#and during a new years dinner party with friends and family

[sofiaruelle]

My brother and i dont know how to hold a child. They're just so tinyyyyyyyyyy.

[missnxthingg]

I CAN'T LIE TO YOU ✮ LN4

pairing: Lando Norris x bestie!Reader (childhood best friends to lovers) summary: Lando Norris decides to surprise his best friend after being a long time away from home. What she didn't expect was that he had a big secret that he couldn't share with her words: 4.5K - warnings: swearing, suggestive content & not proof read author's notes: I'm back once again! Now you just know I'm a sucker for childhood besties to lovers. Also, I may have already started writing a part two for this one... let me know if you want it!

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The days in England have become more boring with time. Y/N was losing her mind over the repetitive routine that follows the life of a college student. Work, study, beer with close friends and bed. So when her mother invited her for a family dinner, she worried about how excited she got with the event. It wasn’t supposed to be anything special, just her parents and a few of their close friends gathered to catch up over nice food. 

Coming home felt way too good. It’s a feeling most college students get when they go back to their hometown, leaving their crappy flat in university to be served with their parents pampering during their quick visit. Y/N was supposed to be back to her place in just a couple of days, but she felt satisfied to be in a different place than the four walls of her house. Not to mention that she was having a good laugh with everyone at the table.

Her mother always takes dinner parties to another level, serving the best food in her special crockery, saved for moments like this. So Y/N packed a nice new outfit; a cute long-sleeved dress that looked perfect with tights and heels. Not that the guests cared about how she was dressed, but it felt nice to look beautiful and all put together for once after months of hoodies and leggings.

As usual, her parents invited the Norris family, as they’ve been the best of friends for the longest time. Not only they lived next to each other for years back when she was younger, all of their kids were really close friends with Y/N. But the spotlight always goes to Lando, who is the same age as her, making them grow up attached to the hip.

They all grew up going to the same school, not to mention that she would always tag along in Lando and his brother’s karting sessions, having the best time watching them drive flawlessly on tracks. He always enjoyed the times when she’d steal her parents cameras so they could make some homemade videos of their time together. Or when they would sit back, watch their dads play golf every Saturday and share candies in the cart. 

  Y/N and Lando have been inseparable since the age of four, growing up side by side, going through everything together. She was so important to him that, when he joined Formula 1 and had to choose a number to race, he chose the age the two of them had become friends. 

“The number four is for my best friend, Y/N. She was the one to suggest it, and the meaning behind it is very cute. Actually, I don’t want to tell you to not spoil anything, but I can only say that it’s very dear to my heart”, Lando said once in an interview during his second season in F1, making every single one of his fans curious about the meaning.

But it’s been a while since the infamous duo had been together. They supported each other from afar; Y/N sometimes joining him for race weekends and Lando coming back to see her on birthdays and weekends in London, while he visited the McLaren factory. But the last time they had been together was four months ago, during summer break, when he dragged her to join him for his crazy trips around the world. When racing and university was back on, they lost a little bit of touch; almost no calls and only a few texting breaks so they wouldn’t fall apart.

A lot happened in those four months. Lando had a new gorgeous girlfriend; a model who everyone had become obsessed with her TikTok videos for beauty tips. They had been seen together a few times around the world, her joining him for the races and a lot of make-outs behind DJ booths at parties. Y/N, on the other hand, was lacking in the dating department. But the friends she made over the past year made everything worthy. After years of pretty much having Lando as her only very close friend, she finally found new people to go out and have fun as a normal 20-year-old.

With that, Y/N and Lando’s friendship got weird. He had been avoiding her for a while, with the excuse of being too busy with racing, but actually not wanting to talk about his personal life with someone who knew him like the palm of her hand. Meanwhile, she was having a good time with her friends to be bothered by anything. But lately, life had become more boring and Y/N felt like having Lando back would bring some more fun into her life again, with all the epic parties and the good times they always managed to happen.

“Only one month left”, she thought, as winter break was approaching, meaning that Lando would finally be free to come home for the holidays.

She was pushed out of her thoughts by Adam Norris, who now seemed interest in Y/N’s life after a long catching up with her dad. “Tell us more about college! Are you having fun? Learning anything special?”, he asked with a kind smile.

