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jjenthusee · 3 months ago

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Moonlight And Intentional Mistakes

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: This is inspired and dedicated to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes amazing post linked here (show it some love) and their numerous sweet words especially on my Broken Mug writing drabble (also linked), so after crying reading their messages, i had to do something about the intense rush to write and the best way i can think of thanking you is by doing what i know, art and writing. i had no idea that i was influencing anyone, i only hoped my love for Jason was communicated correctly. i hope every single one of you that comes across my account has beautiful things happen to u. i’ll give u all a million kisses. please continue to write, i would love to continue reading what u have for us next <3 there’s also a surprise at the end :D (as always comments are appreciated if you’re comfortable <3 let me know your brain rot thoughts) ENJOY

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, soft Jason, touch starved Jason lowkey, siri play Never Grow Up by Niall Horan 😔, might have inspired the direction of the fic

Word Count: 3.4k

The moon was high.

Moonlight had casted a faint glow on the window blinds, it peaked in through the tiny gaps.

Only a small lamp was on, cascading light from the living room into your room. It gave enough light to see the outlines of your room. Bathing everything it could touch in a faint warm glow.

It was still dark enough that the details were too fuzzy to point out, but most objects were wrapped in shadows, bringing a unique calm to your room.

In the chill of night, the bed was warm. Jason was the perfect heater. The blankets were cozy and the sound of a fan whirred at the corner of the room.

It didn’t make sense covering yourself head to toe in a fuzzy blanket with a fan blasting air at you, but the sound mellowed you into the night, calling slumber closer to you.

It would have been easy to sleep if you were given the chance, but your gentle giant boyfriend was adamant to prove to you that he needed to sleep as physically close as possible to you.

It would have been fine, but today you couldn’t find a relaxing sleeping position. You had to shift your body around before finding the state of mind and the right amount of comfort to drift off, but tonight was difficult. Not only were you constantly shifting in the bed sheets, you were keeping Jason awake.

As your body moved to a new spot on the bed, Jason followed. Turning his body to follow the heat you left behind on the sheets. He wasn’t fond of the fact that a blanket fully engulfed you while he didn’t, it wasn’t fair.

When he got close enough to throw his muscular arm over you, you beat him to your next journey across the mattress.

If the queen bed the both of you were laying on looked like a college dorm twin XL with Jason laid out over it, then you shouldn’t have cornered yourself onto the edge.

Now half of your body dangled off the mattress. The bed was definitely big enough for the both of you the last time you checked, but with Jason getting closer to you every time you moved, it looked like he teleported a smidge closer when you blinked.

It also wasn’t ideal when he rolled onto the corner of the blanket that had unraveled from your legs.

You teetered on the end of the bed when he purposefully made sure to take up ninety percent of what was left of the mattress. Locking you on the edge, wrapped in a blanket.

You had been laying on your side, but Jason kept nudging you, tickling your face with his messy hair when he got close enough to attempt to burrow his large self into you. You kept scooting back, but once you didn’t feel anymore mattress, your legs were feeling where the cold air invaded the bed.

Now you settled on the dangerous edge with one leg completely off. Despite your avoidance of Jason, your free leg locked around Jason’s leg for any support to keep you safely on the bed. Your entire upper half was swaddled like a baby as the blanket blocked out any of the chill, your arms completely smushed against your sides with no way to free yourself besides Jason moving his body off of the edges of your blanket.

You had no control whatsoever.

It was you and your straining leg on Jason that was the only thing keeping you from plopping on the cold floor. Now in a vulnerable position, did Jason have the bright idea of asking the question you’ve been avoiding all day.

Where were his pudding cups?

———

“I take it back!” You pleaded with Jason as he kept the blanket tightly wound around you, preventing you from moving your arms to retaliate.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Jason playfully faced at you, laying on his side. His voice melted with innocence, but had underlying amusement.

Your blanket was your savior and your enemy as it saved you from the hard floor, but it was also securely caught by Jason’s entire weight. He had you completely trapped inside with only your head and legs poking out, the fabric slung around you.

Moving his body an inch closer to the edge, Jason pushed your body further off, further with no support beside his mere weight and strength keeping you from falling.

“I swear there were two pudding cups before you left!” You screamed, your hair falling off your face, the ends gravitating toward the ground, your impending doom.

“Sweetheart, let’s play world’s greatest detective and I’ll ask you something. If I didn’t eat ‘em and we are the only two people who live in this apartment, then who do we have left? Hm?” Jason’s voice, honey sweet, as he emphasized the contradictions in your statement.

With the blanket bunched in his hands, Jason easily lowered you slightly, juggling your weight effortlessly while laying on his side. You cursed at his perfect athleticism.

The room may have been dark, but you didn’t need the moonlight to know he had a shit eating grin trying to get you to confess.

You felt like this was probably the closest you would feel to people walking the plank in those pirate movies you watched as a kid, a sick waiting game not knowing when your fate was inevitable. It was fun at the time and maybe the cold ocean was different from your bedroom floor, but otherwise it was still cold.

“I don’t even like sweets!” You playfully laughed as he teasingly let his hands slip, clearly seeing through your lie. You squealed as you felt your head dip and your leg fall from on top of Jason’s.

“And my hand slipped.” Jason equally lied through his teeth, his threat filled with no malice whatsoever as he securely held onto you.

“I’m starting to feel like this has nothing to do with pudding cups.” You raised your head back up to look at Jason, a full smile present on your face, testing your vulnerable state.

“Oh?” Jason raised his eyebrow as he looked down at you from the edge of the bed. The angle looked great on him.

“My world’s greatest detective intuition is telling me that you’re just mad that I kept rolling away from you.” You mischievously pointed out.

“My love, you need to use those skills to find out why all our pudding is gone.”

“Do you do this to all the criminals you interrogate?” You deflected, using your eyes to point to the current position both of you were in, dangling from the bed in a blanket while Jason kept you there.

“Only the pretty ones.” Jason sung, pulling you up slightly so you weren’t as close to the floor, not quite on the bed, but in a better spot than before.

“I didn’t realize the Red Hood had such malicious threatening techniques.” You shook your head feigning disappointment as you struggled to readjust your leg to latch onto his again. It probably looked awkward, but you were desperate. It wasn’t your fault that your boyfriend was built like a tank. “I promise to not rob anymore banks anytime soon. I’ll straighten myself out. Scouts honor.” You breathed out, exhausted from the movement.

“Just admit you ate the pudding and I’ll erase everything. Your speeding tickets and the bounty on you in 15 countries.”

“It’s 18 actually, don’t defile me—“

Jason effortlessly lowered you again. The blanket slipping slightly from jostling you around.

“Okay, okay!” You cried out. “If I fall you’re limited to two kisses a day!”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Three, take it or leave it.”

“Tell me where the pudding is.”

“Four kisses and you can cuddle suffocate me when we sleep.” The blanket around you felt noticeably loose.

Jason scoffed, offended by your choice of phrasing.

“If our lives are ever on the line, I gotta remember I can’t ever let you negotiate.” He tauntingly called above you. “And I don’t cuddle suffocate you.”

“So it was ‘cause I moved away from you earlier!” You cried out as you slipped further. The blanket loosening completely around you, your gasp blurring into Jason’s name. A plea to catch you.

Jason quickly bent down, rolling his body off the bed and slipping his arms around you as he followed you to the floor. He rolled his body forward enough to quickly shift your position so his body plopped on the ground first while you landed on top of him.

It was a soft landing as you laid on his chest. Quickly finding a comfortable position in his arms.

“You only get one kiss a day.” You flatly said. “Why is our bed frame weirdly tall?” You nuzzled your head into his chest.

“Our deal was two.” Jason tenderly caressed your head. Moving your hair in motions that made you want to fall asleep.

“Looks like we’re both liars.” You barely whispered, sleepiness taunting your body.

“I guess you’re still wanted in 18 countries.”

You lazily laughed into Jason, his body slightly shaking from your movement. His arms wrapping around you, engulfing the feel of your laughter and locking it between your bodies. He smiled into your shoulder. Smelling your comfort.

You lifted your head, freeing your face. You were still being held by Jason, but you had a clearer view of his loving gaze lost on you as he traced your features, entranced by your smile.

“Missed opportunity.” You drunkenly watched and felt Jason’s fingers caressing your face.

“If you let me ‘cuddle suffocate’ you, you might have another shot.” Jason’s thumb rubbed your cheek, pressing into the softness. His calloused finger pads feeling slightly itchy, but you would never pull away, too endeared by how gently he treats you.

“Worth it.” You say after snapping out of your trance that was locked on your boyfriend. He knew the right areas to get your mind lost on his touch, focused solely on him.

You pulled yourself up from laying on top of Jason, grabbing for his hands as you stood. Straining to help pull him up, but almost all the effort came from his own strength, not yours.

Playfully, Jason never let go of your hands and let his body be dragged completely onto you, dramatically coming forward to rewrap himself around you.

You giggled as you threw your arms around him. Enjoying the warmth that radiated from him, reheating the once empty space. Your own personal heater. You were glad tonight was one of the nights he stayed home with you, cuddled in bed all evening. You tried your best to soothe his mind, away from the thoughts of patrol as much as you could.

Giving his mind a small mental break, to hold you close and whatever else he needed. Both of you continue to work hard to develop and maintain the kind of trust that Jason needed to work through the hard days, silent but never alone.

With reassuring hugs while he counted your breaths, holding onto your hand just to thoughtlessly memorize them, standing in your presence just to observe you.

His difficulty with readjusting to the mundane and useless tasks of every day life was the biggest challenge. Too many conversations about why we need to treat ourselves because we want to. Jason’s mind was filled with too many needs.

He needed a reason to buy himself something, he needed to push his body to the limits because there was no other option, he needed to work alone.

So you showed him that he didn’t need you to hold his arm while you walked around the city, but he wanted you to do it.

He didn’t need you to take care of him, but you wanted to because you cared.

As you lost yourself in the shared closeness, you swayed your body. Jason unconsciously following your movements, swaying with you and letting his hands intertwine behind you, letting it gently rest against your lower back. Once you held on, Jason had silently vowed to never be the first to let go.

As you moved your bodies, clueless about Jason’s promise to himself, you didn’t let go either. So the two of you clung to one another.

It was one of the millions of things you cherished about Jason, he showed his devotion through his mannerisms. He helped put away your bags after a tired day of work, when he brought you a blanket if you fell asleep on the couch then carried you to bed. He bought your favorite snacks if he was at the store. He effortlessly followed you, content to be next to you.

Of course, he still put up limitations. He wouldn’t put your safety at risk. He sat closer and became more aware of restaurant doors, he kept you walking on his side or always in front of him, when he slept he made sure to determine the layout that suited you best, away from the window. His eagerness to make sure your wellbeing is priority.

It led to him not sleeping once you switched your position too many times tonight. He wasn’t satisfied with you being closer to the window, but he also was determined to get you to cuddle.

Numerous times you wanted to tease him, but after a Red Hood reveal that had you debating if he collaborated with his brothers to pull a twisted prank on you and an emotional talk, you couldn’t blame him for any of it. The fitted suit was just an added bonus you could outrightly ogle at.

You two were standing, holding each other in the dark. His head nuzzled on the base of your neck, his hands gripping your shirt, crinkling at the desperation. Sometimes Jason felt overstimulated when his feelings were ready to burst. His unfamiliarity with so much tender affection makes his mind unable to process all of it.

All you can do is to tell him that your there. Reminding him that you were unwilling to go anywhere.

“I’m here, Jay.” You softly reassured. “I’m right here, in your arms.”

Jason was unaware of the same silent promise you prayed to yourself, to never let him go.

When Jason’s grip loosened, your lips softly kissed the side of his head, soothing the thing that gives him a hard time. Repeating the motion, feeling his breaths even.

You never said that you were limited to how many kisses you can give him.

As you methodically swayed and with one final kiss against his hot skin, Jason shifted himself to standing taller, resting his forehead on yours. His hair laid flat against your skin.

You closed your eyes, enjoying how docile he became once you initiated physical touch. A craving he wanted and you unconditionally gave him.

When you opened your eyes, adjusting to the darkness, you grabbed one of his hands to intertwine them, your other hand gently falling onto his shoulder. He noticed the familiar stance, mimicking that of a dance. He silently rested his free hand on your waist, once again feeling the fabric of his shirt that you wore.

There was no music, but you leaned into Jason once again, swaying to the rhythm of his heartbeat, slow and in tune with his breaths. The further closeness let you settle your head underneath his chin, his hand following around the width of your waist pulling you in more.

Everything felt perfect. It was the middle of the night in the dark, you wore pajamas, no music played, both of your hair messy, but you held Jason. A sweet grasp of his shirt bunched in your hand, your feet bumping into his, the smell of your soap radiating from his skin from his shower.

If this was your last day on Earth, you would think you were blessed to be in front of the most loving, tender man. Watching his eyes softened and sparkle as he feels a breath of peace.

That was all you needed.

In an act of surprise, you moved your arm to wrap around Jason’s waist and attempted to dramatically swoop him back. It was haphazardly done, but he gladly played along despite the difference in height making it a little awkward. He dipped back then came forward, reuniting your embrace, both of you laughing at your clumsy attempt at a slow dance.

“Why does this feel like an awkward school dance?” You breathed out, breathless from the laughing, talking into his clean shirt. Most likely you were taking it to wear tomorrow night.

“We’re just swaying, we aren’t really moving how we’re supposed to.” Jason rubbed your back as you caught your breath, his voice softly surrounding you as you rested on his chest, feeling every word.

“And how would you know?” You looked up at him, a teasing tone. “It’s not like either of us know how to slow dance.”

Jason paused, looking down at your eyes, contemplating.

“Would you like to learn?” He hesitated, combing his hand through your hair.

You completely stopped swaying, Jason’s hand dropping from the top of your head to rest on your cheek. He carefully watched your reaction, your eyes widening, a stunned look in your eyes.

His grip tightened, barely noticeable if you didn’t feel his thumb press on your waist, helping to remind you to respond.

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to try it.” You looked down toward your feet, slightly feeling the embarrassment creep up at your confession, but Jason rubbed his thumb on your cheek. A silent comfort. “But, I don’t have a reason to learn. I’m way past school dance age, I rarely go to events where it might happen, and…no one has ever asked me.”

A silence settled between the both of you, Jason’s thumb pausing. He looked between your eyes, glancing back and forth.

“Can I get my phone?” He asked with no explanation, no other detail leading to your earlier confession.

You felt the mortification creeping at you. You nodded, letting go of Jason.

He stood there until you removed yourself first. His grip fleeting, walking in the dark to grab his phone, illuminating the room with its screen where he stood. You curiously watched him, not quite understanding his intentions.

“I might be a little rusty.” He voiced, a broad back facing you.

A gentle melody played from his phone. Quiet, but getting louder as he pressed the volume button on the side of his phone.

“What?” You stood there awkwardly.

Jason turned to face you, throwing his phone on the night stand as he walked back over, raising an open hand to you.

“May I have this dance?”

He stunned you again, your brain having too many delays at once.

Your hand trembled as you raised it to meet his. You couldn’t respond to his question because your throat ached, ached in a way that you wished the world ended right there, to consume the pounding heartbeat in your ears, the firm grip of Jason, and attempt to swallow up all the love swelling in your heart. It would put up one hell of a fight.

Once the both of you met, bodies close, Jason repositioned your hands as it was before. Gently guiding you through the steps as you nervously looked at your feet, your tense body adding to your struggle.

Once you felt a decent rhythm and Jason patiently assisted you, memorizing your expressions, movements and the smile you beamed when you finally felt comfortable.

He grabbed your chin. Guiding your head back up to look at him. Bringing his head closer to yours.

Your eyes closed halfway before he gripped your back, dipping you back, holding your weight as you inhaled in surprise.

“Jason!” You laughed his name as he swung you back up, extravagantly twirling you from him, clasping your hand to twirl you back into his embrace.

“Rusty, huh?” You quipped, eyeing him, trying to stabilize your steps.

“What can I say, Alfred beat the movements into me. He would feel a shift in the air if I got it wrong.” Jason smiled, picking up the swaying again, enthusiastically moving both your bodies.

You continued dancing through laughter, not watching your feet as much as you were, letting the feeling of the music guide you.

Not knowing where your body and his separated, a beautiful blur.

How could you have missed out on something so sweet?

A dance shared between two individuals who adore one another.

Jason stamped another mark onto your life.

First dances laced with intertwined hands, lips brushing against one another, tuning out everything but each other’s voices.

Maybe the world did end, but you wouldn’t have known, too immersed in the moonlight on Jason’s skin, the warmth of love and home enveloping you.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #writing #what i would give to learn to slow dance with jason #imagine growing old with jason and continuing the slow dance tradition #screaming #art

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yawujin · 6 months ago

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Hiiiiii if you don't mind can you pls write v3 boys x reader who can't read social cues for the life of them and need to be told directly to understand a situation.

For example: *one of the boys shows romantic interest*

Reader: "WOW so friendly"

The more I describe it the more it sounds like Marinette from miraculous ladybug

Pls&thx

i've never really written something like this so i hope you like how it turned out anon! ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ )

request | how the v3 boys would react to reader that isn't good with social cues

type | react , established relationship , non killing game , gender neutral reader

shuichi saihara ♡

he's trying his best to make it known that he likes you

kaito and maki have definitely noticed how he's grown so fond of you

although he had to tell kaito straight up that he liked you

well, he finally does it, confessing to you

"to be honest with you, (Y/N), i really like hanging around you..."

can he make it any more obvious?

no, seriously, can he?

you thank him and say you'd love to hang out more!

he instantly realizes he needs to be more clear

"no! i mean, i like you, alot... as in more than a friend..."

you encourage him to be more outspoken in the future

rantaro amami ♡

tries to confess to you in a lowkey way

but once he realizes you don't really get what he's saying

he ups the ante

he starts showing more affection towards you

and then finally he tries again

"you know i really like you, right (Y/N)?"

he explains that he wants to go on a date to show his likeness

ohhh he likes me in that way you think to yourself

K1B0/kiibo ♡

firstly, he does everything you want him to do because he thinks that's how easy it will be to get you to realize he likes you

but it's not

secondly, he tries to just straight up tell you but it's hard to express his emotions

finally, he uses himself to print out a note that has his messy handwriting all over it

who knew he could be so forward when writing?

it read "i love you, (Y/N)! i hope you accept my feelings"

and it definitely got the message across

korekiyo shinguji ♡

he's pretty nonchalant so it's difficult at first for him

he knows that gift giving is a pretty common way for someome to show their likeness towards someone

so he tries that (althought he might not be the best at giving gifts)

but when he does

you just think he's being friendly

kiyo, just like rantaro, will try showing more affection towards you

he touches your arms, plays with your hair etc

"everything about you is so wonderful..."

"i would like for you to share that wonder with me"

and that gets the message across

kaito momota ♡

he would realize that you probably took his outright profession of love to you and chalked it up to him just being a good friend

as per usual

he woke up in a cold sweat about this and decided that starting tomorrow he'll be extra kind towards you

over the course of a few days, he creates a nickname for you

you guys hang out together even more you two are alone more often than not now

he held on to both of your hands and squeezed them

"(Y/N), i'm not sure else how to say this but...will you go out with me sometime?"

gonta gokuhara ♡

gonta accomodates you and invites you everywhere

he just wants to show that he likes you!

he thought it was working for a while until

"you're such a good friend, gonta!"

he shakes his head 'no'

"gonta want him and (Y/N) to be more than friends..."

you understood but was taken aback

he shys away almost instantly

"only if that what (Y/N) want!"

ryoma hoshi ♡

he gets it completely

he isn't a stranger to being outspoken so he's fine with telling you how things are straight up

it just so happens that he likes you a lot

so in this case, he asks:

"would you want to go out with me?" "tell me what you want and you'll get it."

your transition into a platonic relationship to a romantic one was easy

ryoma is easy to get along with <3

kokichi ouma ♡

he has to quickly find solutions on how to tell you his feelings without being too sappy about it

he isn't too good at that

he also wants to do it before he runs out of patience with himself

he does what he does best and pulls a prank on you

when you ask him why he did it he just says:

"isn't it obvious? it's because i like you."

is he being fr? you can never tell

but the confusion you had finally gets cleared up when you get outside confirmation from miu that he is falling hard for you

#danganronpa x reader #drv3 killing harmony #shuichi saihara x reader #rantaro amami x reader #kiibo x reader #drv3 k1b0 #korekiyo x reader #korekiyo shinguji #kaito momota x reader #gonta gokuhara x reader #ryoma hoshi x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #kaito momota #gonta gokuhara #ryoma hoshi #kokichi ouma #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa imagines

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silverflqmes · 8 months ago

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agszc and the flowers they'd give as well as why they would give them?

໒⦂ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄.

notes. hey queen, my knowledge in flowers is baby level but!!! we’re gonna see which flowers the boys would give based on themselves and their love<3

genre. fluff

for @melukonova <3

ft. sephiroth, cloud strife, zack fair, genesis rhapsodos, angeal hewley

gender neutral! reader.

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. orchid.

+ reasoning. orchids come in a variety of symbols next to the obvious luxury and beauty, such as strength, mystery — even charm and refinement. more importantly, they bring across how lucky you are to be able to love your special someone.

