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1d1195 · 3 months ago

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Thank you 😭 💕

The Lottery - Extra I

Read The Lottery here | ~2.5k words

From me: takes place within days of the last part (maybe even the next day?) I missed them; I know some of you did too 💕

Warnings: none, they're just going to love each other now (although FINE, maybe a TINY bit of angst)

Summary: One peach and one white chocolate chip pancakes with a side of Harry please. --Peach to Harry, probably, 24/7.

“Can I have one peach and one white chocolate chip pancake?” She batted those pretty eyelashes at him so excessively. Today wasn’t a reading day, so she was dressed in her normal clothes and yet Harry thought she still looked stunning. Not that it was particularly difficult to do so. She made the Cat in the Hat look good for God’s sake. Dressed as an elf made him have inappropriate thoughts. So a plain shirt tucked into jeans made him nearly lose his mind. The way she fluttered her lashes was downright sinful. She was so sweet it was nauseating.

And she was all his.

“No,” he rolled his eyes and headed toward the other end of the counter to pour coffee for another person.

She pouted. “Really? There’s no perks to this boyfriend thing at all?”

“Nope,” he shrugged a shoulder. But within seconds he placed her cold coffee in front of her. She reached over the counter for the plate of cream and sugar, but he smacked her hand gently. She sighed.

“What was the point,” she mumbled.

He rolled his eyes and leaned over the counter, cupped the side of her face, and kissed her forehead letting his lips linger there for a second. “So dramatic,” he muttered brushing his thumb over her cheek.

She smiled sweetly and sipped her coffee. Her face felt warm with the display of affection in front of everyone. She didn’t mind in the slightest but wasn’t sure how Harry would approach it.

Given the entirety of the regular breakfast diners watched their exchange, she thought he might not like all the attention. “It’s about time,” Alice sighed and sipped her coffee satisfied at last it seemed. She giggled at the older woman. “We were all beginning to lose hope,” Alice nodded knowingly and nearly everyone else in the diner responded with nods of agreement.

Harry ignored their teasing and headed back to the kitchen to make the love of his life the pancakes she so desired. But there was that twinge of a smile at the corner of his lips that felt so much harder to hide this morning. “Alice,” Ed rolled his eyes. “They’re kids, let them live.”

“Well, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes they belong together,” Alice grumbled to her husband. She laughed again as she took her notebook from her bag and settled it on the counter to make her list for the day. She glanced at Harry longingly as he hid in the back, only catching sight of his forearm as he worked at the grill. She wondered how he really felt about the attention. Would he be different? Was he okay with the spotlight back when he was young? She didn’t think he would change all that much and that was fine; he was exactly who she loved exactly as he was. She didn’t want him to think he had to change though.

But maybe he would smile more. He had a great smile, and the town deserved to see it, they probably missed it. She bet it reminded them of his mother and that had to be a treat for them. However, selfishly, part of her liked being the one that drew smiles out of him. Getting to enjoy his dimples in private.

Was he touching her because he felt like he had to? That was the last thing she wanted. She wanted Harry to be himself and nothing else. That was why she loved him.

“We like when Harry smiles like that,” Alice whispered loudly.

“Don’t get used to it, Alice,” Harry deadpanned from behind the kitchen wall.

She rolled her eyes. “Men are stubborn, Miss Peach,” Alice reminded her. “Even the cute ones that make you breakfast.”

“I agree,” she nodded as Harry returned with that heavy sigh of his; the very one that quite possibly made her fall in love with him and the very stool she sat on so many years ago. He settled the plate of pancakes in front of her (one of each of her favorites, of course, not that anyone could tell). He leaned over again and kissed her temple. “Extremely stubborn,” she said pointedly as she poured syrup onto her plate.

“M-hmm,” he hummed going around to the tables to refill coffees while she worked on her list. She pulled her phone out to check her calendar, examined her emails, and looked over her messages to see if there was anyone she needed to text. Which was probably plenty, actually. Bailey, Louis, and her family needed a message sharing the news. “Busy day?” He asked putting a hand on her lower back as he peered over her shoulder. She melted into the touch a bit, shifting ever so slightly to sink a bit into his hand.

“Think so,” she smiled. “Lucky me.”

“Mm...”

“Do you say anything besides mm and m-hmm, and nuh-uh.”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

She tilted her head up at him. “You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to in public. I like it, but if it’s not your thing...”

Harry bent so his lips touched her ear, the hand at her back slid forward wrapping around her waist and he pulled her toward him to half-hug her as he spoke. “I like touching you very much, Peach. Don’t worry,” he assured her and pressed another kiss to her cheek. “S’easily going t’be m’new favorite thing,” blood rushed to her face, making her feel utterly warm all over. “Eat your pancakes, Peach. Y’got a busy day,” he reminded her with a squeeze and headed back to the kitchen to cook.

“Stubborn isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Alice,” she felt a bit flustered as she felt the gaze of her neighbors and friends all over her blushing face.

“Never said it was, Miss Peach.”

She missed him. If she stepped outside, she could probably see him in his diner, and yet, she still missed him. It was insane. She was craving him, and it felt nearly idiotic to feel such a way. There were kids at the table studying, there were people milling around for books, and she was sitting at the register trying to maintain her composure at how ridiculous she felt for missing Harry after a couple hours of being apart. She never missed him before, and it seemed silly to start now.

She would see him later, of course. They would order pizza or eat leftovers. There would be a movie or a show. Snuggles on the couch or and maybe she would make out with him. There was no reason to miss him when he was hardly far away.

Her phone vibrated. At the risk of sounding a little insane... I miss you.

Her heart burst. I thought I was going crazy. 😅 I miss you too

Good ❤️

I’ll come by after I close.

I might need a pick-me-up sooner than that. I’ll have to come in for coffee before I head home.

I’m walking across the square now.

She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face as she looked up to see Harry carrying a coffee tumbler and a pastry bag. There was a small smile on his lips. Not the full blown smile she saw when he was alone or the one he always managed around Gemma, but the one she was sure the town knew. He was stunning and he was all hers.

She sighed with relief and met him outside because even the extra ten seconds it would have taken him to walk inside seemed ludicrous. Ten seconds she would never have again. Maybe it was because it had been so long without being a couple. Or because she was finally able to know and acknowledge what Harry had gone through to know life was incredibly short. She wasn’t wasting any additional time without the love of her life.

“Hi Peach,” he chuckled at her as she held the door open.

“Hi.”

He ducked his head to press a gentle kiss against her lips. “How’s your day?”

“Better,” she sighed.

He smirked, shaking his head. “Well, I gotta get back, but...”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“See you later,” he grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and brought it to his lips. His eyes watched her the entire time and she felt so adored and loved by the emotion it seemed almost too intimate for the middle of her bookstore. But it was exactly what she needed to satisfy the craving of needing Harry. “Bye Peach.”

“Bye,” she smiled.

“Peach?” He called into her house.

“Out back!” She answered. Harry dropped his keys and a bag for overnight items in her front room. He made his way to her backyard. He found her between two trees, lounging in her hammock. She had a can of bug spray cradled beside her as well as a book, with a small light attached to the front cover and illuminating the page. “Hi baby,” she grinned as he approached. “Wanna lay with me?” She asked.

His heart skipped a beat. Yes, always. Every minute of every day. “Yeah,” he nodded.

She scooched slightly as best she could in the unsteady hammock and Harry fell in beside her. Carefully he coaxed his arm under her neck, and she turned slightly dropping her head to his bicep and she sighed contentedly. “M’gonna spray this, close your eyes and mouth,” she ordered.

He smiled and waited while the smell of bug spray settled over him. “How was work?” She asked.

“Good,” he shrugged. “Same as always.” She brought a hand to her necklace and pulled the charm along the chain for a moment. “Y’nervous?” He asked, bringing his fingers to her cheek and he skimmed his knuckle across her jaw.

“Why do you think I’m nervous?”

“You play with your necklace when you’re nervous.”

She tilted her head. “I didn’t know that,” she mumbled.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “It’s subconscious to touch the necklace I got you?” There was a smile in his voice that was a little hidden by the setting sun.

She snorted. “Wouldn’t peg you as the possessive type.”

There was no hiding the warmth of his beautiful smile at the sound of that. “For you, Peach? M’very possessive.”

“Good to know.”

“Why are y’nervous?”

“Do you remember the day Bodie broke up with me?” She asked.

He nodded. “I know y’were upset...but anytime y’broke up with someone made me happy.”

“Very kind of you,” she laughed.

“Possessive,” he repeated. “I remember.”

“Why were you upset?” She asked quietly.

He frowned. “Uh...”

“I guess you don’t have to tell me. It’s just I was thinking about how you said there’s not a lot of living here. Which I think is unmistakably wrong. There is so much life in this town and I love it so much but I worry that you’re going to continue thinking it’s not enough for me, because I know you. So I just want to know what about that day got you so sad that when some guy that doesn’t even matter anymore told me this place wasn’t everything—”

“S’the date m’mum died.”

Her voice died in her throat. “Oh,” she managed.

He smirked. “Sorry t’bring y’down. You asked.”

“You were so upset.”

“I missed you,” he shrugged. “Hadn’t seen y’much.”

“So... you’re not... not going to try and talk me out of this town?”

“Honestly, Peach. I’ll probably try t’convince y’to move away every day of our lives.”

She held his face in both her hands and pouted. “What if I don’t want to go?” She whispered.

“M’not going t’be very convincing,” he assured her with a grin and bumped her nose against his.

“You have the best smile, Harry Styles,” she sighed.

“S’for you, Peach. Y’brought it back to the surface,” he reminded her. “Did y’see the moon?” He asked pointing up. “Saw it on m’way over.”

It was the entire reason she was out there, but she was never going to tell Harry that ever. She would let him point out the moon every day of their lives because it was the sweetest thing in the world, and he was the only person in her life that cared to look for it on her behalf. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she.”

“Stunning,” he murmured but he was looking at her and kissing along the length of her hairline.

She laughed. “Harry,” she giggled. “I meant the moon.”

“Mmm... I love you,” he whispered.

She sighed deeply, her heart feeling so warm and so happy. It seemed unfair that they took all this time to get to here, but God did it feel worth it. “I love you,” she answered. Harry cupped her face and pressed a kiss on her mouth the way he imagined kissing her for the entire time he knew her. She tasted like syrup, and it had been over twelve hours since she ate pancakes. She was just that sweet. As much as she reminded him of the moon, she was warm like the sun, and he loved holding her so much. She was light, love, and simply perfect for him in every single way.

“M'a lucky guy, Peach,” he mumbled into her lips.

“Feeling is mutual,” she whispered back breathlessly.

There was a snap, and they were on the ground with a thud.

“Fuck!”

“Ow!”

“Jesus,” she hissed and then laughed. “That hurt.”

Harry laughed. “Are you alright?” He asked, turning on his side to look at her.

“I think my butt is going to bruise,” she giggled. “Are you alright?”

“M’hip is definitely going t’be sore, but m’fine,” he assured her.

They continued laughing at one another and the situation. The sound felt foreign to Harry and yet natural at the same time. It was a gorgeous sound, and she loved it so instantly that she wished she could record him and make it a ringtone every time he called and texted.

“You’re happy?” She asked once the sound of their laughter died long enough for her to speak.

Harry smiled and nodded. “God, Peach. Yeah. M’always happy around you.”

“Am I enough though?” She asked. Her voice sounded happy, positive. The way it always did. But it broke his heart to know she felt she had to ask.

Harry said he didn't hate the men she dated in the time he knew her, but right then he did. He hated every man that ever made her feel small. Hated the way they made her feel like she wasn't enough and that she was this burden or something. But he was so glad they felt that way because it led her right to him. “You’re more than I could ever imagine, Peach.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

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#it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize what you meant by kitten in the hat. i'm so dumb sometimes lol #i thought you meant “kitten has entered the chat” like i'm so dumb #SHE DOES NEED A COSTUME FOR THE BEDROOM. Harry has been so deprived he deserves a little something 😏#i know i think it'll be fun to remember his mom now 💕#i am obsessed with routine hahahaha #i don't think harry would actually be very PDA-y but I but for Peach he would be #he loves to kiss her now that he's started 💕#he's so extra #he's gonna be downright obsessed.#i figured it would be good to mention it lol #i had that bit planned about his mom and the date he was all upset back when i wrote it #alice is the best hahahaha #it is NOT the pancakes that are hot lol #he IS so cute #it's hard not to lose it while I'm writing hehehe #that's so cute you love the smell of bug spray 🥰#i know it's probs basic but I LOVE This Town--it's top 5 of my fave of their solo music #SO MOVIE STOPPPP #i HAVE to include the moon 💕#no canoodling i'm crying #i remember you hated them all hahahaha #thanks for sharing 💕

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forever-rogue · 2 months ago

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Trouble

AN | Hello, I'm here to fix it. It never happened. Joel is back in Jackson. Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Canon typical injury

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were covered in dirt, blood, and gunk but none of that mattered in the moment. What mattered was that no matter how bruised and worn down you felt, you were alive. You had survived, Jackson had survived…everything would be okay.

Dragging yourself up off the ground, you spotted Tommy and Maria up ahead. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you slowly made your way towards them, helping any stragglers along your way. It was going to take a while to recover from this disaster, but at least you knew things would get better. And, if anything, you now had more knowledge on the enemy and their…abilities for lack of a better word.

Brushing some blood and dirt off your face, you spotted Ellie getting off her horse just up ahead. Thank fuck.

They were all okay. Everything was fine. Ellie, Jesse, Dina, and Joel were back.

You ran as fast as you could which, given the state you were in wasn't very fast, ready to make your way to them. It was more of a limping skip as you made your way over.

“Tommy! Ellie!” You shouted over the wind, waving your arm to get their attention. When they heard you and finally turned around, you were met with a sea of grim faces. Your stomach dropped; they should be happy. If not happy, at least not so grim. Right? When you finally got to them, you realized that you didn’t see Joel. You immediately knew something was very wrong, “where's Joel?”

Ellie opened and closed her mouth a few times, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Where's Joel?” you asked again, swallowing the lump in your throat. You turned to Tommy and saw that the look on his face mirrored the one on Ellie's. In fact, no one looked happy, “Tommy. Where's Joel?”

“Listen-”

“Where is he!?” You demand again, tears welling up in your own eyes. Tommy put his hand on your shoulder and held onto it firmly, “T-Tommy. Where is he?”

“He's at Kat's,” he finally said, his own voice shaking as he tried to keep it together, “he's…he's not doing well.”

You choked out a sob before turning on your heel and running towards Kat's house. Your own body was screaming in pain but none of that mattered in the moment. All you could think about was getting to Joel. That was the only thing that mattered.

You burst through the front door of the house, lungs on fire as you headed towards the stairs. You took a moment to catch your breath, clutching the stitch in your side, “Kat? Kat!”

You started up the stairs, Kat meeting you at the top with a grim expression on her face. She was a kind, older woman that always had a way of making you feel better no matter the circumstances. She was a good doctor.

She took your face in her hands before sighing softly and pulling you in for a hug. You clutched onto her tightly, fearful for what she was going to say to you. When you pulled apart, she brushed some dirt off your clothes, “I'm going to have a look at you next.”

“There's other people that need your help more than I do,” you insisted, “where's Joel? I-I need to see him. Please.”

“Look,” she gave your hand a squeeze, “he's lucky to be alive. I hate to say that, I do. But he's lucky Ellie and Jesse found him when they did.”

“What happened?” You were reeling from her words; the idea of losing Joel was unbearable, “tell me. Please.”

“Seems like some people he made enemies of a long time back found him,” she sighed, “and they had some sort of vendetta against him.”

You couldn't wait any longer and gently pushed past her and into the room where you knew he'd be. As soon as you opened the door, you stopped in your tracks when you found him on the bed. You let out a shaky breath as you dropped to your knees by his side, “oh my god. Joel.”

“He can't hear you,” Kat followed in after you, grim look on her face, “he's out. He's gonna be out for a while.”

“What did they do to him?” His face was bruised and there were remnants of dried blood all over him. He looked so pale that it made your stomach drop. It took you a moment of notice that his leg was completely bandaged up.

“Shot in the side, his leg was broken badly. Ellie said…there was a girl beating him with a golf club before resorting to using her fists. He's got some broken ribs and lost a lot of blood. He's going to be a while before he's up and able to get, let alone get around.”

“But he'll-”

“There's no swelling in his brain and his lungs sound clear. He's past the absolute worst but he's not out of the woods just yet,” you hated that she wouldn't just confirm that he'd make it, “but its Joel. You know he's not going to give up fighting.”

“What can I do?” You asked, voice cracking as tears blurred your vision, “anything. Whatever it takes.”

“There's not much you can do right now. Its just going to take time,” she whispered, “take care of yourself. And the others. Things will be alright.”

“Will they?” You plopped onto the ground and reached for his hand; it was cold and stiff, “I can't…I can't lose him. I just can't.”

“We'll do everything we can do,” she promised, “we just have to be patient.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Here,” Tommy's voice pulled you of your stupor as he walked in and held a hot cup of tea out to you, “our mama used to say that there wasn't anything a cup of tea couldn't fix.”

��Thanks,” you clutched the warm mug in your cold, tired hands as you stared at the golden liquid. You stretched, your body tired and aching from the stiff wooden chair that had basically become your second home. You'd been camped out by his side, refusing to move unless absolutely necessary. You’d cleaned him up as best as you could but he still looked so…fragile. Broken.

“You can leave you know,” he said as you looked at him incredulously, “you can rest and take time for yourself. You ain't going to be helping anyone by not making sure you're okay.”

“I don't want to leave him,” you sighed, looking Joel over. It had been almost two weeks, and while he seemed to be healing, he still wasn't up and conscious, “what if he wakes up and I'm not here? O-or something happens?”

Tommy let out a low sigh as he looked forlornly at his older brother, “I keep thinking the same thing. But you know if anything happens, someone will get you right away.”

“Yeah,” you sipped the warm liquid and closed your eyes for a moment. You knew this was just hard for him and Ellie, “what happened to her? The girl?”

“She got away,” he gritted his teeth, “for now. We'll find her.”

“I keep thinking I want to go out there and kill her myself,” you whispered, reaching over and gently brushing a rogue lock of hair out of Joel's face, “that I want her to suffer as much as he did, or worse.”

“But…”

“Nothing excuses what she did,” you whispered, “but I can't imagine doing that to another living being. It makes us no better than them. But at the time I don't know if I care about that.”

“Its hard,” he agreed.

“It is,” you took his hand in yours, “I don't know what to do. For now, I just want him to be okay.”

“He's a stubborn old fool. He's not going to leave us that easily.”

“Promise?” Your voice was quiet and you weren't even sure you'd intended for him to hear it. Tommy nodded as offered him a small smile in return, “you better hurry up and get better soon, old man. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss your grumpy old face.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Time seemed slower than it ever did before as you remained by Joel's side. A few more days had passed and as much as you wanted to remain hopeful, you had to admit it was hard to. While his pallor returned and the dark bruising faded to green and yellow, he hadn't woken up. You never thought you could miss someone so much when they were right next to you.

“You know,” you had moved onto the bed, laying on the edge to be close to him without hurting him further, “I remember when we first met after I got here. It was kind of like this then too, except I wasn't hurt as bad. One of the first things you said to me was that you knew I was going to be a pain in your ass. Turns out you were right, but I could say the same about you.”

The room was silent, filled only with the combined sounds of your soft breathing. You tentatively reached out a hand and traced your fingertips along his side, barely a ghost of a touch.

“I miss you, you know,” you continued, “I always miss you when you're gone, even if its only a few hours, but this is so much worse. Its like you're right here but a million miles away. I want you to come back to me soon. We're all waiting for you. Ellie misses you so much too. She saved you, you know. She never hated you, which I think you know deep down. She loves you, you'll always be her Joel. I love you. So much.”