“Oh, I’m graduating this spring, so it’s been… rough”, she chuckled. “But everything has been amazing, you know? The internship is so cool and the people are nice as well”.

“I just can’t believe it will all be over soon”, his wife, Cisca, responded. “It feels like it was just yesterday when you joined uni and Lando started his first season in F1. Time really flies, uhm?”

Every mention of his name made Y/N smile like a fool. But lately, it has been accompanied by a ting of pain on her chest. God, she missed him so much.

“What is it that you miss?”, Cisca asked, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. Shit, did she say that out loud?

“I said I missed your pie so much, Cis. You know I have always loved it growing up”, Y/N tried to cover it up by stuffing her mouth with the cheesy pie, trying to keep her thoughts of being spoken out loud. But something caught her by surprise.

“Yeah, mum’s pie is the best in the world, isn’t it?”, a male voice said from behind her, one that she hadn’t heard in person for a while. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, only to turn around and see Lando standing right behind her tugged into his signature comfortable hoodie, with a giant smile plastered on his face, and a bouquet in his hands. “Surprise!”

Y/N brought her hands up to her mouth, trying not to cry at the sight. She couldn’t believe what was standing in front of her. So she jumped out of her seat and jumped into his arms, not caring about anyone else in the room or the flowers being crumpled up in his hands. Lando buried his nose in her hair, taking in her scent, making him feel at ease for once

“What are you doing here?”, she leaned back, holding his face between her hands. His soft eyes looked down at her, his smile never faltering.

“I thought I could surprise my best girl”, he admitted, digging one of his hands into her hips, making her securely close to him. “I had a break before the end of the season, and it had been so long…”

“Shut up, you idiot. I just want to hug you”, she cut him mid-sentence, burying her face in his neck, making his smile even wider, if that was possible. Everyone on the table laughed at her reaction, but let them have their moment after months without seeing each other. It felt too good to be true. 

“I missed you so much”, he whispered in her ear, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“I missed you too. Welcome home, Lan”, she leaned back and kissed his cheek, making it tinted red. Lando was so cute when he blushed. “You brought me flowers! How cute is this?”

She took the giant bouquet filled with red and pink roses out of his hands, bringing it close to her body. “It’s an apology for not being here as much as I should”, he said, making her heart so warm with the thoughtful gift.

“You being here is enough”, she pressed another kiss to his cheek and quickly pulled him for another hug. They just couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Alright, we all know you both really miss each other, but you can catch up after dinner. Food is getting cold and poor Lando must be starving”, her mother cut them off, making Y/N look back at the table, her face burning in embarrassment. He laughed at her behavior and pulled the chair next to her so they could sit together.

Through the whole dinner, Lando told all of his amazing stories traveling the world, leaving all the ‘best friends only’ parts for later, when he would be alone with Y/N. She felt so happy to finally have him by her side, making fun of her table manners, resting his hand on her knee and cracking any bad jokes just to see her roll her eyes. And even though he lived those many adventures, Lando knew life couldn’t get better than having his favourite person in the world back on his side.

“So, Lando, what finally brings you back home?”, Y/N’s father asked, making him shrug.

“You know, the championship could’ve been better and I feel really tired, you know?”, Lando searched for his best friend’s hand under the table, entwining their fingers once they met. Then he looked at her with an adoring smile on his face. “I just need some recharging. Thought I could use some home time before the last few races of the year”.

“You’re always welcomed to recharge in our house if you want to, Lando”, her mother said before the conversation was taken somewhere else once again.

While everyone else chatted, Y/N and Lando updated their phone gallery with new pictures of them. A lot of cute selfies and pictures of their homemade dinner which soon found their place on their Instagrams.

y/username

liked by landonorris and 3,419 others

y/username: always feels good to have my best friend back in the house

tagged: landonorris

landonorris Besties reunited LFG!

↪ y/username you’re such a bore

fanacc1 FINALLY SOME Y/N AND LANDO CONTENT

fanacc2 Wasn’t him dating a model?