+ sephiroth had always thought himself to be deplorable for as long as he could remember. growing up, he had countless reminders of how unloveable he was even in spite of shinra’s hero treatment of him. when he met you, however, somehow you had brought this ray of light into his suffocating darkness and had loved him in spite of everything. he was just so lucky to have you in his life — it was imperative he showed you his gratitude. and so, from the many books he read in his days, he’d decided that gifting your orchids was the best way.

+ “it took awhile to find you these, given the state of midgar.. but the search was worth the while. as i recall.. lovers gift one another flowers as an expression of affection, do they not?”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. gardenia.

+ reasoning. gardenia is the type of flower you would use to confess when the words don’t quite reach your lips. basically, an unspoken confession to convey your love. furthermore, it represents purity and expresses beauty towards the receiver.

+ cloud strife.. was never really the best with words, feelings and emotional expression. he preferred to think of himself as an actions kind of guy, and his confession to you boiled down to exactly that. with all the worst behind him, and the whisper of advice from his parted friends, he would have set out one morning to sector five to purchase a few gardenias. flowers and their meanings didn’t come easy to him, but the words he’d received told him these were the ones. the blond’s only hope was that his message would be received and returned.

+ “here, got these for you on the way back from my delivery, they’re um.. gardenias. make sure to change their water every other day or so, if you want them to last, of course..”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. daisy.

+ reasoning. daisies represent an innocent, cheerful and pure form of love. the kind of flowers you would pick fresh from the garden or a patch of grass to bring to the person you cherish most. they can also express true love, beauty and simplicity.

+ zack fair was true to his nickname — a puppy. despite his want for leaving the countryside to join SOLDIER, the days he would spend back home were all filled with memories that he would forever carry with him. a few that stood out most were the times he’d race up to you with a handful of daisies. despite their messy condition, and the apology he would laugh out for tripping on his way to you, his actions are filled with sincerity and love.. even if zack might not know what he’s given to you. with time, however, he will have realized the depth of his gifts.

+ “ahaha, sorry y/n! i didn’t see this rock on my way over, and i might have ruined the flowers a bit.. but they still smell nice! and i tried to salvage the good ones, y’see! peak condition!”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. aster.

+ reasoning. asters, according to myth were associated with a goddess that wept because there weren’t enough stars. the tears that fell became the star shaped flowers we call asters. on the contrary, they symbolize love, charm and sensitivity.

+ genesis rhapsodos — born poet, forced to soldier. flowers and their meanings didn’t fall far from the tree for a man with vast knowledge of the arts, literature and beauty. as someone with a keen interest in loveless, having analyzed and noted it to memory, asters came to be his first choice in conveying his love for you. the gift of the goddess, he would have concluded, and a perfect fit for the one who has captured his heart — you. and so, on his way back from a mission, a singular aster would have occupied his red, gloved hand as he presented it to you.

+ “a gift from the goddess for my beloved.. as flowers have long since disappeared off the face of midgar, amidst the filth and industrialization. are you pleased with my findings?”

ะ ྂ ❤︎ . ˚˖ you selected.. alstroemeria.

+ reasoning. alstroemerias convey loyalty, devotion, support and.. honor. the type of flower you give to remind someone of their strength when they fall on hard times. but, it is also said that receiving an extra sweet one, meant you were beloved.

+ angeal hewley wasn’t exactly one for frivolous love, a stark contrast otherwise, to his friend. the romance department just never really called his attention.. well, at least until he met you. somehow you sparked feelings in him that he wasn’t sure he was even capable of feeling strongly towards another person. it was strange, different.. but a good kind of different. however there was a downside — that being his lack of experience. his familiarity with romance was minimal, but he was determined to provide! and with outside help, he was acquired flowers.

+ “these are alstroemerias.. a mouthful, i know. but they used to grow back where i grew up, in banora. they said the sweeter ones are best to gift to your beloved — so here you are.”

notes. several hours of research and inconsistent writing later, i was able to finish your request.. love how NOBODY had roses but like anyway, this is the end results for agszc with flowers woop

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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ceruleanwind · 3 months ago

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what i want, you've got (and it might be hard to handle)

Chapter 2/2 | 9.7k | Read on AO3 | Read chapter 1 on Tumblr or AO3

The Threesome Chapter.

Max’s proposition lingers in both brothers’ minds for weeks after the event.

To be fair, Max is the only person that truly knows about them now, the only one with some semblance of an idea of what the Leclerc brothers do with each other behind closed doors. Arthur and Charles tease each other about it, their cheeks flushing red once they really consider the offer. They could call Max up anytime they wanted and he’d rush to come over—and the thought of that excites Charles, if he’s honest. He wants Max to see what he and Arthur get up to.

During one of their weeks off racing—Charles and Arthur have to coordinate when they can see each other considering their busy schedules—they both wind up back home in Monaco, lounging in Charles’ apartment for the weekend. Arthur’s in Charles’ lap on the couch, watching a shitty movie on TV while they wait for their take-out to arrive.

“We should call him,” Charles says out of the blue, giggling when Arthur whips his head around to look at him in shock. “What? It’s been weeks! He’s probably losing hope!” Charles decisively reaches for his phone, anticipation already tingling under his skin. If he does this, there’s really no coming back now—but taking Max up on his offer has been on Charles’ mind ever since he proposed it, and it has certainly been the subject of many of his and Arthur’s fantasies in the weeks that followed.

He opens his text message conversation with Max and scrolls through his photo library to find the perfect picture. It’s an impossible decision—Charles thinks he has lots of winners—but eventually he settles on something rather tame that leaves the viewer wanting more: it’s a photo of Arthur all spread out on the bed underneath him, three of Charles’ fingers buried in his mouth as deep as they’ll go. Arthur’s drooling around them like some sort of slut, his cheeks flushed and hair messy where it’s splayed across the crisp white sheets. God. Even looking at it makes Charles’ cock twitch as he adds it to the message, along with a short line of text: you’re in Monaco this weekend, right? we don’t want you to miss out on this again . . .

Charles’ phone chimes nearly the moment he goes to set it aside. Heart racing in his chest, he picks it up, stomach twisting when he sees Max’s name pop up on the screen.

Fuck, Max had simply typed, no emojis attached. Is this you finally asking for a third?

Charles bites his bottom lip and shows Arthur the text, grinning with excitement. “God,” he whispers, giddy nervousness making his hands shake. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Arthur’s jaw drops for a moment before he giggles too, glancing between the phone and his big brother. Max was the one that proposed this whole thing, sure, but now that it’s a stark reality, his nervousness sweeps up over him, threatening to drown him.

Charles giggles again, cheeks flushing hot as he imagines Max coming over and having his way with the both of them like he insinuated he'd do. He types out yeah. you know where my place is before tossing his phone aside on the couch, wrapping his arms around Arthur instead. “Fuck, I have no idea what to expect,” he breathes, rather worked up with fear and anticipation. “Bébé, are you already getting hard? I didn’t know you liked Max that much.”

Arthur whines at being caught red-handed with a semi rising to attention in his shorts already. He squirms in Charles’ lap, embarrassed at the question. “It’s—it’s not that, Charlie, I just—” he cuts himself off with a grumble, cheeks flushing hot. As loathe to admit it as he is, the thought does excite him; Max is an exceedingly attractive man, clearly interested in his and Charles’ relationship, and eager to join in on what’s kept a secret solely between the two of them. Arthur can only dream about how big Max’s cock is, how he might use that aura of dominance he exudes to order him and Charles around like they’re both his little toys.

“Oh, you are,” Charles teases, his hand settling over the obvious bulge in his baby brother’s shorts. “Maybe we should have done this a long time ago. What are you thinking about, hmm? I’m dying to know.” He grins innocently up at Arthur, his gaze searching. He’d be lying if he said he himself hadn’t been thinking about Max getting involved far before he pitched the idea in the first place; Max is really fucking hot, after all, and Charles knows damn well a word out of Max’s mouth will get his knees weak.

Arthur’s hips involuntarily twitch into the heat of Charles’ palm, arousal beginning to rapidly pool in his lower stomach. “He’d tease us, I bet,” Arthur says, breathless as he imagines it. “He’d tell us how depraved we are, how we’re brothers and shouldn’t be touching each other like this.” He pauses to whine, panting as he ruts into Charles’ hand. “And—his cock, Charlie, fuck—can’t stop thinking about it. Want him to order us around.”

Charles giggles as Arthur goes on and on about what he’s been thinking about. "He’s so confident, and hot, and—fuck, petit, how big do you think his dick is?" Charles bites his bottom lip again, eyes blown wide with lust and excitement. Every minute spent waiting for Max to arrive feels like an eternity, but Charles mitigates the anticipation by leaning forward to kiss Arthur, all slow and hot like how they make out when they have all the time in the world.

Arthur grins, gesturing out with his hands, spreading them almost a foot apart, giggling as he does so. “He’s probably so fucking big,” he murmurs against Charles’ lips before leaning into his kisses, continuing to rut into the addictive heat of Charles’ palm. God, it feels dirty to be talking about one of their colleagues like this, but all the shame in the world instantly evaporates once the fact sinks in that Max is on his way over right now. To have his way with the both of them.

“You wish,” Charles teases between kisses, his hands sliding up underneath Arthur's shirt, feeling along his baby brother’s pretty pale skin. Arthur is already so warm and easy and wanting, letting Charles press his tongue to his without a second thought. He obliges Arthur just a little, squeezing at his hard cock through his shorts and palming at him as he ruts into his lap. Arthur always makes the prettiest noises like this—high-pitched whimpers and whines—and Charles swallows them all greedily, every single one of them going straight to his cock.

Just as Charles is beginning to relax into it, getting a rhythm going, thumbs grazing against Arthur’s hardening nipples, a firm knock at the door makes him gasp. Max.

Charles pulls away, wide-eyed, his lips spit-soaked and kissed-out. He gently nudges Arthur off his lap so he can go get the door, nervousness twisting at his stomach as he goes.

“Hey,” Max says once the door opens. He’s dressed in a tight white shirt, the curve of his pecs and waist prominent through the cotton, and a pair of equally tight jeans. His eyes narrow when he lays eyes on Charles, then his gaze flits behind him to Arthur on the couch, both brothers looking dishevelled, and he smiles. “Don’t tell me you started without me.”

Arthur crosses his legs on the couch, tugging his shirt up over his obvious erection. God, he already feels fucking dumb in Max’s presence and Max has only said one sentence out loud. “It was Charles’ idea,” he quips, his smile bratty and teasing as he points with his thumb to his older brother. He’ll never pass up an opportunity to push Charles’ buttons.

Charles stands aside to let Max in, cheeks already flushing hot with embarrassment. Seriously, Max is just standing here and he’s already ready to melt into a fucking puddle. It’s downright humiliating and Charles finds himself liking it.

“Oh, really?” Max asks, laughing softly as his gaze flits from Charles to Arthur and then back to Charles. “I don’t think so. I can see that, Arthur.” He shifts his gaze, glancing pointedly at the hard-on tenting Arthur’s shorts, then reaches to take hold of Charles’ bicep, firmly guiding him back over to the couch. “You two are gonna keep doing what you were doing before I got here, and I’m going to watch.” Max sits himself down on the couch on the other end from Arthur and crosses his arms in front of his built chest, looking at them both expectantly.

Arthur’s lips part in a mixture of shock and embarrassment, his cock twitching underneath Max’s gaze. With Max looking at him like this, he feels more exposed than he does when he’s naked; it’s intoxicating how easily Max can take control of the situation, order the two of them about as if it’s second nature to him.

Charles obeys Max so eagerly, as if he’s always meant to. He wastes no time in sinking back into the couch cushions, manhandling his baby brother into his lap and feeling the line of Arthur’s cock hard against his thigh. He takes Arthur’s face between his hands and kisses him again, a hot, open-mouthed affair, tongues pressing hurriedly against one another.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Max says, voice low and rumbly from the other side of the couch, his smile audible. “I suspected you two had something going on, you know. It’s not normal to see two brothers touching each other the way you do.” He takes in a deep breath of air, then lets it out in a sigh. “Charles, touch your little brother a little, won’t you? Look at him—he’s practically gagging for it.”

Not even breaking the kiss to question Max, Charles slips one hand below Arthur’s waistband and teases at his cock over the thin material of his boxers. Arthur’s already a little wet, pre-come drooling from the tip of his cock, and it only spurs Charles on, dragging his thumb over the wet spot on the fabric.

“Charlie,” Arthur whines between kisses, his hips twitching into Charles’ touch. The slow drag of Charles’ thumb across the tip of his cock is so deliciously stimulating and it makes Arthur arch his back, cheeks flushing a pretty embarrassed pink. It’s one thing to do this with Charles behind closed doors where no one can see, their secret safe with each other, but with Max watching, Arthur feels something dark and feral gnaw at his stomach. He can’t stop thinking about the way Max talks to them, tells them what they’re doing is wrong; simply listening to him and letting the words sink in makes Arthur needy to come despite having only just started.

Max laughs, so deep and hot and thoroughly infuriating. “Is he always like this, Charles?” he asks, although he isn’t exactly expecting a reply. “Look at him. Look at how desperate he is for you. Or maybe he’s just putting on a show for me?” Max watches them for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he debates pushing further. He does. “That must be it. You two wanted me to watch, tell you how wrong this is. Is that it?”

Charles whimpers, wholly humiliated by how Max sees right through them. He breaks the kiss for a moment, hand still working at the front of Arthur’s wet boxers. “He—he is,” he says, voice shaking with it. He can’t stop thinking about how Max talks about Arthur like he’s not even there. “You should see how he begs for me, Max.”

Five minutes into this fucked up scene and Arthur thinks he might die from the way Max and Charles talk about him like he’s nothing but their little toy, their slut who deserves no input. He moans, hips shifting forward to seek out more friction from Charles’ warm palm, his cock fucking aching in his wet boxers. If there’s one thing Arthur can do well in this world, it’s beg, and he does just that, giving Charles his biggest, glassiest eyes and pursing his lips in a pout. “More, Charlie, please,” he breathes, feeling Max’s gaze burn into his back. “Please. Need you so bad it hurts.”

Charles turns his head to look at Max, smiling as if to say, see? and not letting up on how he’s teasing at Arthur’s cock.

Max smiles sweetly right back, splaying his thighs just the tiniest bit apart where he’s sitting on the couch. Without any hesitation, Charles’ eyes fly to Max’s crotch, where his cock is just beginning to perk up in his jeans. “You're right, Charles, he does beg so nicely,” he says, glowing with approval. He watches them for a few more long moments, then looks at Charles strangely. “So . . . aren’t you going to do what he’s begging you for? Come on. Let’s put that pretty mouth to use. I bet he’ll cry once you get your mouth on his needy cock.”

Arthur downright whimpers at the suggestion, hips thrusting wildly into Charles’ hand. “Please, Charlie, need your mouth so bad,” he begs, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He feels perpetually teased by both Charles and Max in this moment, aching to finally get some long-needed relief. Arthur shifts his frantic gaze to Max, and somehow it’s just as easy to beg Max as it is to beg his older brother. “Make him hurry up, Max, please, I can’t wait anymore,” he breathes, dragging out the last word in a whine. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this turned-on in his life; Max being right here, watching their every move with those calculating blue eyes has Arthur feeling deliciously on-edge. Why hadn’t he and Charles done this sooner?

“Oh,” Max says, laughing again and resting the palm of one big hand over the bulge forming in his jeans, “he’s got a bit of a mouth on him, too, huh?” Even though Arthur is speaking directly to him, he can’t help but keep treating Arthur as if he’s nothing but a toy. “You heard him, Charles. Hurry up now. I don’t like to be kept waiting, especially if it’s two pretty things like you.”

Charles nods, immediately obeying, and lifts Arthur off his lap long enough to slide off the couch and onto his knees. It’s easy for him to undo Arthur’s shorts and slide them off him—it’s a dance they’ve done a thousand times before—but doing all this under Max’s watchful eye is so much more embarrassing. “Don't worry, bébé,” he breathes, finally talking directly to Arthur now, “I’ve got you, okay?” He pulls back Arthur's boxers, letting his flushed, leaking cock spring free, and wastes no time in getting his mouth on it, letting the head sit upon his tongue.

Arthur can’t help but babble the moment Charles gets his cock in his mouth. “Thank you, Charlie, thank you, fuck, you’re so good to me, so so good,” he whines, his hands flying to grab at Charles’ hair. Charles’ mouth feels downright heavenly around his cock and it takes all of Arthur’s self-control not to fuck into it like an animal in heat, chasing that delicious hot wet friction against his aching cock.

Max greedily takes in the sight, watches as Charles takes his baby brother’s cock into his mouth. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, the praise soft as he finally makes eye contact with Arthur, talking right to him now. “Tell him what a good job he’s doing. Isn’t he such a perfect older brother? Look at me, Arthur.” Max’s gaze is intense, so casually dominant. “Tell me. Were you thinking about this as much as I was? Did you want me to watch your brother fuck you?”

Charles whimpers around Arthur’s cock as he hears Max and Arthur talking about him like he’s the toy now. With a cock in his mouth, all he can do is focus on making Arthur feel good, dragging his hot tongue up the length of it and teasing at the slit before dipping back down. Max’s praise sends wave after wave of heat to his already throbbing cock and it’s infuriating.

God, Arthur doesn’t think it’s ever been this difficult to look at Max—but to be fair, he hadn’t ever had to talk to Max while his big brother was sucking him off. “Fuck—yes, yes, I was, Max. Couldn’t stop thinking about it since you found us. Want you to watch him fuck me—ah, please. See me all spread out on my big brother’s cock.” The words feel filthy as they tumble from Arthur’s mouth, but like this, with his orgasm rapidly approaching, he can’t bring himself to care. His voice pitches up as he obeys Max and whines to Charles, “Feels so good, Charlie, fuck, can’t get enough of your mouth. So good to me, so good, please make me come, ah—love you so much . . .”

Max stares at him, silent for a few long moments. “Good,” he says, grinning, then nods to how Arthur’s thighs tremble with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Stop, Charles.” The command comes out soft yet firm, easily dominant just like the rest of him. “We can’t have him coming yet. That wouldn’t be very much fun.”

Charles pulls off Arthur’s cock with a wet pop, his lips and chin soaked with spit. He looks at Arthur regretfully, a wordless I’m sorry, and murmurs, “I love you too,” his voice raspy from the cock that was just down his throat.

Max emits a sigh again, getting up off the couch and rising to his full height. He casually approaches where Charles is still on his knees and runs his fingers gently through his hair. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable,” he urges.

Arthur lets his hands slip from Charles’ hair, crestfallen at being denied the sweet relief of an orgasm, but some part of him understands, knows that when he’s finally allowed to come tonight, it’ll be a lot better than just having his brother’s mouth on him. God, Max is so nonchalantly dominant that it makes Arthur’s stomach twist, his spit-slick cock twitching in the cool air. His command has Arthur immediately scrambling to obey, tucking his cock back into his shorts before following Charles and Max into the bedroom.

Charles reaches to wrap an arm around Arthur’s waist as they head to the bedroom, fitting himself against his baby brother’s side. He feels so small, so humiliated in Max’s presence that it drives him up the wall. Once in the bedroom, Charles climbs right up onto the bed, kneeling on the plush mattress and waiting for Max’s orders. It's striking how quickly Charles’ demeanour can change; one day he could be ordering Arthur around just like this, but whenever Max is around, Charles’ muscles go weak and he’s made to obey like some sort of pet.

“That’s right, you can get up there,” Max encourages, watching as the brothers climb up onto the bed. “Charles, take your brother’s clothes off first. I think we both want to see how pretty he is without everything covering him.”

Charles bites his lip, obeying without question. He runs his hands up underneath Arthur’s shirt before sliding it easily over his head and tossing it to the side, then moving onto his shorts.

Even when all Charles has done is take his shirt off, Arthur feels so exposed under Max’s watchful eye, almost wanting to wrap his arms around himself and cover up as if they’ve both walked in on him changing. The air feels thick and heavy with want as Arthur pants for more, lifting himself off the bed to help Charles undress him. He’s so easy like this, preening under the attention despite his embarrassment; he’d like nothing more than for Charles and Max to have their way with him right here and now, and thankfully, he knows that’s what he’ll get.

Max hums in approval once Charles strips Arthur of his boxers, leaving him completely naked. He rakes his gaze over Arthur’s body, taking in every inch of it. He’s lean and pretty, and his cock, while not big, is adorably flushed and hard and leaking against his stomach, still slick with spit and pre-come. “He’s so pretty, Charles. Look at him. Tell him how pretty he is.”

Charles swallows thickly, gaze darting between Max and Arthur before Max tells him to look at his baby brother. He runs his hands up Arthur’s sides, leaning in to kiss him briefly. “You’re so beautiful, petit,” he breathes, the praise coming easy to him. “You’re my everything. I love you so much.”

Arthur has to take a deep breath, stomach turning under both Charles’ and Max’s eyes, but he certainly can’t deny that Charles’ words soothe him. He smiles, pretty and soft as the sun’s rays, and murmurs back, “I love you more, Charlie. You’re the best big brother I could ask for,” before he purses his lips and meets Charles’ mouth in a kiss. The intimacy of the moment is striking, even with Max watching on as if he’s been given the greatest gift of his life.

“Aren’t you two sweet,” Max hums, smiling as he perches himself on the other end of the bed, perhaps a little too close for comfort. “The world would be shocked if they found out the Leclerc brothers are in a very serious relationship. Arthur, take Charles’ clothes off now, will you? We can’t have him feeling left out.”

