me reasons why it can’t happen, why we can’t happen, but Y/N, for four months I’ve done nothing but miss you and regret how stupid I was for letting you go.” 

Unsure of how you would react, he took a step closer to you and tried to hold your hand, almost letting out a sigh of relief when you didn’t pull away. 

“I just need to know, do you miss me? Do you ever think about me, about us?”

You could feel the tears threatening to leave your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to say yes and kiss him, but after how things ended between the two of you, you didn’t know if that was a good idea. 

“You have no idea how much I wish I could go back and make it right, love you the way you deserve, and show it like I was supposed to. Maybe our time is over, and even if you think it’s better to say goodbye, please don’t say goodbye.”

He finally stopped and waited for you to say something. The seconds felt like hours, and it seemed impossible to read your face.

“I’m sorry, Lan.”

“Please,” he begged, standing even closer to you. “Please, baby. How can I live without you now that I know what your love feels like, what loving you feels like, and how terrible it is to live without you?” Locking eyes with you, he decided to ask you one more time “Do you miss me?”

His teary gaze was intense, almost suffocating, and you couldn’t keep it together any longer. You nodded as your tears started falling down your face, squeezing his big hand back. “But I don’t know if it’s gonna work.”

“Yes it will, I will make sure of that. Everything I did wrong the first time, it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“But what if it doesn’t? I can’t go through another breakup. Not with you.” Not that he did terrible things, his job was getting in the way of your relationship and you just wished he made an effort to make sure you never felt neglected, but right now, all you could think about was how bad it got for you when you just broke up with him. It was hard to do everything, and you didn’t know you could handle it again.

Lando, on the other hand, was sure it would all work out this time if you just gave him one more chance. He was not letting you go, not again.

“I know it’s too much to ask, but please, just give me one more chance. I won’t let it go to waste; I’ll use it so I can spend the rest of my life with you, just like we planned.” Maybe that’s all you needed to hear. You believed him, but you were somehow scared to give in. “I will never hurt you again, I promise.”

“Okay,” you said, barely above a whisper, so he wasn’t completely sure if he had heard you right.

“Okay?” He waited for you to either break his heart again or to make him the happiest man alive.

“Yes,” was all you said, leaving all your pride and insecurities behind as you hugged him as tight as you could, almost as if you were making up for all those times you needed his touch but didn’t have it.

Lando had more tears in his eyes than before, but they were happy tears now. “Come back, baby, you can bring that lamp.” You let out a genuine laugh for the first time in a while, enjoying the way he was embracing you.

He pulled away and looked at you, as lovingly as always. He couldn’t believe you were his again. Putting a strand of hair behind your ear, he was begging with his eyes to kiss you again.

It probably had to be you to make the move this time, you thought, since he was the one that had the courage to do what you didn’t. So you did, you closed the gap between you and finally tasted his lips again. It was long and full of love, the kiss transmitting what the words couldn’t.

“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled away, with his forehead resting against yours as he caressed all of you.

[pix-writes]

Stanford Pines relationship HCs

(ford pines x reader) there will be smut so, 18+ below... Some angst, mainly fluff, I HC that most if not all of the pines family are neurodivergent in some way.

A/N: I had a long journey last week and all I could think about was the stans, so this will become specific... 😅 Will do the same for Stanley too in the future.

Ford has a lot to catch up on when he comes back through the portal, but he won't jump into a relationship immediately, it will still take a little time, he's got a lot to adjust to in his home dimension and being with someone has not been his forte.

But once he does he's surprisingly clingy, will want to cuddle up to you, in bed, on the couch, wherever you both are. Not one for real PDA, but will be close to you and call you terms of endearment out in public, just a little less than he does at home. I HC that he'd call his partner "dear" "darling" "honey", looooves your hips and putting his arm around your waist (it's a great way to pull you in to snuggle).

Doesn't hold your hand at first but since you like him to hold your hand and give him assurance over the fact that you like his six fingers, he does. It loosens his insecurities around his hands a lot.

Gets addicted to kissing you, doesn't care whether it leads to more or not, Stanford simply loves kissing whether it's brief or a good long make out session. But he does prefer to take his time over it.

Stanford is very logical, good at patching himself up from decades of portal hopping and therefore will do the same for you if you need it, is meticulous if you get hurt in any way but also has an appalling bedside manner! Doesn't tell you if he's going to do something that will sting and tells you not to be overdramatic if you react negatively to it (you know how people can get a little angry when someone they love gets potentially seriously hurt?). And yet you know him to be a gentle man, generally touches you softly like you're made of glass (unless it's to pull you away from something dangerous), so having him take care of you can also be comforting, he'll never do something painful unless it's necessary. (Don't worry though, his brother will make you stan cakes to cheer you both up.)

Speaking of food, Ford definitely prefers his home universe food to what he had in the other dimensions, tried lots of different unusual dishes, some he even liked, but none of it can compare to his homely comforts. When not sailing and adventuring, he puts on a few pounds. Satiates his sweet tooth and caffeine addiction with mabel juice (is the only other one of the pines to like it), prefers it to coffee. Stanley swears his tastebuds must've been affected during his time away. Doesn't like it with as much edible glitter as mabel does, but this is the only deviation from the original recipe he has.

Excellent teacher, you want to learn how he does something? More than eager to teach you with a steady hand and clear pace. Will teach you regardless how to shoot his laser and magnetic guns, how to defend yourself and how to meditate (if you didn't know these already). Can get into the information and ramble like you know about a topic and then realise (eventually) that he needs to break down or explain what he means.

Despite this he also has a romantic streak, whilst he can forget everything aside from his work or adventures, including important dates, he can also be a very considerate and supportive partner and post-portal wants to include you as much as possible in his life and conversations. You can talk for hours about any and all topics and he loves to be mentally stimulated in a relationship, however that may be.

Does sometimes have nightmares and deep guilt over Stanley and is dealing with it as best as he can, likes to know he can count on you for comfort and guidance, makes him feel less panicked or paranoid after Bill. He and his brother talk things out too and these talks can go on all night into the early morning and it's best for them to have space, Ford is grateful for your patience and willingness to be involved in his life, especially as he knows he wasn't good at opening up to you when you were starting to become friends let alone a relationship.