You laid there until you fell asleep, only moonlight filtering in. You weren't sure how much long your heart could handle this.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was going on three weeks and you were still a wreck as much as the first day. You were growing impatient and tired and angry, and a million other emotions.

“You know I hate to ask you to leave but can you give Maria a hand with some stuff at the stables?” You looked at Tommy and glanced at Joel before nodding. He hadn't woken up yet, and at this you weren't sure when he would. It was probably fine to be gone for a few hours.

“Of course,” you stood up, giving Joel one last look before heading out. You'd be back soon enough.

It was a few hours of some back breaking labor that you were finally able to take a moment to breathe. There was still so much left to do to rebuild Jackson, and as reluctant as you had been to leave Joel, you were happy for the work that had taken all of your attention.

You heard your name being shouted from the distance and looked over to Benji running towards you with Tommy running after him. You exchanged a look with Maria and bent down to scoop him up in your arms.

“Hey kiddo, what's got you so excited?”

“Uncle Joel,” he started simply, a big gap toothed smile on his face. Your heart stopped for a moment as you looked over to Tommy, who had managed to catch up.

“Tommy?” You tried to keep the excitement out of your face, “is he…?”

“He's awake,” he confirmed, “just woke up.”

“Oh my god,” you gently set him down and ran off without another word. You figured they'd understand.

You burst into the house and ran upstairs and into his room, chest heaving from the exertion. Kat raised an eyebrow at you but there was a smile pulling on the corners of her mouth, “just in time.”

“Joel?” Kat stepped out of the way and slipped out of the room to give the two of you some privacy.

And there he was; still looking worse for the wear but sat up in the bed and fully conscious. It might have been the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

“Hey trouble,” his voice was dry and raspy but hearing him immediately brought tears to your eyes.

“Joel,” you took a few tentative steps towards him, part of you refusing to believe this was real. He moved his hand to reach out for you, “you're…you're…I thought I was going to lose you.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily,” his laugh turned into a cough and you handed him the glass of water that was by his bedside.

“Take it easy old man,” you joked through your tears, finally happy ones, as you sat next to him on the bed, “don't need you to hurt yourself now.”

He smiled at you, putting his hand on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “you were here. The whole time.”

“Where else would I be?” You sniffled as he reached up and wiped your tears away. You put your hand on top of his and held it gently against your cheek.

“Preferably out living life,” he stroked his thumb over your skin, “not worrying about me.”

You studied him, taking in the brown eyes you'd missed so much. He was definitely far from recovered but he was here and he was alive. That was enough for now.

You gently took his hand off your face and took his face in your hands. You frowned at the bruising that was lingering but you knew it'd be gone soon enough. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, kissing him as softly and tenderly as possible. With a relieved sigh, you touched your forehead against his, “I don't think I could ever stay away.”

“You know I'm never going to leave you,” he whispered as you nodded.

“I love you,” you promised, “even if you are a stubborn grump.”

“I love you too, trouble,” he shifted over gently before patting the same next to him, “c'mere.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” he scoffed and you kicked off your boots before getting into the bed next to him, slowly to make sure you didn't cause him any pain. You laid down and rested your head on his good leg, letting out a slow, deep breath. Joel started gently playing your hair, causing tingles to shoot through your entire body. You hadn't realized how much you missed his touch, “you should lie down too. You need the rest.”

“So do you,” he insisted, grinning as you yawned, “you've been here the whole time watching me, let me take care of you.”

“Only if you lie down with me and we both stay here for a while,” you insisted, turning your face to look up at him.

“I suppose,” he shifted with a grimace but was able to get himself comfortable next to you, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him, “you alright?”

“Better than I have been in weeks,” you turned so you were facing him, “I was scared that we'd never get to do this again. That I'd never see you again. That you would be gone…”

“Oh trouble,” he whispered, “that's never going to happen. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, “I'm going to hold you to that, Miller.”

“I'd expect nothing less, trouble.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #x reader

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oldermenfucker · 2 months ago

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You’re losing me | Dr. Robby

summary: he doesn’t notice how his behavior in The Pitt is making you fall from his arms, until the consequences of his actions catch up with him.

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst with a happy ending, fluff, Robby doesn’t even realize he’s being a dick until it’s a tad bit too late, fem!reader, resident!reader, Abbot!reader (yes she is Jack’s younger sister), age gap (she’s late 20s/early 30s & Robby early 50s), p in v sex, lots of praise, mentions of blood & trauma (it’s The Pitt soooo), English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 9.8k+

an: hiiii so this is my first fic in this fandom hopefully you guys like this!!! More fics of our gorgeous Dr. Daddy and his bestie our other Dr. Daddy will be coming your way<333

Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕✨

You hate the quiet days of ER, as peaceful as it can get through. You crave the adrenaline rush you get from a trauma running through the doors, half bloody and half dead, but today even those cases can’t make your blood pressure as high as the scene in front of you does.

Collins chuckles at something Robby says, snorting and putting her hand up in surrender, patting his biceps before she leaves him alone. And him? He smiles back, his wrinkles around his eye deepening as his eyes follow her.

He is doing exactly what he labeled as ‘unprofessional’ behind closed doors with her, making you mad at him. He told you you must keep your relationship a secret or it would turn into The Pitt’s hottest gossip, and he didn’t want that, and given how most of the nurses and doctors know about his past relationship with Collins, it upsets you beyond belief.

You took this residency program to be with your brother and Robby, and also to get a steady job in the same hospital. Jack helped you tremendously with your transfer, making sure everything was perfect for you to take the morning shifts with your boyfriend, all so you could spend time with him more often.

But now, you are rethinking your decision to the point of no return. It has been months since you started your shifts here, and from the very beginning, Robby treated you like shit. Always hard on you, always criticizing your diagnosis, always on your back with a harsh comment.

You played it off like everyone else did, making sure to nod and say ‘yes, sir’ and move towards the next patient. But every word stung, and when you would tell him at night when you cuddled in his bed, he would brush it off and act like nothing happened.

It was fine at first, or at least you tried to deny what it truly was, but now, seeing him being so lighthearted with everyone in a slow shift while he barks orders at you left and right tears your heart into pieces, and worse, the smiles are always thrown in the direction of every doctor and nurse but you.

You look away as best as you can, trying to find a good case as you lean on Robby’s workstation, tapping your fingers in a rhythm as you scan the trauma board, biting your lip as you hear his footsteps approaching.

“Dr. Abbot,” he says, standing behind you while he looks between you and the board, “What are you looking for?”

“Something to take the edge off,” you don’t mean to sound snappy, but the words come out harsher than intended, and you take a deep breath because with the uncomfortable silence between the two of you, you are sure he has raised an eyebrow at you, waiting to come up with a snarky comment, “I’ll take the biker, Santos is with me.”

“Good,” he nods, pushing his fists into his pockets, but you don’t bother yourself to even glance at him, pushing past him as you drop your stethoscope around your neck, calling for Santos to follow you to the trauma bay.

You do not turn around to see Robby’s reaction; he is probably stunned by the way you ignored him. You have never done that despite how he treats you; it just never settled right inside you to be mean to him, but that was enough to set your mood off for the rest of the shift.

“Alright, what do we have here?” One question, and you get bombarded with answers, and you get your hands on the patient to stabilize him. Santos answers your questions and helps you with everything you might need.

You are light on your feet, keeping everyone in check in the trauma room to make sure the best treatment is given to the poor man who had crashed his bike. Santos listens closely, being snarky and witty about her comebacks, but helps you as best as she can, nonetheless.

“How’s the patient?” You watch as Santos starts to intubate the biker, her hands slightly shaking, ignoring Robby’s presence as he gloves in and moves next to stand next to you, listening to the nurses update him on the patient’s status.

“I’m in!” Santos beams, looking up at you, and you smile back, giving her a quick thumbs up before you turn around, suddenly chest to chest with Robby.

He looks down at you, a silent question hanging in the air between you as he keeps staring back, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. You take a deep breath in response, taking off your gloves roughly, making a loud smacking sound of plastic echo in the trauma room.

“He’s stable and ready to go to the OR,” you fist the gloves in a ball, pulling the white gown off in a hurry, taking a step around Robby to avoid his burning stare, “Santos helped a lot.”

“You called the shots without telling me first.” It’s not a question; it is a statement, and he does not look happy at all. “You are still a resident, you have two more years to go! Why are you being so reckless?”

“The patient was dying, Dr. Robby, I had to do what was necessary—“

“You were unsupervised—“

“She wasn’t,” Collins steps into the room, looks between the two doctors with a small smile, pointing at Santos, who stands awkwardly next to Collins, pouting slightly and rocking on the balls of her feet, “Dr. Santos came to me and told me about this case.”

You gape at her, fighting off a small grateful smile before feeling your heart thumping in your ribcage as if it’s ready to jump out; you are angry at him, furious even, and Robby is just as hot-headed if not more. You can see the dark glare in his eyes as he looks between Collins and you, finally settling them on you.

“Dr. Collins is also a resident, you must consult an Attending. Don’t ever do that again,” he whips out his own gloves, his usual warm brown eyes hold nothing but anger, “You are lucky he is stable.”

“I am not lucky, Dr. Robby.” You take another step closer, feeling his hot breath fanning against your face, “I am a good doctor, hell, even a great doctor. I can do it on my own.”

“Trauma coming through in two minutes! Drowning victim!” Dana’s shout stops Robby from firing back a response to you.

“We’re not done yet,” he points his finger at you, scoffing when you look up, trying your best not to break down in front of everyone. With that, Robby jogs toward the gurney Langdon is pulling into another trauma room, leaving you, Santos, and Collins alone.

“Walk with me, Dr. Abbot?” Collins smiles, muttering to Santos to go find another patient before she waits for you to join her at the door, watching you closely as you slam your gloves and gown into the trash, using the sanitizer machine on the wall before you give her a quick smile.

“Sure.”

You both walk to the nurse station, standing shoulder to shoulder while you look at the trauma board. You are nervous; how can you not be? Collins is Robby’s ex. She is gorgeous, intelligent, and a very talented doctor. But what is making you shake slightly is how she stepped in to save you from your boyfriend’s scolding.

“Thank you…” You mumble quietly, or as quietly as you can in a chaotic ER, giving her a grateful yet awkward smile as well.

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighs, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shrugging before she continues, “I’ve been in your shoes a few years ago. It’s exhausting.”

“What?” You ask, confused and dumbfounded, your lips parting in surprise when she side eyes you playfully, shaking her head and laughing slowly, “What do you mean? What are you laughing at, Dr. Collins?”

“You guy are not as subtle as you think you are,” she sighs, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she looks back at the board, squeezing your shoulder, “I can see how you look at him, I used to do the same, having high hopes that one day he’ll quit being harsh on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try to play it off cool, acting as if you have no idea what she is saying, but Collins sees straight through your lie, raising her eyebrows at you with boredom. You sigh, dropping your head on her shoulder, “Fine! Yes, he’s my boyfriend, or at least I thought he was. It is… tiresome to deal with his mean words every day.”

“He’s been riding you for so long,” she sighs too, patting your arm gently, “It’s no excuse, but… he thinks if he pushes you away, he can maintain his professional standards or whatever he calls them. He’s done it before, and he’s doing it again.”

“I know what he is trying to do,” you shake your head, exhaling shakily, “He doesn’t want anyone to find out he’s dating his resident, and Jack Abbot’s younger sister, so he goes on a spiral to be mean to me and put a distance between us.”

“Well, he’s doing a poor job at both,” she snorts, letting go of you to reach for an iPad, going through different cases to choose one for you. “He is an idiot, you just have to learn to live with it if you wanna work here.”

“Sometimes I think he hates me.”

“Hey, no—“

“What are you two up to?” Dana interrupts Heather, leaning on the station behind her as she looks between the two of you, “What has he done this time?”

“He’s being unreasonable to Dr. Abbot.”

“Not unreasonable, but… just how an attending with a ‘Robinavitch’ last name would be,” you try to crack a joke, but Dana winces and gives you a sympathetic look.

“C’mon, I’ve known him more than your experiences combined. He is being a dick to you because he is scared, give him hell for it, alright? Now go play doctors until I knock some sense into your loverboy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Collins says, pointing at one of the trauma rooms, “South fourteen, Twenty-four years old male with a twisted ankle — probably sprained. Take this, Dr. Abbot, it’ll give you a break until you are well enough to come back.”

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing the iPad from her hands, nodding as you walk towards the patient’s room, head swirling with different thoughts about what those two women just told you.

You are aware of what Robby is doing, or at least you think you do. It makes sense to some extent; he is a professional man, a doctor who runs The Pitt and barely survives every day, and yet, he gives you the worst treatment out of everyone because he doesn’t want to reveal your relationship to the world.

And it breaks your heart to tolerate his mean words and being the punching bag to his sour moods, receiving all the blows just because you are in arm’s reach — what makes it worse is that he does not even realize how bad his words are, and when you confront him at night after his long hot shower, he only shrugs and tells you if Dana found out about you, then everyone can.

Excuse after excuse.

You roll your shoulders back, knocking on the door as you enter the trauma room, finding Princess going through the patient’s file and waiting for you to join them.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Abbot!” You smile and get to work, sitting on the chair next to the bed as you examine the guy’s ankle, looking for inflammation and bruising as you try to distract him from the pain.

“Well, you’re lucky it’s not broken,” you nod, taking your gloves off before turning toward Princess, “Send him to radiology to get an X-ray, I’m sure it’s only a sprain, but let’s take a look anyway.”

“Dr. Abbot!” Mel barges inside the room, panting slightly as she looks at you with wide eyes, “New patient! Forty-five-year-old female with a head concussion and a broken stick in her upper arm. She fell on the fence while she was trying to clean the windows of her house.”

“Let’s go,” you stand up, dropping the gloves you used on the previous patient into the bin, sanitizing your hands before running towards the gurney, finding Mohan and Robby discussing different procedures, “How is she?”

“Pupils dilated, unresponsive—“ you try to focus on what Samira is saying, you are, but Robby’s gaze moves from the patient to you, watching you closely as you and Mohan start to stabilize the patient, but it is awfully hard to not get distracted with how intense his presence is.

“She’s having a heart attack—“ you rush to lower the back of the bed, flattening the patient before scissoring her dress, baring her chest to Mel to put the pads on, Mohan increasing the voltage to two hundred, waiting for everyone to step back, “Clear!”

The patient does not respond to the shock. Mohan and Robby work together to keep her blood pressure high, but all of a sudden, the lines of the monitor go flat, and the beeping stops.

“Asystolic…” Mel whispers, standing next to you as Mohan takes off the pads, waiting for her Attending’s orders.

“Start compressions!”

You put one knee on the bed, interlocking your fingers before starting to push on the patient’s chest, huffing with each move as everyone waits in the room with bated breath.

“Hold compressions,” Robby tells you, waiting to see if the heart restarts, but when he sees the flat line again, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, “Push an epi and resume compressions again.”

You begin to push down on her chest, body, and shoulders, moving with each press, trying to keep your breathing in check while you look at Robby to say something, anything.

But the line falls flat again after you stop, but before you can bend down to restart CPR, Robby’s voice stops you, “She’s dead,” he announces, looking down at his watch before he exhales deeply, “16:38…”

You step down from the bed, throwing your head back with your hands on your hips, shaking your head as you silently mourn the loss of your patient.

“Doctor Abbot, a word?”

Your fingers tighten at your hips, and when you look back at him, you find him already leaving towards the break room, not even waiting for you to follow him. With a scoff, you move behind him, ignoring Mel and Samira’s confused stares.

“What is it—“

“What was that?” He stops as soon as you both are in the break room, pressing his lips into a thin line as he intertwines his fingers behind his neck, letting out a humourless chuckle.

“What was what, Robby? I did what you told me—“ you try to answer as best as possible, but when he turns around, his chocolate eyes overflowing with disbelief.

“Who does a compression like that? They were too weak, not deep enough, and they were not helping! Just a waste of time on a patient we could have saved—“

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You raise your voice, pointing to his chest before fisting your hands and lock your hands next to your body, “They were fine, just as they should have been! Don’t put this loss on me, she had a head concussion and god knows how many wood chips in her bloodstream. We didn’t even get to check that—“

“You are messing up real bad today.”

“This case was supervised by you, Doctor Robinavitch,” you spit the words out, gone the calm girl who would brush his horrible words off, now replaced with a furious woman, “How hypocritical of you to say belittling isn’t a good way of teaching and yet, you are insulting and belittling me, your girlfriend, Robby!”

“This is my workplace, I am your Attending, not your goddamn boyfriend,” he replies, his tone dangerously low, and for the first time, he seems to be taken back by his own outburst, dropping his head as he takes a long breath.

“Fine,” your lips quiver, voice breaking slightly, which makes Robby’s head snap upwards and his eyes widen as he realizes what unbelievable damage he has done, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Wait, honey—“

“Don’t.”

With one last glance, you march out of the room toward the nurse’s station, looking for Dana to see if you can clock out earlier. You cannot stay in this place any longer, it is eating you alive and tearing your sanity apart.

“Have you seen Dana?” As soon as you see her walking with Collins, you approach her with teary eyes, nails digging harshly into your palms, “Dana, I need out.”

“What happened to you, kid?” She asks, putting her hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing your arms up and down, “Come on, let’s get you some air.”

Heather only smiles and reaches to pat your back, shaking her head as she watches Dana guide you towards the ambulance bay, turning to glare at Robby, who just stepped out of the break room.

You don’t have the strength to keep your tears from falling as soon as Dana leads you out. You cry softly, wiping the tears as they stream down your cheeks, melting into Dana’s motherly embrace.

“I’m sorry—“

“Shh, you’re okay, kid,” she wraps her arms around you tightly, holding your face to her shoulder as you cry out, “I’m gonna kick his ass, don’t worry.”

You cackle a little, squeezing her before letting go, allowing her to cup your face in her hands, giving you a soft, defeated look before she starts talking.

“You are a great doctor, alright? One of our best residents, don’t let a man fuck it up,” she holds your head straight, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her, “He is a dick, I know that—“

“There’s a but coming and I don’t like it.” You try to move away from her, but she keeps your head locked in place, her gaze turning serious.

“But…” you sigh, rolling your eyes at her, but she only cracks a smile and continues, “He is lost. It’s been so long since he has felt like this. The last time was with Heather, and let me tell you it was just as bad in the hospital.”

“So he treats his girlfriend like shit until she gives up?” Your voice shakes again, finally freeing yourself from her grip, pacing in the ambulance bay, “I hate how he says to remain professional, yet all he does is complain and belittle me for my medical decisions and when I bring it up he says it’s all empty fucking words and he doesn’t mean it!”

“He doesn’t mean any of it, I’m sure—“

“I’m done, Dana,” you sniff, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, looking at her with eyes full of sorrow. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Look at me,” she raises your head with a finger under your chin, her tone dead serious, “I know it must be exhausting, but do you want to know what it is that makes the thing you have so special and worth the effort?”

“What?”

“He is in love with you,” she smiles, bringing you into her arms again, rocking you back and forth as you smell her hospital-induced scent, “I have never seen him like this.”

“It doesn’t make it okay for him to insult me… he said,” you hiccup on your sob, “He said that when we are here he isn’t my ‘goddamn boyfriend’ and… he said it like the word repulsed him.”

“He’s such an idiot,” she groans, watching in confusion as you reach for your phone, pulling it out before you call someone, “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Jack.”

“No, ah uh, nope,” she shakes her head, giving you a disapproving look, but she knows how hard Robby’s words must be, and they definitely have taken a toll on you and your relationship. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kid.”