Charles eagerly helps Arthur along, slipping his clothes off even as Max watches on. His words, although taunting, go straight to Charles’ cock. What would the world think? People would talk, surely, say they’re disgusting and immoral. Their careers would be finished the second their teams found out. And what of it? Charles doesn’t think he’d let Arthur go—not even then.

Arthur’s never been so grateful for his big brother’s help because fuck, his hands shake with the prospect of the world finding out the truth. Max is right and Charles knows it scares Arthur more than anything. He can picture the press outside their apartment building, knocking at their windows, microphones and cameras in their faces the moment they dare to step outside, tabloids upon tabloids with their faces on the cover. Arthur has to silently thank Max for being just as depraved as they are because if not, both of their careers would be over faster than he could blink.

“Hey,” Max says, shifting closer on the bed and sliding his hand up over Arthur’s bare back, touching him for the very first time. “I can practically hear you worrying. I won’t tell anyone. Just means I get to see this all for myself, and I quite like that.” His hand on Arthur's back slips lower, down his spine, then around his hip to his front before Max’s warm fingertips graze the sensitive skin of his cock. “So hard, aren’t you? Missing your brother’s mouth on you?” He laughs, dragging his thumb roughly over the tip of Arthur’s cock before lifting off. “Maybe you should ask him to fuck you instead.”

“Fuck,” Arthur breathes, feeling himself relax into Max’s touch. Not only does Max know exactly what to say to get him riled up to near-tears, but he also knows how to pull Arthur right out of his own head, telling him gently to focus on the moment. His thumb against the wet tip of Arthur’s cock hurts in the best way, making Arthur cry out, his desperation back in full swing. “Charlie,” he begs, breathless as his hips twitch into Max’s touch, “please. Need you inside me so bad—haven’t I been good? Please. I’ve been good for you both, please.”

Charles, now fully naked under Max’s gaze too, nods and leans in for a few kisses. They kiss a few times, slowly, just tasting each other, and Charles thinks he can feel Max hungrily looking on. He swears Max would eat them if he could. “You’ll look so pretty, bébé,” he whispers, thumb stroking across Arthur’s flushed cheek.

“Let’s get him on his hands and knees, Charles,” Max orders, and passes him a bottle of lube. Charles hadn’t even noticed Max bring that in. “Finger him open for me, show me he’s able to take your cock. Or my cock.” His teeth catch on his bottom lip. Max knows damn well they’ve both been thinking about his cock, and right now he’s rock fucking hard.

“You heard him, petit,” Charles murmurs, leaning in to steal one last kiss. “On your hands and knees.”

Arthur shakes with excitement as he hauls himself up to assume his position, spreading himself out on his hands and knees. He splays his thighs just the tiniest bit apart, arching his spine to show off the pert and pretty curve of his ass and tries not to show just how much he has been thinking about Max’s cock, how he’s been dreaming about taking it like the good little whore he is.

Charles squeezes some lube out onto his fingers and teases one finger between Arthur’s cheeks, slipping the tip of his index finger just inside his hole. He’s tight and warm like always, maybe more relaxed than usual since they’d fucked this morning, but Charles will never stop loving it. It’s easy for him to add a second finger, spreading Arthur apart and delighting in the pretty noises his baby brother makes when he does.

“Charles,” Max says, shifting closer on his knees, “are you getting stage fright? That’s a pathetic excuse for fingering your little brother open. Here.” One of Max’s big warm hands settles on the small of Arthur’s back and the other wraps around Charles’ wrist, guiding him to fuck into Arthur deeper with his fingers, twisting his wrist as he goes. “Now curl them,” he whispers, and Charles obeys, taking the initiative to add a third finger too, Arthur taking it all.

Goosebumps erupt all over Arthur’s skin once Max’s hand lays warm over his back. He draws in a sharp gasp as Charles’ fingers nudge into his prostate, the sudden onslaught of pleasure setting his nerves on fire and sending his back into a delicious arch. “Fuck, ah—right there,” he whines, cock aching with how badly he needs to be fucked. Arthur can’t get enough of how Charles and Max treat him as if he’s just their toy, their little plaything to have fun with.

Max laughs softly, petting along Arthur’s back, following the curve of his spine. “You take it so well,” he coos. “I can’t wait to see your brother fuck you. Charles, that's enough. Get him on his back and fuck him, please. I think he might die if you don’t." He lets his touch slip from Arthur's back and Charles’ wrist, retreating back to his spot at the end of the bed.

Charles obliges, taking his fingers out and turning Arthur over to his back. His baby brother looks so pretty like this, soft blondish hair splayed across the white sheets, thighs spread to show off his leaking cock and slick little hole. Charles coats his cock with lube, wincing at how cold it is against his skin, and presses the head of it into Arthur’s hole, gasping at how fucking good it feels after being so hard and desperate for so long.

Arthur can’t help but cry out in sheer relief when Charles’ massive cockhead slips into him, forcing his silky walls apart in the best way. “Please, Charlie, need all of it,” he begs, debauched, gazing up at Charles with his biggest, glassiest eyes. “I can have it, can’t I? Haven’t I been good?” He fists at the sheets, breath catching in his throat as Charles sinks further into his hole.

Charles listens, of course—always the doting big brother—and pushes his cock steadily, inch by inch, into Arthur’s tight little hole. He’s so slick and desperate and warm like this, begging pathetically for it, and who would Charles be to refuse, especially when Max has his eyes on them both? “Of course, mon petit,” he whispers shakily, bottoming out inside him and leaning down to kiss Arthur again. He can’t get enough of kissing him when they’re like this, connected as brothers in the most intimate way possible.

“You two look so good together,” Max says, and for the first time tonight his voice shakes. Charles casts a surprised glance in his direction only to see Max brazenly palming himself through his jeans, hips twitching up to meet his hand, and his cock looks huge through the fabric. Charles’ mouth waters at the thought of it. “That’s right, Charles. Keep fucking him. You wouldn’t leave your baby brother hanging, would you?”

Arthur feels so full that he thinks he might burst. No matter how many times he and Charles do this, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop fearing that he might split apart one day from how big Charles’ cock is inside him. “Please,” he whines, nearly babbling now as his hole clenches around Charles’ cock, “need you to move, Charlie, please please fuck me. I’ve been good, please, I’m your baby, I promise.”

Max smiles warmly, reaches over to ruffle Arthur’s hair where he's lying all spread out, being fucked open by his very own brother. “He’s right, Charles,” he says, stroking Arthur’s hair, feeling it soft around his fingers. “He’s been so good tonight, for both of us. I think it’s only fair that you give him his reward, yeah?” He shifts again, rounding to the other side of the bed to slip in behind Charles, getting his fingers around the base of Charles’ cock and helping him press his way in. “That’s it. Until I’m touching him.”

Charles moans at the touch of Max’s fingers to his cock, slim and supple yet strong at the same time, from a lifetime of racing cars. He tries to focus on pushing into Arthur to the hilt with each thrust, pressing into him until Max’s fingers meet Arthur’s skin, but at the same time he feels Max mouthing at his neck and it’s all so much. “Fuck,” he whines, his movements erratic, but he thinks Arthur is enjoying it all the same.

While Arthur is normally shy about being too loud, Max and Charles almost make him want to be. He moans with each push of Charles’ cock into his hole, feeling Max’s fingers against his skin every time. Arthur has to swallow around the drool that floods his mouth at just how insane this is. “You fill me so well, Charles,” he breathes, mouth hanging open as he pants with it. He hopes his eyes, big and wide and wet, convey just how much more of this he wants.

“I bet your brother would do anything for you, Arthur,” Max goes on, fingers still wrapped around Charles’ cock as he fucks into him. “He’s so hard, I can feel it. He can’t get enough of you. But why would he, when you’re always so pretty, laid out just for him to fuck?” Max laughs softly, his other hand on Charles’ hip keeping his pace steady.

Charles thinks he wants to cry out of embarrassment. He can feel Max’s clothed erection pressing up against his bare ass and it’s all so terribly distracting. Max’s eyes are trained on where his cock disappears rhythmically into Arthur’s hole, filling him up like his life depends on it. “Fuck, petit, you feel so good,” he moans, tilting his head back and whining when he feels Max’s lips on his neck again.

Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to unhear the way Max calls him pretty, praises how easy he is for his big brother. He chokes back a cry, wishing he could melt into the mattress. “He’s the best big brother, Max,” he pants, breath lodging in his throat at a particularly hard thrust. “He’s so good to me. Spoils me so much.” His cock twitches against his stomach, the head drooling out another bead of pre-come at the praise that fills the air.

“He’s so good to you,” Max agrees, speaking low and soft and downright alluring. “And you two look so pretty together. It feels wrong, doesn’t it? Kissing your brother? Letting him fuck you? Or maybe you’re beyond that. I think you’re proud of it, Arthur.” Max can’t seem to find where to stop, the words falling readily from his lips, but he thinks all his words ring true. “But I don’t think that’s all. You were so excited when I showed up tonight, weren’t you? Have you been thinking about me, too?”

Charles whines, each further word from Max going straight to his cock. He fucks desperately into Arthur, his hips stuttering as he tries his best to focus on a rhythm, but Max is—he’s fucking hot, and dominant, and knows just how to toy with them both, play with them like they’re his puppets. Charles can’t get him out of his head.

Arthur tilts his head back into the sheets, his cheeks flushing hot as the words spill out of him. “Yes, Max,” he breathes, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, “couldn’t stop thinking about your cock. Ever since you found us I’ve wanted you to insult us, tell us how horrible we are.” Arthur pants desperately as Charles fucks him, scrabbling at the sheets for purchase. He can’t get enough of how Max sees right through them, sees right through their façade of a normal brotherly relationship. Max knows the real them, and it makes Arthur want to come just thinking about it.

Max finally lets go of Charles, lets his cock slip from his fingers, but encourages Charles to keep fucking his brother nonetheless. He shifts to lift his tight white shirt over his head before moving onto his jeans, tossing those aside to only leave him in his boxers, his cock obscenely tenting them. “That’s it, Charles, I can tell he’s close,” he murmurs, still eyeing them hungrily, but now he palms at himself through his boxers, the massive length of his cock quite visible through the thin fabric. “Make him come.”

Charles wouldn’t ever dream of doing otherwise. As he fucks Arthur, he reaches between their bodies to get a hand around his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. He can tell Arthur’s close by the way his thighs shake, his mouth dropping open in sheer pleasure. Charles wants nothing more than to watch his brother come all over his gorgeous slim stomach.

As Arthur nears his orgasm, he squirms, thighs trembling as Charles strokes roughly at his aching cock. “Gonna come, Charlie,” he whines, mouth hanging open as he arches his back in pleasure. “Please make me come, please, please.”

Charles pants, his pace relentless, and he snaps his head up to look at Max for permission despite him making the order just a moment ago.

“Yes, Charles,” Max says softly, his own breath coming a little heavier now as he palms himself through his boxers. “Make him come. He’ll make such a pretty mess, won’t he?”

That’s all Charles needs to finish the job. He watches in awe, wide-eyed, as Arthur shoots out all across his pale stomach, moaning and crying as he goes. Charles thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s close himself; he thinks he can only hold on for a few more deep strokes into Arthur’s tight hole before he fills his baby brother up like he’s been begging for all night.

Arthur flushes once he comes all over himself, making a big mess of his pretty, unblemished skin. He wants to cry at how good this is, how much it is; Charles doesn’t let up with how hard he’s fucking into him and Arthur’s thighs twitch with overstimulation. “Come in me, Charles, please—knock me up. I’ve been good, I’ve been good.” He utters his plea aloud before he’s able to censor himself—should he really say something like that with Max right there? Arthur’s teeth worry at his bottom lip, eyes glazing over as Charles uses him.

Max’s breath hitches and Arthur’s slutty pleas are all he needs to slide his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, taking his cock into his hand for real this time. “Fuck,” he mutters out loud, jerking himself off properly, “you wanna be bred, Arthur? You want your brother to fuck a baby into you? Fuck.” He has to take a deep breath, tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight in front of him. “You can come, Charles. Knock your little brother up.”

When Charles gets Max’s permission, he comes right there on the spot with a choked cry, filling his brother’s tight little hole with it. The orgasm is so strong it sets his nerves on fire, pleasure washing through his body as his hips stutter through it. It’s too fucking good, the mix of bliss and humiliation, and Charles wonders why they hadn’t done this sooner.

“Fuck,” Arthur curses under his breath once Charles slows to a stop. Max’s words make his spent cock twitch up to attention once again against his messy stomach—it’s really like he’s nothing but Charles’ and Max’s toy for them to play with, to fuck into and come in. Arthur loves it. “Feel so full, Charlie. Feel so round with your babies.”

“God, you look round with it, too,” Max says, taking his hand out of his boxers and instead reaching to slide it across Arthur’s tummy, covered in his own slick, and he settles it over the slight bulge in his lower stomach. “Arthur, do you think your big brother knows how to share? I want to see if you’d look as pretty taking my cock as you did taking his. What do you think?”

Charles, still buried to the hilt inside Arthur, gasps softly at Max’s words. Max wants to fuck Arthur, right in front of him? He tries not to think about how fucking hot that idea is, seeing Arthur squirming and moaning as he’s split open on Max’s massive cock. “I know how to share,” he says, and it comes out so pathetically whiny. “I’m really good at it, Max. I promise.”

Arthur nods, frantic, his hole clenching around Charles’ cock as he imagines taking Max’s huge length inside him. He’s even bigger than Charles and that drives Arthur wild to think about. “He knows how to share, Max, I promise,” Arthur whines. He fears he might die if Max doesn’t fuck him open right in front of his big brother. “Please, Max, I need to take your cock too. I can do it.”

Max laughs softly, patting Arthur’s stomach before bringing his come-covered hand up to Arthur’s mouth. Immediately, Arthur’s tongue darts out to clean up his mess, his skilled tongue dipping and teasing between Max’s fingers. “That’s what I thought,” Max says, smiling. “Charles, pull out of him. I want to see how well you filled him up.”

Charles immediately obeys, slowly pulling out of Arthur’s fucked-out hole with a wince. Immediately, he can see the creampie leaking out of him, and while normally he’d chase it with his tongue, he’d much rather see Max fuck right back into him around that fresh slick. “I’ll watch, please,” he begs, already taking hold of his slick cock. “Wanna see him take it, Max.”

“You two are so perfect,” Max praises, soft and reverent as he slides his boxers off to expose his huge cock for the very first time. It takes a few long moments for him to cover it in lube, but soon enough he’s fitting his enormous cockhead against Arthur’s slick rim.

Arthur shudders as he feels Max’s cockhead press against his wet hole. Fuck, he knew Max was big, but for a moment Arthur panics, worrying that he might not be able to take Max after all. “Fuck, Charlie, he’s so big,” he breathes in a mixture of fear and excitement. “Exactly what I wanted. I was right, wasn’t I? Oh my God.”

“Bet you’ve been thinking about this ever since I found you two at that dinner,” Max taunts as he slowly pushes his cock into Arthur, using Charles’ creampie as extra slick to help him along, Arthur’s hole fluttering around him as he tries to adjust. “You’ve been getting off to the thought of me telling you two how disgusting you are, what whores you are. Am I right?” Max quite enjoys having all his attention on Arthur. He playfully rubs his thumb across Arthur’s nipple, delighting in how it eagerly perks up under his touch.

While Charles wants to be jealous at how Max touches his little brother, he can’t look away from how Max’s huge cock disappears inside Arthur’s needy little hole. Arthur’s taking him so well and it gets Charles so impossibly hot. “Fuck, petit, isn’t he big?” he breathes, wetting his lips. “You take him so well. Look at you.”

Arthur thinks he might choke on Max’s cock despite Max fucking his hole rather than his mouth. It’s so fucking big, much bigger than Charles, and Arthur thinks Max might genuinely kill him with his size. He tries his best to relax, let Max’s cock part the slick walls of his hole, but God, Arthur hasn’t taken anything this big before. “Max, yes, yes—you’re right, you’re so right. Can’t stop thinking about you watching us, insulting us.” He has to force the words out—he can practically feel Max’s cock in his throat—but when Max rewards him with a gentle push of his hips he thinks it’s all worth it.

Max smiles, thumb still grazing Arthur’s nipple as he pushes steadily into him, bottoming out within moments. Arthur is so tight and slick and delicious around him, clenching down with every shift of Max’s cock. “There, you took it so well,” he praises, taking in every inch of Arthur’s beautiful needy face, lips parted on a whine. “I think maybe we need to put your pretty mouth to work now, don’t you? Charles, come here. I want your brother to get his mouth around you while I fuck him.”

Charles’ stomach twists at the thought of him and Max using both of Arthur’s holes at the same time. It’s so wrong, he thinks, but his body takes over for his brain and he’s shifting on the bed to feed the first inch of his cock into Arthur’s awaiting mouth.

Tears prick at the corners of Arthur’s eyes as Charles forces his cock into his mouth, all hot and wet and perfect. Max thrusts into him at just the same time and it makes Arthur cry out around Charles’ cock, strangled and muffled around Charles’ huge length. He shuts up and takes it regardless, his cock twitching against his stomach at being used like this, drooling pre-come out over his skin. It’s easy for him to put his mouth to work, eyes slipping shut as he traces up Charles’ cock with his tongue.

“Oh,” Max breathes, panting as he slowly pulls back before pushing back into Arthur’s tight hole, “look at that. He’s got a greedy little mouth on him, doesn’t he, Charles?” He takes Arthur’s thighs into his hands, squeezing tight, fingertips sure to leave bruises there by tomorrow morning, and fucks into him around the creampie Charles had left, the sound of it obscene in the otherwise quiet room. “He's born to take it, I think. Meant to always have two cocks filling his holes, huh?”

Charles nearly goes dizzy at Max’s words, and pleasure immediately shoots up his spine at how good Arthur’s mouth feels around his sensitive cock. He’s eager to fuck deeper into Arthur’s mouth, pushing in until he’s choking with it. “Yes,” he gasps out in response to Max, breathless from everything that's happening. “He is. He loves us filling him like this, Max.” Charles tilts his head back, panting with the pleasure. It’s all so much.

Arthur’s thighs tremble in Max’s hands, shaking with how good they both fuck him. He was born for this, he thinks. Born to be caught between Charles and Max, born to take cock in both of his slutty holes, born not to be just Charles’ little brother but also to be his fucktoy. He moans around Charles’ cock, back arching as Max fucks right up into his prostate, and hopes to whatever God is out there that this won’t be the last time he finds himself in the middle of Charles and Max.

“I bet he won’t last long at all,” Max goes on, a taunting lilt to his voice as he laughs and fucks into Arthur harder. “He’s a little whore, isn’t he, Charles? Taking us both so well. Look at his cute little cock.” He smiles and focuses his attention on Arthur’s cock, hard and leaking, as it bounces against his stomach with each thrust. Max’s cock is so big, pushing deep into Arthur and once again seeking out the spot that’ll surely push him over the edge.

Charles gasps with pleasure, whining out loud as his little brother's tongue laves all over his cock. It’s so good, he thinks, just like under the table at that dinner, the dinner where Max found out about them. “He is,” he manages to whimper in response, thighs shaking as he thrusts gently in and out of Arthur’s mouth. “Always begs for me so pretty, Max. I can’t help but be a good older brother and give him what he wants.”

By the shaking of his thighs and the tears running down his cheeks, Max can tell Arthur is close, and honestly, he is too after watching the gorgeous show the two brothers put on for him tonight. He gets one hand around Arthur’s wet little cock and strokes it as he fucks him, being sure to nudge up into his prostate with each thrust. “Are you close, baby?” he asks, although he certainly isn't expecting an answer with how full of cock Arthur’s mouth is. “Come for us. Come for me and your big brother, show us what a mess you can make.”

Charles’ gentle thrusts into Arthur’s mouth become more erratic as he nears his own orgasm. Arthur looks so pretty with tears in his eyes and drool running down his chin as he takes everything that’s given to him. The sight alone shoves Charles towards the edge, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels his orgasm approach him like a massive wave.

Arthur certainly doesn’t need Max to tell him again. With a few more strokes against his cock and the relentless push of Max’s cock into his ruined hole, Arthur cries out against Charles’ cock and comes onto Max’s fist. He’s always the first to come—so easy to please—and it makes him feel like a fucking slut, nothing but a pathetic toy for Charles and Max to use. He’s obsessed with the idea of Max coming inside him too, his come mixing with his big brother’s and stuffing him full. Arthur drools around Charles’ cock, trying his best to swallow around it as Charles thrusts into his mouth.

The vibrations of his baby brother’s whine against his cock is all it takes for Charles to tip over the edge, coming hard right down Arthur’s throat. His incessant thrusting into Arthur’s mouth doesn't slow, however—he desperately rides out his orgasm even when he hears Max’s amused chuckle from behind him. “Fuck,” he whines, choking out an overstimulated sob. It’s so good, but also so much. The knowledge of Max watching all this is nearly too much for him.

Max is pretty damn close himself. He swears softly under his breath and with a few more deep strokes into Arthur’s tight hole, he comes too, filling Arthur right up with it. As he fucks it into him, the sounds are obscene from his come mixing with Charles’ inside him. It’s the hottest thing Max has ever seen, and ever heard. He thanks his lucky stars that he was able to piece together the two brothers’ true relationship himself.

Arthur can’t stop whimpering and whining underneath the both of them, feeling so pathetically fucked-out and full. Max’s come mixing with Charles’ inside him feels better than Arthur ever thought it would and he selfishly wishes he could keep it forever, always feel stuffed with their babies.