Ford would be shy at first, but once he gets comfortable with how to pleasure you, expect this man to be kind of obsessed. That absorbing focus he can have on his projects and studies? Yeah that can be transferred to you just as easily, which can be a little intense!

You off-handendly mention something about sexual experiences, perhaps even a joke about things you haven't tried, catching his perplexed look afterwards, you say it's simply fantasy and not really something you need to experience. However what you took for confusion or slight insecurity was actually Ford processing what you said. In fact, it doesn't leave his mind and so he does something he's good at: he does some research 😏

One night you might even wake up from sleep to find him sitting upright, lightly snoring, bedside lamp on, clearly fallen asleep whilst writing on his portable writing desk (it's either a gift from you or the twins, not sure which to choose!), when curiosity gets the better of you and you sneak a page out into your hands, you're faced with his attempts at organising fantasies, what he thinks you would want to try, how would you react to different stimuli or some of his own fantasies... Mainly figuring out how many orgasms he could coax out of you or how long he thinks he could edge you over time, what positions or rp you might like: he's worked it all out in a haphazard kind of way, like he's brainstorming the best approaches.

It's so plan-sexual scientific it's frank but... attractive, because it's so... him.

Whether he wakes up on his own or you wake him up, he ends up blushing, though he's not really sorry that you've found it. He's looking at you with this mix of nerves for how you'll react and new found smugness when he sees that you've been affected by what you've read... And yeah, neither of you are leaving that bed for a long time.

Basically, like a true scientist, he is down to experiment! 😄 He's willing to try anything as long as it's not going to seriously hurt you or it's something he wouldn't try on himself first, this is a boundary he's never willing to cross. Trust and open communication is an important thing for him post-weirdmaggeddon especially, and he's getting better at it as he goes along, so even though he often doesn't feel confident, he is infuriatingly good at aftercare and all the rest!

This means when he's not tripping over his words or flustered by you himself -he can be a damn tease at times and will chuckle to himself when you curse him out for the subtle touches he'll give you over the course of the day before pulling away. Sometimes he doesn't even know he's done it, which is evil.

Stanley will make grumbly jokes about how "you two lovebirds need to get a room!" Or about needing to move out 😅 but honestly he's truly happy his brother is happy and if you get married he will sob the whole time, even through his roasting joke filled best man speech! (Cracks a joke more than once to you that you need to make Ford an "honest man" and then laughs at it himself before whispering to you that he can get the rings if you really want to.)

Will and does suffer in the warmer months because he will wear long sleeves, full length pants and or a turtle neck for the comfort aesthetic

Personality wise him and Stan are different as can be but they often sync up physically in their mannerisms or what they say, as freaky as it is cute in a way, when you are tired/drunk you can swear you're seeing double, which amuses both of them.

His favourite shared past time with you is any kind of board or card game, some of them the rest of the family will join in for, but will also love someone to play d&d&md with if you're willing! Loves to get into the details of the rules of whatever you're playing together and it can get quite heated (secretly finds your frustrated side quite attractive, as long as you're not actually angry at him).

I feel like Stanford would get into videogames as soon as he becomes more adept at technology in this dimension, likely it's dipper who is the one to introduce it to him and he loves it (nerd). Will marathon catch ups on all the movies and shows he's missed; especially the series he was into that got continued after the portal incident. You lose him to Star Wars prequels etc for at least a couple weeks of him getting his head round all the lore and how it works, may have controversial opinions and needs to work it all out, may need to contact dipper about this.

Regularly has calls with the family (mainly the twins) over video chat (and will always call it 'video calling' no matter what platform they're using), so once you're together that includes you too and be prepared to be bombarded with questions from them (your their new graunty or grunkle after all) ❤️

[ariaxmu]

romance brewing

a theodore nott x fem!reader fic

summary: friends to lovers, just cutesy, fluffy n two lovesick cuties.

first time writing for theo !!!! enjoy, i hope its okay..

theo and i have been best friends since we were four. our parents met, were best friends, thus making us best friends. ill admit, a lot of people assume we are dating in secret anyway. it’s not true. we aren’t. just friends.

yes, just friends.

except not really. at least what i feel for him is anything but friendly. of course i’ve had my worries about how it might affect the friendship, but he’s my life. i cannot picture myself being with anybody else, ever.

hence why none of my previous relationships have worked. i compare every single one of them to him, and they just never, ever compare.

the only problem is i have no idea how he feels about me. pansy tells me, ‘that boy is completely in love with you’. but i just don’t see it. he’s always been sweet to me. i’m a shy person, he’s not. he’s protective of me, very much so. he’s confident, he’s a trouble maker, he’s gorgeous.

i get jealous when i see him talking to other girls, i’ve been heartbroken when he’s had previous girlfriends, i’ve pretended to be happy for him. no, i’m always happy for him, i want him to be happy, but i just wished it was with me.

i sigh, sitting up straighter as i realise where i am, sat in a circle with my closest friends in the common room. drinks scattered everywhere, red plastic cups messing up the room. the room a little blurry to me as my eyes glaze over from tipsiness.

theo is sat down beside me, chuckling as he watches draco do his embarrassing dare. i giggle, too, but not watching draco. watching theo’s pretty face curl into a smile as he laughs.

i swear sometimes when i look at him the world just stops, and it’s only him and i in the room together.

i’m snapped out of my daze as i hear my name being called by draco. i turn my head to him, smiling softly.

“okay pretty, your turn. truth or dare?” he asks mischeviously.

“umm… truth” i say, as i chose dare on my last turn.

“okay… have you ever been in love?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he winks at me.

my cheeks flush pink. “u-uh, yeah”

“really?? with who? you’ve only had two boyfriends!!” eno exclaims. i nod.

“doesn’t mean it was a boyfriend of mine.” i say quietly, blushing more as i grab my drink.

“well- tell us who?” theo says from beside me, eyes wide and cheeks a little red.

“no! my turn is over, someone else’s go now” i mumble, taking a sip of my drink.

“yeah nott, it’s your turn now” blaise smirks, “truth or dare?”

“dare” he answers confidently, winking at me. i go even more red. god. the things this guy does to me without even knowing. i’m certain everybody else knows how i feel, i fear im being way too obvious.

“i dare you.. to choose a girl from this circle to spend 7 minutes in heaven with.” blaise spoke as he smirked. my heart almost stops.

oh god. what if he picks pansy? or astoria? and i have to watch this happen? what if he comes out with their lipstick all over his mouth and- oh god i could throw up.