“Too late for that,” you sigh, tapping your feet on the ground as you wait for your brother to answer, “Jack, answer the fucking phone.”

“Hmm?”

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” you scoff, throwing your hand up when he groans at your voice. “Be at least a bit excited to hear my voice, Jack.”

“The day I do that you’ll bury me six feet deep,” Jack says on the other side of the phone, voice raspy from the deep sleep he must have had, “Usually texting me fills the hole in your miserable life, sister, how bad is it this time that you needed to call?”

“I…” you try to say it, you really do, but the words get stuck inside your throat, a slow whine breaks past your lips, alerting your brother on the phone.

“Hey, hey! What’s up?” His usual sarcastic demeanor fades away, his voice shifting into unimaginable concern, “Talk to me, kid. Are you okay?”

“I…” you suck in a sharp breath, clearing your throat as you look at Dana smoking a cigarette next to you, “No, I’m not.”

“Are you physically hurt? Do I need to come? What the fuck’s happened, kiddo?” You can hear him shuffle around, probably putting on his pants to bolt through the door and get himself to the hospital.

“No and yes,” you sit on the edge of the pavement, “I think I wanna move back in with you—“

“What the fuck?” He says with so much love, you nearly melt at the spot, “What happened? Did he do something? Do I need to break his nose?”

“You love him more than you love me, so it doesn’t work like that,” you chuckle, sighing softly as you listen to him grumble and put his prosthetic leg on, “But… yeah, I can’t handle it anymore, I think I’ll move back in with you if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course, kid, whatever you want,” you hear him zip up his jacket, walking towards the door of his apartment to come and get you. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“He’s so mean to me on our shifts, I can’t bear to be the only person he speaks to like that. It’s affecting my practices and my fucking sanity,” you drop your head between your arms, back hunching uncomfortably, “He acts more lovingly with Collins than he does with me and it upsets me so much.”

“Listen up,” he locks the door and walks to the elevator, “He is an ass for whatever reason he must have, but I know you, and I know him. You don’t deserve to be the one on whom he takes out his frustration, and I know you’ve tried to talk it out with him, but he’s probably too far into his head to listen to the voice of reason. I’m gonna come and get you so we can talk.”

“Okay, call me when you get here, I’m gonna go see a few patients before I clock out, love you.”

“Love you, too, kiddo. Stay away from him.”

“Will do my best,” you say and hang up, shrugging when Dana gives you her significant look, “What now?”

“Nothing, just you’re too sweet and caring. Robby better get his head outta the water and see what he’s taking for granted.”

You chuckle, shoving your phone back into your pocket, stretching your arms before getting ready to get back into the hellhole you chose to spend the rest of your residency in, Dana following you after she puts out her cigarette with the tip of her sneakers.

“Let’s hope it’s not too late for that.”

•••••

You barely manage to handle a few patients for the next half hour without running into Robby, stabling, and helping with the triage from time to time until Jack gets here to pick you up.

“I’m gonna go…” You announce to Dana and Collins, sitting down to finish one last report and head out, “I… I think I might take night shifts from now on.”

“What?”

“C’mon, no, that’s a stretch—“ Heather says, sitting down on the rolling chair and moving it to sit next to you, “We need you here. You’re an amazing doctor, besides every shift needs an Abbot at most.”

“Yeah, well, the whole point of getting into the morning shifts was to learn from and spend time with Robby. Now that went down the fucking drain,” you look at Heather, your tone clipped and exhausted, “He is throwing a year and half relationship away for… whatever reasons. I don’t have to tolerate it anymore.”

“Please, reconsider this,” Dana jumps in, leaning over the station, “Go for now, take tomorrow off, and talk with Jack.”

“Will do— and my job’s done here! I’ll see you when I take the night shifts from you,” You smile, hugging both of them quickly before you go to the lockers, grabbing your belongings before you reply to Jack’s ‘I’m here, knucklehead’ with a quick thanks.

You don’t look behind you as you bolt to the exit of the ED, not hearing Robby’s footsteps following you as you make your way to the park in front of the hospital, seeing Jack’s truck waiting for you.

“Wait—“

You don’t. You can’t. If you stay one more minute here, you will lose your mind. You pick up your pace, ignoring the calls of your name as you walk faster, sighing in relief when Jack steps down from his truck, but as soon as you reach him, Robby grabs your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to ground you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his eyes wide in anticipation, chest heaving rapidly, as if he is imagining all these, “Your shift isn’t over yet…?”

“I can’t continue working on a shift that my Attending has no respect for me,” you turn around, looking at him dead in the eyes but the tears betray you sooner than you expected, “I have already told Jack I’ll switch to night shifts with him and he said he’ll sign it off for me—“

“I did?” Jack whispers, raising his eyebrow at you as he glances between you and Robby.

“Don’t do this, darling, look at me—“ Robby cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“I need time! You clearly don’t like me enough to be a decent human being to me on our shifts! I chose to stay with you, to learn from you and be with you during the hard days but you are fucking unbelievable!”

“Alright, alright,” Jack interrupts when he sees Robby’s glassy eyes, and it is only a matter of time he will breakdown in front of you — something that has never happened before — so he puts his hand on Robby’s back, “I’ll take her home for now, brother. Both of you need some time away from each other.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then…” Robby replies hopefully, gently stroking your arm as he stares into your eyes, waiting for any sign of forgiveness, but when he sees none, he nods and steps away.

You miss the warmth of his grip immediately, but the ache in your chest is far too great to push everything aside and cave in. You need this time off, you must think and come up with a solution. Perhaps the night shift might help you take your mind off him.

“I’m off tomorrow,” you reply, wiping the tear that falls on your cheek quickly, turning your back to the men who are looking at you attentively, “I just need some space.”

“Okay…”

“Alright,” Jack hugs Robby, patting his back, “I think you fucked up big time, brother. Let me talk to her and see what happens, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Robby nods, head hanging low as he watches you get inside the truck, sighing deeply before he says his goodbye to Jack and leaves, running a hand through his hair while he walks away.

“Talk, kid,” Jack starts the truck, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you only stifle your sobs and look down at your hands, squeezing your eyes shut, “Only the senior Abbot gets to be the traumatized sad one. So… “

“He is… a lot, but I thought I could handle it,” you wipe the tears, resting your elbow on the window’s edge, watching how Jack starts turning the wheel and drives the car out of the parking, “Hell, I was handling it, but I didn’t know he would turn into such a short tempered and spiteful person only towards me. He even…” you choke on your sob before you continue, “He even treats Gloria better than me, can you imagine it? He criticizes every diagnosis I make, every order I give, every single pill I prescribe, but it’s just me, his girlfriend…”

“I’m sorry,” Jack sighs, stopping the car when the light turns red, reaching to hold your hand, his hazel eyes finding your teary ones. He shakes his head slightly, his heart clenching at the sight of you tittering at the edge of a breakdown before he pulls you closer, resting your head on his shoulder, kissing your forehead as the two of you wait for the light to turn green, “He is being a dick to you because he is scared… he did the same thing to Collins but… It’s pretty different this time. I know it, I can see it, he is afraid of losing you more than losing himself.”

“It doesn’t make sense!” You hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes, “Can’t he see that being so-so harsh on me leads to exactly what he fears? He is losing me, Jack, and I hate it. I don’t want him to lose me, but every day I spend in the ER with him, I feel him slipping away from my fingers slowly. I don’t wanna lose him either.”

Jack keeps quiet, kissing the crown of your head once or twice as he starts driving again, letting you tell him everything, opening your heart to him.

“I saw how he was with Heather years ago before I even began to like him,” you say, no longer crying, just voicing your feelings in a numb tone while your heart aches for some sort of relief, “And I thought we were different, I thought he changed, but… maybe there is no hope for us either.”

“He loves you,” Jack replies, “He loved Heather too, but… he is in love this time.”

“How are you so sure?” You ask, straightening your back as you look at his side profile, watching how a small smile takes over his face.

“I know him better than you do, kid.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you scoff playfully, “My brother knows my boyfriend better than I. Are you sure he’s not cheating on me with you?”

“Please, I’ll never lower my standards to Robby.” he winks at you when you snort, “You bet no one wants him, he’s all yours.”

“Well, I’m not really sure about that anymore,” you shrug, “I don’t think he’s even mine anymore… and mind you, I always wanted my partner to be like you, so take it as an insult with a grain of salt, asshole.”

“You wound me,” Jack chuckles, glancing at your soft, unsure smile, “on the night shift thing… Are you sure you want me to be your Attending? I can be worse than him.”

“I’m used to your horrible attitude, and besides, we don’t have sex, so your chances of hurting me are half as likely.”

“I’m too old to be the victim of your incest jokes,” he reaches for the remote to open the door to the apartment’s parking lot, “And I do have sex, but unlike you, I don’t like shoving it in my sister’s face.”

“I never did that!” You laugh, nudging his side with your elbow when he safely parks the car, “I’m just saying I don’t take your insults as my Attending seriously because we’re blood related and I know what goes through your head.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Jack sighs, rubbing a palm over his face, “Not maybe, definitely. He can’t say what goes through his head and… it bottles up inside him until he explodes.”

“Then that’s too bad, cause the only person he harms is me.”

••••••••••

Robby has been searching for you all through the ER for the past week. You know it is not the most mature way to go through this crisis, but it doesn’t hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You start taking the night shifts, meeting with Dana and Collins as night owls take over the floor while you openly avoid Robby at all times, fleeing the scene every time you get so much as a glimpse of his navy blue hoodie in the corner of your eye.

He, too, has been chasing you relentlessly. Making sure to stay a few more hours to just see you and get to tell you a simple hello, but you go out of your way to hide in the bathroom until Ellis comes and collects you, giving you a thumbs up that means Robby’s given up on finding you again.

This is the routine for a good few nights; escaping Robby for the first hours of your shift, having a breakdown in the bathroom, save a bunch of lives and argue with your brother — Attending — until you sneak out of the hospital without Robby seeing you when he comes to take over the floor from your brother.

Jack forces you to take a few days off this week. You have been running through ER every night on caffeine and energy drinks, four hours of sleep, and a broken heart. So, given how much of a great brother Jack is, he tells you to take a few nights off this week.

Home alone, comfy under a blanket with a boring movie playing on the TV, the least you could expect is to hear a knock on your brother’s apartment at such a dark hour — and worse? You recognize the pattern of knocks immediately. Three knocks: one slow and unsure, the second one stronger and confident, the last one shy and anticipating.

You want to disappear, to ignore the knocks and melt through the cushions of the couch. But the very familiar pattern is pulling you in, making your heart race and limbs tingling.

With some courage that is near nonexistent, you push the blanket off, slowly padding towards the door, flexing and relaxing your fingers a few times, a couple deep breaths before you reach for the door knob, twisting it and revealing a very tired and teary-eyed Robby.

Your breath hitches as you take him in; shoulders slumped heavily, eyebags much darker than you remember, his body tense with so much unresolved emotion, and his eyes… his eyes, those pools of chocolate brown that always make your face warm and your heart beat rapidly — they are filled to the brim with shame and guilt. It will only take one push to have those watercolor droplets stream down his cheeks.

“Robby…”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep inhale as if hearing his name fall from your lips is the freshest air he has ever breathed. You can see him visibly relax, your voice soothing his concerns about your well-being.

“Hi,” he leans with his hand on the doorframe, looking down at his shoes as he tries to keep his voice from breaking, “Hi…”

“Hey,” you bite your lip, looking behind him as you try to gather your thoughts, “What are you doing here?”

“I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening around the wooden frame, dragging his eyes back to yours slowly, letting you use them as a mirror to his soul, “I had to see you.”

“Robby—“

“No, no, let me talk—“ he cuts you off, resting his hands on the bridge of his nose, then sighing and putting them on his hips, “I fucked up, I know that. I-I messed up so bad, I know, I fucking know. You’re a goddamn amazing doctor, my best resident, I loathe myself for how I treated you.”

“You were so mean…” You can feel your own tears stinging your eyes, and it only gets worse when you look up to him, finding him flushed and on the verge of breaking, “Why?”

“Just my mind playing tricks on me. I thought if I pushed you away in the hospital, we could work better together, and then-then the lines blurred and I couldn’t notice how far I distanced myself from you.”

“I was right there, Robby,” you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath as the tears finally burst, “All you had to do was to give us one chance to work together.”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, hands shaking as he reaches to cup your face, his face wet from seeing your tears, “I can’t handle it, I will break beyond repair if I see you cry, please…”

You put your palms on top of his, leaning forward to gently rest your forehead against his, sobbing in his arms. You are quite surprised when you hear him sniff and cry, just as equally pained and sad — he is crying because you are crying.

“No one deserves your tears,” he leans down and kisses the droplets slowly, his chapped lips making a beautiful contrast with your soft skin. First your cheeks, following the wet path down to your chin before he comes up and pecks your closed eyelids, “Much less me.”

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” you can feel him softly crying as he presses his lips to the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo he so desperately misses, “I can’t function without you on my shifts, I can’t think straight, I can’t… my life is incomplete without you.”

You tilt your head back, forcing him to look at you, but the way you gaze at him only spurs him on to continue, and when those three words fall from his lips, he can no longer control his emotions.

“I love you,” he closes his eyes, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, wetting his beard each passing moment, “I don’t show it a lot, I’ve treated you so poorly, you must be thinking I don’t care about you, but I do, a lot. I love you, and there is nothing nearly as good as you in my life. I hang in there for twelve hours, but when I see you, it feels like my entire life makes sense, like I have a purpose, a reason to come back, a reason to move forward.”

“Oh, Robby…” you cup his cheeks, pulling his face down, brushing your nose against his, “I love you too, so much.”

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his softly, just a taste, perhaps a promise of a better tomorrow. He doesn’t rush you either, he kisses you back with relief, the weight lifting off his shoulders slowly.

He doesn’t deepen the kiss, allowing you to lead him this time, tasting the remaining bittersweet flavor of his nicotine gum. Robby’s hands go to your back, pulling you closer if possible, feeling the heat of your body seeping through the layers of his outfit.

“Robby,” you break the kiss, hovering your lips over his as you speak, “I still need some time. I… I have been getting along with the night shift, and I need some time away.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” he nods, his fingers tightening around your waist, “I’ll do anything you ask, anything.”

“I know, my love,” you pout, stroking his bearded cheek gently, “There are a lot of things we have to work on, but for now… I need to step back.”

“Alright.”

•••••••

Maybe it was a bad decision to listen to your brother and take another night off. You feel useless being home alone without your stethoscope around your neck and those god-awful tight scrubs the hospital gave you.

Now you are sure it was a terrible decision to take the night off, because now you have to explain to a very anxious brother and a much more anxious boyfriend why you and nearly thirty other injured people are being rushed to the PTMC’s ER.

“Abbot?” Shen is in the triage they made of the ambulance bay, rushing towards you with Ellis in toe to help you out of the car, “What the fuck? What happened to you?”

“I was in the same restaurant, fuck, my leg—“ you groan, clinging to the doctors as they sit you on the wheelchair, Shen giving Ellis a look to take you inside, dodging the gurneys and patients left and right until she finds you an empty corner, telling you to wait for someone to come and help you, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Kid?” Dana gasps, jogging toward you as soon as her eyes fall on your face and stretched leg, “Fucking hell, you okay? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to have a nice dinner out, unfortunately, it was the same restaurant that collapsed,” you scoff, trying to pull the sundress you are wearing down to cover at least your mid-thigh. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine! Probably just a hairline fracture on my Fibula and a bunch of bruises on my body.”

“You look like you’ve fist fought a three hundred pound man,” she glares at you, kneeling in front of your wheelchair to take a look at the bruises on your neck and arms, “For whatever’s worth, you look like a piece of candy in this dress.”

“Too bad no one was there to appreciate me,” you crack a smile, hissing when she pushes the sundress’ sleeve further down your shoulder, her fingers stroking the huge purple-ish spot.

“I’m gonna order you a CT, can’t wait to get a doctor here,” she looks at you, noticing the sadness in your eyes, “You look beautiful, don’t worry about him, he’s a moron.”

“I’m more worried about how he’ll lose his shit if he sees me like this—“

“Sister?!”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you groan, tipping your head back as Jack runs towards you, kneeling on the other side of the wheelchair as he takes in your state. You look at Dana, giving her a pleading look, “Help me escape?”

“And miss Robby hovering around you like a mother hen? Hell, nah,” she chuckles, caressing your head before she stands up, “You’re in good hands, kid. Dr. Abbot here knows a thing or two about medicine.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Dana,” Jack rolls his eyes playfully before he looks back to you. “How bad is the leg? Did you hit your head? Let’s get you a CT first, then radiology—“

“Nope, I don’t need a head CT, I just need some painkillers and an X-ray. Think I have a tiny hairline fracture in my leg—“

“Can you stand on your feet?” He asks, helping you up with his hands on your waist, watching how you stand up in pain, “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Around my ankle, lateral malleolus,” you hiss again, holding onto Jack’s shoulder as he guides you back on the wheelchair, “Maybe it’s not even a fracture, just a sprain, yeah?”

“Possibly, but you’re not the doctor here.” he fixes you with a stern look as he applies pressure around your ankle, trying to see where it hurts the most. “Let the adults handle this.”

“Then get a responsible adult in here,” you say, laughing when he makes a gurgling noise, pressing on the spot where it hurts the most, making you shrink and pull your feet out of his grasp. “You’re pushing fifty and still act like you’re ten. Grow up.”

“Unfortunately for you your ‘responsible adult’ is Robby who is—“ he turns around, finding Robby stopping midway when he gets a glimpse of you on a wheelchair, “Near freaking the fuck out. Have fun, Miss Abbot.”

“Wait— no! He can’t treat me, he can’t handle it, I swear, Jack, if you take one more step—“

Your words die in your throat as you watch Robby walk your way quickly, his hands shaking and his eyes — his sad fucking puppy eyes that have your heart running miles an hour — scanning your entire body in a hurry.

“What happened?” Robby’s voice shakes as he reaches to hold your cheek in his hands, his touch hesitant and trembling, “What did Jack say? Do-do you need to go up? Are you okay—“

“Robby, I’m fine,” you reply gently, smiling as he keeps on bombarding you with several questions you have already answered, watching as he closes his eyes and shakes his head when he sees the huge bruise on your shoulder, “It’s nothing. I’ll be back to my very energetic ER resident in a few days. I can even help now—“

“No, absolutely not,” he purses his lips, ghosting his knuckles over your bruise before he sighs and looks back to your face, “You gonna go home, take some painkillers, you know which ones help you the most, and rest. What were you doing there anyway? What happened?”

“I wanted to treat myself to a nice dinner, got ready and all,” and you smile shyly when his eyes finally drag on your body, taking in the way the sundress clings to your chest and stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffs out a laugh, “Bad timing, darling. Now I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of the night.”

“Good,” you reach for his hand, stroking his fingers as you explain what happened there. “There was some construction work on the building next to the restaurant. One second, everything was fine, but then something dropped on us, half of the ceiling came down, and we ran out. I fell down while I was trying to get past the exit.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head,” his tone grows serious, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles, “But what if you did? You should have told someone you were there, you have to stop being so reckless and—“

“Robby—“

“What if something worse happened to you—“

“Robby—“

“What if you ended up like one of these people, I wouldn’t be able to live—“

“Michael, stop!” The way his first name falls from your lips freezes him immediately, his eyes widen in terror, but when he sees you smiling at him, he melts down instantly, “Look at me, I’m fine! Nothing a splint and Tylenol can’t fix, besides, I have two doctors hovering around me all the time. I’m fine and I will be fine, okay?”

“Okay…” he nods, clinging to your hand as he fights a few unshed tears, “I panicked, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’d be worse if you were in my position,” you sigh in annoyance when you see Whitaker coming your way, squeezing Robby’s hand to get his attention, “Go, they need you now. I’ll buy the splint on the way home, I just need to find my bag.”