Charles slowly takes his cock out of Arthur’s mouth once he’d swallowed all his come, leaving his lips spit-soaked and flushed such a pretty red. He runs his fingers slowly through Arthur’s hair, suddenly overcome by affection for his sweet little brother, always behaving so well for him. “I told you he could take it, Max,” Charles says, but doesn’t take his eyes away from Arthur’s face; he looks down at Arthur fondly, shifting around on the bed so he can lean down and kiss his brother properly.

“Oh, I didn’t doubt it for a second,” Max says, sounding exceedingly pleased. He pulls out of Arthur’s tight little hole and rejoices in the sight of his and Charles’ come leaking out of him, making even more of a mess of the sheets. “He was so good for us, wasn’t he? That’s it, Charles. I love when you treat him all sweet.” If Max wasn’t already thoroughly exhausted, his cock would have surely been hardening up again simply at the sight of the two brothers kissing. It’s sick and perverted in just the right way that keeps drawing Max in.

A soft sigh falls from Arthur’s lips as he melts into his big brother’s touch, mouth feeling used and fucked-out as he purses his lips for a kiss. He’ll never get enough of the way Charles looks at him, as if he’s his everything. He’s weak for Charles like this—weak for his fingers in his hair, weak for the way he calls him petit and bébé, weak for the way they love despite being brothers. Arthur doesn’t think he wants to be anything else.

Max watches them hungrily, and while for a moment he thought he was exhausted after such a great fuck, his cock twitches back to attention against his stomach. He moves aside, casually leaning back against the pillows on the bed, and wraps one hand around his stiffening cock. Not moving, yet, but waiting. “Charles, you'll help your little brother clean up, won't you?” he asks, his voice soft and honey-sweet.

Charles nods, pulling away from the kiss just long enough to gaze over Arthur’s pretty face once more. He looks ruined—tear tracks drying on his face, lips slick with spit and come, hair beautifully messy—and Charles has never seen anything more gorgeous. “Of course,” he responds, and moves to get up, but that’s when he notices Max sitting at the head of the bed. He’s watching them. With a hand around himself. He gets off on this. Charles’ stomach twists, but he makes his way to the bathroom to get a damp washcloth anyway. If Max wants a show, he and Arthur will put one on for him.

As Charles heads to the bathroom, he can practically feel Max’s gaze burning a hole into his back. He returns with a damp washcloth and tries not to think about how Max is watching them, touching himself to the sight of him being sweet and taking care of his little brother. “You were so good for us, petit,” he praises softly, running the cloth over Arthur’s skin and mopping up all the sticky come that had landed on his stomach and thighs. “You're so pretty. I love you.”

Max’s cock twitches again in his hand as he greedily watches the show. The two brothers saying I love you to each other is dirty in the best way and it makes Max start to move, lazily stroking the massive length of his cock as he watches. “Aren’t you sweet?” he practically purrs, grinning as Charles leans down to kiss Arthur once again. “Arthur, isn’t your big brother just so good to you?”

Arthur smiles up at Charles, soft and vulnerable, as Charles cleans him up, running the cloth over his messy skin. He can spot Max out of the corner of his eye, lazily stroking his cock to the affection he receives from his brother, and it nearly makes Arthur dizzy to think about. “I love you too, Charlie,” he whispers, and his gaze is so horribly lovesick as he does. He turns his head to Max, a smile crossing his face. “Of course, Max, he’s so sweet to me,” he says. “Always takes care of me like this. He’s the perfect big brother.”

Max hums approvingly, still keeping that same slow, lazy pace on his cock. He’s simply enjoying himself, now, and he’s glad that Charles and Arthur seem to be as well. “I bet it’s been that way since you two were kids, huh?” he asks, his gaze flitting down to Arthur’s fucked-out hole. “Oh, Charles, you missed a spot. Clean him up properly like the good big brother you are.”

Charles glances over at Max in surprise, unsure of what he means, but it suddenly clicks in his head and his cheeks flush an embarrassing shade of pink. He nods, eager to please Max and hear more of his praise, and shuffles down on the bed so he can lap up the mixture of his and Max’s come right from his baby brother’s pretty little hole. He’s tentative at first, the knowledge of Max watching him making him blush, but the taste of all three of them together spurs Charles on.

Arthur whimpers weakly once he feels Charles’ tongue at his hole, warm and wet and soft as he licks up the mess. He resists the urge to bring his thighs together around Charles’ head, flushing a pretty pink with embarrassment at just how dirty this feels. “Charlie,” he can’t help but whine, reaching down to grab at Charles’ hair. Everything feels so warm and with Max watching, Arthur thinks he might die at how good it is.

Max pants softly, his hand quickening on his cock. God, he always swears this can’t get any hotter and then it does. The Leclerc brothers are obviously very receptive to his orders and Max loves it. “You have such a pretty mouth on you, Arthur,” Max says, voice hushed and somewhat strained as he strokes himself, using his own pre-come as slick. “Tell Charles how much you love it, how good it feels, yeah?”

Charles hums against Arthur’s skin, greedily lapping up everything his tongue can reach before pushing it into Arthur’s tight little hole as far as it’ll go, eating him out like his life depends on it. He loves how his baby brother whines for him, all the little sounds he makes; Charles thinks he’d do anything to hear more of them. He wants to say something, tell Arthur how good he is, that he loves him, but for now Charles sticks to cleaning him up, face feeling hot under Max’s watchful eye.

Arthur moans as Charles eats him out, his tongue pushing into his fucked-out hole, nearly fucking him with it. Feeling both Charles’ tongue and the come inside him drives him insane. “Fuck, your tongue feels so good,” he whines, letting himself squeeze at the sides of Charles’ head with his thighs. “So good to me, love it so much . . .”

Max groans out loud, beyond happy with the show he’s having presented to him. “That’s it,” he praises, his voice strained as he roughly strokes himself. He doesn’t exactly want to come again, but he isn’t sure when—or if—he’s ever going to see this sight again, and so he wants to make the most of it. “Kiss him, Charles. I want him to taste all three of us.”

Charles moans against Arthur’s skin at the idea of it. It’s so fucking dirty and he knows it, but how can he resist? Arthur’s been so good for him, and Max . . . well, Charles can’t exactly resist Max’s orders. He finishes the job with one last swipe of his hot tongue across Arthur’s hole before shifting up on the bed to kiss him, tongue eagerly pressing against his baby brother’s and sharing the taste of them all. He loves it.

The sight of Charles leaning down to kiss Arthur, slick and drooly, their mouths sliding together like they’re meant to, suddenly gets Max hot and desperate to come. He grunts, his hand quickening on his cock before he comes without warning, his cockhead drooling ropes of it over his own fist. He pants with the harshness of his second orgasm, all quick and dirty, and breathes, “Fuck. You two look so good like that.”

Immediately, Charles and Arthur break apart, and they’re both on Max in an instant, almost fighting each other to clean up his mess. Their mouths look nearly identical as they trail their lips and tongues over Max’s spent cock, his lower stomach, and his fingers, greedily licking up everything they can reach.

“You two might kill me one day,” Max sighs once the two brothers pull away, tongues darting out to lick their lips. They both look so pretty like this, all wrecked and flushed and happy. While Max catches his breath, a smile can’t help but work its way onto his face; despite his overstimulation and exhaustion, he’ll never get enough of this sight, seeing these two gorgeous brothers in a way no one else gets to see them. “Charles, is your shower big enough for three?”

Charles perks up, giggles, and nods. “There’s lots of space.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #leclercest #lestappen #f1blr #beautiful from start to finish i hope you like it as much as i do #my fics

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thatlonelymushroom · 1 year ago

Text

☆~First Meet~☆ !

Gn!Reader x Hitoshi Shinso - Fluff! (Slightly Cringey)

*Disclaimer* I do not own the image above (If it's yours and you would like credit just message me.)

Word Count : 558

A/N: Hey everybody! I'm really sorry If this comes across as rushed or cringey. This is my first shot at writing stuff- so it probably should've stayed in the drafts... but oh well! Hope you enjoy :)

You first met him when you were working at your family’s cafe, you were both sixteen. Even now you can remember the very first moment you saw him. It was mid afternoon, you were taking up extra shifts to help out your mom with the shop. You were in the middle of serving a customer when you spotted a brilliant mess of purple hair, immediately drawing your attention away. You watched as the boy, who looked around your age, drifted across the shop lazily, choosing to plop down in a white sofa chair. You saw him reach into his backpack and take out several sheets of paper and a notebook. You quickly finished up with the customer, “Alright, so that’ll be it?” The customer nodded in response. Satisfied, you headed behind the counter again, checking the time which read 3:59 pm. You thought to yourself, Well my shift ends in a minute- but I should still serve that one guy at table 3, it’d be rude not to… Right? It had been a slow day, there were only a couple customers in the store, that guy had just walked in, and your mom wasn’t going to be there for a couple minutes. So you might as well. You sighed and grabbed your notepad, heading over to the guy. “Hello, My name is Y/N and I’ll be your server today!” You said with your normal cheerfulness. Apparently the guy had been distracted, because when you spoke he looked up abruptly- seemingly startled.

“Oh- hi.” The purple haired boy replied, looking back down at his papers.

You stood there awkwardly for a moment, not sure what to do. Isn’t this the part where he tells me what he wants? “Uhhhm, so what would you like?” You asked while flipping your notebook open to a fresh page.

“Right. Could I have a Chai latte?” He said, looking straight into your eyes.

You felt yourself blush, you hadn’t noticed how handsome he looked. He had deep purple eyes, with a soft expression on his face, and slightly messy hair. He was wearing a school uniform, a gray blazer, and green pants.

“Miss?”

You quickly snapped out of it when the boy spoke, you realized you had been staring. Flustered, you spoke in a hurry, “Yesofcoursecomingrightup!” And ran off to the counter in a hurry.

You couldn’t believe how much you just embarrassed yourself. Yeah that was a cute guy, but you didn’t have to make yourself look like such an idiot! You thought while preparing his drink. You quickly thought of a plan to apologize for yourself as you walked back over to him. As you set his drink down you said, “Hi, uh- I’m really sorry if I came off awkward before. It’s just I thought you were really cute, and- uhm, yeah so I got kinda flustered, but uh- so sorry about that- anyway have a nice day!” The boy looked at you with such a shocked expression, but before he could even open his mouth you rushed off to the break room.

Later when you went back to give him to collect the money, you found that he was gone. No traces left except for the receipt, with the payment on top. As you grabbed the cash, you spotted something peculiar on the receipt- a phone number.

#shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi x reader #fluff #boku no hero academia

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night-eagle-flight · 2 years ago

Text

Scar

Trigger warning because the reader is given rude comments but there is a happy ending so proceed with this in mind! I hope you enjoy the read!

You weren’t self conscious.

At least that’s what you thought. But ever since you got a large scar across your eye things began to change for you.

It had been on a naval mission when you got it and you remember Connor frantically hurrying to try to get you to a doctor in Boston. Connor had helped you take off your bandages when it was time and he kissed the scar you had before leaving to make you some tea.

You looked at it in the mirror and you thought it didn’t look bad.

It wasn’t until you went to New York with Connor one day when you began to hear the whispers.

“Oh what a shame.” Muttered a flower vendor to a customer, “To have such a pretty face ruined.”

“If you misbehave you’ll end up like that.” A mother told her daughter.

“That scar is simply UGLY.” Laughed a group of street workers.

Each thing you heard chipped away at your confidence and soon, you began to cover your scar with your hair.

“My love?” Connor asked one day when you were both preparing for a mission.

“Yes Connor?” You looked up, careful your hair wouldn’t move.

“Why is it that you cover your face when we go into town?”

You bit your lip. You had been doing this for a week and you had thought Connor hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, uh...” You were grasping, “I-it’s the newest trend in the city!” You looked up forcing a smile, “Makes it easier to blend in!”

Connor wanted to ask more but an Assassin interrupted and gave a message that made you start your mission early.

When the both of you arrived, you split up. Connor took the rooftops while you stayed on the ground. You spotted your target and gave chase. Soon Connor joined in from the rooftops and right when you were about to ram into the guy, you tripped. Connor hopped down and finished him off, then ran towards you.

“Look at her face!!” Yeld a man who began to laugh.

You froze. Your hair was messy and wouldn’t cover your scar. You panicked more when you reached for your hood but realized you had forgotten to clip it back after washing it.

“What happened to her face?”

“Bet she tried to steal somethin’ and got punished.”

You got up and ran.

“Y/N!!!” Connor yelled out as he reached out for you.

You were quick to disappear and that’s when he felt his anger boil at the people that made the vulgar comments.

“Silence!” His voice penetrated through the laughter and everyone went silent, “You have no idea what she has gone through!” Connor glared, “If I ever hear you mock her scar again you will answer to me.”

Everyone remained silent as Connor ran towards the one place you may have gone to. When he arrived at the room that was inside the tavern, he knocked on the door.

He thought that he might have been wrong and had gone somewhere else, but then he heard your soft sobs. He marched right in and shut the door.

“Please leave Connor. Please? I don’t want you to see me like this.” You whispered into the pillow.

Connor sat down next to your lying form and placed a hand on your back, “I cannot leave someone I love when they are feeling like this.”

You sniffled and after a few more sobs you sat up and hugged Connor from the side.

“Please tell me what is wrong my love.” Connor said, rubbing your back.

You sniffled, “I-it’s this scar, Connor. I thought I’d be fine but then everyone began to make so many comments.” You wiped your tears, “I was fine at first but then they got more and more frequent and I couldn’t take it anymore. So I hid my scar with my hair.”

Connor hummed in acknowledgement.

“You think this is silly, don’t you?” You looked away ashamed.

Connor grasped your chin lightly and turned you to look at him, “I could never judge you for your feelings. This is something that has hurt you and I wish to help.”

“You can’t take away a scar Connor.”

“This is true.” He touched the scar on his right cheek, “I should know.”

You had a small smile appear on your face as you touched his face.

“It does not matter what they say because they do not know the truth behind this scar.” Connor kissed it gently and ran small kisses from the top of your eyebrow down to your cheek, “It is reminder that I am in your debt because had you not stepped in between me and that rogue deckhand I would not be here with you.” He pulled away but stayed close to your face as he looked into your eyes, “Your scar is beautiful to me regardless of what the townsfolk say.”

You teared up.

“I love you.”

You hugged Connor, “I love you more.”

The next day you wore your hair normally and stopped to take a deep breath before opening the door.

“I am by your side.” Connor said beside you as he grasped your hand and gave it a light squeeze before letting go.

You walked out and began to head towards the Aquila that was docked for supplies the previous day. The people muttered and shopped as Connor threw glares at people who stared at your scar.

The way you walked with a long stride and head high made him smile. Your confidence was coming back. When you boarded with him, the sails were loosened and off you went to Davenport Manner.

“Captain! Captain! Did you hear?” Faulkner began to chat, “Apparently there’s a story a buzz in the mainland.”

“About what Mr. Faulkner?” You asked.

“There’s a story of a maiden with a scar on her eye that took on a hundred men while battling a man o’ war! They say she was a spit fire and defended her captain until she couldn’t stand! The Lady of the Sea is what I hear her being called.” Faulkner took a swig of his drink.

It then dawned on Connor... The people were indeed staring at your scar but it wasn’t from mockery but from recognition.

“That’s quite the tale Mr. Faulkner.” You said blushing.

Faulkner winked as he walked below deck.

Connor smiled, “Would the Lady of the Sea wish to learn how to steer a humble ship?”

You snorted and took the wheel with Connor behind you holding your hands as he helped you steer.

Connor loved you, scar and all. He leaned in and both of you locked lips.

“OI!!!!! YOU'RE GONNA SINK US!!!!!!!”

Connor looked up and quickly turned the wheel to avoid some oncoming rocks.

Both of you laughed.

“Young love.” Faulkner muttered as he took a swig from his bottle.

Thank you for reading!!

#connor kenway x reader #reader insert #connorkenwayxreader #assassin x reader #assassins creed x reader

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destinyc1020 · 1 year ago

Note

I have a confession for this Sunday and I’m stating right now that I’m aware I’m gonna get backlash. Im a dark skinned black woman and though I’m fan of Zendaya I’m quite passive when I see comments that attack her or her brand or I don’t defend her online or on social places as much as I would do as a dark skinned actress. I think this opinion was sparked from the Spice and Erica Mena situation and Pinkydoll controversy.

Im aware this is very problematic to admit and honestly feel. I’m here for the backlash lol. I’m in my late teens and I’ve really learned about colorism especially in the entertainment and I know that Z has acknowledged her light skinned privilege and goes for roles meant for white women. I support her but not as much as I do darker skinned actresses. I obviously want to change this way of thinking because I love Z and I’m aware this is really on me than her but, I really want to see a dark skin black girl win. Just one.

One who is under the age of 30 and over 18 being considered a desirable love interest who isn’t no shade in the demographic of Viola and Angela. One especially that isn’t ratchet as Sexyy Red and Sukiana(I love them as artists but love the message they leave out of black girls isn’t ideal). It pains me that the last it girl was Lupita and before ppl say what about Keke, first Keke is brown and second I love her but her personal life is a lil messy for me.

Again, I want to reiterate that this is a confession that might get me jumped and I’m prepared for it lol. I just find it sad that as black girls when don’t have our The Summer I turned Pretty or actress who is a Florence Pugh equivalent meaning that she’s everywhere lol. I’m also aware that Z truly has broken so many boundaries, no other light skin black actress has won a Emmy not once but twice in history. I’m aware of her limitations in that industry. I find it crazy that Challengers is her first leading role backed by a big studio at the age of 27 when her yt peers have been offered roles from as young as 16 maybe. The black actresses previous to her usually get their first leading roles in their early 30s or if your Viola 50s. It’s triumphant actually.

Now that I’m typing this all out, I’m aware I’m more angry at entertainment industry than Z as an individual. She didn’t ask to be the token black girl of Hollywood. I realise that it’s a competitive industry, no one can predict anyones career arch one could have in that industry. I’m sorry for this long winded confession but I really love blog and as a black woman I find comfort on how open you are to opinions that aren’t your own and are still so respectful. That’s my confession and I hope you have a nice Sunday!!!!!

Hey Anon!

Awww....first of all, let me give you a hug... 🥰

Don't worry, you are in a Safe Space here on "Confession Sunday". That means, I won't judge, and no Anons should be jumping down your throat as long as you're respectful, honest, and are genuine in your feelings.

Anyway... Whew! Where do I begin? I feel like you spoke a word with your post. I actually feel like your ask was worded very well? I think you got your point across, and you even came to the realization of where your REAL frustration lies: And that's with the Entertainment Industry itself.

I can't tell you how many times Anon I have felt the same exact way. Like you, my disappointment isn't really with Zendaya or any other biracial/fair-skinned actresses out here. My disappointment and frustration lies with the racist and colorist society in which we live in, and hence also the racist and colorist ET industry that exists. 😔

First off, I don't enjoy seeing ANYBODY getting hate for things they cannot control, especially if they seem like a decent person, and the hate seems undeserved. I really don't enjoy seeing that. So, whether it's Zendaya, or someone else in the industry, I just think that a lot of hate is uncalled for, so I don't really care for it, no matter who the individual is.

I think it's a shame too how Hollywood seems to have regressed in some manner when it comes to "black women" representation for the 18 - 30 age group. 😔 When you look at older films and TV shows, it almost seems like there was far more young unambiguously black female representation onscreen maybe in films and TV 20 some years ago than there is today in 2023. 🥴

I love Zendaya (as you all know) and I LOVE seeing the success that she's having. 🥰 But every once in a while, it would be nice seeing some other young actresses who look more like me (brown-skinned) getting some shine, and getting the same level of success and "household name" status that Z or Florence get.

Like you, I've grown up with Keke and root for her.... 🥰 But yea, it's just kind of sad how her promising career in film kind of fizzled out a little bit. She's still successful (imo), but let's just say, she's not getting the LARGE, blockbuster roles or love interest roles that Zendaya gets, and that's because Z represents (like you said) the more "acceptable" form of a "black girl" these days. It's just sad that this is what society has turned into. 🥴 Black women are not one monolith. We don't all look alike. We come in various shapes, sizes, skin tones, hues, etc.

I've also rooted for actress Aja Naomi King. She's another one who I think is pretty talented, and used to be on a hit TV show (HTGAWM), but then, after that it was like...... NOTHING. 👀 At 38 years old, she might be a bit older than the age range you had in mind, but you get my drift.

It does make you wonder sometimes.... Like, I know there are so many talented, young, beautiful, darker-skinned actresses out here just trying to make it in Hollywood. Why aren't we given a chance? Why are we continuously passed up?

I keep rooting for many of my darker-skinned sisters in Hollywood, cuz I know it can't be easy. If it hasn't been easy for Zendaya, then you KNOW it hasn't been easy for women darker than her.

I root for Keke, I root for Lupita, I root for Aja, Janelle Monae, Ajiona Alexus, Halle Bailey, Nicole Beharie, Kiki Layne, Letitia Wright, Teyonah Parris, etc. The list goes on and on.

Hollywood (and society) would love to make you think that there aren't any talented, BEAUTIFUL, young darker-skinned black actresses out here that are desirable, but that is simply NOT true.

There are some BEAUTIFUL darker-skinned ladies in Hollywood, but you're right... It's rare we become a household name.... Where is our "To All The Boys I've Loved Before" movies? Why aren't we considered when it comes to romantic films or playing the love interest?