“y/n.” i hear him say bluntly.

i almost choke on the air. “w-what?” i say, utterly confused.

“i choose you. cmon” he says, standing up and grabbing my hand. i gulp, standing up with him.

“a-are you sure? you don’t have to do this if you really, really don’t want to” i mutter along as he pulls me to the small closet, shutting the door behind us.

“be quiet, of course i want to do this. you think i want to be in a closet with any of those girls?” he fake gags. i giggle.

“be nice” i mumble.

“i thought the easiest option would be for us to just hide in here for a minute” he explains, and the excitement and nerves dissapear from me.

“oh… i see” i say, smiling softly as i try to hide my disappointment. i guess part of me was hoping he wanted to be in here with me for yknow, that reason.

he leans back against the shelves, the warm light peeking through the small gap in the doorway, lighting up his pretty face. i gulp, noticing the close proximity.

“what do you mean, ‘oh… i see’” he mimics me, wearing a raised eyebrow with a smirk.

“nothing.. was just…. agreeing with you” i whisper.

“oh.. oh. you wanted me to drag you in here and kiss you huh?” he smirks, standing up and stepping a little closer to me. my entire face heats up.

“w- no!!!” i exclaim.

“don’t lie, you wanted me to kiss those pretty lips of yours?” he says with a teasing tone.

“stop” i pout.

“aw, your face is all warm. do i make you blush?” he says as the back of his hand brushes my cheek. oh god i might die.

“shush” i whisper.

“just teasing you, bella.” he says, leaning back against the shelf. “unless… unless you liked it?” he prods.

“uh..” i mumble.

“five minutes left!!” i hear pansy yell from outside.

i gulp.

“did you?” he says, eyes softening as he looks at me.

“i don’t know… maybe a little” i say shyly.

“i can’t see you, god i wish i could see you right now. swap with me” he says softly, holding my hips as we switch places, the door illuminating my face now.

“that’s better. you look pretty with your face all flustered. now tell me, did you like it?” he says, his confidence really shining through right now.

“okay fine yes, i did, a little i guess” i mumble out, looking up at him.

“hmm” he says, chuckling a little. “i knew it”

“shuttup” i groan.

“it’s okay… i like you too” he says, seemingly getting a little nervous himself.

“i-i didn’t say i liked you, i said i liked it.” i mutter.

he goes silent for a minute, jokes calming down as the air gets a little thick, the tension growing.

“do you.. yknow, like me?” he whispers.

“uh-” im cut off as the door swings open, pansy standing there with a smirk.

“times up lovebirds”.

theo looks at me, a little desperate looking as we both leave the closet, sitting back down with our friends. i put my hand on the floor, leaning to the side a little as i catch my breath and try to steady my nerves. he sits back down beside me, sitting the same as i am, putting his pinky finger over mine.

i look at him, a small smile on my face as he returns the same.

“okay- enzo, your turn!” pansy says, clapping her hands as she comes up with a devious dare for him.

i try to pay attention to the group but all i can focus on is what the heck happened ten minutes ago in the closet. does he like me back? his pinky is still hooked onto mine. i never got the chance to tell him i liked him. i spiral for another five minutes until i notice everybody standing up.

“huh? where we going?” i say confused.

“late night dip in the black lake, silly. come get ur bikini on under your clothes” pansy says, grabbing my hand and yanking me away to our shared room.

“you need to tell me what happened in there” she shreeks, being the only person who knows about my feelings.

“shhh. they’re only down the hall” i whisper yell. “to be honest i don’t know what happened. he started getting all flirty with me, told me he was just teasing me- but then things got all tense and serious and he asked me if i liked him!” i whisper, panicking.

“i knew it! he clearly likes you back oh my god this is so exciting” pansy paces the room happily as she changes into her bikini.

i grab a plain black one, tying my hair in a side braid as i put mine on, putting my clothes on over the top.

“so i don’t know, he almost kissed me, pansy. almost!!” i sigh.

“then let’s get going, because a romantic swim together in the lake is going to be the best thing for you guys right now. we’ll give you privacy, don’t worry” she winks, holding my hand as we meet he guys outside of the room, all of us walking down to the lake.

like hooligans, they strip down into their shorts and cannonball into the lake. i frown,

“is it really cold?” i yell out to theo.

“its warm!! its summer, bella. hop in” he says swimming closer to me.

i sigh, pulling my clothes off nervously as theo watches, a light blush on his cheeks and a cheeky smile. i throw my wand down beside my clothes, before sitting on the edge of the wooden board beside the lake.

“you gotta jump in!!” pansy says, launching herself into the lake and pretty much on top of draco. i giggle as i watch her. i look at theo.

“i’m not a great swimmer” i whisper, shyly. “you know this”

“that’s why i’m here, i got you. don’t worry” he says, holding his hands out, putting them onto my waist as i scooch into the lake, and his his arms. i squeak a little.

“it is cold!!” i shiver.

“you’ll adjust to it, come on, show me that little paddle of yours” he chuckles, letting go of me and swimming backwards a metre or so.

he’s always made fun of me for this. i can’t swim, traditionally per say, more so like a dog. i kind of wiggle my hands and feet and just hope for the best.

i manage to make it to him, gripping onto his shoulders again.

“you gotta stop making fun of me for that.” i pout.

“never. it’s the cutest thing.” he says softly.

i smile at him, as all of our friends swim over and break us two up. so much for privacy.

i hold onto the wooden plank on the side of the lake, watching as they mess around and dunk each other. i notice pansy whisper something to theo, to which he returns a nod. i furrow my eyebrows.

pansy comes over to me. “i’ll challenge the boys to a lap down to the other wooden plank. you stay here with theo. you need to tell him how you feel. or let him tell you” she winks, swimming backwards and taking the boys with her.

i push myself off of the wood and closer to theo. i kind of manage to float for a second, before he grabs my hips and pulls me into him.

“i got you” he mutters.

i look at him, the moon illuminating his face, just like the light from the door did earlier. but this is better. he looks so pretty.

“you’re beautiful” he breathes out, eyes locked onto mine.

“theo… i-” i stop myself, getting nervous again.

“don’t worry, i know” he mumbles, putting his hand on my cheek, thumb brushing off a splash of water.