↪fanacc3 He is, but Y/N is his childhood best friend

fanacc4 ugh, if i was his gf, i would be so jealous of them together

↪fanacc5 I bet his girlfriend actually hates them

fanacc6 Does this mean more Y/N around the paddock?

The dinner was coming to an end with the delicious sweet treats they prepared for dessert. At that point, Lando and Y/N were just existing at the conversation. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she found a comfortable spot to lean into him and keep sipping on her wine while they shared a slice of cake. But even though they were quiet, they surely weren’t tired. So as the rest of the adults continued with their chat, they took their glasses of wine to the backyard, just so they could have some alone time.

Lando chuckled when he saw what was still standing strong in her backyard. “You still have our old treehouse?”, he asked and she nodded excitedly. “Wow, it looks so much nicer than before”.

“It’s because I renovated it, you fool. Haven’t I told you?”, she asked, but Lando shook his head. “Oh my… you have to see this! Now it’s a grown up treehouse! Take a look”.

Y/N dragged him to the small construction and made him climb all the way up to the house. It changed a lot with the renovations. Their wall doodles from when they were little kids were preserved by a varnish coat on the wood. She also substituted the old toys for books and her collection of vinyls, making the place look extra cozy. There was even a table for afternoon tea and card games, a TV and a huge futon, with lots of cushions, so they could just lie down and spend the rest of the day hidden from the world.

“What a glow up!”, he joked. “I loved it. This is amazing”, Lando took a place next to the window, where the moonlight invaded the room. Y/N sat next to him and almost immediately pulled out her camera just to capture the moment. And just like old times, they had fun doing a tiny photoshoot together, only to be cut off by his mom, calling them from the ground.

“Are you coming, Lando?”, Cisca asked, making him look over to Y/N, who replied for him.

“I’m not letting him go anywhere, Cisca”, she joked, throwing her arms around Lando, making his mother laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your son”.

“Have fun you two”, they waved at her and sighed after finally being left alone for a proper catching up between best friends. Lando had a satisfied smile on his face and he felt so calm at that moment. He threw both of his arms around his best friend and hugged her tightly.

“Home, at last”, his cheek was pressed on the side of her face, making her giggle with the contact. “I want to know everything going on with you. Just blurt it all out. I owe you this”.

“Oh, nothing great happened”, she shrugged. “Nothing that you didn’t know already. The internship is nice, but it’s coming to an end soon and I’m not sure they’ll keep me with them. And college is almost finished, so that’s kind of bittersweet”.

“I thought you were excited to have a degree”, he said, making her sigh. “Are you not happy about graduating?”

“Of course I am. You more than anyone knows how important this is to me”, she answered. “And I made so many good friends and I’ve been having the best time with them. I know graduating will make us grow apart”.

“Endings aren’t always nice, uhm? But you have to look at the bright side of things”, he started. “You’re finally achieving something great and you managed to have a really good time along the way. Made friends and worked really hard to become the best professional out there. I’m so proud of you!”

Lando has always been her biggest supporter on pursuing her academic path. He remembers all the talks they had about her wanting to master in communications. While he didn’t get to finish school to up his game in racing, he was there for every step his best friend took until enrolling in university. So when they talk about it, he always has that beautiful proud smile on his face, to which Y/N loved seeing.

“Thank you”, she smiled shyly. “And what about you, Mr Worldwide? You’ve been everywhere these past months. How was it?”

“Oh, always amazing”, he beamed. “I got to see so many amazing places around the world. You would’ve loved all the clubs I went to. The DJ booths are amazing. Oh, and the golf courts… breathtaking”.

“Yeah, I saw all the pictures”, Y/N arched her brows and rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even bother on calling, telling me about your adventures”.

“Sorry, I lacked in that department”, he apologized. “Even though everything has been amazing, I’m so tired of this year. I could’ve done better on the track and the last few races have been exhausting. I knew that I needed to recharge before the last two races, so I came back to you”.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you home”, she ran her hand through his curls and smiled. Lando always saw Y/N as his home. She always brings him that sense of familiarity, and her absence in his travels around the world were taking a toll on him.

Not to mention that hiding a big secret from his best friend also wasn’t doing him any good.