“I have it!” Dana comes with Jack on toe, “Checked for keys, phone, credit cards, a bunch of lipsticks, and your necklace. All in there and good to go.”

“Thank you, seriously!” You say, resting your arm around Robby’s shoulder as he helps you up by one hand on your ribs and the other on your waist, “Don’t worry about me, I can get home safely, alright?”

“You need a key? I can hand you mine,” Jack says, and raises an eyebrow when you hesitate and bite your lip, looking back at Robby before you shake your head and grab your purse, “What?”

“I think I’ll go back home,” you utter softly, looking into Robby’s eyes as his pupils blow in surprise, “If it’s okay with you?”

“You wanna come back?” He asks, his voice no louder than a whisper, his grip tightening on you as he waits for an answer.

“Yeah…”

“Okay then,” Jack interrupts, “Sorry to be the bearer of the bad news, but we've got patients and you need to rest. So go back to your place and sleep.”

“Do you…” Robby clears his throat, “Do you have the keys? Or should I grab mine—“

“No, I have mine,” you smile, leaning up as best as you can on one foot to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you back home.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say your goodbyes to others as well, giving Dana and Jack a halfway hug, limping over to the back door of the floor before you call for an Uber and drive back home.

•••••••

You take the advice and rest. You don’t know what time it is when you hear the quiet jiggling of the keys and the front door being pushed open, but the familiar sound of footsteps is enough to calm your racing mind.

“Hey,” you say, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up on the bed, watching how Robby relaxes immediately when he spots you.

He takes off his hoodie and scrubs, sitting on the edge of the bed topless as he takes off his socks slowly, sighing contently when you scoot closer, rubbing a hand over his warm back, kissing his broad shoulder.

“How are you?” He asks, turning around so he can take a better look at your face, “Anything hurt?”

“No,” you reply, gently running your fingers on his neck, caressing his collarbone, “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Honestly?” He scoffs, looking down at your exposed thighs, under one of his worn-out t-shirts you have on, “Exhausted, but… I’m very happy you are back.”

“I’m happy to be back too,” you lean down to kiss his shoulder again, “Go take a shower and come back to me. It’ll help you relax.”

He nods and leans down to peck your lips, sighing in relief when he rests his forehead on yours. Robby nods again and, with a deep breath, he forces himself to stand up and let your hand fall from his skin.

He comes back ten minutes later, hair towel dried and another one hanging dangerously low on his hip bones. He lets out another tired sigh, smiling when he finds you sitting up against the headboard.

“I missed having you here.”

“I missed being here,” you point to the empty space next to you, extending your hand so he knows what to do, watching as he slowly crawls on the bed, carefully resting his head on the soft podge of your stomach, circling his arms around your waist.

“You’re okay, Michael.” You thread your fingers through his soft hair, gently rubbing his scalp as he hums and buries his face further into your belly, “I got you, my love.”

“I thought I was losing you,” he tears up, biting his tongue in order to stop himself from crying, but it is in vain because the second you lean down to press a kiss on his head, he is breaking, “I did, for a few days… and it was the worst time of my life. I wasn’t alive, I… I just existed. I breathed, but I felt numb. I couldn’t believe that I let my insecurities get this far, that I had to let go of you.”

“But I’m here now,” you wrap your other arm around his shoulder, holding him close as he cries silently, his shoulders shaking, but not a sound coming from him, “I’m here to work on these things. I never left to begin with, I… I should have knocked some sense into you when you told me my CPR pose was bad.”

“That was a low blow, I’m sorry,” he holds on to you tightly, one of his large palms starting to caress your hips to your knees, letting his fingers follow the path of your thigh, “You’re a magnificent doctor, and I’m sorry that you had to endure months of suffering because of me. Fuck, I should have been the one to stop others not to be the one to give you a hard time.”

“It’s over now, Robby.” You watch him sit up slowly, his much larger body cornering yours to the headboard without even trying to, “We gonna figure this out. I’ll stay on night shifts until we sort out everything, but for now, I just want my boyfriend.”

He nods, closing the gap between your face until he reaches your lips, pressing a soft, experimental kiss before you grab the back of his neck to deepen it. Robby keeps himself up by one hand on the headboard and the other on your hip, moving his lips with yours in sync.

“I don’t wanna hurt you more—“

“Shh,” you nibble on his bottom lip, gently lowering your back on the mattress before you pull him on top of you, your free hand playing with the edge of the towel around his hips, “You will definitely hurt me if you deny my request.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I need you, Robby.” You frown when he doesn’t immediately get rid of the towel, and his eyes lock in on your face. Suddenly, a wave of sadness hits you: “You don’t want to… have sex?”

“No! I do, I really do!” He chuckles, lowering himself on top of you after he pushes the covers off your body, grabbing your hand gently before he brings it to the very evident bulge under the towel, “See what you do to me? I need you too, so so badly, but I will hate myself if I make you uncomfortable more than you probably are.”

“Stop overthinking and fuck me already!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he leans down again, kissing you passionately while you untuck the towel and drop it on the floor, making him hiss in pleasure as you wrap your arms around his aching lenghth, “Fuck, I missed this.”

“Me too,” you reply breathlessly, letting him pull off your — his — shirt and pushing your panties to the side, “If you don’t do anything, I won’t let you sleep on this bed for another week.”

“Bossy,” he kisses you quickly before he grabs your thigh in his hand, mindful of your other foot being in a splint while he makes home between your legs, his heavy cock resting on your hip as he tries to adjust your positions, “Jack’s wearing off on you.”

“Don’t talk about my brother when you are about to fuck me,” you wrap both of your arms around his shoulder and your good leg around his waist, “Unless you two have something for each other that I don’t know about.”

“Have some faith in me, I have a good taste in Abbots, and he is not the one,” you both laugh, and he nudges your nose with his, his warm brown eyes filled with pent-up lust and longing, “I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, guiding the tip of his cock to your soaked entrance, easing himself into you slowly, careful of your bruises.

Both of you moan into each other’s mouths, clinging to the other with every fiber of your being as Robby stretches you out, pushing his cock until he has nothing to give. His dick’s snuggled tightly between your velvet walls, your cunt gripping him like a vice and never wanting to go.

He gasps when you clench around him, resting his forehead on yours as both of you begin to pant, your chests heaving with each breath.

“You feel so good, Robby,” you whimper, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, making your breath hitch as his cock reaches deep inside you.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” his lips fall open as he picks up his pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck, “The most perfect human ever.”

“Oh, fuck—“ you throw your head back, tangling your fingers in Robby’s soft short hair, tugging at it as he slams himself inside you with a newfound desire — his movements tactical enough not to hurt you but just the right amount of roughness to make your leg shake around his hip, “I’m not gonna last long!”

“Me neither, darling,” he groans, the sound of squelching filling the room, nearly tripping over the edge when he sees you reaching between your bodies to rub on your clit, “Fuck, baby…”

“I’m gonna come—“ you release a loud moan, spilling around his girth as you reach your peak, your heel digging into his butt as you writhe beneath him.

“There you go, sweet girl,” he beams at you, watching as your face twists in pleasure; lips swollen with all the kissing, eyes shut and lashes kissing your cheeks, “I’m so close…”

“Inside,” you open your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand while caressing his face, “Come inside me, Michael.”

“Fuck, fuck—“ he groans, thrusting hard and fast into you a few more times before he begins to tremble, biting down on the skin of your neck as he comes, his cock twitching inside you, filling you up to the brim.

He comes for an embarrassingly — in his opinion — long time, just holding you close and panting into your skin while he shoots thick ropes of his cum inside your cunt.

You pull him down until he rests the majority of his weight on you. You have to force him, though, because he thinks it would hurt your bruises and put you in pain, but his weight grounds you.

The proximity makes his head spin in warmth, but you can feel how worried he is, so you don’t keep him caged on top of you, allowing him to pull away until he can get a better look at your body.

“Please be careful next time,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the large bruise on your collarbone, then the one on your arm, then lower on the side of your stomach, “Or better, I keep you locked up so I know you’re safe.”

“You can’t even get me locked up in a surgery, good luck with doing it for the rest of my life,” you chuckle, thanking him when he helps you sit up.

“I think I need another shower,” he says, standing up, naked as the day he was born, before he turns to you, extending his hand for you to take, “Care to join me?”

“You’re far too horny for your age, Dr. Robby,” you tease him, but take him on his offer nevertheless, resting your weight on his arm as he slowly helps you limp to the bathroom.

“I’m not old,” he scowls, and you laugh at his little frown, smoothing a finger between his brows, “but no, I don’t wanna have sex, I just wanna hold you, sweet girl.”

“Nothing is stopping you, my love.”

#dr robby #dr robby x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #michael robinavich x reader #dr robby smut #jack abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby fanfiction #dr robby fic #dr robby x you #the pitt x reader #robby robinavitch

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amirasainz · 7 months ago

Note

Little Alonso when she comes to the paddock and everything’s normal but Lando realized suddenly she’s warm and feels sick, it’ll be cute all the drivers making sure she’s okayy

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Sick days

The paddock buzzed with excitement as fans crowded the track, drivers rushed through their schedules, and the teams hustled to prepare for the Grand Prix. Among all this action, a small whirlwind of energy darted from garage to garage, spreading smiles wherever she went. Four-year-old Yn was having the time of her life, her bright giggles filling the air as she explored the paddock, holding her plushie tightly in one hand.

“Yn! Careful!” Fernando called after her as she dashed away from him yet again. He shook his head, unable to suppress a fond smile as she ducked behind a wall of mechanics.

“Is that her fifth lap around the paddock?” Carlos teased, stepping up beside Fernando.

“Fifth? More like tenth,” Fernando replied. “She has more energy than a full grid on softs.”

Nearby, Lando was leaning against his team’s garage wall, sipping water. He looked up just in time to see Yn sprint toward him, her little face lighting up when she spotted him.

“Lando!” she cried, throwing her arms wide.

“Whoa, hey there, Yn!” he said, crouching just in time to catch her. She collided into him with all her tiny strength, wrapping her arms around his neck.

But as soon as he hugged her, Lando felt something off. She was warmer than usual—too warm. Pulling back slightly, he looked at her pale, flushed face. Her breathing was still heavy, and her tiny frame trembled against him.

“Yn, are you okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. He pressed his hand against her forehead, his eyes widening at how hot her skin felt.

“You’re burning up,” he murmured. “Carlos! Come here for a second.”

Carlos, who had been chatting with some engineers nearby, jogged over. “What’s up?”

“I think she’s sick,” Lando said, adjusting Yn in his arms so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “Feel her forehead.”

Carlos leaned down, brushing Yn’s damp hair aside. His expression turned serious the moment his palm touched her skin.

“She’s definitely got a fever,” he confirmed. “Fernando’s going to lose it if he sees her like this.”

“She said she wanted to run,” Yn murmured softly, her voice weaker now. “I wanted to see everything.”

Lando’s heart clenched at how exhausted she sounded. “Alright, little troublemaker,” he said gently, “no more running for now. Let’s get you comfy.”

Together, Lando and Carlos carried her into Lando’s driver room, where the air-conditioning was a welcome relief. Lando grabbed a blanket from the corner and wrapped it around Yn, tucking her plushie securely in her arms. She leaned against him without protest, which only made him more worried.

Oscar peeked his head in. “What’s going on? Why does Yn look like she just did a triathlon?”

“She’s sick,” Carlos explained. “Fever, pale, tired. Typical ‘I’ve been running around all day’ symptoms.”

Oscar frowned. “Does she need a doctor?”

“Not yet,” Lando said, rocking Yn gently as her breathing began to even out. “But we need to keep her hydrated and resting. Can you grab some juice or water?”

“On it,” Carlos said, heading out.

“I’ll stay with her,” Oscar volunteered. He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a children’s book he always carried for his little niece. “Yn, do you want me to read to you?”

Yn’s eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a small nod. “Story?”

Oscar smiled, flipping to the first page. “It’s about a bear who goes on an adventure. Sound good?”

She nodded again, nestling closer to Lando, who tightened the blanket around her.

Carlos returned with a juice box and handed it to Lando. “Try to get her to drink a little.”

“Yn, can you take a sip for me?” Lando asked, holding the straw to her lips. She drank a few small sips before leaning back into him, her plushie hugged tightly to her chest.

Fernando finally walked in after finishing his media obligations, his sharp eyes immediately landing on Yn. His face softened with worry. “What happened?”

“She got sick from running around,” Lando explained. “We’ve got her resting now.”

Fernando crouched in front of them, brushing Yn’s hair gently. “Mi pequeña, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“I wanted to play,” she whispered.

Fernando sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ve had your fun, but now it’s time to rest, okay?”

Yn nodded sleepily, her eyelids drooping. Fernando looked at the three drivers and gave them a small smile of gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“She’s part of the paddock family,” Lando said, his voice soft as he adjusted the blanket around Yn again. “We’ve got her.”

As Oscar continued reading, Carlos passed Lando a pillow to support Yn’s head, and Fernando pulled up a chair to sit beside them. Yn might have overdone it today, but with her paddock uncles doting on her, she was already on the mend.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#little alonso #fernando alonso x alonso!reader #fernando alonso x daughter!reader #fernando alonso x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x reader #oscar piastri x reader #dad!fernando alonso #alonso!reader #sickfic

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hoe4hotchner · 11 days ago

Note

Hi! I just read you blurb about Hotch with gen z reader and I absolutely love it, it's hilarious! ♡

Can I please request Hotch struggling with technology/apps and gen z reader helping him?

Thank you so much ♡♡

Terms and conditions | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Gen-Z!reader | WC: 1.7k | CW: Fluff. I feel like I might have made hotch into a whump in the second part of the fic (he's a little pathetic)

A/N: Tyyyyyy 💕💕

You could sense it the second you walked into the bullpen, something was wrong.

Not murder-in-Mississippi wrong, but Hotch-is-glowering-at-his-phone wrong. Which, all things considered, was still code red. You paused by your desk, coffee in hand, watching your unit chief stab at his screen through the open blinds of his office, like it owed him money.

Hotch’s jaw was tight, his brows drawn into a furrow that could’ve doubled as a trench. You’d seen him face down unsubs with less venom.

Rossi sauntered past with a file tucked under his arm. “He’s been at it for ten minutes,” he murmured, his lips twitching with a barely concealed smirk. “Try not to laugh too loud.”

You snorted softly, already knowing that it was a losing battle. Hotch’s technological struggles were the tales of BAU legends – whispered about in the break room like campfire stories.

The man could profile a psychopath in his sleep but ask him to navigate an app store, and he looked like he was defusing a bomb with a paperclip.

Adjusting your grip on your coffee, you strolled up to his office with the casual confidence of someone who’d grown up with a smartphone practically grafted to their hand.

“Morning, sir,” you said, popping your head through his open door. “Everything okay?”

Hotch didn’t look up. His voice was a low growl, clipped and precise. “No. It’s not.”

That stopped you. Aaron Hotchner didn’t admit weakness, not to unsubs, not to bureaucrats, and certainly not to his team. For him to let that frustration slip through the cracks of his carefully constructed facade was as rare as a sunny day in Quantico without a murder call.

You tilted your head as you moved closer to his desk, catching a glimpse of his screen, and had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning.

“Are you… trying to download an app?” you asked, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

He finally looked at you, and for one glorious, fleeting moment, Aaron Hotchner – elite profiler, veteran federal agent, and the BAU’s resident stoic leader – looked utterly, hopelessly lost.

His eyes held a mix of exasperation and something that might’ve been embarrassment, though he’d never admit it.

“I’m attempting to install the airline app,” he said, each word measured as if explaining a tactical maneuver. “We have a connecting flight through Dallas next week since the jet is still out of commission, and the travel department suggested I… ‘check in on mobile.’” The air quotes were practically audible, laced with disdain for the very concept.

You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh. “Okay. What’s the issue?”

He turned the phone toward you, revealing the problem in stark white and gray: Your Apple ID password is required to proceed.

“Oh no,” you said, unable to stop the grin now. “You don’t know your Apple password.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed into the patented Hotchner Glare, the one that could make a hardened criminal confess in under ten seconds. “I didn’t realize it required a password just to check into a flight,” he said.

You nodded like you were diagnosing a patient. “Well, technically, it’s for downloading the app. It’s a security thing, two-factor authentication, biometrics, the whole deal.”

He blinked at you, slow and deliberate, like you’d just recited quantum physics in Klingon. “Two-factor… what?”

You couldn’t help it, you beamed. “Don’t worry, sir. I got you.”

Dragging a chair over to his desk, you plopped down with the enthusiasm of a tech support guru about to perform a miracle. You rolled up your sleeves dramatically.

“Alrighty, let’s start from the top. Do you know your email?”

“Yes,” he said, with a hint of offense, like you’d asked if he knew his own name.

“Great. Baby steps. Do you know the password for it?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Why would I need that?”

You froze, coffee halfway to your lips. “Oh boy.”

What followed was a twenty-minute odyssey through the labyrinth of modern technology. You guided Hotch through resetting his Apple ID, navigating the recovery process, and answering security questions that seemed designed to torment him (“What was the name of your first pet?” “I don’t remember.” “Okay, what’s the name of your favorite book?” “Why does this matter?”). By the time you’d successfully reset his account, installed the airline app, and added three others he grudgingly admitted might be useful (calendar, notes, and a weather app, because “it’s practical”), you felt like you’d earned a medal.

“Now for the fun part,” you said, leaning closer to show him Face ID. “You just look at the phone, and it unlocks. No typing required.”

He squinted at the screen as it scanned his face, then unlocked with a soft click. “You mean I don’t have to type anything anymore?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief like you’d just revealed the secret to eternal youth.

“Welcome to 2025, sir,” you said, leaning back with a grin.

Hotch stared at the phone for a long moment, then looked at you. His voice softened, just enough to catch you off guard. “That’s… actually impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Careful, Hotch. That almost sounded like praise.”

The barest flicker of a smirk crossed his lips, gone as quickly as it appeared. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You tapped his screen one last time, double-checking the airline app. “Okay, you’re good to go. App’s installed, accounts are logged in, and flight alerts are on. You’re officially a digital native.”

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose, a rare moment of visible relief.

“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how you all keep up with this.”

You shrugged, deadpanning, “Years of trauma, TikTok, and depression memes. It builds character.”

He gave you a look that was equal parts amusement and fond exasperation, the kind of look that made your stomach do a little flip. “I worry about your generation,” he said, but there was no real bite to it.

You smirked. “That’s fair. We worry about you too.”

Two weeks later, the BAU was airborne again, returning from a case in Arizona. The jet was quiet, save for the hum of the engines and the occasional murmur of conversation between Reid and Prentiss across the aisle. You were seated next to Hotch, who was, predictably, staring at his phone like it was a live grenade.

“Okay,” he muttered, almost to himself. “So if I press this…”

You leaned over, peering at his screen. “You trying to check the weather?”

He nodded, his expression a mix of determination and mild panic. “The app says there’s a storm on the way, but it won’t load the updates.”

With an easy grin, you reached for his phone. “I got it.”

He handed it over without protest, and that small gesture hit you harder than it should’ve. Hotch didn’t trust easily, not with cases, not with people, and definitely not with technology. But here he was, letting you take the reins, watching you in a way that made your heart skip.

You showed him how to refresh the app, toggle the alerts, and even sign up for text notifications so he’d get updates without wrestling the app into submission. “That should cover you,” you said, handing the phone back.

He studied the screen for a moment, then looked at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual. “You’re very good at this,” he said, his voice low.

Your brows lifted. “Tech stuff?”

“Yes,” he said, but there was something else in his tone, something heavier. “But… also, you’re patient with me. Most people aren’t.”