“you know?” i whisper.

he nods.

it goes quiet for a moment, both of us just looking into each others eyes. i notice him get a little closer, before he goes for it.

he leans in, attaching his lips onto mine before i can even acknowledge. i hum a little from surprise, but soon i sink into it. it just feels right. my hands wrap around his neck; his gripping my hips as my legs wrap around his hips.

his tongue brushes my bottom lip as the kiss deepens, a little moan erupting from me as we both get a little more desperate.

his hands snake further down my hips. “t-theo” i whisper against his lips. “they’re coming back”

he pulls back, a little love struck and lips a little red and swollen from the kisses.

“god, i love you” he whispers, kissing my lips for a moment again.

“i-i love you too” i whisper back, heart erupting in happiness as finally it’s out there.

“oh, bella. finally” he whispers. “i wanted to kiss you in the closet earlier, but we didn’t have enough time.” he mumbles.

“i know, it’s okay, this is perfect” i whisper back, my cheeks all flushed as the water suddenly seems to be cooling me down.

his hands rub all over my body, our heads only visibly to our friends who are messing around a little further down the lake.

“i wanna go back inside” he whispers. “i just want to spend the night with you”.

“me too, teddy. i’m sure we could.. sneak away?” i whisper.

“mhm. sounds good baby” he says, sneaking a little kiss into my lips. i giggle, watching him hop onto the wooden plank, hair a little wet and the water dripping down his abs. i have to tear my eyes away from him, gulping as he smirks at me.

''you like what you see, hm?'' he winks.

''shush, help me'' i say, holding my arms up as he picks me up.

''mm, look at you'' he grins, wrapping his arms around my waist. i hear whistling and cheering from behind us, my face goes red as i cover it with my hands.

''ignore them, let's go'' he whispers, smirking as we rush back inside.

''have a good night love birds!'' pansy shouts after us.

and let's just say, we had a... good night. :)).

[girllblogging777]

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸𝐷

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader drabble (fluff, angst)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,02k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo’s jealousy causes an argument, but both find yourself comforting eachother

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"i told you i don’t care about that ravenclaw guy, he was just asking me about a potions assignment," you snapped, the frustration of your argument with mattheo finally reaching its peak. your boyfriend had found you talking to another boy in the great hall this morning, and he hadn’t let it go since, making you the main target of his pent up anger.

"well, i care! i care that my girlfriend was being all giggly with some guy in front of everyone, and i care even more that you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing!" he shouted back, running his hand through his brunette curls in frustration. you knew mattheo’s short temper well, how his mental health and past trauma affected his ability to express emotions, but he rarely lashed out at you like this. today had been different, and you’d sensed it the moment you saw that flicker of harshness in his usual soft brown eyes.

you sighed, trying to explain yourself calmly and hoping to ease his anger before things escalated, silently aware that it wouldn’t change anything. "look, i understand how you must be feeling right now, but—" he cut you off, his voice sharp and unyielding.

“no, you don’t ! stop playing therapist all the time. you don’t get it, and you’re never fucking going to." his words were harsh, and you tried not to let it get to your head, knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly. you braced yourself for what might come next, knowing he was too far gone to appreciate your gentleness. "maybe if you weren’t always trying to fix me, it would be easier. not my fault you’re oversensitive and can’t take anything !"

that was the breaking point. he’d crossed a line, and he didn’t even seem to care. mattheo knew how much you hated being yelled at, how it made you feel small and vulnerable, and yet, today he hadn’t held back. deep down, you knew the reason : he hated how much power you had over him, how easily you could mess with his heart. in this entire school, you were the only one who dared to stand up to mattheo riddle, to tell him the truth even when it hurt. it was why your relationship worked, but also why you ended up having those arguments so often.

something shifted in your gaze, and he noticed it : the tiny spark of pain mixed with the tears welling up in your eyes. you whispered pleadingly, "don’t yell at me like that, i can’t do this." your voice was small, but the impact was immediate. the anger faded away from his eyes, when he remembered you telling him the reason why you couldn’t stand shouting. he realised he’d just reenacted the past trauma you had told him about and his lips curved into a barely-there frown. you saw the regret settling in his expression.

"i know… i took it too far. i shouldn’t have." his voice was softer now, the anger draining from his features. you didn’t move or say anything, still reeling from the sting of his words. mattheo took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of guilt and desperation. he hesitated, he saw the hurt he’d caused, the way your body tensed as if waiting for more. he hated himself for letting his temper get the better of him, for hurting the one person who had always stood by him.

“baby, please…” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he took another step towards you. he reached out, but you instinctively flinched, and he froze, the guilt getting to him. you turned away, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “mattheo, you know i care about you more than anything, but i can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep lashing out at me every time you’re upset. it’s not fair.”

“i know,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “i just… i don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. i get so scared of losing you that i get jealous and push you away. it’s messed up, i know that.” you finally looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. it was the side of mattheo that made you fall for him, the boy beneath the act who just wanted to be loved and understood. but that didn’t make the hurt disappear.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady but soft as you tried to comfort him. “but i need you to be with me in this, mattheo. i can’t be the only one trying to fix it.” he nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, though he quickly wiped it away. “i promise, i’ll do better. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only good thing i have.”

the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. his arms enveloped you immediately, holding you tight as if you might slip away. you had never seen him cry before but that single tear on his cheek was enough to make you forget what had just happened

“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice muffled but heartfelt. “i’ll work on it, i swear.” you nodded against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he calmed down. “i know you will. just… talk to me next time, okay? before it gets to this point.”

“i will,” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i love you, and i’m not going to let my stupid temper ruin what we have.” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, forgiving smile. “i love you too, mattheo. just… no more yelling, okay?” he nodded frantically, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “no more yelling. i’ll keep that in check.”

you both stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the tension melt away. the storm had passed, and in its place was a new sense of understanding and commitment. mattheo might not be perfect, but neither were you, and that was okay. as long as you faced your flaws together, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome.