“But I’m not here to talk about me. I want to know everything about you”, he poked her side with his index finger and smirked. “Anyone special appeared in your life in the past few months?”

“Please”, she rolled her eyes. “The last time I had a proper hook up was during our summer trip to Bali with that guy on the club”.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad”, he giggled, but Y/N’s face was burning in embarrassment.

“I had a few dates in the past months, but fuck me, they were annoying”, Lando laughed at her statement. “One of them found out you’re my best friend and spent the entire time asking questions about you. And the only guy who was actually decent came in his pants when we were making out in his car. Didn’t even get to touch me”. 

“Oh, poor you”, he giggled. “So no boy to be my new best friend? I mean, come on, we need more male energy in this friendship”.

“Sorry, Lan. No boyfriend this time”, she said. “You, on the other hand, started dating this gorgeous model and forgot to tell me about everything.”

And there she said it: the topic Lando had been avoiding the most throughout the whole night. He really didn’t want to talk about it with Y/N, because his big secret had been hiding right there. He knew he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, lie about anything to her. And he also knew that he really needed to vent about this secret with her as well.

Lando turned really quiet, and looked away, avoiding her eyes. “Don’t start now, Y/N. I mean, there’s not much to say, to be fair”, he mumbled.

“Come on, I want to know everything about the woman who stole my bestie’s heart”, she poked him, but Lando didn’t dare to look Y/N in the eyes. “I mean, everybody loves her and she seems sweet. Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together”.

“What do you mean? I’ve seen the Instagram pictures and the gossip pages posting videos of you two kissing in the club. I thought you were becoming a thing”.

“Y/N, don’t push it”, he asked, his voice bargaining on his throat.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together, I told you”, he sighed. “She’s a PR stunt. She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s been consuming me from the inside ever since we started this little thing”.

Lando finally looked her in the eyes and Y/N saw them brimming with tears. As an immediate response, she rested a hand on his arm and waited until he was ready to talk more. He leaned into her touch and the tears started to stream down his face. He’s never one to cry for anything, so the tears meant that it was so much more than he was letting show. Her heart broke at the sight of her best friend.

“Is this why you look more tired than usual?”, Y/N asked and he nodded, making the tears fall harder. “Oh, Lan… Come here”.

She pulled his head to rest on her chest and Lando wrapped his arms around her, needing some sort of comfort. He didn’t say much for a couple of minutes after, feeling his heart aching on his chest. He wanted to talk about everything with Y/N, because he knew she would understand him. He always feels vulnerable and safe enough to talk about anything with his best friend. 

“Everything is so fucked up, Y/N”, Lando cried out. “God, I can’t take this fake relationship anymore. Do you know how disgusting it feels to pretend to be in love with someone you’re not? And to lie to everyone, hiding it from my parents. From you. I can’t stand it”

“I’m sure you have a good reason to be doing so”, she said, fingers running through his curls and making him sure that she was right there with him. Y/N felt his fingers clinging tighter onto her. “You’re just doing your job and that’s okay. This won’t last forever”.

“I feel so lonely, you know? I was doing so bad on the last few races and I missed home so much. I missed talking to my dad and hugging my mom. I missed making fun of my sisters and going for a drive with my brother. And I missed you so much. I wish I could just stay here for a long while”.

“Soon you’ll get to be here for as long as you want, baby”, Y/N pressed a kiss on top of his head and Lando sighed in comfort. It ached a little less with her there. “And we’ll get to spend so much time together. You can come over and we’ll have sleepovers. We can take the car, drive around and go clubbing until sunrise. Whatever you want”.

“God, it would be so easy if it was you”, he whispered, still holding onto her as if his life depended on it. What did he mean with that? Just those single words made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. Truth is, while her heart ached for her best friend, she was relieved he’s not in love with someone else. Did he have feelings for her? 

“You know, I looked over my so-called girlfriend one night while we were hanging out at the club and I wanted to shout to everyone that it was all an act. She’s like a solid reminder of how lonely I am all the damn time. It’s ridiculous”, he grunted. 

“Come on, look at me”, Y/N pulled his face to look up and held his head between her hands. “Lan, you are never alone, okay? Even if you feel like you are, and even if I’m not there physically, you know that I’m always with you. I’m right here”, she rested a hand over his heart, making him smile through his tears. “I've been in your heart since the moment we met”.