You softened, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “It’s because you’re trying,” you said, matching his tone. “That’s all that matters. I mean, yeah, you kind of suck at it–”

He shot you a look, one eyebrow raised in warning.

“–but you’re learning,” you finished, grinning. “You don’t give up. That’s admirable.”

He didn’t respond right away, just watched you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. Then, quietly, “You remind me of Jack’s babysitter.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wow. Romance me, why don’t you.”

His eyes widened slightly, a rare crack in his composure. “That wasn’t-”

You laughed, waving him off. “Relax, Hotch. I know what you meant.” You nudged him with your elbow, lightening the mood. “Next lesson: memes. You’re way behind.”

He groaned, but it was more theatrical than genuine. “Do I have to?”

You grinned, undeterred. “Terms and conditions, sir. You want my help, you’re gonna have to suffer through at least three ‘Vine’ references a week and the dog of wisdom.”

He sighed, long and suffering. “I have no idea what that means.”

“And that’s how I know we’ll make a great team.”

Later that night, as the team disembarked the plane and shuffled toward the parking lot, Hotch fell into step beside you. Not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence in the chilly air outside the private terminal the jet had landed at.

The rest of the team was ahead, somehow still bickering about who’d lost the rental car keys back in Arizona (it was definitely Morgan).

“I looked up what Skibidi Toilet was,” Hotch said, his voice low, like he was admitting to a crime.

You gasped, delighted. “No. You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“And?”

He shook his head, his expression a mix of horror and resignation. “…I regret everything.”

You cackled, loud enough to earn a glance from Rossi up ahead.

“Welcome to my world, old man.”

But then he turned to you, and his voice softened. “Thank you,” he said, “for not making me feel stupid.”

Your heart tugged, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words. “You’re not stupid, Hotch,” you said quietly. “You’re just… analog in a digital world.”

That earned you a smile, a real smile. “I suppose I could stand to be a little more digital,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur. “If it means I get to keep up with you.”

You stopped walking for a fraction of a second, your breath catching. Then you grinned, nudging him again. “Careful, sir. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said more than words ever could.

And as you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but think that maybe the gap between analog and digital wasn’t so wide after all. Not when it came to him.

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demonlorddiva · 9 months ago

Text

Obey Me! Side Characters Accidentally Hurting Mc

I had ONE person ask for the dateables so here ya go! Not the best at writing them but I’ll do my best! No Luke I don’t wanna see him sad 😭

Diavolo

Lucifer tasked you with delivering some papers for Diavolo to sign

Barbatos greets you at the castle doors, telling you he’s in his office

Meanwhile, Diavolo just had the best idea for a new school event he wants to have

He throws the doors of his office open in excitement ready to tell Barbatos about his idea

…the second your right behind it ready to knock

The force sends you and the papers to the floor

It takes him a second to realize what happens before he absolutely freaks out

“Oh my goodness! MC! Are you alright???”

He thinks he’s killed you, or broken a bone, or both or anything terrible that could happen to a human

He’s on the ground with his hands on your shoulders

Meanwhile your giggling, telling him your fine and to calm down

When he sees your fine, he pulls you into a bear hug

“Thank the stars your okay”

Barbatos

Your helping Barb cook in the castle

He’s trying out a new dish you showed him from the human world

As your chopping the vegetables, he’s called to help Diavolo with something, so you tell him it’s fine and continue with the recipe

While he’s gone, you find yourself in your own little world, doing a recipe you’ve done so many times

You don’t notice when he walks back in the kitchen and he thinks you do

He walks up behind you, admiring your work

“Have you finished chopping?”

His words startle you, causing you to drop the knife your holding onto your hand, slicing it

Immediately he grabs your hand and spins you around so your facing him, inspecting your wound

“Apologies MC, I thought you heard me, and now look at you.. we’ve got to get this cleaned up”

Before you can even think, he’s got you sitting on the counter with a first aid kit bandaging your hand.. looking very apologetic might I add

You have to tell him your fine a million times before he believes you.. at least you think he does

Once he’s done patching you up he kisses your hand where the bandage is 😭💕

Simeon

Your partners in a project at RAD so your at the library with him sorting through books to help you study

He’s on the ladder handing down the books while you set them on the table

On the last set of books Simeon loses his balance

Sending you, him, and the books to the floor

He manages to catch himself before fully landing on you but the book he was holding hits you square in the face

“Oh MC! Are you alright?”

His hands are on your face, checking to see any injuries

Your blushing and stammering out that your okay

Finally the realization hits him. He’s on top of you, your face is so close…

He sits up, looking away but you can see his cheeks are RED

He helps you back to your feet

While you guys continue to study after, you can’t help but notice how he looks at you and how he blushes when he looks away

Solomon

As his apprentice, helping him with his experiments and potions is a regular thing for you too

So when he asked you to come over and help him with his latest potion, you agreed

Everything was going according to his plan, this was gonna turn out amazing!

They were just about done, all of the sleepless nights of working on this project will finally be completed

“MC, could you put the contents of that container into the cauldron?” He says across the room, checking his spellbook

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Solomon mislabeled the contents of that certain ingredient in his tireless haze to finish the potion

That mistake had big consequences, as soon as you added some of it, the contents of the cauldron exploded, sending the scalding potion to burn your hand hovering over the pot

He was quick enough to send a protection spell so the potion didn’t spray over your entire body, but not quick enough to keep you fully unharmed

He quickly ran to you, inspecting your hand with gentle hands looking completely baffled at what just happened as were you

When he realizes his mistake he’s incredibly sorrowful. His own negligence caused his favorite person to get harmed

“I’m so sorry MC, my poor judgment caused you so much pain. I hope you can forgive me.”

Luckily, being the worlds greatest sorcerer came with his perks. Before the pain can set in too bad, he chants a spell until your hand returns back to its normal state before the incident

Afterwards, your in charge of reading the spell book while he deals with the potion. At least if he messes up again you won’t be hurt.

Definitely try’s to cheer you up by teaching you some spells you’ve been wanting to learn

“All right my little apprentice, since you’ve been good how about I teach you that illusion spell you’ve been so excited about huh?”

I mayyy have been drinking when I first made this and forgot to add Solomon. But here he is! In my defense my phone froze and deleted most of this before I could upload and I had to rewrite everything. So sorry but he’s here now!

Hope y’all like it! Got a lil spicy with Simeon there at the end but I just can’t help it 😫

Comments are appreciated! Always trying to improve on my writing!

#obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me barbie #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #obey me shenanigans #obey me ships #obey me swd #obey me solmare #obey me x mc #obey me

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yandere-sins · 1 year ago

Note

Kicking my feet and twirling my hair at your yandere König and Ghost headcanons💕 could I request some headcanons on how they'd react at escape attempts/successful escapes please?

Of course! Thanks for requesting! ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

König

♡ One word: panic. It's not a slowly developing feeling, either. When he can't find you in your room, his stomach twists as he waltzes into the bathroom instead. At this point, his pulse begins ringing in his ears, and his breaths come out as slow pushes of air. König realizes how wrong his home feels, how there's no sign of you there, and the panic that overcomes him is just about to explode like a grenade on the battlefield—it builds up and then peng! It's too quiet, too cold, and the thought of you having left is one of pure horror. If anyone would measure his tension, his body would break all means of detecting it, every muscle so taut they could snap at any given moment, and every one of his movements deliberate and deadly. König tries to think about what he's done wrong and why you'd do this to him, but he manages to push these thoughts aside for later. He needs to focus, needs to keep his wits up. Part of him hopes you didn't leave him because you wanted to. Another part hopes very much that you weren't forced to leave him just to spare you from the horrors that you could possibly encounter because of that. Then again, if someone was as bold as to kidnap you, König would at least have an outlet for all the rage, frustration, and madness he is feeling; the thought of breaking some bones suddenly so tempting.

♡ And yet, König is never more in control than in moments like this. Despite his panic and anxiety about losing you, he could never concentrate better than now that he has to get you back. And he has to; he needs to. Needs you. His life is meaningless without you in it, and he needs to cradle you in his arms and know you're okay just so he can fucking breathe again. He has his means of finding out where you are and is not shy about using them. You'll come to dread the day you got stalked by someone so big and tall that it should have been impossible. But once he's behind you, your escape is over, and with it, any other possibility that you'll ever be able to try again. If he has to put you in an underground bunker, tied up and unable to do anything without him, then so be it. But König can't lose you again. He might as well die if you ever manage to get away. Ultimately, it will be his tense, unyielding hands dragging you back, even as he coos sweet promises into your ear. That everything will be okay now, that he'll protect you. But he'll be much more possessive and needy after your attempt, and you only have yourself to blame for what he's going to do with you once he has you back in the safety of his arms.

Ghost

♡ Physically, you might already be far, far away from Ghost. Yet, you can still feel his disappointment and hear him sigh, even if it's all just subconsciously. There's something especially bitter about the fact he went out to get you some nice food you like, thinking about how much he'll enjoy watching you eat it on his way back and imaging the taste on your lips as he steals kisses from you, only to come back to this. Nothing. Emptiness and the remains of his heart getting shredded by explosive bangs of heartache. He thought things were improving between you two, but that escape was on him. He shouldn't have trusted you quite this much, though it really fucking hurts that you did it. He's been good to you, hasn't he? Loved you well, fucked you well, spent all his damn money to make you comfortable. You can run all you want, but you can't deny the few times you leaned in for a cuddle—even if it was subconsciously—or asked him for something, and he got it for you without thinking twice. You might think running is the right option, but are you even aware of what you're running away from? By all means, he was a perfect partner (aside from forcing you into this relationship, but it was for the greater good of you both being together). And yet, you'd betray him like this. Run away when things get rough. When they aren't up to your standards. Ghost must have spoiled you rotten, eh? Pity because he won't make the same mistakes twice.

♡ Ghost doesn't need anyone or anything to track you down. He might have a tracker on you, part of him always admiring your rebellious nature and knowing the day would come, but he knows you. He knows you too well. He studied your thoughts like no one else, perhaps knowing even better than you what you're thinking. And though he's gripping the steering wheel of the car he's using to catch up to you, to the point of either his fingers or the material they're wrapped around cracking, when he does find you, he's eerily calm. He knew the way you'd run, knew which bushes you'd hide behind, and now that he caught up, you really have no choice but to surrender. Ghost wouldn't let you win in a fight on his good days, much less days ruined by your idiocity. So you can choose to get in defeatedly or have him drag you into the car with no guarantee he won't hurt you. It's not like your tears leave him cold. The dead look on your face or how you jerk when he brushes your hair back, feeling like ice picks stabbed into his heart. He hates arguing with you. He hates being angry with you. It's on you this time, though. But at least, if you're cooperative, the only way he'll let you know how mad he is, is by holding your thigh in his hand on the drive, gripping it painfully rigid as he drives you two back, thinking about whether or not to break your leg as a lesson. No promises on if he will act on these thoughts, though—you really messed up this time and deserve the lesson, don't you? Better start appeasing him before you get home, and he gets to have you all to himself again, just like he always wanted.

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makeyoumine69 · 24 days ago

Note

Could you do Patrick being obsessed with his chubby s/o?

Do I Wanna Know?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Chubby!Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: At first, it wasn't even an obsession. Patrick always told himself that you weren't his type, but at some point, everything went so wrong. Now, only the taste of forbidden fruit can satisfy his hunger.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, mutual pining, obsession, body worship, oral sex (69), unprotected p in v sex (reversed cowgirl), creampie, hair pulling, choking, spanking, mild degradation kink, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, Patrick is literally an awkward demon, implied murder, dark themes, implied masturbation and stalking.

𝐀/𝐍: Finally, I was in the mood to write after a long time, so I hope you like it. Thank you so much for sending me your request! I was inspired by this edit made by amazing @patrickbatemanstradwife, this song got stuck in my head. Crawlin' back to youuuu!🫠

Please follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update!💕

This was all so wrong.

Everything about you was wrong, but he couldn't help it. Every time he saw you in the office, he was ready to gnaw off his own hand. Maybe he was actually doing it just to stifle a low, throaty groan because you were giving him a boner just by walking around here in something tight.

And it was over for him.

Patrick could imagine these curvy hips and the arch of your ass. He dreamed about how it would feel to be inside you while you moaned loudly and miserably as he pounded into you with no mercy. It was just pure filth, pure madness. No shame, no bluff. He fully accepted the fact that he craved your thickness. If he could, he'd walk up to you in the narrow hallway leading to his office, bend you over a desk, and ignore the shocked stares of onlookers. He couldn't care less. He was about to lose his mind if he didn't sink his white teeth into your soft ass, hips, or torso, where he could imagine ribs ticking beneath his bite.

Jesus Christ.

Bateman could barely breathe standing next to the printing machine, pretending to wait for the document to print. In reality, he was watching—literally stalking—you as you strolled around, being nice and friendly as usual.

Holy fuck!

He probably should have locked himself in the nearest bathroom and jerked off. That might have saved him. But then Patrick remembered that he had already masturbated twice that morning, and his dick was still aching. His hand wasn't enough anymore. Actually, it never was, but now it was an entirely different tragedy.

"Good morning, Mr. Bateman," you popped up right next to him, like a rabbit from a hat. "How are you doing today?"

Oh, no, fuck no. It was the way you leaned on your clasped hands, making your breasts look delicious, and the V-cut of your blouse didn't seem to hide anything—the view was absolutely breathtaking. Patrick began to pray for salvation, even though he was an atheist.

The man gave you an awkward smile and nervously adjusted his tie. "I'm—ah—I'm great," he replied nonchalantly, as if he didn't want to say, "I want your tits in my mouth."

"How is your new workplace? I heard you got promoted." Patrick actually giggled. The red hue spreading across his face gave him an innocent look, like a little deer who wanted to be petted.

"It's nice, really nice," you grinned, bending a bit lower. You didn't realize your breasts were pressed together provocatively, and Bateman was about to cry and run away, thinking you were doing it on purpose to torture him. "Uh, maybe we can drink coffee sometime?"

Oh, God.

Did you really ask him out like that? So blatantly? Did he not mishear?

Your audacity always sent his ego through the roof because he couldn't understand how you could be that confident and brazen naturally. He was sure you weren't doing it on purpose; this was simply the way you had always been. He hated it so much, practically frying himself from jealousy.

"That's a really sweet offer, but I don't think I can find time off work." Bateman tapped the desk next to him. The printing machine had already spat out several forgotten documents next to it. Who would care about some pages when such a gorgeous woman was standing there? He was so close; he'd actually bury his face right between those big, luscious breasts. "Maybe next time."

The man almost choked on his tongue when he said it, but he didn't backtrack or try to look like he could change his mind, even when he noticed the way your face dropped a bit.

"Well," you replied, straightening up and casting a slightly disappointed glance at him. "Next time, I hope I'll be luckier. Have a nice day, Mr. Bateman."

You turned on your heels and strode away. He could have sworn his eyes were glued to the sway of your hips in those tight pants. Where did you buy them? At some local store for nerds?

Annoyed as hell, Bateman wanted nothing more than to flip the desk next to him and throw it across the room. He should have said yes. But that nudging sensation, probably a mix of fear and embarrassment, messed everything up again. However, he was so hard that he was sure it would hurt to walk like this if he didn't solve this problem.

Cursing under his breath, Patrick suddenly rushed around the desk and followed you down the hallway. He caught up with you at the elevators and slid inside one of them at the last second. He startled everyone inside, but he didn't care.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, moving through the crowd of irritated office workers until he found you standing next to the elevator wall. Your eyes wandered over the shining ceiling, and your face looked so sad that, for a second, he hated—really hated—himself for being such a jerk and upsetting you. "Hey."

You looked at him with wide eyes, blinking and processing the situation. "Hey," you repeated after him, totally confused. "Something's wrong?"

"Yes! Oh—I mean—no," Patrick chuckled as he finally pressed the button on the control panel, hoping the people around him would stop staring as if he were standing naked in the middle of the elevator. "Jean told me that one of my meetings got canceled, so I thought—" He paused and stood next to you, towering over you, but not staring down your neckline. "A cup of coffee would be nice."

"Really?"

"Yep," he replied smoothly, without arrogance or sass. "Actually, I know one really good place with the best coffee in the Upper West Side."

Later that day, the two of you ended up in his bedroom.

Just like that.

You hated yourself for letting this man win you over, but you couldn't resist him—his charm, his sweet voice, his enchanting manners. Everything about him screamed danger, but you also wanted to unravel and drown in his mystery. His skin was so soft and smooth that you thought you’d never tire of touching it, no matter how many years passed. You would still choose to be in his arms, kissing him as passionately as he was kissing you.

Breathless. Sloppy. Mouth open. Teeth clashing.

The king-sized bed suddenly started to feel small as Patrick was all over you, touching, squeezing, and teasing. He could never get enough; if he let you go, even for a second, you would slip through his fingers like sand. He’d never let that happen, so he held you tight, pressing you down with his heavy muscles. You could barely breathe. Your hands roamed along his broad back while he showered every inch of your body with feverish kisses. Your neck was covered in hickeys, your collarbone had visible bite marks, and your nipples were sore from being in his mouth for so long. In one swift motion, Bateman switched positions, putting you on top of him. He looked a bit embarrassed and lost when you drew near his lips to peck them, one by one, and then his protruding cheekbone.

After a short, shaky exhale, Patrick suddenly blurted out, "I want you to sit on my face—"

"What?" You retorted, genuinely surprised.

"Hold on, let me finish," he smirked, bouncing you slightly on his hips. The mere contact of his hard bulge beneath his white silk boxers against your laced, soaked panties caused you both to freeze for a moment. "I want you to sit on my face while I feed you my cock."

There was a short but awkward pause.

You barely held back your loud laughter, which you directed right at his flustered face. "What a creative way to suggest trying 69."

"We're not 'trying it,' sweetheart, " he crooned, tilting his head up to pull your lower lip with a loud, wet pop. "I'm going to eat your pussy until you gush all over my mouth, and I'm fucking sure you won't last long."

"Your arrogance will be your downfall one day."

Squinting his hazel eyes, Patrick slid both hands along your hips, rubbing the soft mounds and tracing invisible semi-circles on your skin. "Maybe."

Just one word—one simple word—that caused the fall.

You didn’t even notice how easily he repositioned you above his face, giving you access to his throbbing cock. It was already on fire, and the second you touched it, his hot flesh pushed up, risking tearing the fabric of his underwear apart. Meanwhile, Patrick placed his hands on your hips, holding you open and giving your pussy a brief, testing lick through your panties.

"Oh—fuck," you sighed, biting your lower lip with your eyes closed. His cock radiated so much heat that it could burn your hand at any second. "You're—uh—impressive..."

"Get yourself to work," he rasped, kneading your ass up to your hip bones. His mouth was already drooling and heating up at your sopping wet cunt. "While your mouth still functions."

What an asshole.

But you didn't say that out loud.

At one point, you wanted him to suffer and beg you to give him what he wanted, but your own lust overpowered you. It felt like smoldering lava coursing through your veins. His body reacted to every invisible line you drew across his hard length, just across the ridge.

Bateman moaned loudly and unashamedly. The echo vibrated against your taut clit, and you jolted your hips back to grind on his face. You tried to focus on removing his briefs, and when you finally did, his thick dick sprang free. It stood so fucking proud, begging for attention.

"Mmm—leaking already," you murmured before tasting him, catching the creamy drop and wrapping your hand around the base. Bateman groaned gutturally against your folds. His tongue toyed with your bud with illegal precision. You were barely holding back from falling apart. "Oh—God—yes," you gasped. Your hips bucked backward, provoking him. He spanked your ass, trying to tame your bratty behavior. "Hey!"

Smirking with your pussy juices covering his face, he spread your lower lips, catching your clit with his warm mouth for a brief moment. You quivered once again as his large palm landed on your burning ass cheek.