“but you have to promise me not to let anyone get too close to you” he finally said, his voice lighter, almost playful. “and besides, you’re only supposed to laugh at my jokes.”

you smiled, chuckling. “he didn’t stand a single chance.” whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together, and that was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thank you @reys-letters for your request !!! please like/comment/reblog and leave requests if you think of something <3

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[fairyhaos]

◈ love of my life // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: technically requested by lots of people bc everyone wants jeonghan fluff, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, crack, mutual pining, almost-confessions

warnings: light swearing

summary: in which your relationship with jeonghan isn't exactly platonic and isn't exactly romantic... but rather, it's a secret third thing.

It has to be at least two in the morning when Jeonghan's ringtone blares throughout his bedroom, and he rolls over with a groan, grappling blindly at his nightstand before finding his phone and pressing it against his cheek. 

“Who is this and what do you want?”

“Jeonghan, let's go on a date.”

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come. 

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not four in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have. 

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved. 

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face. 

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs. 

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow. 

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you. 

He isn't. 

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

 Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile. 

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself. 

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you. 

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[pure-smut]

toxic.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, established relationship, drugging (sleeping pills), somnophilia, noncon (reader is asleep), unprotected s*x, creampie

word count: 2.4k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

a/n: toxic walking red flag stalker boyfriend Sukuna is back!! part 3 was meant to be the last part but I had more ideas soooo enjoy two more parts!!

Ryomen Sukuna has you.

You’re at your favourite coffee shop with Sukuna, your laptop and a strew of notes on the table as you cram for your final exam of the semester. Sukuna sits in the booth next to you, one arm casually slung over the back of the seating behind you as he scrolls his phone. His presence took a while to get used to, so big it’s almost suffocating, now it’s a reassuring block between you and the rest of the world. Even during the rare times he’s not with you, everyone knows – you’re Sukuna’s girlfriend. That’s enough to scare anyone off. Even your previous failed situationship stopped sending you “you up?” messages once he found out, instead sending you a quick “sorry” before blocking you.

You go to take a sip of coffee but realise it’s empty. Sukuna glances up as you make to stand up.

“Sit down. I got it.”

As you sink back to your seat, he presses a kiss to your temple and stands, sauntering over to the counter. You smile after him. You love that he does things for you without you needing to ask.

Sukuna has an uncanny ability to anticipate what you want or need, sometimes having it ready for you without you even saying anything. You remember the time you came home from a long, stressful day and he had your favourite takeout food waiting for you. When you asked him how he knew your favourite, or how he even knew you were having a bad day, he only shrugged and said, “Lucky guess.”

You suspect it’s something more than that but you’re just happy to be doted on. No one’s ever been this sweet to you, this infatuated, so you accept him without question.

When Sukuna returns with your coffee, you brush a light kiss across his lips and thank him.

Sukuna’s cock stirs as soon as your mouth touches his. He watches you as you study, pretending to look at his phone, admiring your profile. You really are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You don’t even need to do anything to get him going – a light touch or a chaste kiss is enough for his blood to rush straight down. Hell, you were sitting in your pyjamas eating peanut butter out of the jar the other day and even that made his cock hard.

He smothers a smile. Sukuna couldn’t be happier. He’s got you all to himself and even though he trusts you of course, sometimes he indulges in a little light stalking just to be sure. He knows you ignore other men when they try to talk to you and you’re always exactly where you say you are. Why wouldn’t you be? You’re perfect.

“Oh, I forgot to say,” you interrupt his train of thoughts and Sukuna looks up at you, smile on his face. “I’ve decided to come off the pill.”

Sukuna’s smile freezes.

“What’s that?” He makes sure his voice comes out casual if not a little strained.

“I’m coming off the pill. Actually, I’ve already come off it – it was messing with my head.” You turn away from your notes to look at him, smiling. “We’ll need to use condoms from now on, okay?”

Your sweet face is oblivious to the turmoil currently inside Sukuna. A condom? You want a physical barrier between you both? You want to take this beautiful, perfect thing between you and put a condom in the middle of it?

Sukuna has to fight not to crush his phone in his hand.

“Whatever, babe,” he manages to say.

You give him a relieved smile and squeeze his thigh before turning back to your notes. Behind you, Sukuna’s smile drops.

No. No, this is not happening. His brain churns as he processes this, a stab of anger in his chest. Do you not love him anymore? Is this the first step in breaking up? He shakes his head. A condom? He won’t get to feel the euphoria of your bodies joined together, not an inch between you. No more filling your sweet little cunt with his cum, watching it drip out of your used hole. Sukuna’s mouth goes dry at the thought.

Yeah, no. He’s going to have to do something about this.

You take a large gulp of your fresh coffee, giving your cheeks a light slap.

“This last exam is really doing a number on me,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “I need like five coffees a day just to stay awake.”

A lightbulb dings over Sukuna’s head. Oh, sweet, sweet you. You’ve given him the most perfect idea without even realising. A true smile crawls across Sukuna’s face as he reaches over to brush your hair from your neck.

“Don’t work too hard,” he coos. “You know I don’t like sharing your attention.”

You grin, assuming he’s joking. He’s not.

“I won’t be much longer, I promise,” you say. “And then we’ll go home, okay?”

Sukuna kisses your shoulder. His mood has lifted now an idea has formed in his head.

“Whatever you want,” he says, smiling. *

Sukuna orders the sleeping pills online from a less-than-reputable website, paying extra for next day delivery. It means he has to grit his teeth through one night of fucking you with a condom.

He tries his best not to let his displeasure show but you struggled to find a condom that would fit him and when you did, Sukuna only sank half his cock inside you. He came inside the plastic sack, throwing it away with disgust. The whole thing is less than satisfying.

But the promise of the next day keeps him going.

The pills arrive in a plain parcel while you’re out at class. Sukuna and you don’t live together yet but his place is bigger and more comfortable than your cramped shared space, so you spend a lot of time at his. He makes sure you’re out before the pills get delivered.

Sukuna knows he has to be patient. It’s not your fault you had to come off the pill – your health is important, after all. You’re precious to him and he doesn’t want you hurt. So he doesn’t blame you for that. But he’ll be damned if he has to suffer through condoms for the rest of his life with you.

He really has no choice.

Sukuna crushes up the sleeping pills, careful with the dosage, and when you arrive back home after class, he offers you a relaxing glass of spiked wine and your favourite dinner.

“You’re so sweet to me, ‘Kuna.” You kiss him, accepting the wine and food without argument.

You spend a nice evening together, watching TV as Sukuna rubs your feet. He keeps a careful eye on you and, sure enough, it’s not long before you start to yawn. A little while later, you’re nearly falling asleep on the sofa.