“I…”, he started, but couldn’t get to say the rest. After all this time, Lando was afraid that the next move would ruin their friendship forever. But looking her in the eyes, comforting him through this rough time, he knew she felt the same. “I love you, Y/N”.

She was expecting anything. ‘I know’, maybe. That was so much bigger than what she imagined. Lando had said he loved her countless times over the years they’ve known each other; after all, they grew up together, almost like brother and sister. But this time, it was different. Y/N knew it, and Lando knew it too.

Y/N was too stunned to speak, so he continued with his confession. “I always have, you know? And I only hid everything from you because I can’t lie to you. And because I thought you’d never look at me the same way if you found out”.

“Lando, I…” she stopped mid-sentence, trying to catch some air. “Fuck, this is a lot. Just wait a second”.

They giggled together and he leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s okay to not say anything right now. I just dropped a giant bomb on your lap. This wasn’t the way I wanted to confess to you, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore”.

“Are you saying this because you’re emotional? Because I swear to God, if you are, I’m gonna kill you for misleading me”, her eyes were brimming with tears and Lando whipped them away.

“I’m telling you the truth”, he assured. “I think I’ve loved you my entire life. With all the crazy things I’ve experienced in my life, you were the only constant. You’re home, Y/N”.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”, she asked and he took a deep breath.

“Because I was afraid of losing you. Scared this might ruin our friendship somehow”, he admitted. “You’re the most precious thing in my life. Do you know how scary it is to fall in love with your best friend when you’re just a kid? And then grow up, and those feelings never go away, just getting stronger every day. I just didn’t want to lose you”.

“You weren’t going to lose me, Lan”, her eyes softened at his confession and now he was the one wiping her tears. Y/N brought him back for a hug and even though he didn’t have an answer, deep down he knew she felt the same.

“I’ve loved you since we were four. There’s a reason why I always carry this number with me”, Lando confessed. “God, look what you do to me. I never cry”.

“You only cry for the important things”, she reminded. “That’s why I love you, Lando. I’ve been in love with you for my entire life too, idiot”.

His eyes widened as he looked up to her, who had a smirk plastered on her face. “Can I kiss you?”, Lando asked, but before she could properly shake her head in agreement, he crashed his lips into hers. He needed to be home, and Y/N has always been home for him. It was the most intense kiss they ever had, like years of lingering had finally paid off for both of them.

Lando pulled her closer with a hand on the back of her head. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, smiling into his lips. Then, as if it wasn't enough, he pulled her to sit on lap, making them closer somehow. She slowed down the pace, making the kiss needier and more delicious. Lando even let out a satisfied throaty moan, his heart speeding on his chest. Her touches made him feral, knowing that after years of pinning, he finally had his dream girl.

“Thank you for this”, he whispered against her lips, a wide and satisfied smile on his face. “Thank you for all the years, all the times you've been here for me, to tell me everything is going to be alright.”

“Always, Lan”, she played with the hairs on his nape. “I love you so much”.

“I love you too. So much”, he left one more peck on her lips before hugging her again. “I don't know what I'd do without you”.

“Yeah, me too”.

The story of how they fell in love with each other was long, but beautiful. Lando and Y/N sat in that tree house all night and shared all of those stories with each other. And for a second, he really believed everything was going to work out. After all, if he had Y/N, Lando would be just fine.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

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[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

MINE AND MINE ONLY.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Aemond has gotten you pregnant six months ago, and seeing him with his infant niece during dinner with his family sparks something inside of you only he can satisfy.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, face sitting, slight anal play, slight breeding kink, pregnant sex, slight lactation kink

WORDS: 4.9 K

NOTES: Sorry, I’m kinda in baby fever right now don’t ask me why. 😭 This also is my gift for hitting 1850 followers a few days ago, which means I’m finally where I’ve been before deleting my old blog. Thanks for everyone following me on this journey. 🫶🏻

The days between Christmas and New Years usually are meant for people to take some much-needed downtime from the stress of the past days or weeks – unless you are a Targaryen or married to one. 