"Don't stray," the man hissed, sucking your clit in one more time. "Or I'll stop."

Nuh-uh.

Such silly things would never work on you. Did that foolish man really think he could blackmail you?

Without saying anything, you slowly reached for his tense balls and gave them a teasing squeeze. Oh well, that had an even greater effect than you intended. Bateman jerked his hips up a bit, literally trying to fuck your hand. The tip was red, swollen, and drenched in pre-cum.

He was far beyond playing such childish games. And he knew it. He was just trying to hide his weak position and how pathetically bad he wanted you, how badly he wanted this, how badly he wanted his cock to hit your fucking throat and have you dump your flavor on his face.

Not to mention that thicc ass of yours.

Holy fuck!

Patrick was addicted. He lost in his own game because he thought you accepted the rules, but you didn't.

The lewd, depraved sounds of your wet lips slipping up and down his cock and his strong tongue flickering around your clit filled his bedroom. Neither of you could hold back anymore. There was no dignity, no self-control, and no pangs of conscience.

Bateman shoved his finger inside you. His free hand settled on your hip, keeping you open. You didn't fall back, taking his dick deeper into your mouth. You helped with your hands, which were locked around it. You jacked him off rhythmically. You whimpered and cried from his girth. Your vision was blurred, but you wanted him to surrender first. You needed that like air. It would be his punishment for being so stubborn and arrogant and making stupid excuses about not having lunch or dinner with you.

Patrick’s lips, tongue, and fingers worked like an unstoppable force, one that would burst every piece of your body.

"Ah—shit," you cursed under your breath, biting your sticky lips. The half-transparent string of saliva mixed with his cum was hovering on your chin. "I'm think...I'm gonna cum!"

Your breathless, whiny sounds fueled his determination to discover how your clenching pussy would feel around his fingers. The second you let go, Bateman continued slurping at your cunt. Your wetness gushed around his face, but he kept eating you out and drinking every drop. The orgasm hit you so hard that you thought you’d choke on his dick, so you let go of it and clung to his muscular calves. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Patrick stopped only when you were completely spent—lumpy, lightheaded, and wrecked. "Jesus," he trailed off, tipping his head back onto the big white pillow. "You're a sweet one. I knew it. I fucking knew it."

You could barely think or talk, panting, as you were mere inches away from lying against his pulled-up legs. His dick was still rigid and throbbing with each hot breath you exhaled. You couldn't see his face, but he must have looked smug and proud—like he was thinking, "Look at me. I just made this bitch explode on my tongue." You wanted to say something to bring him back down to Earth, but...

To hell with talking.

Right now, you didn't want instructions, praise, or sweet nonsense. You just wanted his dick deep inside you until he spilled inside you. Yeah, you'd like that. The thought of being so full of his cum could make you climax again.

Just the thought.

You carefully got on your knees, still with your ass to his face and your legs open on either side of him. Driven by the lingering hunger inside your core that seemed like an endless, consuming black hole, you raised up a bit and positioned his cockhead right between your legs. You rubbed it barely sensibly over your slick pussy lips.

"Dirty girl," he rasped. His cheeks, neck, shoulders, and chest were red. He was a mess, but he didn't try to hide it. "You think you can handle it?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Patrick squinted, ducking his head down to watch you bend over and give him the most delicious, mouth-watering view: your ass, your plump thighs, and your sore, puffy cunt, swollen from his oral assault. It actually deserved to be taped and added to his porn collection.

But damn, the moment you aligned his dick with your soaked hole and began to guide it inside, you both stopped breathing. This man could probably be arrogant, since his dick—that beefy, hot flesh stretching you out and shuffling everything in your guts—was about to send you somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere you'd never come back from.

"Tight—ugh—fuck," Bateman said. His hands instantly found their way up to your thighs, squeezing and petting them to encourage you to ride him faster. "Tight like a fucking glove."

"Shut up," you snapped back, annoyed but excited. Your next orgasm was already there, in your lower region, where the tension seemed to never leave. "Do you think having a big dick makes you a likeable person?"

You turned around, bouncing on his hips. His shaft slid in and out of you smoothly. His balls were covered in a wicked cocktail of your liquids, and your audacity was the perfect addition to this debauchery.

"That’s right, honey," he replied in a low, ragged voice, an eloquent sign that he was close. "You like my cock—uhhh—you like me."

Then, he suddenly sat up and tugged on your hair, forcing you to arch toward his chest and change the angle of penetration, making it even deeper. It was more brutal, more demanding, and less human.

"Patrick, slow down," you said, though you hadn't expected to. Your pussy was literally on fire from the hard strokes he was giving you, even though you were on top. "Mmhm—you're gonna break me in half!"

But the man didn’t slow down. On the contrary, he sped up, yanking your head back even more and slapping your ass several times before resting one of his hands around your throat, choking you and squeezing the oxygen out of your aching lungs. Your eyes saw nothing but a blurry image of the white walls. The sound of your bodies slapping mixed with the squelching of your pussy around his cock each time he forced you down on it. Bateman wanted to engrave all of it in his mind.

He wanted to reminisce about it after murdering you one day.

"You want my cum? You want all of it, like a fucking slut?"

Your neck hurt from being in such an awkward position, but you were bold enough to gaze into his dark, crazy eyes. "Yes—ahhh—yessss," you gasped. His hand flew up to your face, and he put his thumb in your mouth. "Drown me in it!"

Bateman couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. "Filthy," he mumbled as he drove himself as deep as he could. His cockhead brushed against your cervix, and you clawed at his hand, leaving red marks on his perfectly tanned skin. "You fuck like a whore. Did you know that?"

His movements became more sloppy and frantic. His dick pulsed inside your overstimulated pussy. His breath was labored and uneven, just like yours. He came hard, but silently, as if he didn’t want even the walls of his bedroom to know how badly he wanted you. He was with a woman he never even supposed to fantasize about because she was not his type, yet here he was, shooting hot ropes of seed into your core until it streamed onto his pristine sheets.

Your next orgasms set in, and you thought you’d pass out. Maybe you really passed out because you were exhausted and overfucked. You blacked out right when Patrick put you on the bed and pressed you against his wet chest. You couldn't move your limbs, as if someone had pressed a button and shut you down. You could have sworn. It was the best sleep of your life because you had never been more satisfied.

You were the first one to wake up in the morning. You took some time just sitting there and admiring the view. Patrick looked so peaceful in his sleep, almost angelic. You had to make a conscious effort not to touch him or brush back the messy locks of his brown hair sparkling in the sunlight. You wished you could stay there forever, but...

There was always a "but" that would bring you back to reality like a bucket of cold water.

Sneakily and almost silently, you got up to find your clothes scattered around the room like junk. Piece by piece, you collected your outfit. A semblance of shame crept up inside your chest. Where would all of this lead you? Patrick was a vice president, and you hoped he wouldn't brag about having sex with you in his bedroom the next day.

Lost in disturbing thoughts, you didn't notice how you ended up in his kitchen. Everything looked sterile and cold. There was something eerie about the atmosphere, but you couldn't comprehend it. No matter how hungry or thirsty you were, you didn't dare touch anything. Instead, you got dressed and put your watch on your wrist, checking your reflection in its glimmering dial.

Meanwhile, Bateman was already awake. Frankly, he hadn’t been sleeping for very long—he pretended to be asleep even when he felt your piercing gaze examining his "sleepy" features. He knew you were in his living room, maybe even in his kitchen, and wondered if you would overstep the boundaries.

Would your curiosity be your demise?

With one practiced motion, Patrick pushed the blanket to the side, causing his briefs to fall to the floor. He stared at them for a while, but then decided to wrap himself in a sheet instead of putting on the used underwear.

Still, no sounds came from the kitchen, which intrigued him.

Bateman strolled out of the bedroom, not like a creep trying to startle you, but subtly approaching you until he finally saw you and what you were about to do. Unaware of his presence, your hand was already on the refrigerator door, ready to open it, when you suddenly heard his somewhat menacing voice.

"Don't," he warned, standing inches away from you. "Don't open it."

You gulped and locked eyes with him. "I... I just wanted some water."

"There was an issue with the electricity." The man paused and moved closer. His looming figure made you feel small, so you instinctively stepped back. "So, probably, all the food spoiled. I don't want the smell everywhere. I have some bottles of Evian in my bathroom, though.”

"Uh, since you mentioned the bathroom," you muttered, fiddling with your fingers awkwardly. You weren't sure why it was suddenly so difficult to look him in the eyes. "Can I use it?"

"Sure."

That was all he said before you headed towards the bathroom without hesitation. Only after hearing the door click shut did the man open the fridge to check on the decapitated head of some random blonde model. He couldn't remember her name, even though her head was sitting on one of the shelves in the fridge, next to food products, as if that were normal.

With an ugly grin, Bateman pressed a finger to his lips, kissing it lightly before placing it on the dead girl’s frozen, rotten mouth. "Sleep well, darling."

With that, he closed the fridge and whistled. His mind raced with ideas of what he could do to you in the bathroom right now. A shiny, big kitchen knife caught his attention, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine and through his groin. His cock was already getting hard.

Although the sex with you was good—the most delicious appetizer—now it was time for the main course, and Patrick knew he would enjoy it.

Every fucking second of it.

Thank you for the reading!🖤 [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[SHORT REQUESTS M-LIST]🪓[KO-FI]

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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sdmnpact · 3 months ago

Text

Enchanted.

Wroetoshaw x Reader angst

[] requested by @sundarksposts 💕

[] Harry, your long time friend goes on a date making your true feelings for him hard to fight.

♪ Now Playing: Enchanted by Taylor Swift ♪

I was enchanted to meet you Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you

~~~

I was invited over to dinner by one of my best friend's Talia. I was on my way over there when I recieved a text.

Talia: ooh, I guess Simon invited Josh and Frey, do you still wanna come over? 😭

Me: it's fine, I don't hate being a fifth wheel 😚

Talia: if anything Josh and Simon are gonna be the fourth and fifth wheels babes 😘

Me: True, I'm omw!! 🥰

>>>

"Hey!!" I greeted as Talia hugged me after opening the door. "Hey!! It's been too long since we've seen eachother in person!" Talia said leading me towards the kitchen.

"You guys act like a week is a year." Simon said standing by the counter eating something. "Leave that!" Talia said smacking his hand away from the salad bowl. I chuckled at how adorable they are together.

"So, since it's basically a couples night featuring you, should we invite Harry!?" Talia said raising her eyebrows at me. Simon 'ood' like a little school boy causing my cheeks to get hot. "Stop it- no, Harry texted me he was gonna be busy tonight." I responded grabbing the salad bowl taking it to the dining table as Talia followed with another plate.

"What's he doing tonight?" She asked. "I have no clue, he wouldn't tell. He just said it was something important and I shouldn't worry." I actually didn't know what he was doing tonight. We had just hung out yesterday and he was acting weird all day. He's one of my best mates and we share so much with eachother. It kind of felt like he was holding a secret.

"Si, do you know what Harry's up to tonight?" Talia asked as Simon sat at the table. "You don't know?" He asked looking towards me. Now I was very confused. I shook my head as he let out a sigh and a worried expression filled his face.

"Harry's out on a date." My heart sunk.

Like I said, Harry and I were really good mates so it's not like we were dating but we've know eachother for almost a decade now and well, I guess I caught feeling for the man. I didn't want to admit it but I've longed for him for a couple years now. I didn't fancy him when we first met but one night, I was drunk- very drunk and I was with Harry. I don't remember much from that night but I have the most vivid memory of the way he treated me.

He didn't try to take advantage of me, quite the opposite. We were with a couple friends, many males and he became so protective. He wouldn't let me out of his sight. At the end of the night, he took me to my flat and put me in bed. He sat with me until I fell asleep stroking my hair. I found him so enchanting. He was such a gentleman. I fell in love with him after that and I've been pining after him since. I never wanted to try anything with him because I love him too much as a friend to lose him.

Hearing this news was earth shattering though. I know he has one night stands occasionally but this was an actual date. He never goes on dates unless he likes the girl and this hasn't happened in years. I fear, I'll lose him this time. I'll never get my chance, not that I would've tried. I should have, who knows how he felt about me-

"Y/n? Are you okay love?" Talia said wiping at my cheek. Tears had been streaming down my face and I didn't realize. "Oh, uh yeah, just, I've gotta use the toliet." I said making my way towards the bathroom. I felt like throwing up, I felt like my heart hurt, I just wanted to cry. I didn't realize I felt this way about him. I thought it was a simple crush.

I sat on the toliet seat letting the tears just fall down my face. I looked at myself in the mirror, my makeup was a huge mess. Maybe I should just head home before Josh and Freya get here.

Just as that thought left my head, I heard the front door open and Josh's voice boom throughout the house. He was always quite loud and made sure to make his presence known. I chuckled as he made a little joke.

I know I have to leave the bathroom but I also don't want them to see me like this. I tried fixing my makeup as best as I could and walked out. I saw all of them standing nearby staring at me.

"Awww my girl are you okay?" Freya said as she extended her arms hugging me with Talia joining in. This honestly made me cry more.

"I'm alright, but I think I should go home, I don't wanna ruin the evening." I said as I pulled away, wiping at my face. "No, don't even think about it. Let's have a little night in instead, why don't we eat a bit then, the three of us can go watch movies in my room." Talia said wrapping an arm around me. I looked over to the boys who had sympathetic looks on their face.

"Okay... sorry boys." I said still sniffling a bit. "Don't worry about it Y/n, we're just glad you'll stay here and won't be alone." Josh said as Simon nodded. "You guys are too sweet, I love you all." I said through tears. "We love you too!" Freya said as they hugged me again.

>>>

《 Harry's Pov 》

"So, you like golf?" I asked. I was on a date with this girl I met on tinder. She's quite fit and I really like her personality but she's kinda giving me nothing. Maybe it's me, I don't know why I just don't feel much for her. I was really excited for this date but actually being here is quite- strange.

"Not really, it's so boring." She said taking a small forkful of her salad. I don't think this is gonna work out to be honest. She's missing something, I just don't know what.

I felt my phone buzz and I didn't wanna pull it out in front of her but the conversation was so dead, I really wanted to check who it was. "I'm gonna head to the toliet." I told her as she nodded. I walked towards the men's room, immediately pulling out my phone, looking at the notification.

Simon: Harry, how's the date going?

Harry: oh mate, it's fucking awful. She's giving me nothing here.

Simon: well, I think you should come to my place soon then.

Harry: ??

Simon: Y/n is in shambles over here, I don't know if I should tell you why but I think she'd benefit from seeing you.

Harry: already on the way

Holy fuck. I hope she's okay. I sped walked out of the toliet getting lots of odd looks as I reached the table.

"Hey, um there's an emergency and I've really gotta go!" I told her. "Oh my god, is everything okay?" She asked with wide eyes about to get up. "Yeah, it's just something I gotta take care of. Here's for dinner, order whatever else you'd like and I'll text you soon." I said placing two hundred pounds on the table.

"Oh- um I'd really rather if you wouldnt actually." She said quietly. "Oh... okay then. Well I guess I'll see you then." I said awkwardly as I got my jacket and left. I quickly called over the first cab I saw and headed towards Simon's house.

>>>

《 Y/n's Pov 》

Talia and Freya are so great. I don't know what I did to deserve such amazing friends. They really eased my suffering as we watched 'The Proposal' while we ate snacks and had some wine.

We heard some shuffling coming from the living room and Talia went to check it out as we continued watching the movie.

"Hey Y/n? Someone's here for you." Talia said with a smile on her face. That's weird. I wonder who it is. I gave her a confused look and she just gestured for me to go. I got up and walked towards the living room.

I saw Harry standing by the door in his date outfit. I know because he only wears sweatshirts and shorts but right now he had on some slacks and a turtleneck. He looked very handsome actually. But why is he here?

"Y/n are you okay?" He asked the second he saw me coming over and wrapping his arms around me.

"Um, yeah, I'm alright. What are you doing here? Don't you have a date tonight?" I asked and he let me go and gave Simon a little annoyed look. Simon shrugged as he walked to another room leaving just us two in the living room.

"Yeah. I did. Sorry I didn't tell you, I don't know why I didn't want you to know. I just... I don't know. But- what happened to you!?! Is everything alright? It looks like you've been crying." He said pulling me towards the couch. We sat down and I just looked towards my hands, feeling the tears well up again. Why am I still crying, I shouldn't be this emotional.

"It's nothing really, just hormones I think. I'm alright now. You didn't have to come. I don't even know how you knew, you should've enjoyed your date!" I said wiping at my eye.

"Well for one, that date was fucking horrendous." He said with a breathy laugh. "The girl didn't even like me in the end and she was just not it for me either. She wasn't the girl I need to be with." He continued. "Also Simon texted me that you were upset and I knew I needed to be over here instead." He said reaching for my hand. I looked towards him, as he had been staring at me intensely.

"Seriously are you okay? You're crying again." He said wiping at my cheek. "Fuck Harry." I said now fully bawling.

"I think I like you." I said unable to hold my feelings in. Like I said, he's always so tender with me and I just love him so much. He's always so sweet and maybe I'm just being dumb and falling for any man who shows me an ounce of niceness.

"You think? Or you know?" He said as I furrowed my brows towards him. "Y/n. I've liked you for fucking ages!!" He said. My heart immediately started pounding so hard. "I know how I've felt about you since the moment we met. All these years I've always had something for you. You're amazing, the way you make me laugh like no one else, the way you aren't afraid to be yourself, the way you eat like a dog and aren't shy around me." He said with a little laugh.

"Tonight was me trying to get over you. We've know eachother for such a long time and we've never had anything together. It's been hard trying not to hug or kiss you whenever I want. I needed to find a distraction from you. All you do is cloud my mind." He said sitting closer.

"I didn't know you felt this way." I said smiling. "It's always been you, Y/n. I never wanted anyone else but you." He finished.

"Kiss kiss kiss" we heard faint voices say. I laughed at this as I looked towards him. He shrugged and leaned into me, planting his lips on mine. As cliché as it sounds, I truly had butterflies in my stomach and I felt extremely happy in this moment. After a couple seconds, we pulled away.

"I'm so glad you came."

"I am too."

~~~

A/n

I'm actually in love with this one! It's so adorable, I hope you enjoyed it!! Also I melt every single time he wears those turtle neck tops- he looks incredible!!

#wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry lewis fic #wroetoshaw x reader #w2s #british youtubers #fanfic #sidemen #sdmnpact

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hedwig221b · 4 months ago

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hi sweetheart I hope this finds you on a good day at a good time I was wondering if you had any fic recs for like either the hale fire doesnt happen or the hale fam lives like what were ur favourite fics of that trope if you enjoy it no worries if not (preferably stiles/derek) but I'll read anything you recommend hv a good rest of your day 🫶

hiii 💕💕💕 call me a sweetheart, and I'll rec anything lmao (but I do love that tag... Hale family is such a good topic to explore, so much good tea)

sanctuary where i stand by ceserabeau

"We're happy to have you, Stiles," Laura says, and nudges Derek hard, "Aren't we?" "Of course," Derek says through gritted teeth. When he looks at Stiles, the kid has a smug grin on his face. What a little shit. AU where Stiles is sent to the Hale pack to be their emissary.

Don't You Worry (Stiles) by Watermelon Wolves (RogueMarieL)

After Scott was bitten, Stiles told a very small lie in exchange for a very huge prize -- pack membership -- and he has spent the intervening years winning every Best Fake Boyfriend award on the books. Now, however, Scott wants to be in an actual relationship, and Stiles is losing his pack. Enter Derek.