“You tired, babe?” Sukuna asks innocently.

You give a sleepy nod, apologising and saying you’re going to have an early night. Sukuna watches you pad into the bedroom, the lights switching off. Barely five minutes later, he can hear your soft snores.

He grins.

You’re always so predictable, so obedient, and it makes him love you all the more. Sukuna can’t believe how lucky he is to have you – his perfect girl.

Sukuna follows you to the bedroom, his cock already stirring. He’s bought the morning after pill to crush into your coffee for tomorrow. Tonight, he gets to feel you properly again.

He strips off before tugging the blanket off you. You’re out cold, spread-eagle and naked on the bed. Sukuna looks down at you fondly. It reminds him of when he snuck into your bedroom to taste you. The memory makes him smirk, knowing you’re still unaware that even happened.

Sukuna whispers your name a few times, shaking your shoulder. Your chest rises and falls gently but you don’t even make a noise. Truly dead to the world.

Satisfied, Sukuna situates himself between your legs, the mattress sinking under his weight. He takes a moment, drinking you in, and strokes himself a couple times to the sight of you. He loves every inch of your body, every divot and curve, every mark and mole. He wants to wrap his large arms around you and hold you to him and never, ever let you go.

Sukuna leans forward and gropes your tits first, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. It stiffens against his tongue as he plays with your other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He loves your tits, would touch them all day if you let him. He pulls back to see the marks he left on you a few days ago, your soft flesh peppered with bruises.

Sukuna trails his hand down your body, the silkiness of your skin in contrast to his calloused palms, before slipping his hand between your legs. He dips a finger between your folds and finds you slick with arousal. Your body is responding to him even while you’re asleep. The thought makes his heart swell almost as much as his cock.

He sinks a finger deeper inside you, feeling your hole stretch around him. You barely move but your brows scrunch slightly as he finds your sensitive spot and strokes it softly.

“That’s it, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, watching the slight change in your face. He can feel you getting wetter, getting ready for him. “That’s my girl.”

Sukuna withdraws before pushing two of his thick fingers inside you. His thumb rubs your clit as he fingers you, encouraging your orgasm. He knows you need to cum at least once to be able to fit all of him in and he’s more than happy to get you there. You don’t make a sound but your breathing quickens. Sukuna’s gaze moves between your breasts, jiggling hypnotically with every sharp inhale you take and your cunt, where he can see your hole stretched around his fingers.

Sukuna curves his fingers to reach your little bundle of nerves and it’s enough to undo you, even unconscious. You groan softly as Sukuna draws an orgasm from you. He feels your walls quivering around his fingers and the anticipation of feeling you around his cock again is almost too much.

When Sukuna’s satisfied you’re done, he withdraws his fingers and aligns his cock with your entrance. He nudges the tip past your lips, now puffy with arousal, until he can feel the resistance of your hole. You’re spread so beautifully in front of him, so pliant in your sleep, more than anything he wants to slam himself fully inside you.

But he won’t. Sukuna loves you, he doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants you to feel as good as him. No, he needs you to. Needs you to need him, even when you’re not awake. He needs it so badly, he’ll do whatever he has to.

Sukuna leans forward over you, supporting himself on his arms, and slowly pushes inside you.

He’ll never get bored of the initial resistance of your sweet little pussy. The way your hole immediately grips him, pulling him deeper inside. Sukuna pushes in deeper, just a few inches, and lets out a sigh that’s half pleasure, half relief.

You feel so hot around him, so soft. There’s nothing that compares to this, to the feel of your bodies connecting as his cock reaches inside the most intimate part of you. Sukuna shallowly pumps in and out of you, watching your face. You look angelic, your hair splayed out around you like a halo, your face so peaceful even as Sukuna sinks his cock inside you.

Your needy hole pulls him in, coating his girth in your slick. Sukuna works himself deeper, the muscles in his arms taut as he holds himself back until he knows you’re ready. He’s almost there, just a few inches left, but he needs to give you some time to adjust.

To make sure he can go deeper, Sukuna readjusts his position slightly, pulling your thighs up until they’re resting on top of his. It angles your hips up slightly, giving him better access, making sure he’ll be able to bottom out.

Sukuna lowers himself onto his forearms, automatically wanting to kiss you before realising you can’t kiss back. The thought is frustrating. Instead, he busies his mouth with your neck and tits, sucking fresh marks into the skin. It’s risky but he hopes you won’t notice the new marks amongst the old ones and he can't resist nibbling at your plush flesh.

As Sukuna sucks and nibbles your tits, he starts to rock his hips again. Your pussy welcomes him, letting him stroke deeper until he bottoms out. He feels your lips touch the base of his cock and can’t stop himself from groaning, deep and long.

“So perfect,” he murmurs. “My perfect girl.”

Sukuna keeps rolling his hips. The friction of your slick walls against his cock is intoxicating.

“You get so wet for me, baby,” he whispers. “You love it raw, don’t you? You love my raw cock stuffed in your little hole.”

Condoms. What a ridiculous idea. There's nothing better than this, better than your skin on his, feeling every inch of you until there's no secrets you can hold that he doesn't already know.

Sukuna picks up his pace, pushing himself back up onto his arms so he can watch you bounce under the force of his thrusts. The sound of your sopping cunt fills the room, like music to Sukuna’s ears. He knows he’ll never fuck you with a condom again, never put a barrier between you. He’ll never give up this feeling, the way your needy pussy massages his cock, desperate for his cum.

Your walls start to clench around him and Sukuna realises he’s about to make you cum again. The thought spurs him on and he fucks you harder, slamming himself into you hard enough that he knows you'd be crying his name if you were awake.

“That’s it, baby, cum on my cock,” he grunts, nearing his own orgasm. “Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Sukuna gives one last thrust before spilling his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. He stays where he is for a few moments longer, catching his breath, before pulling out. He sits back, reaching between your legs to spread your aching lips, watching his cum spill out of your hole.

Sukuna scoops up some with a finger before leaning forward to smear it across your lips, smirking. How he’d love to watch you suck it from his fingers but he’ll leave that for another time.

Sukuna checks your breathing, makes sure you’re still okay, before cleaning you up. He softly presses a warm, damp cloth to your well-used pussy, cleaning both your juices. You did so well for him tonight and he wants to treat you gently.