I think we all know the answers to those questions. 😒

But don't feel like you have to "hate" on another actress like Zendaya simply because society/the industry caters more towards black women with her look. Don't dislike her, dislike the racist and colorist society that we live in! People literally CANNOT help who they were born to, nor how they look. I don't think anyone should be shamed or hated on for something they literally CANNOT even control, which is their skin color. It's just foolish to me.

Anyway Anon, I just want to say that I see you... I hear you... and I totally get what you're saying. 🥰❤️

#sorry for the dissertation #confession corner #confession corner sunday

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fandom-hoarder · 2 years ago

Note

happy momfucker Monday! Thoughts on deanmary? If so how do you think Sam would react to them?

Happy Momfucker Monday!

Thoughts on DeanMary:

Hahhh ok, actually it's deeper than that for me. There's always going to be a layer to DeanMary that involves John in some way. Be that the memory of him, or his relationship to Dean and how their relationships to Mary affected Dean's upbringing and self image (Dean as Mary's replacement; Dean as the keeper and protector of the Myth of Mary), or the parts of John that Mary sees in Dean, or Dean's fantasy/wish fulfillment around possessing a whole and happy family.

But also, s12+ DeanMary can be about healing. But only after they fuck through all that messy baggage. 👀

So if Sam found out, I think his initial reaction would be jealousy that presents outwardly as enraged concern for Mary's consent/autonomy at first. --Oh, Amara brought Mary back for Dean, huh? Does Mary get a say in this?--

--And he has to lash out at Dean because it can't be Mary's fault; it can't be her preferring Dean over him in everything-- everything... He can't blame her because he's never been able to blame her-- he's barely ever been able to talk about her, and even now that she's here she might as well not be; it's like she's not real; but it's-- not her fault-- and he can't ever say a word against her--

But really--- Dean and Mary having this is another relationship in his family he's shut out of -- and with s12 Mary, in particular, she hasn't given him anything near to this. And it's not that he would want that -- except maybe he does. Maybe he craves any kind of gentleness from her; any kind of affection; any attention; connection.

But also, her being here takes Dean's attention away. And Dean can say there's nothing and no one he'd put in front of Sam, but then why does Sam have to find out about Dean's meetups with mom when he accidentally sees a text message preview on Dean's phone?

Sure, he'd had his suspicions, but until he'd seen it he'd been able to pretend. God, he shouldn't be jealous of his mother, but--

Why does he find out about the rest of it by stealing a car from the bunker and tracking them down, only to drive up on the Impala parked down some dark, nameless road two towns over -- Dean balls deep inside Mary in the backseat; Mary writhing in his lap as Dean praises, "That's my girl, just like that," in a drawl so close to John's it makes Sam's heart lurch?

Why does Mary cling to Dean like that-- Like she has the right to-- like Sam is the one in the wrong here? Like he's breaking her heart.

** Now, if I have my way about it, Sam's jealousy ends with a messy threesome and a smidge of actual fucking communication. If I have my way, it's the full house of wincest up in here. ☺️😤

But maybe it still takes awhile to get there. Maybe Sam leaves when Mary insists Dean isn't taking advantage of her -- tells him he doesn't understand--

Leaves the dark road. Leaves the bunker. Goes radio silent for days (weeks). Turns off his phone and tries to evade Dean, but turns it back on when it works too well, suspicious his messages will be empty anyway-- they're not.

"C'mon, Sammy, don't do this," --and Sam wants to throw his phone across the room and smash it to pieces-- as if he's the one-- "Don't tell me I got her back just to lose you. That's not a fair trade."

And maybe Sam doesn't want to stay away anymore. Maybe Mary texts him I'm sorry. Can we talk? and he can't help the way he easily forgives her -- the way he folds into her arms between her and Dean and hopes, heart aching, that he's a necessary part of the whole.

#asks #momfucker monday #deanmary #wincest #samdeanmary #the full house of wincest #sorry this took me all day to type lmao but im glad you sent it early so i could draft between irl tasks <3 #🍋#me.txt

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mackenzielovee · 2 years ago

Text

parenthood part seven: ingenuous

a/n: hi ! nervous but excited, i hope it's decent at least lmao. please leave all thoughts and opinions and i'll have pt 8 up soon! so much love xoxo

warnings: swearing, fighting, lil bit of crying, mentions of sex

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

You stand outside Connor’s classroom texting Rafe as you wait for the preschool day to end. Rafe’s been sending you videos all day of Josie giggling, and you’d been watching them at work just to make your day better. You let him know that you’re waiting to grab Connor and then the two of you will be home, but you’re drawn out of your text message by a shadow over you. You glance up and smile, meeting the eyes of Connor’s new friend’s dad.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greets you.

He’d introduced himself to you as Nico, which you quickly learned was short for Nicolás. His little boy, Daniel, had become close with Connor since their school started, and you couldn’t be more thrilled. Both of them are kind, polite, and Connor has a lot of fun with Daniel.

“Nico, hi,” you smile, “How are you?”

He leans against one of the pillars, crossing his arms in front of him. His grin is effortless, you think, although it’s nothing to the feeling you get when Rafe smiles at you like that.

“I’m starting to think this day gets shorter and shorter,” he jokes, “I feel like I just dropped him off.”

“Aw, I’m always ready to pick him up,” you say, “I miss him after five minutes.”

He laughs, which makes you laugh. The classroom door opens and Ms. Angie, their teacher, smiles widely at the two of you.

“Connor and Daniel have been playing all day,” she says.

The two of you laugh and walk inside, finding Connor and Daniel standing together, putting their backpacks on.

“They’re going to be best friends,” Nico says to you with a grin.

“Looks like it,” you agree.

Connor’s head shifts, and at the smallest look, he recognizes you and smiles immediately.

“Mama!” he cheers, running across the room.

You squat down and take him into your arms once he reaches you, giving him a hug.

“Hi, baby,” you smile, “How was your day?”

“I played outside with Daniel,” he says.

“You did? Did you have fun?”

Nico laughs from above you, and you meet his eyes with a smile. Not far behind Connor comes Daniel, launching himself into his father’s arms.

“A lot of fun,” Connor nods, “Can Daniel come to our house? I told him about Josie and my soccer ball. He wants to play.”

You glance over at Nico and Daniel, who meets your eye and starts to shake his head with a shy smile on his face.

“We could get them together another day, if you want–”

“Mama, please,” Connor begs.

You stand up and take Connor’s hand in yours, giving it a squeeze. Nico removes Daniel’s backpack, then picks him up, holding him expertly against his chest.

“We don’t have anything going on this afternoon, so if it works for you two, it works for us,” you smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks, “I wouldn’t want to impose–”

“Not at all. We have a baby, so the house might be a little messy, but we’d love to have you guys over.”

“Yes!” Connor cheers, “Let’s go.”

You laugh and tug Connor back by his hand before he can run off, listening to Nico laugh, too. You unlock your phone and skim over a text from Rafe, reading:

Work thing. Taking Jo with me. Be home in a few hours. I’ll grab dinner, just tell me what you want. Love you, baby.

You swipe out of it before you respond, making a mental note to do it later. Then, you pull up a new contact and type Nico’s name into the bar, then hand it over for his number.

“I’ll text you our address,” you explain.

He nods and takes a hold of your phone, quickly typing his number into it and handing it back.

“I appreciate this, Y/N. Is there anything I can grab on the way over, or–”

“Not at all,” you wave him off, “I’ve got snacks for the boys and adult food for us.”

He laughs, “Great. We’ll see you soon, won’t we, Daniel?”

“Yes,” he chirps, “Bye, Connor.”

“Bye, Daniel,” he waves.

You and Nico exchange goodbyes, then you start out to the parking lot. Connor, with the promise of a friend coming over, doesn’t protest once when you put him in his carseat and buckle him in. Instead, he chats endlessly about what he and Daniel can do together.

When the two of you arrive home, you hurry in and try to clean up at least half of the living room. You’re sure Nico doesn’t really care, but you also want to look like you have your life halfway together.

You’re thankful Nico takes his time driving over, and when the doorbell rings twenty minutes later, you feel like you’ve at least got a grip on the messy house.

“They’re here, Mama! Can I get it?” Connor requests, being pulled to the foyer.

“Hold on, handsome. I’m coming,” you call.

You follow Connor to the front door and pull it open, greeting Nico and Daniel with a smile the second you see them.

“Hey, guys. Come on in,” you wave them inside.

Nico smiles and thanks you quietly while Connor grabs Daniel’s hand and starts to rush off.

“We’re gonna play, Mommy,” Connor yells to you over his shoulder.

“Okay, but no–” he cuts you off by running to the play room and pushing the door open, “Running.”

Nico chuckles, which makes you laugh. When you turn back to him, he seems to be taking you in, smiling as he does so, but you brush it off.

“Daniel runs everywhere, too,” he tells you, “I never know where he has to rush off to so fast.”

“Right?” you laugh, “It’s all their energy. I wish I had that.”

“Me too.”

You chuckle, which makes him smile. It’s the kind of smile that takes up his whole face, and you’re sure that smile is his charm.

Connor’s been in school for weeks now, and you’d never seen anyone other than Nico pick Daniel up. Although, you think, Rafe’s only been there to drop off or pick up a few times, given his work schedule is less flexible than yours. Although you’re curious, you won’t ask.

“I was just about to make some tea,” you volunteer, even though it’s a lie and you were not even close to thinking about making tea, “Would you like some?”

“I’d love it,” he agrees.

You smile and lead him into the kitchen, the one you’d expertly cleaned in five minutes by shoving all of the dishes into the dishwasher and everything else into random cabinets, and grab the kettle from the stove.

“You have a beautiful home,” he remarks, his eyes traveling around the room.

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind.”

He hums in response, watching you fill the kettle with water at the sink.

“Sometimes I worry that Daniel hates my apartment,” he confesses, “He sees houses around the school and asks me why we don’t live there. How do I explain to him that I just can’t afford it?”

You set the kettle on the stove and then turn around to face him, sympathy written all over your face. His jaw moves from side to side, telling you that he gets emotional just thinking about it. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth and think for a moment, urging your brain to come up with the right words.

“It’s not about the money,” you say, “I know that’s hard to agree with, but you’re a great dad from what I’ve seen. He’s loved and he’s cared for and fed. He has a shelter and someone looking out for him. That’s all he needs. I think it doesn’t matter where all that happens from, because a big house isn’t going to make him love you any more than he already does, you know?”

Nico’s eyes flash with an emotion you don’t recognize, but when his lips tip up, you relax. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thank you for saying that,” he replies, “I think I really needed to hear it.”

“It’s all true,” you shrug, “I didn’t strain myself.”

He laughs then, and it feels like the energy in the room shifts. He glances over and sees the faucet dripping even though the sink is off.

“Does it do that all the time?” he asks you, nodding his head to the sink.

You nod, “My husband tried to fix it, but he couldn’t. We’re gonna have to call someone.”

Nico’s eyebrows furrow and he slightly shakes his head to himself.

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

The kettle whistles behind you, distracting you. You just shake your head at him as you turn to grab it off the heat, then move to get mugs down.

“You don’t have to–”

“I don’t mind. I did some home repair work when I was a teenager. I promise I won’t make it worse.”

You laugh and give in, gesturing for him to go ahead. He kneels and opens up the cabinet underneath the sink while you pour the hot water into mugs and leave them to steep.

“Your husband have tools?” he calls, a slight grit in his voice you hadn’t noticed before.

“Yeah, I think they’re in the garage–”

You move to grab them while Nico stands up, placing his hand on your arm and wrapping around it.

“I can find them. You relax and drink your tea.”

You’re not sure if it’s the gentle look in his eye or the offer to remain still for more than ten seconds, but you nod. He flashes you another smile and heads off for the garage door, escaping out there quietly.

He returns with Rafe’s toolbox and holds it up victoriously. You smile and offer him a mug with his tea in it, which he accepts in his free hand.

“Thank you,” he says, then nods toward the sink, “It’s an easy fix. I’m surprised your husband couldn’t see it.”

You draw back from him at that remark, unsure of what that means. After a moment, when Nico squats again and extracts a tool from the box, you shake it out of your head. You’re sure he didn’t mean anything by it. He meant exactly what he said; Rafe just missed it. No big deal. He’ll probably be relieved he doesn’t have to pay someone to come out and fix it.

“All right, there we go,” he says, extracting himself from the cabinet and standing up straight, “Should be good now.”

He turns on the water, and then shuts it off again, and you can’t help but grin when you see how it doesn’t drip.

“Oh, my God,” you chuckle, “That’s been driving me crazy for a month now. Wow. Thank you so much, Nico.”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiles at you, closing up Rafe’s toolbox, then standing to wash his hands.

Your smile remains on your face long after he washes and dries his hands, then picks up his mug and takes a long sip.

“I can’t believe how easy that was for you,” you admit, “How long did you do repair work?”

“Three years. I got into construction after I found out Daniel’s mom was pregnant. The money is better.”

“Understandable,” you reply, for lack of a better response.

A part of you is dying to know if Nico and Daniel’s mom are together, although he gives the impression that they’re not – especially when he said my apartment. Another part of you doesn’t want to push if it’s not something he wants to discuss.

“She lives in California now,” he explains, “She’s got a husband and a kid. The husband owns his own company or some shit. That’s why I never really believe people when they say it’s not about the money.”

You frown and take another sip of tea, considering how painful that must have been for him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “That must have been hard.”

He shrugs, “She gave me Daniel, so, it is what it is.”

You usher Nico into the living room to sit, and the two of you continue to discuss his life. He asks you about Connor and Josie, and if you’d ever be open to having more children. You mention Rafe a few times in passing, but Nico never asks follow-up questions regarding him. You just assume this is because he never married, and he doesn’t know what to ask or discuss. You both run out of tea quickly, but when you offer him something more, he politely declines. Nico is so easy to talk to that you don’t even notice how much time has gone by until you hear the garage door open.

“Baby? Whose car is that?” Rafe calls from the kitchen.

“My husband,” you explain to Nico, then turn to talk to Rafe, “Living room!”

Nico leans back on the couch and sets his arm behind his head, seemingly unaffected by Rafe’s entrance.

“I’d like to meet your daughter,” he tells you with a soft smile.

You grin, “He’ll have her. Hopefully she’s not fussy.”

“I can deal with fussy. Daniel was so fussy when he was a baby.”

“Really?” your lips form a pout, “So you’re an expert then?”

He laughs, “Absolutely.”

Rafe walks through the doorway and, with hesitant eyes, observes you seated on the couch with a man he doesn’t know. He has Josie in his arms, one hand rubbing up and down her back as he holds her.

“Hello,” he greets, and you can instantly tell he isn’t thrilled, “What’s up?”

You stand, and Nico follows your lead.

“Rafe, this is Daniel’s dad, Nico. The boys are playing in the front room,” you explain, “Nico, this is my husband, Rafe.”

Rafe removes his hand from Josie’s back and extends it toward Nico, who accepts it with a grin.

“Good to meet you,” Rafe says, “Connor talks about your son a lot.”

“Same with Daniel,” Nico replies, “Y/N and I got to talking today and decided to get together.”

Rafe extracts his hand then, straightening his back and puffing out his chest. You watch him and furrow your brows, wondering about his shift in behavior.

“Is that right?” Rafe asks in a clipped tone.

Before Nico can respond, you place your hand on Rafe’s arm and smile, earning his attention.

“Nico fixed the sink,” you tell him, hoping it will improve his mood, “Can you believe it? It stopped dripping.”

Rafe’s expression doesn’t change, “I told you I’d get someone out to fix it.”

“Now you don’t have to,” you say.

“Hm,” he hums, pursing his lips, “All right. Well, thanks for doing that, I guess.”

Nico nods once, “It was an easy fix.”

You don’t miss Rafe’s jaw clench, or the way his hand travels to your back and tightens around your shirt. He’s gripping you, as if staking a claim somehow, which has you holding back from rolling your eyes.

“Do you want to join us?” you ask Rafe, widening your eyes at him as if to silently tell him to calm down.

“Josie needs to be changed,” he replies, “It’s getting late, anyway. We need to focus on dinner.”

“Well–”

Nico stops you with the wave of his hand, “He’s right. It is late. Thank you so much for having us over, Y/N. And for the tea and company. We’ll have to do this again.”

“Absolutely,” you agree with a smile, “Let me walk you out.”

Nico grins at that, and when you swat Rafe’s hand from your back so you can walk away, his expression falls. You shrug at him, as if to ask what his problem is, to which he widens his eyes at you, telling you that you should already know.

“Oh, let me take care of the mugs–” Nico starts, but Rafe speaks over your shoulder.

“Leave them,” he states, “I’ll get them.”

You turn around to Nico, “But thank you for offering.”

Rafe scoffs behind you, but you make no move to turn around and look at him. You’re annoyed; he’d come in with an attitude and barely even gave Nico a chance before he decided to act territorial and rude. Nico offers you a small smile, then follows you to the front room to get the boys.

“Later, man,” he says to Rafe, who offers him a tip of the head in response.

Connor and Daniel both protest, but when you two promise them they can play again next week, they agree to part. You wave goodbye to Daniel and Nico as they back out of the driveway, then tell Connor to clean up the playroom before dinner. He agrees and hurries back into the room while you go hunt down Rafe.

He’d changed Josie and now stands in the kitchen with her in her baby base on the counter. He’s on his phone, and when you enter, he glances up at you only for a moment before looking back down again. You just stand there, the kitchen island between the two of you, waiting for him to speak.

“He’s into you,” he mutters, placing his phone down on the counter.

You scoff, “You’re ridiculous. Is that why you were being so rude?”

“I was rude because he was sizing me up.”

“Sizing you up?” you repeat, “We’re not in high school, Rafe. He knows that we’re married. You’re the one who was giving off the weird energy–”

“I was trying to make it clear that you are not up for grabs,” he defends himself.

“He knows that!” you exclaim, “Are you seriously going to get all jealous right now?”

He draws back a step, his jaw winding tightly. He eyes Josie, placing her pacifier back in her mouth before he speaks.

“I’m asking you to imagine how I felt just now. I sent you a text three hours ago that you didn’t bother to respond to, then came home and found a man sitting beside you on our couch with no other person in sight. Then, I reach out to touch you, and you smack me away. So, yes, I got a little possessive. Trust me when I tell you that you would, too.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you snap, “Because I trust your judgment. And I certainly wouldn’t be rude to a guest in our home just because I was feeling insecure.”

“Now I’m insecure?” he questions, his voice raising slightly, “Y/N, it’s not about me trusting you, it’s about some guy in our home with you that I’ve never met. I don’t know who he is, what he’s capable of. Of course I don’t trust him around you–”

“So, you’re saying I have to run every guest by you now?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he groans.

“That’s exactly what you just said. If you haven’t met them, they’re not welcome in our home, right?”

He groans again and buries his face in his hands. You watch as he rubs his eyes with his palms, then looks up at you again.

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to tell you how I feel. I don’t want to fight.”

You hear Connor’s feet as he approaches the kitchen, hurrying in and tucking his hand into yours.

“I’m hungry, Mama,” he tells you.

You give him a forced smile and reach down, grabbing him underneath the armpits and setting him down on the counter in front of you. Reluctantly, Rafe moves around the island and steps beside you, in front of Connor.

“Hey, squirt. How was your day?”

Connor grins and takes Rafe’s hand, “It was so fun, Daddy.”

“Good,” Rafe smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “What do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza,” Connor replies immediately.

Rafe turns and looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Connor. His other hand grips yours, making you smile.

“Is that okay?” Rafe asks you.

“Yep.”

You see his jaw shift out of the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t say anything. He turns back to Connor and nods his head toward the garage.

“Wanna go with me to get it?”

Connor nods, “Yes. Maybe they’ll give me a sticker.”

“Maybe,” Rafe laughs, then turns to you, “Be back soon.”

“Okay,” you reply weakly.

You step over to Josie and greet her, giving her little kisses all over her face and watching as she smiles. Connor protests by the garage door before the two boys can escape, squirming in Rafe’s arms.

“We forgot kisses,” Connor lectures his dad.

“Hurry,” Rafe tells him.

“You didn’t give kisses,” Connor reminds him.

You turn and meet Rafe’s eye, biting your lip to soothe the anxiousness you’re starting to feel. Rafe steps back into the kitchen and over to you, gently and carefully tucking his free arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry I never greeted you properly,” he mumbles to you.

You nod, your sign of forgiveness, and stand up on your tip-toes to give Rafe a kiss. He holds you against him for an extra few seconds, letting his mouth mold over yours.

“My turn,” Connor says when Rafe pulls back.

You peck him on the cheek and he does the same to you, and when you grab Connor’s hand, he squeezes.

“Don’t be long,” you tell both of them.

Rafe holds your gaze for longer than usual, then leans down and kisses your forehead. You let him, allowing your eyes to close under his affection. Although you know that conversation is far from over, it’s nice to feel his love.

You and Rafe conduct business as usual for the remainder of the evening. You all eat dinner together, and he puts Josie to bed while you bathe Connor. Afterward, he comes into Connor’s room to say goodnight, giving his son a kiss. You’d think it was just another day, but Rafe’s lack of touches and kisses has you feeling empty by the time the two of you head back downstairs. As if to avoid talking about it too soon, you go into your bathroom and take a long shower. You let the hot water sink into your skin, washing away your anxiety about arguing with Rafe. You know it’s inevitable, given how opposite you both seemed to feel earlier.