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. “What?! What was that sound?!” “You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. “Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” “Mike,” she argued. “Who’s Mike?” Scott asked. “Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

Ain't Nothing so Good as the Cake and Eating it by sofonisba_found

Derek thinks he's doing alright in life, with his family at his side and a job he loves. Despite his family's concerns he remains adamant that he doesn't need a mate, afraid to take the risk of letting anyone close enough to try to hurt his family again. That is until he realizes that his true mate has been right under his nose for years, and that now through his inaction he may lose him.

what a big heart i have (better to love you with) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Stiles has a massive thing for Derek Hale. This is not news. Stiles, after all, has been carrying a torch for Derek ever since they bumped into each other at a taco cart at the start of his freshman year. But what is news? With no hope of ever capturing Derek’s attention, Stiles is thinking it might be time to let that torch go. Try to let it burn out. (Derek might have something to say about that.)

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more. “You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?” “It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.” Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes. “I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

Oh God, He's Hot by lupus (lupuswrites)

When Stiles came home a couple of days before junior year started from a summer away, he was a little more than excited to see his best friend Derek, especially now that he’d finally gotten the courage to act upon his long standing crush on the guy. There’s just one problem; somewhere in the span of three months puberty hit Derek like the bus hit Regina George and all of the sudden Derek is hot. And Stiles isn’t the only one who’s noticed.

Once Upon a Dream by gryvon

Stiles has been dreaming of the Hale family burning alive since he was a child. After being locked in Eichen for a year, Stiles learns to keep his visions to himself. That doesn't stop him from keeping an eye on Derek Hale while he waits for Kate Argent to make her move. Only watching Derek becomes loving Derek and stopping Derek and Kate from getting together turns into Stiles dating Derek Hale. He's in love with Derek but his visions haven't stopped, only now he has to watch Derek die with the rest of his family. He'll do anything to keep that dream from becoming reality.

Hung The Moon by BurnItAllClean (nrnyx)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

Growing Up With You by WhereAreTheBreaks

It all started with a strange scent in the grocery store, and now Derek can't imagine his life without the hyperactive little shit that is Stiles Stilinski. He didn't know why he always felt the need to be close to the boy but his mom's knowing looks certainly weren't helping.

Bonded to a Spark by AMatchInWater

Derek comes back to Beacon Hills after living in New York with Laura as a deputy. His mom wants to retire and has enlisted Stiles to be their emissary in training since he's such a successful spark. Derek hates all of it at first until he cracks when Stiles wakes him up in the middle of the night to fix the wards, and he starts to fall for the Omega living in his home.

Emissary by dragon_temeraire

To keep the peace, Stiles agrees to be emissary to the Hale pack.

Don't Feed the Wolves by Amazonia_8

Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property. Except, apparently, Stiles. Now he's got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.

When You're Close I Feel the Sparks by Leslie_Knope

The guy is hot as hell, sure—leather jacket and glasses, Jesus, be still Stiles' poor, bisexual, beating heart—but more importantly, it must really suck being new on the first day of senior year. “We’re adopting him,” he decides, tugging Scott and Kira by the elbow in that direction. “Let’s go.”

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life. An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Like a Baby Duck by ALoza

Derek hoists Stiles to his feet, and the six-year-old topples forward into the ten-year-old’s chest. He grunts and wipes at his cheek. “Sorry,” Derek blurts, eyes wide with worry, as he steadies him. Stiles smiles and shrugs, “‘s okay.” Derek smiles back and crosses his arms, “Okay, you have to be the prince and I’ll be the knight that has to rescue you, okay?” Stiles nods, “Okay.” “Go to sleep in the treehouse and when I kiss you, you have to wake up,” Derek instructs.

They Don't Know How Long It Takes (Waiting For a Love Like This) by crossroadswrite

Everyone knows that soulmates have a 86% rate of successful marriages, but everyone also knows that for you to find your soulmate you'll need an incredible amount of luck and to go through the hardest, most marking moment of your life for the bond to kick in and call them to you. If you're a werewolf, then you won't need to wait that long. Some people will say you just know, others will call bullshit. Derek is four when he meets his soulmate and he doesn't know because no one will tell him. Not until he's older. And it'll be a bit of an unprecedent case given that he met his soulmate even before he was born.

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

[masterlist link]

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #sterek fanfic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek x stiles #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic rec #sterek au #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic rec #teen wolf sterek #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf derek #anon asks #hedwig221b replies

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melanchoire · 2 months ago

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stylist!reader taking every chance to touch model!wonyoung’s body, groping her tits and ass sometimes with the excuse of “measure her size” better, she is ok with it and trust you, she is so innocent of your true intentions, even when you ask her to pose naked for “measure purposes”, even giving her very short skirts and dresses for events just for your own enjoyment, until one day doing her fitting sessions you tell her you have to measure a new size for her just to rub your hand under her clothed pussy, she was confused but was feeling soooo good under your touch that she didn’t care, that fitting sesión ended up with both of you naked on the couch fucking the entire afternoon

cw: kinda dubcon, scissoring.

your job as a stylist demanded too much of your time from your daily routine and many times you had to put a stop to your personal life because you needed to travel or being on the go so many times a month that sometimes you couldn’t even go to your apartment to sleep even five hours a day, but the only thing that gave you motivation was that you were a stylist for a cute princess like jang wonyoung 💕 at first you were a little hesitant to accept the position the company was giving you for fear that it might be an idol with few manners and bad attitude that treats stylists like slaves and you have to shut your mouth if you don’t want to lose your job 😤 but how lucky that when you arrived at the building you realized that it was an angel like her... ready to be your little toy to have fun during work

blatantly groping her body every time you’re getting her ready for a show, things like sliding your hands over her chest and ass to “make sure the fabric isn’t wrinkled” when wonyoung is more sure that the fabric had no way of wrinkling because the clothes were hanging on the rack the whole time next to the other members’ clothes and she swears she saw you ironing clothes before you approached her 🤔 but she is a bit dumb for her little brain to process it so she doesn’t say anything because she assumes that these are work–related things, and since she is not a stylist, she cannot give an opinion!

until one day you decide to do more than you should, thinking that it would just be another time where you can get away with it 👀 so you decide to try out these popular booty shorts on her, saying that it would be awesome if the group tried out new concepts but it’s just you having a not-so-hidden obsession with her ass and long legs 💕 and of course she agrees without thinking about what could go wrong

until she feels your hand grab her pussy through her shorts 😳 at first she didn’t say anything until she noticed that you kept your hand there and didn’t seem to think about taking it away from there…

ending up grinding your pussy against wonyoung’s on the changing room couch ughh apologizing a hundred times and telling her you’re sorry for overstepping your employee boundaries but you can’t help it when she is so cute :( wonyoung can only respond between whimpers that you shouldn’t worry and giving your words a shit because the way your clit was rubbing against hers was driving her crazy and right now hearing you say you were sorry for being a pervert for so many months was something she wasn’t interested in! so the only thing left for you to do was continue fucking with wonyoung until one of your colleagues or other stylists knock on the door and announce that wonyoung was running late to the photo shoot because worrying that you might lose your job and she might get scolded by her manager was something you two could worry about later

#wonyoung #wonyoung x fem reader #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung x fem reader #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #ive #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive smut

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neeeooon · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a bllk oneshot. What'd it be like to go to a themepark with reo, otoya, ness, karasu, rin, and shidou. Ty!

so cute!! tysm 💕🩷

going to a theme park with them

bf bllk x gn!reader. fluff! cussing. probably v ooc!

mikage reo

-> he plans ahead and buys a fast pass so you don’t have to wait in any lines

-> he doesn’t deny anything you want to do, even if the rides that loop or have sudden drops aren’t his favorite. if you want to go, he won’t pull his hand from yours as you drag him to the front of the line

-> threatens to tie a balloon around your wrist when you try to run off without him. “y/n, please stop running. the rides aren’t going anywhere.” “we gotta get the good seats!”

-> when it starts getting dark and the rides get more crowded, you grip onto reo’s hand and drag him over to the large array of claw machines under a tent-like tarp. “i’m gonna win you a lion plush!”

-> you did not win him a lion plush. however, after quietly analyzing a woman win her girlfriend a pokémon keychain, he decided to give it a try

-> you were now the proud owner of a kuromi plushie about the size of your torso after his first attempt on the machine. “can you get the my melody one and pretend it’s from me for you?” reo snickers but nods. you leave the park, hand in hand, with your matching plushies

otoya eita

-> he tries to play it cool, but he is absolutely terrified of roller coasters

-> “ooh, what about that one!” you exclaim as you point to the tallest, scariest looking coaster in the park. otoya gulps. “sure! romantic!”

-> you have to hold his hand as he screams nearly the entire time, only shutting up when he passes out

-> “huh. that wasn’t too bad!” “yeah, cause you slept through the whole thing 😑”

-> you decide to spare him after his legs visibly tremble at the sight of the ride with three loops. “what if we go on the swing set?” “the flying one?” “mhm. if the line’s too long… dunk tank and face paint?”

-> that wins him over, and with your faces painted like cats, you dunk the poor man in the tank of water at least twenty times before an announcement is sounded overhead that the park is closing

alexis ness

-> NOT a fan of roller coasters. like at all

-> the one ride he doesn’t hate is the teacups, which is perfect for you since the teacups are your favorite

-> you’ll both be giggling as you twist and twist the handle, nearly flying out of your seats with how fast you’re spinning. it ends with you needing done time to recuperate after stepping out of the teacup and immediately falling due to how dizzy you are

-> ness half carries half drags you to a little bench where you sit until you stop seeing double. “that was.. so fun..” you manage, and he smiles boyishly at you. “it was! do you want to go home, now? or is there something else you wanna do?”

-> you agree to leave, but at the exit, spot one of those wood character paintings with holes cut where the faces are for people to stick their heads through. this one is of a fisherman-prince carrying a mermaid like a bride

-> you ask someone to take a photo of you two and pose, retrieving your phone to realize you were the prince and ness was the mermaid princess. “you know? i think i like this better,” you giggle, and ness smiles along with you. “me, too.”

karasu tabito

-> you are both adrenaline junkies when it comes to roller coaster rides, so you play a game whenever you go to a theme park together: first person who refuses a ride has to pay for everything the rest of the trip

-> you were thirteen rides in, stomachs and wallets hurting, but you weren’t about to give up. karasu looked like he was reaching his limit, too, so you had to hold on at least until he caved first

-> when he shakily pointed up at the tallest, most extravagant ride there, you paled. “s-sure. you’re on!” “you positive, y/n? we can call it quits…” you almost grabbed him by the arm to drag him up there with you, but something in his eyes made you falter. “neither lose if we quit at the same time, right?”

-> you spent the rest of your evening playing arcade games and eating cheap food once your stomachs settled. then you spotted it. the strength machine

-> “new game. i bet i can beat you on that machine.” he tilts his head at you. “that’s cute. i’m a little sore, anyway. should give you a nice advantage.”

-> and you would have beaten him if he didn’t put a little extra effort in. at least you got to admire his arms as he scored higher than you

itoshi rin

-> rin is silent on all the rides, even the ones that have you seeing stars

-> “bro, there’s gotta be something here you wanna do!” you try, to which rin lifts a finger in the direction of the haunted house. “well, fuck.”

-> he’s cheesing the entire time, and you even hear him gasp lightly in excitement when something especially disturbing jumps out at you. he has to steer you around since you wrapped your arm around your head to cover your ears and pinch your eyes shut the entire time

-> when you’re finally free, you convince rin to get signature park foods with you and force him to try the things he says no to but his eyes won’t leave. turns out, he doesn’t hate funnel cake

-> “we should come back, sometime!” you announce as you walk back to the car, hand in hand. rin grumbles under his breath but doesn’t argue. “can we get more funnel cake..?” “yes.”

shidou ryusei

-> his favorite are the water rides since it’s an excuse for his wet shirt to stick to his abs (not actually. he just thinks they’re fun and you enjoy hearing him giggle like a maniac whenever the giant wave appears above you)

-> “let’s go again!” he cheered after shaking his head like a dog and covering you in little bits of water. “i didn’t bring a spare of clothes!”

-> you kiss your savings goodbye in the gift spot, replacing your soaked clothes with ones plastered in the theme park logo and attractions. at least shidou matched with you to make you feel less embarrassed

-> “people are going to think we’re tourists and try to rip us off.” “i can always send them flying with a kick?” “you’re so resourceful !”

-> you managed to scrape some extra cash together when you spotted a photo booth and beamed. “photo booth.” “let’s fucking go.”

-> since the booth was decked out, even having filters you could apply, there were eight spots instead of the usual four. you and shidou took advantage of every single one, no two alike, and your joy present in all. in the last photo, you even secured a kiss, which shidou made you promise to let him keep

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caramelkoo · 10 months ago

Text

my soul back home. [1]

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : frenemies to lovers, writer!jungkook, pilates instructor!oc.

summary : your best friend receives your wedding invitation and realizes he doesn't have much time left before he loses you once and for all.

warnings : slight angst, they fight over a packet of pasta, bickering, oc is a pilates girly yayyy, Jungkook is super protective of the oc, misogyny, body positivity, strong language, hate at first sight.

a/n : heyy my besties, i just wanted to show my gratitude to all of you who read my last work. im so so so grateful to each one of you. it's almost 2am for me and i just couldn't wait to share this. Enjoy and let me know how you like it. xoxo. 💕

༺♡༻

6 years ago

Jungkook's growling stomach diverts his attention from the five page essay he's been trying to work on but barely has written a word. Blaming it on his hunger, he gets and up and decides to make himself some white sauce pasta also known as his comfort food. His mom used to make him when he was a child back in the days just so he can get done with his homework without making her work for it.

When he got into a fight in seventh standard and came back home with a nasty cut under his lip, his mom made it again. It's been his go to ever since.

"Shit" as soon as he enters the kitchen though, he realizes that he ran out of pasta last week when his friends came over.

Picking up his car keys he drives up to his closest supermarket. The lady behind the counter smiling at him as per usual. She must be around 60 year old and every time Jungkook has stopped by to pick anything up, she has been super sweet to him. Not to mention how badly she wants him to meet her granddaughter. He wonders if her granddaughter knows about her grandmother trying to set her up with a stranger.

"How you doin' today, boy?"

"Hey miss Cathy, you having a good day?"

"So far so good" Jungkook walks further inside the store and searches for the pasta packet he came here for. When he spots it, he reaches for it unaware of the hand that goes for the very same packet.

The vanilla and caramel like scent hits him like a truck and when he looks beside him, he freezes. The girl which stares back at him has brown hair which matches the color of her striking eyes. There are freckles all over her nose and cheekbones making it look like a group of stars decided to make a home there on her face. Her glossy lips are parted in surprise, her almond shaped eyes wide. Why does he feel warm all of a sudden? Is the air conditioner off?

"hello?" her voice breaks him off his trance. The girl's eyes have gone narrower now.

"I need the packet." He hears her say again. As beautiful as she might be and as badly as he wanted to get on his knees and.. no !! not going there, he couldn't let her take the pasta. Not when it's about his essay. if he doesn't finish it soon his professor is going to have his head on a platter.

"Oh no no no no no no, I need this and I saw it first so I'm getting this"

"Okay first of all that doesn't make any sense. People can see it things from outside the store, does that mean they own it? plus can you not buy it from some other store?"

now he was getting irritated. she had the audacity to look so gorgeous and on top of that she was fighting over a pasta packet?

"It does. No matter how badly you need it, I need it more."

The girl takes a step forward, "Listen, I have no idea what do you need it for and not that I'm interested but I have to make my little sister her favorite pasta with extra cheese or she is not going to leave me and my boyfriend alone."

See, Jungkook is a simple guy. He likes something and he goes for it. If it was some other place, maybe his college or a restaurant, he would have approached the gal and asked for her number oh so politely but this right here? It's a war and he hates losing. No matter how cute the opponent is.

"I'm sure you can persuade her with a popsicle or two. you can find them at the counter right there" he points towards the counter. "Now let me have the pasta because I need to eat my weight in it so that I can finish my essay and be done with it, alright?"

She scoffs, "You're infuriating you know that?"

"Heard somebody call me that once but I believe they were looking for the word 'lovable'" he shrugs and snatches the packet before making his way to the counter silently hoping miss Cathy does not mention her granddaughter again.

The pretty girl yells behind him, "HEY!! WHAT ARE YOU? 5?"

He places the item on the counter and pays the amount before walking out of the store. God, he was starving. Much to his disappointment, someone calls him out.

"Boy, wait!!!" Fuck, it's Miss Cathy again.

He turns towards her forcing himself to smile, "Yes, ma'am?"

"You know my granddaughter-"

"Miss Cathy, I wish I could give you a minute but I'm actually in a hurry. You see, my brother is visiting with his two year old and it's been a long journey for him and he's starving and I need to-"

Jungkook tried his best to lie through his teeth, he really does until a voice interrupts him. That very same voice.

"Really now? And here I thought somebody was so hungry, they started twitching just by the thought of someone else having that packet of pasta" the pretty girl in yellow sundress folds her arm over chest. "Does she know her tits push up when she does that?" Jungkook thinks.

She continues, "Grans, I didn't know you let liars into your shop?"

Wait, WHAT?! Did she just call Miss Cathy "Grans"? Would you look at that? They weren't lying about the world being small. Who would have guess that the girl he's been trying to avoid is the same girl he can't ever avoid for the life of him.

Miss Cathy's loud wheeze echoes through the store, "Trust me y/n, he's a good fella. Jungkook, this is my granddaughter, y/n. The prettiest, my girl."

She looks so proud while introducing her and rightfully so, if she were his, he would also take pride in that. Minus the pasta fight, though. The thought scares the shit out of him and maybe that's why he runs. His feet move rapidly not stopping until he's facing his car in the parking lot.

How the hell did he even let that thought enter his mind? One minute he was sneering at her and now he wanted to make her his? He began imagining what would it be like to call her, his? Quickly starting the engine he drives himself to his apartment. Later that night, he takes a cold shower and fucks his hand while thinking about the same vanilla and caramel scent.

༺♡༻

present time

Jungkook has always loved being alone, his solitude has been something which he absolutely appreciated. Being the eldest son of his family he's been the one to pick up everyone's pieces but when it came to him, nobody served that purpose so he ran. Ran away from his home, from the chaos, the noise and most importantly the responsibilities. That's not to say that he's a quitter but when you have a father sitting on your chest all the time and making it extremely hard for you to live your life, you might as well be called one. He chose his peace and he does not regret anything about it.

Unfortunately though, he left something very precious back home and as much as it hurt him to do so, he knew he couldn't not escape.

The room is quiet enough that he can hear his heart beating straight out of his chest and his breathing turning ragged. When he came back from his early morning run he did not expect to find a wedding invitation in the mail box. he wasn't even planning on checking the damn mailbox if it wasn't for the small part of him wanting to do so.

The man had the whole day planned and now he was standing in the middle of the hall feeling like somebody dropped a huge rock on his chest and said "deal with it" with a piece of paper in his hand he can't wait to burn or tear into pieces. He needs to sit down.

He unlocks his phone and finds your number at the very top of his dial list. You guys were talking last night only about your studio being renovated and it confuses him to the core as to why you didn't mention anything about your wedding.

"Hey, what's up?" your voice greets him, cheery as always.

"You're getting married?" the words seem bitter on his tongue.

"Oh my god, finally. You got the invitation" a dagger through his stomach would hurt less right now. He runs his fingers through his hair, messing them up and continues.

"Were you ever going to tell me about it?"

"No because I wanted it to be a surprise. I asked Taehyung and Cynthia to do the same as well. Aren't you glad you happened to check your mailbox, huh?"

Jungkook blinks, once and then again. He was having a hard time comprehending all of this. Hadn't he checked the mailbox, would you have gotten married and never told him about it? He was going to throw up. When he replies his voice is brittle.