When he’s finished, Sukuna climbs into bed next to you, draping you across his chest. His body is relaxed and he closes his eyes with a satisfied smile. He reminds himself to slip you the morning after pill tomorrow.

And then a little voice at the back of his head asks him – what if he didn’t?

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[cartierre]

AGORA HILLS | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!russell!reader

side note: i'm depressed and the f1 season is starting soon again so here we go. side note pt2: this is kinda short and the ending feels rushed but oh well

♡ liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 14,293 others

tagged: landonorris

y/n_russell permanent shenanigans

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user1 oh that's not-

user2 oh she didn't- yes she did

user3 y/n getting a lando norris tramp stamp was not on my 2023 bingo card ⤷ user4 i don't think it was ever on anyone's bingo card

landonorris mine ⤷ y/n_russell yours 🤞

user5 i can't decide if it's cringe or a major slay

georgerussell63 i don't know if i should strangle you or norris ⤷ y/n_russell maybe neither of us?

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tagged: yourfriend, yourotherfriend, landonorris

y/n_russell pizza boy always knows how to capture my heart

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user6 lando and y/n being in their hot couple era was not on my 2024 bingo card ⤷ user7 no couple does it like y/n and lando

user8 i'm a bit concerned about their recent behaviour, ngl

landonorris i'm a professional pizza boy off season ⤷ y/n_russell earning some extra money to spoil your girl? ⤷ user9 so you admit you use lando for his money? ⤷ y/n_russell sorry your partner apparently doesn't know how to treat you. i'd be bitter as well if i were you

user10 y/n being totally unhinged is my favourite type of media ⤷ user11 george being the emotionally older sibling and y/n being the unbothered younger sibling makes so much sense

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tagged: landonorris, georgerussell63

y/n_russell to clear some things up: obviously george isn't always happy with how lando and i present our relationship (online or not) but that doesn't mean he hates lando?! i'm his little sister, it's natural he doesn't always enjoy what lando and i do. nonetheless, lando and george have been friends for ages! this was literally them on our shared holiday in '23! carmen and i were third-wheeling the whole time lol. george can sometimes be a little cold but that's just how he processes things, it doesn't mean he's not supportive of my relationship with lando. please respect that.

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y/n_russell accurate representation of how i felt after watching george and lando's "drama" on drive to survive. now i understand why y'all blew this whole situation up.

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user12 now she knows how we all felt watching that episode

user13 me when i watch dts in general

user14 me when i hear the dutch national anthem yet again

user15 me when i think of charles not winning wdc because ferrari literally sucks

landonorris me when i realise y/n won't attend every race ⤷ y/n_russell um excuse me i'm a working gyal

user16 me when life

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tagged: mclaren, mercedesamgf1

y/n_russell maybe i should become lando's and george's pr manager when it means getting flowers from their teams

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user17 no cuz that is so cute that they sent her flowers cuz she solved the whole lando-george drama

user18 that's why they both are my favourite teams

mclaren the contract is ready to be signed! ⤷ mercedesamgf1 not if she choses us first! after all, blood is thicker than water

user19 not mclaren and mercedes fighting over y/n

user20 i wonder which flowers are from who

[louloulemons-posts]

heyyy. i saw your taking logan fics. do you think you can write a fic of logan and reader but she’s very girly and bimbo like? thank you 🩷

Claws and Frills

wolverine x fem!reader

(x-men wolverine, he’s a big boy)

summary : At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, but now your the first person he finds when he returns to the mansion.

word count : 0.8k

warnings : not proofread, fluffy, petnames (reader calls logan kitty and the famous bub), readers a necromancer, mentions of violence, blood and killing, readers not really described - only her outfit , hanks a bit of a dick, very very sweet, no established relationship.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, you were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Cooing that Charles had adopted a pet ‘Kitty-cat’ when you first met one another.

It had taken him a few months to realise, you weren’t being condescending, you were truly that sweet and slightly ditzy. Saying that you had the gift of necromancy, controlling those who had passed, along with their powers if they were mutant.

Logan strolled outside of the mansion finding you, lay on your stomach reading a book, a soft lilac blanket beneath you.

A pink dress and short white cardigan hug your figure, as your pink converse lay discarded beside you, showing your white frilly socks.

“Hey Bub,” the man called out, walking over to you. With a grin you turned to him, “Kitty, come sit,” Scooting over to make room for his larger figure, the smile never left your lips.

With a soft groan he sat down next to you, laying back, hands behind his head. “How was your mission?” you asked, placing your book to the side to have your full focus on the man beside you.

With a shrug he spoke, “Went well, stopped the guys.”

“Any blood spilled?” You questioned, head cocked. “Less than last time.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Logan pulled his sunglasses down to rest on his nose, so he could meet your eyes with his own dark ones. “Did any of your blood get spilt?”

“Nothing I couldn’t heal from Bub.”

“Logan you promised-“

“Sometimes it can be helped,” he cut you off, “I did everything I could to be safe and come back to you in one piece, and look here I am.”

He motioned to his long body, dressed in a flannel, unsurprising, a pair of jeans a boots. “Well even if they killed you, you couldn’t be rid of me.”

He laughed, “You’re awful.” With a pout, you sat up on your knees, “What? I have to use my freaky-deaky powers at some point!”

“Freaky-deaky? Is that the technical term?” He smirked. With a groan you spoke, “Don’t, you sound like Hank.”

Logan’s face went serious, “What’s he said to you?” He was ready to shred that blue asshole to pieces for making you feel insecure.

“Nothing, he actually apologised. Charles told him he’d upset me. I mean I know I’m not the smartest sometimes,” Logan tried to cut you off, but you didn’t let him.

“But, I’m not stupid, we actually spent a lot of time talking about, neuroscience. Just because I’m not a total badass like Storm or Jean doesn’t mean I’m an awful hero, I just …” You sighed.

“What Bub?” Logan pushed himself up so you sat face to face. “I just don’t want to stop being myself, and my… gift already makes me feel like I have too.

“Maybe I was given the wrong one, would have been better if I could control plants or I don’t know, talk to animals.”

Logan smiled, pulling a cigar out of his pocket, which you snatched away without a second thought. If it was anyone else, his claws would be out, but it was you.