It’s the fourth year in a row you’re spending one, sometimes even two, days at the large Targaryen mansion with every member of their family present. 

What started as an opportunity to celebrate the New Year early with her family four years ago, since Viserys and Alicent wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve on a yacht somewhere in the Sea of Dorne back then, has quickly turned into a tradition that no one could escape. 

Not even the six-month pregnant you. 

As an excuse to not travel to the family’s vacation home on Dragonstone, Aemond has begged for you to allow him to tell his mother that your back pain has gotten so bad you couldn’t sit in the car for four hours. 

The fact that he didn’t fall to his knees while doing it was everything. 

But you have told him no, seeing that your back pains have eased two weeks ago, and it is one of the rare occasions he gets to spend with his whole family, not just his mother’s side. 

If he wants to or not. 

“And how are you spending New Year’s?” you ask, lounging in the burgundy Lawson chair. 

Helaena sits in the chair next to yours, fidgeting with the stem of her wine glass. Every now and then you spot her lilac eyes flickering to your protruding bump, accentuated by the tight slip dress you wear. 

“This year we’re embracing a night in,” she answers, nursing her alcohol-free wine. “Cregan doesn’t want to leave the children with his parents, since Lyanna is still breastfeeding, and Edrick doesn’t want to go without his little sister.”

You nod along to her words, smiling softly at the mention of her sons‘ protectiveness, and glance past her to Aemond, Aegon and Cregan. The men are standing close to the fireplace, glasses of whiskey between their fingers. Normally, they would be tipsy by now – some more than others – if it wasn’t for the infant cradled in Cregan’s strong arms. 

Helaena follows your line of sight, the turning of her head prompting you to look at her again. 

“What are your plans?” she asks. 

You pucker your lips slightly, looking down at the glass of water you‘ve rested on your belly before meeting her eyes. 

“Aegon has invited us to a party in White Harbor, a formal dinner with some of his friends. We wanted to go, because the place is stunning and it’s overlooking the iconic harbor fireworks, but it’s such a long drive, and Aemond doesn’t want to risk anything by us taking the plane,” you sigh, “so, we’ll probably stay at home or just go out for dinner.”

Ever since you’ve handed him the gift box containing four identical, positive pregnancy tests, Aemond has taken over a protective aura and has found it incredibly difficult to keep his hands off of you. 

It’s a miracle he was able to talk to his brother and brother-in-law for so long without checking in on you once. 

But speak of the devil. 

What you aren’t expecting when Aemond makes his way over to where you’re conversing with his sister, is the little infant in his arms. Her head rests against his shoulder, while one of his large hands supports it and neck, and the other supports her bottom. 

He’s swaying her gently as he walks over, a proud smile on his lips as he can’t tear his eyes off of his niece, coming to stand next to Helaena’s chair. The sight makes your heart swell with love. 

Cregan trails behind him, and your eyes briefly fall to the abandoned Aegon still standing at the fireplace and balancing their three glasses in his hands. 

“Honey,” the Northener’s gruff voice rings out, “your mother said that Edrick’s made a mess. Could you change him while I clean up?” Still standing offset behind your husband, Cregan pats Aemond on the shoulder once. “Our girl’s in good hands, and Aemy here can already practice for what awaits him soon.”

Helaena raises her eyebrows, before snickering at her husband’s remark. She bows her head once, smiling at you, “excuse me, Y/N.”

“We’ll talk later,” you assure her. 

She brushes her hand over your swollen belly once as she rises, Cregan’s hand on the small of her back urging her out of the living space. 

Aemond carefully sinks into the chair, and changes the position of the sleeping infant so she’s cradled in his arms. 

“What have you been up to?” he asks, finally moving his head to look at you. 

You were wearing a knitted sweater over your dress when you two arrived a few hours earlier, but with hot flashes attacking you every now and then, you have long opted to slip out of it and hang the sweater over a chair. 

And the outfit change clearly is only now noticed by him.

His lilac eyes flickered between yours and your full breasts, and you can literally see the gears turning in his head. 

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he states, full on staring at your breasts. 

Fine, maybe you have also done it to tease him a bit. 