Your suspicion of him not being through with it comes when you emerge from the bathroom and find him sitting on the bed with his arms and legs crossed.

“I don’t want him in our home anymore,” he says. His voice is quiet, but you can tell by his tone that he means business.

“I already told the boys they could play together next week. After that, I’ll indulge your jealousy.”

You’re surprised at your own response, but it’s exactly what you’d been thinking all night. The last thing you want is for Connor to suffer because Rafe can’t get a hold of himself.

“Being jealous would imply there’s something to be jealous of,” he reminds you, “You’re my wife. If anyone’s jealous, it’s him.”

You shake your head and walk over to your dresser, pulling a tee shirt and shorts out of it. Rafe watches you, waiting for your rebuttal.

“There’s no reason for this, Rafe,” you sigh, “He’s a nice guy. He told me all about his past and Daniel’s mom, and I think he’s just had a hard time lately. He needs a friend.”

Rafe laughs, “Did he give you this sob story before or after he fixed the sink for you?”

“Is that what this is about? The fucking faucet?” you spin around and look at him, observing his rolling eyes.

“I’m just saying,” he holds his hands up in defense, “Guys don’t just fix things. He’s into you, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, which makes Rafe clench his jaw even more. He sits up on the bed, telling you he’s ready to defend that comment.

“Why can’t you believe he might just be a nice person?”

“Because I’m a guy,” he responds, “I know exactly what he was thinking, sweetheart, and it wasn’t even remotely related to making your life easier.”

“You’re ridiculous, Rafe. I thought you’d appreciate that he fixed the faucet, considering he just saved you the cost of having to call someone out here.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t need Nico’s help taking care of my home. Or my wife. Or my fucking kids.”

“Oh, so this is an ego thing, then,” you decide.

“No–”

“Let me ask you something,” you stop him, “What do you think could possibly happen? Even if, God forbid, he is into me, are you somehow under the impression that I’d run off into the sunset with him? That I’d… leave you?”

He winces, and so do you. Even just imagining that happening is enough for you to feel a pit in your stomach. You can feel your eyes welling up, but you shove the emotions down. You really don’t want to cry over this, over some stupid fight you shouldn’t be having in the first place.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” he admits quietly.

You turn again so your back is to him and remove your towel from your shower, tossing the shirt over your head and pulling the shorts on. Rafe is standing when you look back at him, his expression tough.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not going to let our son’s new friendship suffer because you can’t get a grip.”

You watch his throat work, swallowing down your harsh words.

“Well, I don’t want you to be alone with some guy who’s sitting around thinking about all the different ways he could fuck you,” he shoots back.

You laugh sarcastically at that, unable to contain your normal tone any longer.

“He doesn’t get to, Rafe!” you remind him, “You do. Actually, you don’t. Not tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Sweetheart, stop. This is getting out of hand–”

“Yes, it is,” you answer him, “You’re acting like we’re still seventeen. I am an adult and I can handle myself. I don’t need you to save me all the time.”

“Fuck that, I know you can,” he raises his voice, crossing to your side of the bed to stop you from grabbing your pillow and leaving, “But you’re not listening to me. If he makes an advance and I’m not here to help you–”

“Oh, my God,” you groan, “Nico is a friend. That is it. The same way Kelce is my friend–”

“Kelce wanted to fuck you for years,” he reminds you.

“Topper,” you fire back.

“Wanted to fuck you when we were sixteen.”

“No he didn’t!” you protest.

“Yes, he did,” Rafe replies, “He told me.”

“Well, whatever,” you wave him off, “That’s when we were kids. Nico is an adult, and so are we–”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cuts you off, “Your dick doesn’t stop getting hard just because you turn twenty-five.”

You sigh and pick up your pillow, ready to make a break for the couch. He steps to the side, blocking your exit.

“I don’t want to do this with you, Rafe,” you exhale, “You’re being immature.”

He frowns, “You’re being naive.”

You purse your lips and step toward him, ready to pass. He reaches his arms up instinctually and stops you, urging you to look at him.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you repeat.

“No, baby. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You just nod, letting him lean over you to get his pillow from his side of the bed. He grips it tightly in his hand, then steps back, taking you in.

“Goodnight,” you mumble.

He watches as you turn back to the bed, placing your pillow down and pulling back the comforter. You can feel him still standing there, but you’re too chicken to turn around and face him.

“You’re gonna make me sleep on the couch and not say it?” he questions. You can hear the tiniest bit of teasing in his voice, and you have to wiggle your jaw to stop a smile from forming.

You inhale sharply, then turn halfway and steal a glance. Your eyes meet the floor before you speak.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

He steps forward, “You better. Kiss.”

You turn your head and peck his lips, and despite his sigh of disapproval, he accepts it. When you turn back to the bed again, you feel him start to exit.

He stops right at the threshold, just as you shift to look at him.

“I love you, too,” he tells you, “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod and watch him escape, crawling into the bed and turning off the lamp afterwards. You do your best not to think about the argument, or the fact that he’s not in here with you, even though you practically forced him out. Instead, you try to put it all out of your mind and go to sleep, which comes easier than you thought it would.

You wake in the middle of the night on your side, your back pressed into Rafe’s warm chest. You turn and find him asleep, wrapped around you, both of his arms holding your own. You have no idea how long he’s been holding you like this, but it makes you instantly choke up.

“Rafe,” you whisper, nudging him, “Rafe.”

“Hmm?” he hums sleepily, keeping his eyes glued shut.

“I thought you were on the couch.”

Even though it’s dark, you swear you can see his lips tip up. You purse your lips to hide a smirk, thankful he’s keeping his eyes closed.

“Bad dream,” he lies, and it’s obvious, “You complaining?”

You take a deep breath, “No.”

He smiles then, tucking you even closer to him and inhaling your sweet shampoo.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We can fight in the morning.”

You obey his raspy voice and relax in his arms, a part of you thankful to feel him. Although you dread the conversations to come in the morning, afternoon, and evening tomorrow, you’re at least glad that it’s him you get to do it with.

Tags:

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restlessmaknae · 3 years ago

Text

how to cross the line?

➳ You would think that Jake, the star player of the college rugby team, has nothing in common with you, but then, one lecture together makes you think otherwise.

➳ Characters: college rugby player!Jake x college student!reader/you

➳ Genre: fluff, college au, sports au

➳ Words: 4.7k

➳ A/N: This story is dedicated to the anon who has mentioned being interested in a college star player!Jake story in my survey, and also to another one who wanted to read any AU with Jake. Thanks to Enhypen’s new comeback, I got hit with all the inspiration I needed, so I hope you all enjoy some fluffy, cute and shy rugby player Jake. ❤️

➳ A/N: Click here to be added to the TAGLIST and to let me know about your fic preferences. 💖

➳ Check out: my Enhypen masterlist

You weren’t the type to be late from somewhere. In fact, you didn’t even remember if you had ever been late in your whole life. Even back in high school, you had woken up early, so that you would get on the bus on time, and even if the bus would be late, you would still arrive at school on time. If you were meeting up with others, you set out early, so that you would be there way before the agreed time in case you got lost.

Yet, today, you had to face one of your worst fears: being late from somewhere. It wasn’t even your fault, and it sucked even more for this reason. It was all because of your forgetful flatmate who had thought that she hadn’t had her keys in her bag, so she had grabbed the keys from the bowl by the front door (aka your keys!) and let herself out of the flat with them, and you had been stuck in the flat because both her keys and your keys had been with her, and there were no spare keys.

After frantically messaging her and asking her to come back to give you your keys, you ran to catch the bus, then you ran all the way to campus, all the way until the huge double door of the lecture hall. When you arrived there, you let yourself catch your breath, nibbling on your lips as you were trying to gather the courage to open the door and face having everyone’s attention on you when you walked into the lecture hall. It was inevitable since the squeaking of the doors was so annoying that everyone turned their heads towards it when someone arrived after the lecture started.

You fidgeted with your bag as you were standing there, but the clock was ticking, and you didn’t want to be late even more. You were just about to take a step forward when a fast figure bolted up towards the door, hands already grabbing the handle. However, he hesitated for a moment and turned towards you a second later.

“Are you also coming in?” he inquired, eyes twinkling with warmth, tone kind. You had to admit that he looked cute even with messy, chocolate-brown locks and a plain grey hoodie, and there was just something very comforting about his presence. It was as if his whole aura radiated calm and serenity.

“Yeah. I just…” You started, stumbling upon your words, not sure how to form coherent sentences. Would you be lame to confess that you merely didn’t want to gather attention by arriving late? Not to mention that he seemed a tad bit familiar, and it seemed even more embarrassing telling someone who seemed familiar and whom you might meet again (given that you were going into the same lecture hall) something like that.

The boy cracked a smile, the sides of his lips turning upwards in a rather cute way, and understanding flashed across his warm mahogany orbs.

“Come in after me a few seconds later. I’ll leave the door open,” he offered kindly while bobbing his head in the door’s direction, and then he did just as he had told you so.

You couldn’t believe what was just happening, but you waited as the immensely considerate boy had suggested, and managed to sneak in without gathering anyone’s attention. The door closed behind you quietly (thankfully), and you let out a shaky breath as you stood there in the back of the lecture hall. You looked around, searching for empty seats, yet there was no way you would take your usual seat in the third row. That would gather even more attention than opening the door yourself, so the back seats were the only safe option left.

As expected, the seats in the last row were almost all taken, full of students who didn’t even pay attention to the lecturer or who were quietly munching on their breakfast as it was the first period of the day. There were empty seats on the left side in the last row, but there was a guy sleeping in the first seat to the side, so there was no way you would wake him up and ask him to let you sit beside him. So that left you with the right side, and the only seat left was right beside the previously met stranger who actually caught your gaze while you were looking around, and directed a friendly smile at you.

Tentatively, you made your way towards him, but he didn’t flinch even when you took the seat beside him, so you silently thanked him with a rather coy smile, and started packing your things out, starting to take notes as soon as possible.

Thankfully, the most awkward part of your day was over, but you had to force yourself not to turn your head towards your kind stranger and his soft features. No, that would make things weird, and you definitely didn’t want your saviour catching you stare at him no matter how adorable he looked in that oversized hoodie and its hoodie paws that he played with absentmindedly while listening to the professor. You wondered whether it was a habit of his or just a one-time thing.

However, when the lecture came to an end, and you packed your stuff, ready to head to your next class, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning towards him:

“Thanks for earlier,” you sighed out, holding the books to your chest as firmly as if your life depended on it.

“No problem. I usually come in late anyways because of my practices,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders, and you didn’t need to be told what his words indicated: that you looked like you didn’t usually come in late, that’s why he had been so considerate. No wonder your cheeks turned burgundy at the implication behind his actions.

“You do sports?” You found yourself asking, but you immediately felt the need to facepalm because come on, he could have been a musician, too! Or he could have been doing photos or anything that needed practicing.

The boy, on the other hand, nodded to your words as you two were heading out of the lecture hall.

“Yeah. I’m in the college rugby team,” he confirmed with a surprisingly shy smile, and it dawned on you in that moment that it must have been why he was familiar. Even though you weren’t up-to-date with the sports teams of your college, the rugby team was said to be the most successful, and rumours had it that they had the most handsome boys on campus, too. Well… now you could say that the rumors were probably right though he didn’t look like your typical shallow-minded athlete who only cared about parties and girls. He looked way softer, and he was a physics major with you given your shared lecture, so he was probably pretty smart, too.

“That’s good,” you mumbled out, not knowing what else to add, so you just smiled at him, and he did the same. Before it could get more awkward though, the boy spoke up:

“I gotta go now. See you around, I guess?” he announced with an apologetic smile, but there was something in the way he told you this, something that made you hope that you could see that wide, toothy smile of his, and that you could actually speak to him more.

So you mirrored his smile, and watched as he jogged off, finding yourself blushing at the sight.

The next time you had the lecture for the same class, you weren’t late. Which meant that you were supposed to take your usual seat in the third row, and forget about what had happened last time as if nothing had happened. You assumed that the boy from earlier would come in late again, so you wouldn’t have an excuse to take the seat beside him anyways.

Yet, when you walked into the lecture hall, the kind rugby player was already sitting in the last row, head buried into a book. You were caught off-guard for a few seconds because you were so sure that he wouldn’t be there that you didn’t even move, and he happened to look up at this exact moment. When your eyes met with his warm, chocolate brown orbs, you felt a blush creeping into your cheeks, and if his affectionate gaze wasn’t enough, he was also giving you a small smile that melted your heart a bit, and you found yourself walking towards the row he sat in.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked first things first, pointing at the seat that was not right beside his one but the one beside that. You weren’t bold enough to take a seat right beside his one yet again.

“No. You can take it,” he offered gently, and his voice was so soft, so mellow, so silky. As if his voice matched his gentle soul, it felt like he wouldn’t be able to hurt a single soul.

So you took the seat with a grateful thanks, and started packing out of your bag. You had your notebook and your book alongside your pencil case and your phone, and as you were flipping the pages of your notebook to where you had left off last time, the boy spoke up beside you.

“Did you look at the example calculations at the end of the previous lecture’s slides?”

“Yeah, I did.” You nodded, wondering why he must be asking that, but he told you the reason without you asking about it:

“Could you help me with one of them? I didn’t fully get how we got the answer that was indicated,” he explained, a bit discouraged, but your lips turned into a soft smile. He looked like he was quite disheartened by the fact that he didn’t manage to solve all the examples by himself, and that just showed how hard-working he was, so why would you say no? You respected him for admitting that he didn’t manage to grasp everything.

“Sure,” you gave in immediately, and gathered your notes related to the said task, then started explaining it to him. You weren’t sure how well you were doing, but he nodded, telling you that he was following your explanation, and slowly, as more and more numbers and equations were jotted down on your blank piece of paper, he seemed to understand the solution.

“Oh gosh, thank you! I get it now!” He exclaimed beamingly as his hands flew to his head, holding it as if he was unable to believe that he had managed to understand the problem. Then, he let his hands fall back to the table, right on top of his papers. “I really appreciate it,” he added as he turned to you, toothy smile on full display.

He had such puppy-like features, both his eyes and his soft facial features told you so. He also had this calming yet affectionate aura, akin to the feeling dogs give you when they snuggle up to you after you had a long, tiring day.

“No worries. You can say we’re equal now,” you noted, pointing out that he had helped you out last time, so he didn’t even need to feel like he was indebted to you because you helped him this time.

You didn’t even have time to talk more because the professor walked in, and the class started. You tried your best to concentrate on the material, but you had a hard time when the boy was yet again playing with the paws of his hoodie, and you found it so adorable that you wished to look at it time and time again. You realised that it was probably a habit of his because he did it only between taking notes, so when he didn’t have anything to do, but it was adorable nevertheless.

The class came to an end in no time with you having such thoughts, and as you were packing your books into your bag, the puppy-like boy’s mellow voice was like a jingle of bells in the cacophony of the sudden noises around you.

“I’m Jake, by the way,” he introduced himself with a bit of a shy smile, and your heart skipped a beat both at his introduction and that smile. Jake. What a lovely name to a lovely boy.

You introduced yourself just as well, both of you smiling to yourselves when you realised you were suddenly out of things to say, but this time, the goodbye was even less permanent than last time. Now you had a name to attach to the boy, and you had a seat to go back to when the next lecture would roll by.

And so it became a habit of you two having the same seats in the last row, and even when Jake was late because his practice ended later than usual, you would save that seat for him, and wait for him earnestly.

As you two got to know each other more, you didn’t talk only about university anymore. Though you had to admit that you had never met anyone as enthusiastic about physics as he was, and it was adorable whenever he was talking about a concept with his wide, star-filled eyes and that excited tone of his. He had such a soothing voice that you were sure that if he were to lend his voice for an audiobook, people would be head over heels for it. He also made the topics he was enthusiastic about seem so fascinating, and it wasn’t that rare that you searched for physics-related stuff together or you watched some videos together, sharing the same interest in the field.

Yet physics aside, you got to know about how he had become interested in rugby, and how he had made friends with his team members in the college rugby team. You got to know about stories regarding his childhood, his family and his upbringing, and it was just something you couldn’t get enough of. Let it be about his new favourite movie or his all-time favourite song, or about how he took his coffee and what kind he liked, or whether he loved cats or dogs more, you were sucked in. He was like a black hole that pulled you in, and didn’t let you go. Yet, you didn’t mind, and you just wanted to get to know him better.

Not to mention that Jake was so kind, probably the kindest person you had ever met. He might not have said it out loud, but his actions really did speak for themselves, and it wasn’t just toward you (though it fluttered your heart whenever it was towards you); he held the door for whoever that came after him, he picked up books and pencil cases that fell to the floor, he grabbed books for you in the library when they were on higher shelves, and he always spoke so politely and kindly. It was impossible not to fall for him.

That day was no different. He was being a real angel when he put down a box of banana milk on the table in front of you, but you, not knowing the reason, wanted to object at first:

“You’re really kind, but I wouldn’t want to have it instead of you,” you explained with a half-smile as you pushed it towards him. He looked perplexed for a moment, but then, he reached into his bag and brought out another banana milk.

“I’ve got one, too,” he stated the now obvious, and bobbed his head in the direction of the box in front of you. “I got it for you.”

You looked down at it, a blush already making its way onto your cheeks. Gosh, how could he be so sweet? You were sure that your feelings were written all over your face, so you tried to pull yourself together and form coherent sentences:

“Oh, well, then, thanks.” You bobbed, nibbling on your lower lip to hide the widest smile that was starting to invade your lips. On the other hand, Jake took your stillness as a wrong sign, and asked, worried:

“You don’t like banana milk?”

“Yes. I mean, I do like it. It’s just…” You mumbled nervously, hoping that you wouldn’t turn the situation even more awkward with the words that were searing your tongue. “I’m touched that you got it for me,” you confessed anyway, turning your head to look at the boy, but if anything, the sight of his slightly coloured cheeks made you even more shy.

“Well… yeah, I’ve thought of you when I was at the convenience store,” he admitted as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, flashing a bright smile at you nevertheless.

You two just kept looking at each other while smiling, getting lost in each other’s eyes and the curve of the other’s lips and the dimples hidden in the corner, the depth of the orbs, the shade of the locks, and the softness of the heart. It was a fuzzy feeling, and you felt warm from head to toe, bathing in the genuine affection of the boy.

Jake broke the silence first, yet his words rendered you speechless. In the best way possible, actually.

“You wanna... maybe, but just if you want to, come to one of our matches? The next one will be on Friday at 5pm,” he inquired, blinking at you all coy and tentative, but your smile immediately deepened, and your cheeks immediately reddened. You felt the need to fan yourself, but you held yourself back for both of your sakes.

“Yeah, sure. I would love to see you play,” you gave in without hesitation because honestly, you had been meaning to attend one of his games, but since you knew nothing about rugby apart from what he had told you before, you were clueless, and it would be awkward to suggest going yourself when you didn’t even know the rules. Yet, now that he asked you to come (wanted you to come!), it didn’t feel so awkward.

So you shared another smile before the professor walked in, but your heart was pounding in your chest throughout the whole class and throughout the week until the Friday match.

On Friday, you were sitting in the host team’s sector, typing an encouraging message to Jake, confirming that you had made it to the venue. As expected, you weren’t late to the match, so you scrolled through some news sites while you were waiting for the game to begin. You didn’t even expect Jake to reply to you because he must have been busy preparing, and you just wanted him to know that you were there whether he saw your message pre or post-match, but your whole face lit up when you got his grateful message with an adorable emoji.

Since you were really new to such things, you were in a constant daze during the whole match because you were so focused on what was happening all the time. Your heart skipped a beat whenever Jake seemed to slip a bit, but thankfully, he didn’t fall or injure himself, it was just you not knowing anything about rugby and how intense it could be. So you were literally on the edge of your seat the whole time, listening to the announcer’s remarks that could help you understand the game and its rules a bit more.

You couldn’t deny that seeing Jake playing rugby was very different from seeing him in his oversized grey hoodie with its paws and his starry eyes whenever he was talking about physics. This time, he was obviously more intense, he appeared stronger, bolder and more confident. He cooperated with his team members, and they relied a lot on each other to execute the formations and to score goals. You could see that they had great team dynamics, no wonder rumours were going around saying that they might have been the best sports team at college, the other team didn’t even stand a chance against them, and the Hybe Hawks won fair and square.

There was a bit of an after-match buzz after the winner was announced, and no one moved from their seat for some time, so you sat there awkwardly, eyes on the boys who were joyfully cheering on the field while forming a circle. You smiled beamingly, equally happy for their win, but then Jake looking around caught your eyes, and you wondered whether he was looking for you or it was just a silly little hope on your part.

You were proven right though when the boy’s eyes settled on you, and he waved in your direction with a bright, toothy smile. You did the same, and since he was standing still in front of your sector, you decided to make your way down there once the crowd started to dissolve.

“Hi!” He greeted you once you got there, and he was still a bit short of breath, drops of sweat dripping down his cheeks.

“Hi!” You beamed, and you were glad that you weren’t the only one whose face was red. For him, it was because of the game, and for you, it was because of the cheering. “You guys were awesome! Congratulations on your win!”

“Thanks,” he breathed out, his lips curling upwards. He reached to wipe the sweat off his face, and to ruffle his dark locks that stuck to his forehead, but even in this dishevelled state, he looked good. You couldn’t deny that, he really did look good.