"Listen, can i call you again? I need to run some errands"

"Sure, but don't-" he hangs up and runs to the bathroom before emptying his stomach.

༺♡༻

5 years ago

Sweat drips down from your forehead, your chest moves up and down from how fast your breathing has gone. A moan slips out as you spread your legs a bit wider.

"Just one more aaaaand perfect. Now release" the Pilates instructor's voice reaches to your wet ears. You place yourself down on the mat.

"Fuck, she'll kill me one of these days" Your routine has already been fucked up because of your college exams and after finally being fed up of sticking your nose in the books, you had decided to get on with Pilates. You fell in love with it a year ago.

After working your body in the gym and realizing that high intensity workouts are no good for you, you gave low intensity workouts a chance and boom! The clouds parted and now you're almost in the best shape of your life.

You have never loved your body as much as you do now and if your 13 year old self could look at you, she'd give you a pat on the back. She wouldn't believe that people no longer make fun of her for not having thigh gap or slender arms. Indeed, it took several lunges, roll ups, spine twists, ab burners to get there.

It's not like you have the most anime like body, no. But you have finally stopped beating yourself up over it, accepting the fact that people's negative opinions are just a reflection of their own insecurities.

Your phone pings with a notification and you pick it up. It's the guy you've recently began talking to on hinge. Your boyfriend, now ex, broke up few months ago because he suddenly thought sleeping with his manager would be something you'd look past. Clearly, he was wrong and now he can choke on a thorny dick for all you care.

When your best friend, Cynthia had suggested to join a dating app just for the plot, you did it. Besides, what more could go wrong? An hour of swiping left and two cups of coffee later, you came across a guy with pictures of a guitar, a black cat and a chess board. In your defense, his cat was cute.

The texts reads, "Are you free on the upcoming Saturday? My buddy said there's a new coffee shop and they sell the best hazelnut frappe in existence."

You think before replying. According to the stats, it's the ninth day since you have started talking. Isn't it too soon to be going on a date? Although, there is a small part of you who wants to say "fuck it" and go. Before your thoughts go spiraling you go with the latter.

"Sure. Hazelnut frappe is my favorite" locking your phone you prepare to take a long hot bath. After all, you've earned it.

༺♡༻

Turns out the nerdy guys possessing a hobby of playing chess are not worth it. At least this one isn't. You wonder if you killed a bunch of kittens in your past life because seriously? When you said yes to the date two days ago, the thing you expected the least was your date constantly talking about how many hours he spends in the gym, which protein shake he drinks, even mansplaining about the NHL team he's been obsessed with. Guess you should have seen it coming from the way he couldn't even wait till ten days to ask you on a date.

Honestly, whenever you go on dates you can't help but expect the other person to be on their worst behavior. For example, you can expect the guy to dress badly, smell badly, show up late or conventionally not show up at all. This guy right here is outright insane and has failed to stay in his lane. You were getting agitated at this point.

"And then BOOM!! he shoots the most legendary shot of his life. This is what happens at NHL, you-" he stops when you stand up from your place.

"Excuse me, I'll just be back in a second" you place the napkin on the table as you grab your purse hoping the washroom has a secret exit or something.

But before you could even take a step forward, his voice stops you.

"Oh I know where this is going, You'll excuse yourself politely and then run away like some coward huh? Typical escape plan for you girls?" His voice sounds so nasty and when you turn towards him he's scowling at you like YOU'RE the one who was being a twat the whole time.

you mumble, "What do you mean?"

He stands up and walks towards you. You really try to ignore people staring at you but you're only human. The sudden rush of emotions have caused your mouth to go dry. It's hard to process what's happening.

"What I mean is that you're probably gonna go in there, call your best friend and ask her to help you escape because you can't stand another second with me" he raises his right eyebrow up.

"Sir, please you're causing trouble for everyone. I suggest you to please sit down"

This is beyond embarrassing. If you were planning to give this guy another chance earlier, there's no way in hell you're going to do that now. Over your dead body. So you do the only thing that makes perfect sense. Your hands fly and you hit his cheek with so much force, you swear you hear his jaw pop.

There are several gasps around you. If you're going to get booed on, you might as well make the most out of it.

His face turns sideways before he stands up straight. He raises his hand to hit you back but suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grabs his forearm and yanks it away. You instantly know who it is. It's the same arm you wanted to twist a year back at the grocery store.

"Get your filthy fucking hands away from her"

After an year of trying to forget about him, he's here yet again and he's saving you from this asshole. You couldn't decide if you should be thrilled about him coming at your rescue or worried about him being back.

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concretejunglefm · 2 months ago

Note

So, it's me again with another thot or request if you want to...🥹

I'm on my period which means I'm either sad or horny. That also means I want Noah to fuck me so hard that he has to stop and ask 'Hey are you here with me?' and then give me the sweetest aftercare ever🥹

here he is for you bb! 💕 he's like a shark in the water during that time of the month, I swear 🤭

CW: includes mentions of unprotected sex (p in v), multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), oral (f + m receiving), period sex with mentions of blood, dirty talk, slight dom!noah vibes, brat!reader vibes, heavy on the aftercare and fluff (noah puts readers tampon in).

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

It’s no surprise that Noah always knows when you’re on your period. Part of it is his control-freak nature—he tracks your cycle with meticulous attention—but more than that, it’s the way he’s so deeply in tune with you. It’s like he’s wired into your body, hyper-aware of even the subtlest shifts, especially during this time of the month.

What gives it away most is your mouth. If you’re not weepy from the hormonal roller coaster, you’re insatiably horny—and completely without a filter. The things you let slip between those plush lips could ruin him, especially because you never seem to say them in private. You say them in public, in company, in moments that make him clench his jaw and fight to keep control. They tumble out like you don’t even realize the effect they have, but he knows better—you do.

“This fucking mouth,” Noah murmurs, his thumb gliding along the soft pink hue of your lipstick before pressing just enough to smear it. You’d had plans to go out tonight—until your tongue got a little too bold, a little too filthy. Now, his hand is wrapped around your chin, holding you in place, the heat in his gaze leaving no room for doubt about what’s coming next.

“Are you going to keep staring at it or fuck it?” you shoot back, your voice dripping with challenge. The sound he makes in response is low and guttural, his thumb swiping over your lips again. You part them, slow and deliberate, letting your teeth graze the pad of his thumb before your tongue flicks against it—suggestive and teasing.

There’s no mistaking what’s on your mind. Even now—when most would consider you ‘off-limits’—Noah sees you differently. To him, your heightened need, your sensitivity, your craving for him are an invitation. An opportunity to give you exactly what your body aches for: release.

Sad, horny, cramping—it doesn’t matter. His solution is always the same. Make you cum. Again and again, until your mind is blissfully empty and your body hums with pleasure. He knows how much more malleable you become like this, how willingly you melt under his touch, surrendering to the worship he gives you so thoroughly.

When he finally sinks into your mouth, it’s everything he imagined—warm, wet, eager. Your moan vibrates around him, hungry and greedy, and he has to steel himself not to lose it right then. Your lashes flutter as you look up at him from beneath them, playing the perfect picture of innocence—even though it was your bratty mouth that got you here in the first place, lips stretched around the very thing you dared him to use.

His hand finds a firm grip at the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair as he guides your movements. His hips roll forward to meet your mouth, and his head tilts back, lips parting with a low, drawn-out moan. “Fuck… getting it nice and wet for me to fuck you?” he grunts, voice thick with desire.

Not that he needs you to. You can already feel the slick heat between your thighs—your arousal mingling with the slow, steady flow of blood, making you impossibly wet. It’s something Noah adores, the way he can slide into you so easily, your blood acting as its own kind of lubricant, but more than that, he loves your sensitivity—how every touch, every brush of his skin against yours, leaves you trembling, desperate, and so utterly responsive beneath him.

Once your clothes are gone and you’re laid back on the bed, a towel placed beneath you, Noah parts your thighs with a reverence that borders on hunger. He licks his lips, eyes fixed between your legs like he’s about to indulge in his favorite meal—and in a way, he is. There’s no place he’d rather be than buried between your thighs, his mouth pressed to your pussy, whether he’s drinking in everything you offer or lazily teasing your clit with soft, deliberate kisses that send flutters through your belly.

But right now, nothing excites him more than the faint trail of blood glistening down your folds. His gaze darkens, and then he’s leaning in, tongue flattened as he gives a slow, purposeful lick—ending with a flick against your already oversensitive clit. You gasp, hips bucking, moaning aloud as the contact sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

He loves how your body reacts—how you arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging him closer, silently begging for more. The moment his tongue touches you again, the tension begins to build. He circles your clit once, twice, a third time, and your moans quickly turn to needy whines, soft pleas tumbling from your lips. You need more, you need him, and Noah knows exactly how to give it to you.

He hasn’t even slipped more than a single finger inside you, yet you’re already unraveling—sensitive and strung out, your body responding to his touch like it’s second nature. He knows exactly what you need when you’re like this: the slow build of multiple orgasms that leave you trembling, pleasure flooding your system and momentarily easing the ache—but never the craving.

“Do you need more, baby?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, though it’s not really a question. Not when he’s curling his fingers just right, coaxing a whimper from your lips. And before you can respond, his mouth finds your clit again, tongue flattening to press and flick against it, firm and purposeful. Your hips move on instinct, grinding against his face, chasing more of the sensation he so generously offers.

“Noah, baby, please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” The bratty tone you’d had earlier is gone now, dissolved into desperation, leaving you at his mercy—soft, needy, pleading for the only kind of relief that ever truly satisfies you.

Noah doesn’t hesitate. The moment his cock slides inside you, so effortlessly, he feels you tighten around him, your pussy more sensitive than ever, pulling him deeper as though it’s an instinctive need. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, bottoming out, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix with every deep thrust.

His hand moves between your legs, his thumb circling your clit before pressing down firmly, adding another layer of stimulation. His mouth latches onto your nipple, teasing the peak between his teeth in a manner that makes your back arch, a high-pitched moan slipping from your lips as another orgasm crashes through you, your body trembling with pleasure.

“Fuck, I can feel you pulsing around me,” Noah groans, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping them spread wide as his thrusts slow, savoring the feeling of your walls tightening around him, of how deeply he’s buried in you. He relishes in the sensation of your body reacting to him, every inch of you still buzzing from the multiple orgasms he’s drawn from you already.

“Can you feel that, baby? Does it feel better?” Noah asks, his hand slipping up to press gently on your stomach, just where your cramps had been earlier. The pressure only intensifies the deep, rolling thrusts he gives, feeling the bulge of his cock press against you.

But you don’t respond.

“Baby?” His voice softens with concern, looking down at you, his eyes searching your face. Your eyes are rolled back, a look of pure bliss on your features as your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “Hey, are you with me?” You can’t catch your breath fast enough to reassure him, and the lust-drunk smile that lingers on your lips only deepens his worry.

When he pulls out of you, he’s immediately all over you, trying to ground you, his fingers gently combing through your hair as he whispers soft, comforting words. Your whole body still trembles, floating in a blissful haze, too far gone to fully register Noah’s concern until you slowly begin to return to yourself.

“Baby,” he murmurs against the side of your head.

You turn to look up at him, your eyes slowly focusing back on him, and you let out a breathless laugh. “That was…” Your words trail off, but Noah silences you with a kiss to the crown of your head, gently shushing you as he holds you close through your come-down.

“I think that’s enough for now.”

You want to protest, to whine about how he never got to cum, maybe make a dirty joke about the creampie he could’ve cleaned up, knowing he’d have done it no matter how messy things got, but the words never make it past your lips—your mind clouded, thoughts slipping away as the haze deepens.

“Let’s get you in a bath,” Noah suggests softly.

When Noah scoops you up from the bed, you instinctively cling to him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you across the hall to the bathroom.

He sets a towel on the edge of the tub before gently sitting you down on it. The simple gesture feels thoughtful against the cool plastic, and for a brief moment, you refuse to let go of him. Your head buries against his neck with a soft hum, inhaling his scent—the mixture of sweat and sex that clings to him, somehow making him smell even more intoxicating.

When you finally release him, he steps away briefly, moving toward the sink to retrieve a glass of water and returns with it, offering it to you along with a few vitamins in the palm of his hand.

“Drink. Swallow.” He instructs, his voice calm but firm. You meet his gaze briefly, the brattiness still lingering in you despite the haze of pleasure, but it only makes the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

You follow his instructions, and he turns his attention to the tub, running the taps after slipping the plug in place. Once the water begins to fill, he’s back by your side, his arm wrapping around you to guide you gently against his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back in an effort to ground you.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his gaze soft with concern. You understand why. It’s one of the rare times he’s taken you to the edge of your wits, with barely a coherent thought left in your head. The only time you’ve been this far gone was when he made you pass out from overstimulation—but that was different. This was a deep, dizzying pleasure.

“Mm, really good,” you murmur dreamily, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the pleasure he gave you.

“Yeah?” His fingers comb through your hair, the tenderness in his touch making you feel even more cared for. He reaches past you to grab a bottle of bath soak, adding a small amount to the water for a gentle lather of bubbles. He dips his hand in to test the water, stirring it until the bubbles form, then turns off the tap.

With his arm still around you, he keeps you steady, his attention back on you. “Can you join me?” you ask, gazing up at him, your eyes soft as if he’s the most ethereal thing you’ve ever seen. Even without the post-orgasm glow, you’d still feel this way about him.

You sense him about to argue, to remind you that this moment is for you, but before he can speak, his expression softens. He nods, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and once again, those butterflies stir in your stomach. You love these moments, how gentle and loving he is with you, especially now. You want to soak in it, to bask in the warmth of his care.

As he helps you into the bath and joins you moments later, settling behind you so you can rest between his thighs, you know this is all you need. This, right here and now with him, is all you ever need.

“Thank you,” you murmur softly, pressing gentle kisses to his arms as they loosely wrap around you, your fingers going on to trace the intricate tattoos that adorn his skin.

As Noah pulls you closer, you feel the warm press of his mouth on your shoulder, causing you to sigh. Your eyes flutter closed as he places a delicate series of kisses along the back of your neck. “Do you still hurt?” he asks, his voice quiet and concerned. You know he means your cramps and one hand slips beneath the water, resting on your stomach, offering himself as a human heating pad.

“A little,” you reply. Your cramps have been somewhat alleviated, but you can already feel them slowly returning. There’s only so much you can do to keep them at bay.

“Would a massage help?” Noah offers and before you can respond, you feel the gentle pressure of his fingers pressing against your stomach, moving with purpose as he searches for the most painful spot.

When you make a soft sound, he knows he’s found it and as his focus remains there, he leans forward, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Anything you need, baby.” His words are a quiet reaffirmation, and you know he means them. Noah has always been the kind to put your needs first, always wanting to make you feel good, no matter what it takes.

As he begins to wash you, he’s slow and meticulous, taking his time with each movement of the washcloth against your skin, leaving soft kisses where the soap has already been washed away, his touch tender, like he’s worshipping you with every delicate gesture.

“You’re so beautiful, every inch of you. You know that, right?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but you blush as though it is, feeling a warmth spread through you. You try to pull away, but you’re trapped between his thighs, unable to escape as he continues to appreciate every part of you. And no part of you goes unnoticed. Noah wants nothing more than to stake his claim on you, even on the softer areas—behind your ear, the back of your neck, the crease of your arm.

If he could, he’d leave a soft reminder of himself everywhere he touches.

Even when his hand slips between your thighs, Noah remains gentle. There’s nothing overtly sexual in his touch—just a quiet, sensual care as his fingers part you under the water. You gasp, and he pauses, but then his fingers move again, spreading you tenderly as if to help cleanse you more thoroughly, but when his fingertip begins to circle your clit, your body melts against his.

The sensation is too much and not enough all at once, and the words spill from your lips before you can stop them. “Noah, please…” you whisper, tilting your head back, your mouth catching his jaw between your teeth in a soft, playful bite as his fingers continue—slow, practiced, and devastatingly good.

“One more,” he breathes, the words sounding more like a promise to himself than to you, as if he’s trying to convince himself this will be the last, though you both know it never is. You’re just as insatiable for each other.

He doesn’t rush. He draws it out deliberately, teasing you with slow, purposeful circles over your most sensitive spot. His free hand cradles your body against his chest as he kisses you—slow and deep, sensual and unhurried. Everything about this moment is for you—your pleasure, your comfort, the way he carefully unravels you like he’s memorizing everything about you.

You ride the wave he builds with infinite patience, your body trembling in his arms. His kisses trail from your lips to your jawline, down the column of your throat, his fingers slipping inside you and curling just right—pressing against the spot that sends you soaring.

You cling to him, whimpering softly, your body shivering as your climax begins to fade. He holds you steady, whispering grounding words while you melt into his chest, letting yourself be supported, loved, and cared for. And when the high has passed, when your breathing steadies, Noah resumes what he started—cleaning you off with the same quiet tenderness, never rushing, never letting go.

Noah is the first to step out of the tub, leaving you sitting in the slowly draining water, your eyes following him as he moves. The sound of his soft humming fills the bathroom—he’s always humming something. Whether it’s one of his own songs, a track that’s been stuck in his head all day, or even an anime theme, it’s a sound that soothes you. It’s a quiet reminder that he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Come on, let’s get you dry,” he murmurs, holding a towel out for you.

You glance over at him, biting your lower lip as you take in the sight of him—water glistening on his bare, tattooed chest, the towel hanging low on his hips. He looks like something out of a painting, a Greek god in the flesh, and it feels almost unfair to be witnessing it. His muscles flex subtly as he waits for you, holding the towel open, an offering for you.

Rising from the now-lukewarm water, you step into his arms and into the waiting towel, his embrace wrapping around you along with the soft fabric. You can’t help but tease, giggling softly as you look up at him. “Are you going to dress me next?”

He looks down at you with that familiar lovesick gaze, eyes warm and shining. “If I have to.”

You already know the truth—Noah would do anything for you, and he never makes you feel like it’s a chore.

“Well, I appreciate that. But you don’t have to,” you reply gently, though you know it won’t stop him. He’s already moving the towel over your skin, drying you off with slow, deliberate strokes. When he drops to his knees to reach lower, he continues murmuring soft words of love against your skin, kissing your hip, your thigh, like it’s second nature.

“Let me help you put your tampon in,” he says quietly, eyes trained on you.

The words catch you off guard. You grow shy, instinctively stepping back, but his hands slide to your hips, grounding you, holding you in place—not with force, but with tenderness.

“Baby, please?” he asks, so softly, so sweetly. There’s no pressure in his voice—just that familiar, earnest desire to care for you in any way you’ll let him and when you reach for the drawer, he stops you with a soft touch. “Let me,” he says again, voice soft.

There’s no teasing in his voice—only quiet devotion.

You hesitate for a breath, watching him, and then slowly nod. His touch is careful as he kneels in front of you, his hands steady and respectful. He takes the tampon with the same calm he’s shown all evening, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he murmurs.

His fingers guide with gentle precision, the moment surprisingly intimate in a way that leaves your chest aching—in a good way. Not because it’s sexual, but because it’s him, because he sees all of you, even like this, and never flinches. When it’s done, he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, then rises to meet you again, towel still in hand, like nothing about this moment ever needs to be hidden.

Once you’re finished in the bathroom, Noah gently guides you back into the bedroom. He quickly finds a pair of sleep shorts and one of his shirts for you to wear, helping you slip them on just as he promised. When you’re dressed, he climbs into bed with you, arms immediately reaching out to pull you into his chest, wrapping you up securely in his embrace.

You settle against him, your body melting into the warmth of his, and he presses a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. A quiet, contented sigh escapes you, and just before sleep can pull you under, you hear him murmur, “I love you,” against your skin.

And you melt, completely, into him and his love.

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