“Your power doesn’t define you, you know that right? You’re you. You’re sweet and kind, and anyone or anything you’ve controlled with your powers has been as respectful as you can make it.”

“But I’ve killed.”

“And you’ve saved.”

“But-“

“Bub, you’re good, and Hank isn’t a people person, he just talks sometimes. Nobody is a special or as badass as you, I promise.”

“Not even you?”

He titled his head, thinking for a moment, “I might be a close second.”

“Third, Erik’s more scary than you … and Jean oh and Scott-“ he put a hand over your mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile against it, causing his lips to twitch upwards. He pulled his palm away, “Thank you Kitty.”

“Never have to thank me, you know that.” Leaning forward you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You really are my favourite person, you know that?”

“You’re crazy,” he said making you laugh, arms coming round your waist, “But you’re my favourite too.”

Pulling away you stroked his face gently, “You’re a good man, you know that right?”

“You tell me most days. Now read to me,” he said, falling onto his back, hands going back behind his head.

Crossing your knees, you sat beside Logans figure, his eyes falling closed. One of his hands moving to stroke your leg softly. “What are we reading?”

With a smirk you spoke, “Pride and Prejudice.”

Logan groaned, “Again?!”

“Hush Kitty.”

And hush he did, listening to your soft voice hand never leaving your leg. Remaining on that soft blanket with you, until the sun began to set and the stars rise.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

i honestly can’t believe i’ve never done a logan fic but deadpool 3 brought back my obsession big time.

I hope you enjoyed.

Please leave any requests 🫶🏻

[love4myg]

early mornings

summary. when time seems to bend every morning and love speaks through tender touches and quiet reassurances.

────

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 1k

content: yoongi and oc wake up in each others arms / they love each other a bit too much and they make it pretty clear / they kiss a lot :3

warnings: fear of abandonment (kind of? if you squint??), allusions to sex

notes: idk why i'm procrastinating the third part of 'stumble into you' so bad, but this is a result of me still wanting to write something. also, ignore the images at the top if they don’t go well together, i’m too lazy to actually put in effort today 😭 likes, reblogs, comments, and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i love you guys and i hope you enjoy <33333

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────

Amber rays spill across the room, seeping between the gaps in the curtains and kissing your bare skin with its golden warmth.

Yoongi stirs under the sheets, attempting to untangle his limbs from you, who lay beside him. But your arms only tighten around him, and he quickly gives in to the comforts of your touch.

With your head on his chest and his arm secure under your head, he can't help the lazy smile that draws across his lips.

He's always loved early mornings with you; when neither of you have to think about anything else but each other; when time feels like it ceases to exist; when nothing else mattered, because why would it when you had each other?

You were his home; his universe; his first thought in the morning and the most frequent visitor of his dreams. Everything reminded him of you, and it was maddening. But he welcomed the longing with open arms, because he was a fool.

Because he knew that it was worth being foolish if it meant having you.

Yoongi places a kiss on your forehead, his lips pressing against a few strands of hair that lay messily across your face. The scent of your skin, faintly sweet like the lavender soap you use, lingers in the air as Yoongi buries his nose in your hair, taking in the quiet of the morning, broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. He moves his hand to rest over yours, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles.

He doesn't expect the gentle action to wake you, but your eyes flutter open. You hum, the sound quiet and laced with exhaustion as you stretch out your body.

Your eyes light up when you meet his gaze and the butterflies in his stomach erupt, fluttering around wildly.

"Morning," you whisper. You peck his lips with a soft kiss.

"Morning," Yoongi echoes. A faint blush paints his features, and a giggle tumbles from your mouth. Yoongi catches the sound with another kiss; then a third one that lingers for a few seconds longer than the others.

It is almost embarrassing to admit the effect you had on him. You've been together for years, and known each other for even more. He knows every dip and curve of your body and you have seen him through all of his highs and lows. Yet, a kiss from you still has him blushing.

"Missed me?" you tease, and he hums in agreement.

"A lot." He kisses corner of your lips and the curve of your jaw. "You're so pretty."

You laugh; a soft sound that rings through the air. It has always been Yoongi's favourite melody-the one sound that made his heart swell and his eyes crinkle into crescent moons to accommodate his growing smile.

He tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand stay to cup your cheek so that he can bring his lips to yours again. He’s addicted to the way your lips fit perfectly with his, and no matter how often he kisses you, it’s never enough

And you can't stop smiling.

The feeling that courses under your skin is almost overwhelming. It still feels surreal—that kind of love, where just being with him made the world right

The possibility of losing Yoongi terrifies you, but it's a fear that follows you everyday. Sometimes, you expect to wake up one day only to realise that this is all a cruel dream, or to find the house suddenly void of his belongings and his presence.

Sometimes, the fear creeps in before you can stop it, a quiet panic that gripped you in the space between sleep and waking. You’d reach out, half-afraid to find the bed cold and empty. But then, your hand would meet the warmth of his skin, and the fear dissolved into nothing. Because every morning, he's here. Solid, warm, and real, wrapped up in the sheets beside you. His sleepy eyes, the soft curve of his lips, the way he pulls you closer as if you’re his anchor—it’s all so undeniably Yoongi, and it makes your heart flutter with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

You press your forehead to his, noses brushing, as if the closer you hold him, the more real this will become. Yoongi's fingers trail lightly over your skin, tracing invisible patterns that make you shiver.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, voice raspy but tender, like he's always known your thoughts even before you speak them.

You let out a soft sigh, trying to find the words, but they dissolve on your tongue when his hand glides over your waist, settling at the small of your back.

“You’re here,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. It's a quiet confession of the relief that washes over you each time you wake up to find him still beside you. He smiles against your skin, a low hum of agreement in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice carrying the weight of every unspoken assurance. "You know that I'll always be right here-right beside you, whenever you need me."

For a moment, the world falls away. There’s no fear of loss, no dread of waking up alone. It’s just him, his presence grounding you, his breath steady and warm against your neck. The intimacy of the moment swells between you, a shared heartbeat that drowns out the rest of the world.

Your legs tangle beneath the sheets as he pulls you even closer, his hand finding yours under the covers. His touch is gentle, tender, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you, and in the glow of the early morning, you feel more connected to him than ever.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his skin seep into yours, feeling utterly safe in his embrace.

And in that moment, you know—this is home.