However, before either of you could keep up this conversation, two other guys showed up by Jake’s side, and interrupted your little catching up.

“Hey! You must be y/n! We’ve heard so much about you. Only good things though, I doubt Jake would be able to say anything bad about you,” the shorter, sharp-eyed boy commented with a sly smile, exchanging a glance with the taller, prince-looking one who stood beside him. They both looked as if they were trying to hold back their laughter.

“Come on, man!” Jake nudged his team member’s shoulder, but you couldn’t deny that you caught his ear reddening. The boy tried to pull himself together, and cleared his throat. “So this is Jay and Sunghoon. We’re the same age, and we’re all in the rugby team since our first semester,” he introduced you to the guys, pointing at the sharp-eyed one - Jay - and then the prince-looking one - Sunghoon. You bobbed your head, flashing a friendly smile at the two of them. They seemed like good friends, it could be seen that even their little teasing didn’t hurt the physics major in any way.

“Obviously, we’re in the same team. We’ve just finished a match, Jake,” Sunghoon pointed out with a chuckle, and you laughed along with them, causing Jake to blush even more. You had seen Jake nervous before, but never to this extent although his already flushed face might be the one to blame.

After laughing about stating the obvious, a momentary silence fell upon the four of you, but it wasn’t really an awkward one since there was such a hustle-bustle around you all that it could hardly be called silence. Nevertheless, when neither you, nor Jake knew what to say, and Jay’s eyes shifted from his friend’s face to yours, you knew that he was about to speak up.

“So you two are heading somewhere after this?” he inquired casually, and you couldn’t tell which one of you was more nervous: Jake or you.

“Oh, it has not yet…”

“We haven’t really talked about it before the match,” the boy explained to his friend as he scratched the back of his neck, sending you an apologetic albeit awkward glance.

“Then, you should do so now. There won’t be an after-match party today anyways,” Sunghoon chirped in, and you swore that you could feel where this was going, and the two guys’ slight acting didn’t help the situation either.

Seeing how you two didn’t know how to react, Jay let out a chuckle, and nudged Sunghoon’s side, exchanging a glance.

“Alright, we’ll go now, we’ll let you talk about your date. It was nice seeing you, y/n!” Jay exclaimed, and in a rush, the two guys left the scene before Jake could have come after them because he seemed like he was about to do so, alarmed by Jay's choice of words.

“D-date…” he mumbled under his breath, blinking frequently as if he was trying to dissolve the awkwardness in the air by looking around more. You, on the other hand, found it difficult to even catch your breath because you were just as surprised by the intention behind the two boys’ words as he was.

“I mean… I don’t have anything to do after this,” you blurted out, hoping to save the day, but Jake’s eyes widened to an extent you had never seen before.

“Does that mean you want to go on a date after this?”

“I was just trying to say that I don’t have anything planned, I didn’t mean that we have to go on a date. You know, I…” You started, the words flowing without you thinking about what you were saying. Which resulted in a disappointed pout from the boy, and in your panicked state, you continued, and now you were really not thinking what you were saying. “I was just thinking that yeah, we could grab something if you want to, I’ve never dared to think that you would bring up a date because I don’t know how you feel about me, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured by your friends’ implication…”

And you were sure you could have gone on forever, maybe causing even more awkwardness, but Jake (god bless him!) interrupted you with a question that left no room for misunderstandings:

“If I said, I would have wanted to go on a date with you even without my friends’ nudging, would you have said yes?”

You blinked at him, touched and confused at the same time, but there was nothing that you could have taken in a different way from his words, so you nodded.

“Yes,” you replied in a second, your heart pounding in your chest. You might not have imagined this scenario - him, being all sweaty and you being flushed because of the excitement from the match, on the rugby field, after meeting two of his team members and friends - as the one where he asked you out on a date, but you would have never had it another way. Not when he was trying to contain his overflowing happiness by biting down on his lower lip, but the sides of his lips curling upwards gave him away anyways.

“Then, we can go on a date after this,” he announced sheepishly, and you nodded, feeling like you had just hit the jackpot.

And maybe you did because Jake turned out to be the best boyfriend you could have asked for, and you didn’t even want to believe how you hadn’t wanted to come to terms with the fact that he might have liked you when his love was evident in all of the considerate gestures he had done so, in all of the banana milks he had bought you, and in all of those shy glances shared over your lecture notes. Maybe it was because he was just too good to be true, but thankfully, his friends had come to your rescue that day, and you would have never had it another way.

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dreggmanluver · 3 years ago

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Ok so I goofed and the original request got deleted so Anon I hope you see this!

The Request:

I had a thought and had to share it with someone without ratting myself out as a daycare attendant simp but:

Gender neutral reader has been working at the daycare part of the pizzaplex (as an assistant or security either one works) for about a year now and sun finds out that moon has grown a crush on the reader. Sun also notices that moons recently developed crush has caused him to become more passive, so sun makes it his goal to somehow get reader and moon together in anyway they can, unfortunately falling in love in the process. Thankfully for the two of them, readers been crushing on them since their first month there.

(based off a tik tok with the duo using jake from adventure times audio “Gotta find a honey for my homie, A baby for my buddy, A lady for my laddie.”)

thank you so much and have a wonderful day!

-🐥 Anon

A Honey for my Homie

Sun/Moon x reader, ~800 words, no warnings, GN reader

AN: 🐥 ANON YOU ARE A LITERARY GENIUS THIS WAS A GREAT IDEA! You didn't specify whether you wanted headcanons or a one-shot, but since this is a more linear story idea I went with a one-shot!

It all started when Sun realized they had more charge in their battery than usual. Moon was notorious for using all their collective charge on patrolling, climbing, and crawling on the ceiling. But recently, Sun has had more than enough to complete his usual morning chores. He had no reason to believe Moon was slacking, of course, but something might be wrong!

Sun rummaged through their messy room for any new notes from Moon. The two don't communicate within the headspace all that often, so they each place sticky notes for the other to see. The search turned up empty, save for a pile of torn notes that were utterly illegible. Finally, he spied one stuck neatly on the doorframe. It was crumpled at the edges, and hastily scrawled across it was the message:

"We need to talk" -☾

Sun fidgeted with his rays nervously. Usually when the two "spoke", it meant that Moon was angry. But, there was no use in avoiding it. Sun smoothed his rays one more time, then opened his mind and allowed Moon to speak.

Immediately Sun was knocked back with a wave of emotion radiating from Moon. Sun felt his chest plating tighten as their shared body reacted to his mood.

"Heeeey Moon. uhhhh... how's it going?" Sun reached out cautiously. "Looks like you're- heheh- feeling something pretty intense, huh?"

"I am having… difficulties."

"Well, I'll say! So uh- what's wrong? Did I do something wrong? I'll fix it, whatever it is!"

Moon said nothing, but his emotions swirled around the headspace. Sun noticed his legs beginning to malfunction and his throat tightening. Finally, Moon seemed to have gathered the courage to speak. "You're familiar with our assistant, correct?"

"Oh yes, we talk all the time, they're one of my very best friends!"

"Well, I… I see them as… more than a best friend, Sunny."

"MOON??? YOU HAVE A CRUSH? oooooOO-" Sun wobbled his noodle arms for emphasis.

"You are acting like one of the children."

"Oh-kayy. But Moon this is wonderful! Y/N is our best best best friend!! They would love to hear you say how you feel!"

"I… do not know if I can."

"Why?"

"What if- if- if-" Moon's voice glitched, and Sun sat down to stop his legs from shaking. How odd, experiencing the physical effects of an emotion he wasn't even feeling.

"Ok Moonie I am officially declaring you hopeless. Never fear, I shall help! We can…" Sun thought for a moment before spying the pad of sticky notes the two used for their "internal memos". Brilliant idea in mind, Sun carefully wrote in his neatest handwriting:

Do you like Moon?

🔲yes 🔲no

Sun surrounded their writing with stickers, little doodles of moons, and a border of his favorite glitter glue. Then, he sprinted out of their room, put it on your desk, ran back to their room, and watched from the balcony as you walked through the door.

"I'm not sure if that was our best option."

"Oh, just you wait, Moonie!"

Sun watched you do your opening shift activities, anxious for when you'd take a break and see the note. He watched the careful way you set out crayons, and the little dance you did while listening to the daycare theme. He noticed the little fidgets you do when you're concentrating, and the way the lights hit your hair. Slowly, Sun's chest plating tightened. His throat became hollow and dry. And his legs wobbled until they almost gave out from beneath him.

oh.

OH.

"So uh, Moony, heh… how do we feel about sharing?"

"Now you see what I mean, hmm?" Moon chuckled smugly. "Honestly, if they like even one of us it's a miracle. Go for it."

Sun crept down to your desk once more and silently placed another note that read:

Do you like Sun?

🔲yes 🔲no

Sun was just about to tiptoe back to his balcony when he heard a voice say:

"Good morning, Sun!"

Sun jumped 3 feet in the air, and frantically smoothed his rays. "OH! HI THERE Y/N!!" he said, his voice entirely too loud.

You point at the two notes on your desk. "Are those for me?"

"NO! YES! I mean.. maybe?" Sun crumpled to the ground in embarrassment, his legs essentially jelly as you unfold the notes.

You read them silently, stunned with disbelief. "Both of you?" you ask.

Sun looked up at you from the floor. "At first I was just trying to help Moon, because he's a little shy but- but then I was waiting for you to pick it up and I- well- you just look so pretty when you do everything and I- I couldn't help it!"

Your wide-eyed look of disbelief turned to a sappy grin. You fumbled for a pen and check off one box on each note. You took Sun's faceplate in your hands and gently pressed your nose to theirs. "Then I choose 'yes' and 'yes'."

#fnaf security breach #fnaf x reader #reader insert #fnaf imagines #gender neutral reader #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sundrop x y/n #moondrop x y/n #fnaf oneshot #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader

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theringers · 3 years ago

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disrespect - lando norris x max fewtrell x reader

summary: you move to a new city and are eager for a fun night out, but your date’s drunk friend just has to ruin it

a/n: hi besties, this has been a wip for a while but ofc it’s still unedited sorry /: hope you enjoy also don’t be mad at me bc i made lando an asshole sorry xoxo enjoy the fic, as always feedback is alwayssss appreciated:)

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, threesome, drinking, dirty talk, asshole lando, i’m in love with max fewtrell so this fic is about him here is your warning

You swiped through Tinder on your phone, hoping that you might come across someone worth spending your time with. You had just moved into your new apartment in a brand new city and it was nerve-wracking, to say the least. Upping your entire life and moving it across the country alone is one hell of a feat and you were proud of yourself. But now that there were no more boxes to unpack, you were left to deal with your loneliness in a half furnished apartment.

It had only been a few weeks since you moved away but you were craving some fun human interaction. Each person that showed up on your screen was either a hit or miss. They had to be a catfish, you thought to yourself. Or you were definitely out of their leagues. The TV was playing in the background and you were mindlessly swiping, but a profile stopped you dead in your tracks. Max, 22. His smile beamed at you through the phone and he looked like great company. Someone you could laugh with for a night and have a good time.

You swiped right on him, matching immediately. You grinned a stupid grin that you would only do when you were alone. He looked like a super fun-loving guy according to his profile. You contemplated whether to make the first move or just leave him to it.

You set your phone down on the couch and decided to get up and do a little cleaning around the house, but conveniently leave on your phone ringer, just in case. It was a single dish you didn't even finish cleaning before you heard the ding. You rushed over to your phone, excited to see a message from Max. "Hi Beautiful" it read. Okay, you said to yourself and nodded. He was pulling out the moves already. Of course, he was though, this was Tinder. What else was he here for?

You responded and got the conversation moving, asking the typical get-to-know-you questions. He seemed like a nice guy and you were desperate for a connection with another human person. You had spent way too much time on FaceTime the past few weeks.

Luckily, he was in a good mood and the two of you made plans to meet at a local pub in just a few hours. Nothing stressful, just a casual drink between new pals.

You threw on your favorite yellow sundress and waited until it was close to leaving. No one could blame you if you showed up at the pub early for a little pregame drink.

Impossibly, the pub looked familiar to you. You had never been to this town before you moved. You took a seat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic, sipping on the strong drink while you waited.

"You must be y/n," a voice said, taking you out of your gin-induced focus. He looked even better in person. His hair was messy but it looked like he spent a decent amount of time on it. Your favorite look. He flashed his award-winning smile at you and you almost melted.

"Hi, Max?" He nodded and sat down on the barstool next to you.

"Sorry I didn't pick a nicer place. This is one of my favorites."

You laughed at him. "You could have told me this was the nicest place in town and I would have believed you."

He pointed out the door. "I live right across the street there, so this place was convenient. It slowly became one of my favorites after a while."

He had the same mindset as you. You didn't need to be in the nicest restaurant with the most expensive food and drinks by any means. It was always more fun to go to a casual pub for a drink or two and see where the night takes you.

The bartender approached him. "What can I get ya?"

He looked at your almost empty drink. "I'll have whatever she's having and make it two."

You quietly thanked him and began the dreaded awkward first-date conversation. He cleared his throat and turned toward you. "I really love that dress, by the way, you look amazing in it."

You blushed at his words and smiled. "Thanks, it's one of my favorites."

"I can tell a lot about a person by what color they wear."

"Oh, really? And what does my yellow dress say about that?"

"That you're a friendly person. You like to talk to others and you want people to think you are a nice person."

You leaned into him and rested your head in your hand. "Tell me more."

He shook his head, regretting speaking up. "No, no, it's dumb."

"Not dumb at all, I'm actually very intrigued."

He took a deep breath. "Yellow is associated with freedom, independence, and optimism. Which I feel like you have all three." He half declared, half asked. He barely knew you, but apparently, your yellow dress told him more than enough.

"I respect it," you pursed your lips in an impressed half-smile.

The bartender dropped two more drinks off and you continued chatting. You learned about his interests and his family. He learned about your career and friends. At a certain point, the two of you just went back and forth sharing funny stories. You were three or four drinks in when you decided it would be a good idea to get some food in your systems, just in case.

As the bartender walked away, your gaze diverted to a rambunctious group walking into the bar. They were loud and laughing, one even stumbling his way in.

"I kinda wish that was me right now," you joked.

His eyebrows shot up. "Should we do shots?"

"We should do shots." You two were getting along swimmingly. He flagged the bartender over and ordered two shots of whiskey. "No, no, no. Maxy boy, if you're going to do shots with me, we're doing shots of vodka."

He groaned in frustration. “That’s nasty.”

“Okay, either vodka or tequila then.”

“I’d take tequila over vodka any day.”

The bartender was still waiting for your order, tapping his fingers on the bar. You spoke. “Two shots of tequila please.”

He was quick about bringing the shots, but you weren't quick about taking them. The clear liquid sat on the bar while you collected your thoughts and prepared yourself for the shot. You felt a hand slam down on the bar next to Max and looked over.

"Lando?" He asked. He must know him.

The boy stumbled a bit but used the bar as stability. "I want one of those," he slurred and pointed at the shot glasses.

Max laughed. "What are you doing here, mate?"

"We started drinking really, really early today."

"All day?" Max giggled, unable to keep in his emotions. This was hilarious.

"All day!" He shouted.

"Hey, buddy," he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Let's keep it down, okay? You don't want to get kicked out, do you?"

He cocked his head to the side and peered around Max. "Oh hey," he said and you smiled back. "Who's this hot piece of ass you got with you?"

"Lando!" Max stood up and your jaw dropped. "I think we should take you home." He grabbed Lando's arm and pulled him away, the sudden movement making him nauseous. He put his hand over his mouth and rushed to the bathroom.

Max sat back down. "I apologize for his behavior. That was so rude of him."

"It's okay, we all have those drunk friends who don't know when to shut up." It was amusing to you.

"I'm going to walk him across the street to my place and put him to bed. Don't move, I'm having a great time. I promise I'll be right back. And if I'm not, just come knocking on my door."

You nodded. "Got it. Can we at least take this shot first?"

"That's my kind of girl," he said. He picked up the glass, tapping it to the table, then to your glass, then to the table again, before tossing the shot back.

It burned, bad, but with him, you almost wanted to do another one. You saw Lando stumble out of the bathroom and tipped your head to Max. You hoped he wouldn't be too long because you were really enjoying your time with him.

You looked around the bar, taking notice of the groups of people you seem to have ignored before. Lando's rowdy friends were still here and you prayed they would leave you alone. There were a few older couples on the outskirts of the bar and a few groups of younger girls, looking like they were heading out on the town for a wild night. This was definitely just their first stop.

You could get behind spending your weekends and your work nights here. You didn't live too far from this place either, so whether this date ended well or not, you were sure to run into Max again. And probably Lando too.

Max walked back into the pub in record time. He sounded out of breath and his chest was rising and falling quickly. "I'm really sorry about him again."

You shook your head from side to side. "Don't even worry about it. I've said worse while drunk."

"Haven't we all." He rolled his eyes and flagged down the bartender for another drink.

You weren't sure how long you actually spent in the pub, but you watched it get crowded for prime time and then die down for closing. You were sipping on what you deemed your last drink and you definitely didn't need it.

Max signed the check and tossed back the last sip of his drink. "Do you want to come back to my place? We can watch a movie or something and then I can walk you home."

It sounded like exactly what you needed right now. You scooted off the barstool and grabbed your purse. Max took your hand in his and lead you to his place.

He fumbled in his pocket for his keys and you watched him intently. You were finding it difficult to keep yourself from drooling over him. You leaned back on the wall and waited. "Ah, got it," he said, looking up at you. He didn't even go directly for the door next to you, but instead eyed your body up and down. "You know, my friend can be a huge asshole, but he wasn't necessarily wrong."

You raised your eyebrows and cocked your head to the side.

"I think you are so unbelievably beautiful and still can't believe you sat down and had drinks with me all night." He took a step closer to you.

You looked up into his eyes and smiled. You pushed up onto your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his lips. He wasn't expecting it, but he reacted quickly, gripping your face with one hand and your hip with the other. You engaged in a few soft pecks before his tongue slipped in and guided yours. You could feel the prominent beat of his heart when you rested your hand on his chest. You smiled into the kiss and he let out a breathy laugh. "Let's get inside," he whispered against your lips.

When he opened the door, he stopped, forgetting that he had let his drunk friend crash on his couch. He groaned quietly and put his head in his hands. "Let's just go to my room, I'm sorry."

You laughed. You were down for anything but you loved to see him get so worked up over this. He led you down the hallway into his bedroom at the end.

He frantically tried to pick up a few loose clothing items on the floor when you walked in but you didn't care. It was something about all the gin and tonics you drank that just made you not care about clothes strewn everywhere. "Make yourself comfortable." He pointed to his bed, and lucky for you the bed was made. He unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and tossed it in his laundry. You tried not to ogle too much over him, but his body was firm and toned. He quickly slid on a t-shirt and continued picking up.

You laid down on your stomach, facing the TV with your head resting on your hands. "What should we watch?" You asked.

He sat down behind you on the bed, his upper body leaning against the headboard. "Whatever you want. Anything you're in the mood for?"

"I don't do scary movies," you said.

He debated internally and moved his head around. "I can see that. How about something funny? You can never go wrong with a comedy."

"I'm all for it."

There was an abundance of comedy movies available to watch and luckily enough you've seen almost none of them. He put on a movie he got a recommendation for, but you couldn't focus on what was in front of you. You could only think about what - or who - was behind you. He rested his hand on the back of your thigh, not moving it, but more of a comforting gesture. You felt yourself twitch and crossed your fingers that it was just a mental thing.

You giggled and laughed at the movie with Max, his hand slowly moving up the back of your leg each time his body shook from laughter.

He reached the end of your dress, slowly letting his fingers wander under it. "Is this okay?" He asked. You turned back to him and smiled, hoping he got the memo.

His soft fingers traced circles on the skin of your upper thigh, inching dangerously close to your core. He gripped your ass lightly and you moaned in response, trying to keep it to yourself but he definitely heard.

He hovered over your center and applied pressure causing your legs to heat up. It was a natural instinct for your body to heat up whenever someone like Max touched you. He pushed your panties to the side and played with your pussy, teasing you with his fingers and making you a moaning mess.

He slid one finger in, and then another right after driving you insane. Your head was spinning in the best way.

"Hey Max, I, uh-" Lando burst into the room, clearly still drunk. Max stopped the movements of his fingers but didn't remove his hand.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you had a guest." You covered your face in embarrassment. "My apologies." Lando's eyes tried to look anywhere else besides Max's bed.

You could feel Max's finger slowly start to move again and you didn't know what to do. Lando was looking right at you and your face wasn't exactly concealing what was going on.

He looked at Max with a confused look on his face and then noticed his arm moving. "You're inside of her aren't you?"

Max let out a single chuckle. "I think you know the answer to that." You let your head fall, unable to contain your facial expressions from the sensation. Their words were sending tingles up and down your entire body. "My question for you is," he tipped his head to Lando, "are you enjoying it?"

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Uh," he cleared his throat, "yeah."

"Then sit." Max pointed to a chair in the corner of his room. He didn't have to hide his motions anymore so the pace sped up and the volume of your moans increased. Lando shifted uncomfortably while watching, but the tent in his pants said he was definitely enjoying the view.

Max moved closer to you on the bed and planted a kiss on the top of your head. "Do you want me to fuck you while he watches?"

"Please," you said breathlessly, unable to contain the feeling inside of you that was about to explode.

He tossed your body around and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. You were on your hands and knees now, facing Lando and looking at him right in the eyes. You still had your dress on, so he didn't get to see too much of you. That was saved for Max, but he got to watch you get fucked by his best friend and that was better than anything he could ask for.

"Fuck, y/n." You felt your walls clench around Max entering you from behind, and you sucked in a breath waiting for him to start moving. You squeezed your eyes shut, not ready to face Lando. When you opened them, he was palming himself through his pants.

The grunts and groans of two men now filled the room and you couldn't believe what was happening.

Max felt so good ramming you from behind, his hands gripping your ass and guiding you, but you couldn't help but stay focused on Lando. His eyes met yours and he watched you intently as he touched himself.

He pulled his cock out of his pants and began stroking it, letting his head fall back and staring up at the ceiling.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. His hand went up and down his shaft fast and rough like he was desperate for some relief.

"You want to fuck her, mate?" Max asked from behind you.

"God, yes. So bad." His words sounded like moans.

Max laughed. "Too bad."

Lando's eyes shot open. "Too bad?"

He laughed again. "You disrespected her earlier. Now you get to watch from the sidelines while I make her cum." You couldn't see his face but he definitely had a smug grin plastered across it. Lando rolled his eyes and continued touching himself.

Max's thrusts started to get sloppy and his breathing was unstable, alerting you that he was about to finish. You reached your hand between your legs and played with your clit, hoping to be able to finish with him.

You began seeing stars and let the top half of your body fall onto the bed from exhaustion. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore. Your legs got hot and slightly numb, and you let out one last loud moan before collapsing on the bed.

Max walked into his bathroom for a towel and cleaned you up. He laughed when he tossed the towel across the room to Lando. "Alright mate, time for bed."

Lando shook his head as he pulled his pants up and headed for the door. "Great to meet you, y/n."

taglist: @honeybadger03 @teenwaywardasgardian @ggaslyp1 @f1oneshots @enchantestuff @ohpuckyeah @e16leclerc @landowishes @pg10ln4 @yugyeomcutie

#lando norris smut #max fewtrell x reader #max fewtrell smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris oneshot #f1 oneshot #max fewtrell oneshot #max fewtrell imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨3

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) sleep paralysis, stress.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m so happy people are liking this story. Thanks so much to everyone reading and sorry if I’m a bit inactive lately, I’ve been exhausted and yesterday didn’t end, I swear.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

On Monday, you yawned over your keyboard as your fingers moved on instinct alone. Your eyes ran along the text but the words were just letters to you. You had a lot to think about, a lot to do.

You decided you would skip lunch and get through your work day an hour early so you could head to Clark’s right away. He was hard to deny when he asked if you could make it back so soon. You told him you worked everyday from home and you had hours beside that at the gallery three times a week at least. He accepted it with a nod but his silence was telling so you caved and said you could make it but not until the evening.

You texted Marcus as you waited for your Uber. He had a few hours to go still and you left him everything he needed to make supper with instructions; the veggies were cut, the meat thawed, and the pans already arranged on the stove. You had faith he could manage on his own.

The mansion was just as intimidating as the first time you visited. You walked up the drive and to the front steps. It was human nature to be envious of the sprawling yards and lavish estate and yet, it didn’t feel as if someone could truly live here. It would be like staying in a hotel as you were always overly aware of your every move, afraid to break something or make a mess.

You hammered the large knocker when your soft tapping brought no answer. You heard someone on the other side and wiggled your foot nervously. The door opened and square-faced woman greeted you in another language. You couldn’t tell if it was Swedish, German, or some other dialect. You were never a skilled linguist.

“Um, hi, I’m…”

“Ah, you are the lady painter,” she said, “I remember. I am Nina, Mr. Kent’s housekeeper.”

She turned and beckoned you to follow her. You closed the tall door and trailed her across the spacious foyer and behind the stairs into the kitchen. She turned through another room and led you out through the glass doors that opened onto the pool.

“Miss, would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” you said as the water moved and your eyes were drawn to the figure moving beneath the surface.

“Miss,” Nina nodded and left you.

You stood, awkward and listless, and glanced around at the loungers and the umbrella over the round table. You weren’t entirely sure what to do. Had he forgotten about you?

“Hey,” your gaze was drawn back to the pool. Clark waded to the edge, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest visible as he made his way to the shallow end, “sorry. Lost track of time.”

He grabbed the metal railing and climbed up the stairs. The water slaked off his tight trunks and down his thick thighs. He appeared even larger with less clothes. You looked away before your thoughts lingered too long.

“It’s fine, I should have texted I was on my way,” you said, “I can go wait for you--”

“No worries,” he took his towel and rubbed dry his dark hair. The scruff along his chin was thicker than before, almost a full blown beard, “you’re not in a hurry, are you?”

“No, not really, can’t really rush… painting,” you shrugged, “I just… I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.”

“Pfft, I’m ready for anything,” he grinned, “but I should also listen to the artist. I’ll go get changed and you can get settled in the studio.” He directed you ahead of him as he approached the sliding doors, “you just finished work? You should take a few minutes to unwind.”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s just, um, typing, not exactly hard labour,” you said as he followed you inside.

“Work is work,” he said, “I will never fault anyone who works hard, regardless of what they do.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you stifled a yawn behind your hand.

He let out a breath as you came out into the foyer, “I’m sorry, you could’ve… you’re tired. We could have rescheduled. I’m sorry if I came across… pushy yesterday. I don’t mean to take advantage of you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he said doubtfully, “but you let me know if you need a break.”

“Will do,” you murmured as you neared the stairs.

🎨

You weren’t even close to done just the background of the portrait. Clark really didn’t even need to be there as you shadowed the folds of the curtains around his figure and the marble bust. Your arm hurt from reaching across and up the gigantic canvas and your eyes burned from squinting at your work.

You backed off the ladder carefully with your paintbrush and palette balanced in one hand. The paint was drying and you needed to mix more. You set down your armful and wiped your hands on the rag. He was watching you, he was always watching you. Well, no, he was just looking in your direction; it was all for the portrait.

You hit the button on the side of your phone and gasped. It was midnight. You had several messages from Marcus and you blanched as you unlocked the cell and quickly texted back. You rubbed your eye as you hit send and turned to Clark.

“I didn’t realise it was so late,” you said, “I gotta go.”

“What time is it?” he asked and looked at his watch, “oh.”

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and stretched out his arms as he neared. You took your brush and rinsed it in the tinted water in the jar.

“I’ll just clean up as I wait for an Uber,” you said as you let the brush rest in the jar and lifted your phone again.

“I’ll drive you,” he said as he grabbed a rag, “it’s a long way. I’ll hire a driver for you from here on out. It’ll be easier and cheaper.”

“You don’t have to--”

You flinched as he wiped your cheek with the rag. He smiled and showed you the paint on the white cloth.

“I wouldn’t offer it if it was too much trouble,” he tossed the rag down, “and I did have something to talk to you about. The drive will be more than enough to get it sorted.”

“Oh, okay,” you eked nervously. Had you done something wrong? Were you not painting fast enough?

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he touched your arm gently.

He left you and you finished scraping off the palette and cleaning your brushes. You dumped the jar in the sink just inside the nearest bathroom and rinsed the porcelain back to white. You left everything arranged neatly on the table and descended to the first floor.

Clark stood by the door in a different jacket, his tie gone and the top button undone. He held the door for you and showed you to the garage. There were at least a half-dozen cars inside and he took you to the same silver one he drove the night of the show. You settled in and groaned as the tension left your shoulders.

He started the car as the doors rose behind him and he backed out smoothly. He turned down the long drive and onto the desolate roads of the wealthy countryside. He kept one hand on the wheel and dropped his other to his thigh casually.

“So, your job, you like it?”

“It’s work,” you said, “I get paid to sit at home and type. Half the time, I’m just waiting for an assignment.”

“I asked if you liked it,” he said more pointedly.

“Oh, well, not… really?” you answered, unsure.

He could be so pleasant and then so blunt. He made you nervous and the more you thought of it, the more you realised you knew almost nothing about this man besides his name. You didn’t know how he made his money or what exactly he did outside of his extravagant mansion.

“If I doubled your fee, would you quit?” he asked without hesitation.

“Quit? This… the painting won’t take forever,” you said, “I can’t really just drop everything--”

“This is an opportunity,” he said, “you could spend your days doing what you love. And who’s to say it’s just one painting? I already have something in mind for the dining room and I have friends asking about you.”

“Friends? Who--”

“One thing at a time,” he said curtly, “I’ll introduce you to them in time. Is it a deal?”

“I… it’s all very sudden, can I think about it?”

He looked at you in the rearview and you caught his eye. For a moment, you were afraid. There was something in his expression that left you breathless. He lifted his hand and stretched his arm between the seats, his fingers gripped the leather just above your shoulder.

“Sure, I’ll give you a couple days,” he said at last.

“I--I’m sorry…” you didn’t know why you were apologizing but it felt appropriate, “I just, I’m tired.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he assured and the epithet hung in the air.

“I have to go to the gallery tomorrow, I’ll get back to you on Wednesday,” you said as you rubbed your chin nervously. Your lips was quivering. He was smiling but you felt his impatience in the small space of the car, “if I… if I say yes, I have to talk to my boss and that might get messy.”

“No problem,” his voice softened, “you take some time and figure it out.” His thumb rubbed the leather seat and he pulled his arm away to grasp the steering wheel, “why don’t you close your eyes. We got some time left.”

You peeked over at him and nodded.

“Okay,” you murmured and hugged your bag against you as you tried to relax against the leather. You turned your head and looked out the window up at the starry sky. You closed your eyes as the fatigue settled over you but you could only fake dozing as your nerves stormed inside of you.

He was right, it was a great opportunity, but you just couldn’t believe it would last. Was it your own doubt getting to you? Or should you be weary of this fairytale buyer? It was late and you couldn’t think. All those worries could wait until tomorrow.

🎨

You crept into the dark apartment. It was after one and you foresaw a long day ahead of you. You’d get maybe four hours in before it all started again. You put your purse down and went into the bedroom, undressing in the shadows and crawling into bed next to Marcus as the colours of the tv moved around him. The playlist he was casting kept on even as he slept.

He grunted as you laid on your back and he turned to graze your arm with his fingertips.

“You’re home,” he grumbled and kissed your cheek, “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I… it’s so far out there and it’s a lot of work. The canvas is like nine feet-- I’m sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” his voice was gristly as he propped himself up on his elbow, “you’re gonna finish the job right?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can,” Marcus insisted, “I mean, at that price, you can do anything.”

“It’s not about the money, Marcus,” you huffed, “I don’t know if it’s worth all this. Going back and forth…” you ran your hands over your face, “he wants me to quit my job and just paint for him.”

“You should,” Marcus said blithely, “why not? He’s paying you well enough.”

“And what about when I’m done,” you whined.

“You’ll find more work. Vanessa even offered to take on more of your work in her shows, so what’s the problem? Isn’t this what you want?”

“Y-yeah, it is but… I don’t know, it just seems too good to be true.”

“You do this and we might even have enough for a down payment,” he said, “something had to give after all these years. Why can’t it be this?”

You looked at him and tried to smile, “you’re only saying that because he has a pool.”

“Maybe,” he kidded, “but I also want it for you. You spend all your free time painting anyhow so why not get paid for it?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, “yeah, I just don’t know why I feel so… I don’t know. It just all seems off.”

“Sleep on it, you’ll feel better,” he leaned over and kissed your lips that time, “love you.”

“Love you,” you echoed as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv.

You closed your eyes as the darkness shrouded you and despite your anxiety, you fell into a deep sleep. You didn’t even roll onto your side before you sank into your REM but found yourself caught in limbo. The abstract and intense sensation of paralysis overtook your body and your eyelids flicked open.

It was an awful feeling you knew too well. You knew you were dreaming, you knew it was all in your mind, but your body was filled with sand and your subconscious conjured visions of doom. The tall man stood by the door as he always did and just stared. He got closer, just a little at a time, and you fought to move just a finger and free yourself from the trance.

You felt like you were drowning as your body remained heavy and unmoving. He was getting closer and closer. As he did, his figure changed and his shoulders got wider as his features came clear in the slat of the streetlight that leaked between the curtains. It was Clark staring down at you, his blue eyes sinister and sparkling.

He reached for you and you woke with a start as your name rose from his lips. You inhaled sharply and looked over at Marcus as he snored. It was only the two of you. You reached for your phone, it was just after three. You turned onto your side but your heart still raced. It always happened when you were stressed, the dreams felt so real that you never really came back down after.

You stared at the wall and curled up under the blanket. You didn’t expect to get much sleep anyway, not with the question on your mind. Should you quit and live your dream or should you kill all hope before life did it for you?

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #superman #series #portrait of a dangerous man #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mob au #mob!au #dc #dcu

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literallymitch · 3 years ago

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 || 𝐃.𝐃

requested: no

summary: the first part of the reputation series in which the reader first meets Damiano

pairing: Damiano David x famous!reader

word count: 2k

what kind of content: fluff

warnings: drinking

passages written in cursive are flashbacks

some of the lyrics were changed so they would fit the story

Please don’t steal any of my conten and release it elsewhere. Also all of this is fiction. I don’t know these people in real life nor do I know how they act

a/n I I hope you all enjoy this one, as much as I do. I’m so excited about this series jdhidcuheu. What song do you guys think is next? As always please keep in mind english is not my first language. I’m super happy about feedback!!

With a buzzing head I woke up. I shouldn’t have drank so much yesterday. Feeling the after effects of the alcohol I consumed yesterday, I looked at the sleeping figure next to me. A gorgeous man with brown hair and tattoos that fitted him perfectly. I smiled to myself, knowing he was the reason I probably drank a little too much yesterday. There was no way I would have found the courage to actually talk to him otherwise. He looked like an angel sleeping so peacefully in my queen-sized bed. As I looked at his sleeping figure, an idea popped into my head. I grabbed my notebook and went to my balcony that was connected to my bedroom. Looking at him one last time through the huge window in front of me. I opened my notebook and started writing down some lyrics in memory of last night.

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong

“We wanted to start working on our next album soon too.” , the gorgeous man in front of me said with an Italian accent.

After a few drinks I was finally talking to him. I was too busy taking in his beauty that I didn’t really listen to what he just said to me. All of a sudden, I started giggling.

“You know, your accent is so funny, I love it. Like the way you pronounce some words? Hilarious”.

“Thanks, I guess?”

I cringed a little thinking about this specific moment. If he knew the only reason I was making a fool out of myself in front of him was his magnificent appearance, he would take it as a compliment. He probably already knew that was the reason. How could he not know? It’s not like he has never looked in a mirror. Also, there is no way, I am the first person that had to suffer from his magnetic self. By now he should know what his whole existence is doing to people.

And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be here as well?” the beautiful Italian boy asked.

“My wha- Oh you mean Andre? He isn’t my boyfriend. The media just made that up after we went out once, and I was caught at two of his games. We haven't talked in months. He’s probably at some club right now, annoying some poor girl.”

At that moment I thought I’ve seen a small smile appear on his face. He then just turned to the bar tender, ordering another beer. God, how could he just keep his cool like this the whole night. Usually it was the other way around. People would stand drunk in front of me trying to make a move, while I just stood there unimpressed. He really made me feel like an insecure fourteen-year-old girl again, and I hated him for that

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine You've ruined my life, by not being mine

“The sunset is really beautiful today” Damiano stated sipping on his glass of Whisky. I nodded in agreement while I ate a grape from the vine that was placed on the bar counter.

The bar were at was on top of a small mountain somewhere outside Rome. From there we had a great view over the whole city of Rome and how the sun met the city's skyline. It really was beautiful, still it was nothing compared to him. I wish he would’ve been mine, so I could’ve rested my head on his shoulder right there and then, but he wasn’t.

You should take it as a compliment That I'm talking to everyone here but you (but you, but you)

“I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to talk after you talked to, well, everyone else at this bar except me.”, the handsome man called me out while he sat down next to me.”

Feeling a bit caught, I just gave him an awkward smile. I tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, that was less embarrassing than ‘Yeah sorry about that, I was just too scared to talk to you because you look like you’re straight out of my dreams.’

“I’m really sorry about that! It was just that every time I was done talking to someone, the next person already stood behind me wanting to talk.” I lied.

“It’s alright. I guess that's what happens when you’re a world-famous singer.”

And you should think about the consequence Of you touching my hand in the darkened room

It was now 11pm and the sky outside was completely dark. The lights in the bar were also dimmed a bit, creating a cozy atmosphere. Damiano and I were in the middle of our conversation, as he accidentally grabbed my hand, that was resting on the bar counter, instead of his drink. It felt like an electric shock. An electric shock that woke up the butterflies inside my body. My hand started to tingle, and I’m pretty I was full on blushing now.

If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her But if you're single that's honestly worse 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

“So do you have a girlfriend?”, at this point I was so drunk I didn’t even care how this question came across anymore.

I was pretty sure he in fact had a girlfriend, I mean how could he not looking like this?

“No I don’t.” Thank god. “It’s kinda hard building up a real relationship with someone when you're always busy, but I guess you can tell me a thing or two about it too.”

Oh, yes, I could. Still I would drop everything I was doing right now, just to be with him.

Chocolate brown eyes looking in mine I feel like I might sink and drown and die

Just as my confidence made a small comeback, I made the mistake to directly look into Damianos beautiful brown eyes. There really wasn’t a single thing about him that wasn’t extremely beautiful. I started to feel a bit dizzy as a wave of heat rushed through my body. What is this man doing to me?

Just thinking about it again made my heart beat three times faster.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

For like the million time this evening, he made a laugh. Great, so he wasn’t just incredibly handsome, but also extremely funny. I didn’t realize how happy I was in his presence until I remembered he wasn’t mine. Suddenly I felt kind of sad, thinking about how I maybe would never see him again after tonight. I just wanted to grab his hand and run away with him. Somewhere I could be alone with him. Somewhere he would be only mine.

Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along

I looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall behind the bar tender. I was shocked when I realized it was already midnight. There was no way we’ve been talking for like three hours now. I scanned the room for my friends, I went here with in the first place.

“Looking for someone specific?” Damiano asked, now also looking in the direction I was looking in.

“Just my friends, but it seems like they already went home. I’ll check if they texted me” I picked up my phone, checking if I had a message from my friends.

‘Hi babe, we already went home, we were kinda tired. Have fun talking to handsome stranger. You better tell us everything tomorrow ;)’

“Did they text you?”

“Yes, my friend texted me that they already went home. Guess I’ll have to go home alone then. At least my cats are waiting for me.” I stood up and tried to make my way over to the wardrobe to get my coat. Unfortunately I forgot how drunk I actually and almost tripped as I tried to walk. Alcohol and heels really are not a good combo. Thankfully Damiano grabbed my arm helping me to stabilize myself.

“You’re sure, you’ll make it home alone?”

“Yes, I am a big girl. Unless you wanna come along.” I said with a cheeky grin on my face.

Damiano left out a soft chuckle. He paid for our drinks and then accompanied me on my way back home.

“It’s already pretty late, if you want to, you can stay over.” I told him after he brought me up to my bedroom.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

After I got myself ready for bed, I basically fell into my cozy bed, cuddling myself up in my soft sheet.

“You mind telling me where your guestroom is before falling asleep?” the Italian boy asked with an amused look on his face.

“Mmh, I don’t know. Just sleep here, it's fine.” I answered him, already half asleep.

After that, I probably fell asleep, since I don’t remember anything else that happened.

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face (to your face) 'Cause look at your face

“Good morning.” I heard a raspy voice say.

I looked up from my notebook and came face to face with Damiano gorgeous figure. His hair was messy, and he still looked a bit sleepy. Since he just wore a pair of boxer shorts, I could finally see all the tattoos that covered his upper body. All of a sudden I felt the same way as I did last night when I saw him for the first time. The words were stuck in my throat and I felt the anxiety build up in my body. How does he manage to make me feel this way by just existing?

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” I somehow managed to say.

“Yes I did thank you. What are you doing?” he asked me curiously as he sat down on the garden chair next to me.

“I’m just writing a song. The idea came to mind when I woke up.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s pretty impressive that you’re able to write a song now after you could barely walk yesterday.” a small laugh left his mouth. “Can I see it?”

“No, it’s kinda awful. I’m to hungover to write something good now. I just wanted to write the idea down.” I lied, I actually really liked the stuff I wrote so far, but he would probably think I’m a freak when he found out I wrote a song about after knowing him for a day.

“Can you at least tell me what it is about?”

“So you can steal my brilliant idea? No, thanks.” we both started laughing. “I can offer you breakfast though”

“I’m fine with that too” he said flashing me his beautiful smile

And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way But what can I say? You're gorgeous

We were now sitting on my roof garden eating breakfast. Damiano told me some things about his life and what interests he had. As he did, so I looked at him in awe. I really started crushing on him as he continued to talked about his last tour with a huge smile on his face. I hated it that I was practically on my knees for him already, but how could I not? He’s perfect.

“I could really get used to this, you know?” he said out of nowhere.

“Me too.” I responded, not really questioning what he meant.

I also didn’t care as long as it involved us spending time together. I would make him mine no matter what.

#damiano david #måneskin #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david x reader #damiano david imagine #damiano david fluff #damiano maneskin #maneskin #måneskin imagine #taylor swift #reputation #reputation series

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heyyyharry · 3 years ago

Text

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

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