A blush creeps onto his cheeks, running down his neck, and he slightly shifts in his seat, turning his gaze away as he clears his throat. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line to stop them from curling into a smile, you quickly shush the urge by taking a swig of your water. “Wasn’t keen on spending the evening unable to think of anything else than how sore and uncomfortable I feel,” you tease. “Are you complaining?”

Aemond raises one hand in defeat, “certainly not, just pointing it out.”

You teasingly reach and bring your index finger to his chin, tilting it up for his eyes to meet yours again. “Then you better stop staring, we're not the only ones here.” 

You glance briefly at the gathered party around you, watching Alicent chat with Rhaenyra and her husband, while Aegon seems to be deep in a conversation with Daemon, no doubt talking about the latest match between the Casterly Rock Lions and the Oldtown Saints.

“Fair enough,” he answered with a low chuckle. 

The soft coos of his niece catch your attention, and you lean forwards to gauge at the little bundle. She’s stirring lightly in her sleep, grimaces and smiles alike gracing her scrunched features. Aemond brushes her cheek with his knuckles in feather light touches, until her coos are interrupted, and wide, blue eyes stare up at him. 

Lyanna smacks her lips slowly, bringing her small hand up to her mouth. “What is she doing?” Aemond whispers, not daring to pull his eyes away from her in case she starts to cry. 

“She’s hungry,” you answer with a chuckle, grinning as you notice his helplessness. 

It’s so brief, but you spot his eyes flickering towards your full breasts, and you have to stop yourself from hitting his shoulder. One wrong word. 

“You know there are barely four months left until your life looks like this, too, right?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“I do, but they have not yet told us about this at the prenatal class.”

“Oh, come on, she’s not your first niece, and she’s not even crying.”

The sigh of relief Aemond releases as he spots Helaena’s silver hair in the far distance has you shaking your head, bringing your index finger up to your smiling lips. 

“How did you three get on?” Helaena asks, noticing that her daughter is awake. 

Your husband rises to his feet, and hands his niece over to her. “Easy, she’s just woken up and seems really hungry,” he notes, as if he has figured it out all by himself. “And how did you fare?”

Helaena releases a dry chuckle, brushing her free hand up and down Aemond’s biceps. “I’ll tell you another time, don’t want to scare you.“ She briefly glances over at you. “Just know that Creg has to bathe him right now, because the wet wipes were useless.”

The grimace on Aemond’s face at his sister’s words has you choking on a laugh. 

Lyanna starts to whine and wiggle in her mother’s grasp, getting her attention. “Sorry again, it’s feeding time, obviously,” she states, muttering the last word under her breath, and shoots you an apologetic gaze before scurrying off. 

You hold out a hand, and knowing what it means, Aemond takes it to help you up from the chair. 

His heart melts at the sight of you before him, and he wraps an arm around you to pull you against his side as he brushes his hand over the gentle swell of your belly in tender affection. There were shy kicks meeting his hand, making him grin.

You return the embrace, and lean yourself against his frame, your head resting on his chest. “It’s different when it’s your own child, you know,” you say, the small glimmer of a smile blessing your features. 

His head dips forwards, and he presses his lips to your temple, mumbling the words against your skin, “I can’t wait to meet him.”

—

Aemond has his arm slung around your waist as everyone has gathered in the vast living space to watch the children perform a play they have practiced. 

Alicent, ever the proud grandmother, clings to Viserys as they watch in awe what the children of Rhaenyra have been up to. An oblivious Edrick appears in the middle of it all, but before Cregan can scoop him up, the little Viserys has taken his hands to include him in their mischief. 

“Have I already told you how good you look today?” Aemond whispers, his head dipping forwards so his lips are level with your ear. He rubs your bump gently, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. 

You shiver from his touch, your body tingling from the attention your husband gives you. “You’re not paying attention,” you scold softly, nodding towards the children in the middle. A teenage Jacaerys, as well as Daemon’s daughters from his first marriage, stand before you, your view of the play slightly concealed. 

“I can’t help myself,” he whispers huskily, “you’re just too distracting, Mommy.” A smirk tugs on his lips as the name leaves them, and the sight is only topped by him leaning in to brush his lips over your ear, before they press to the sensitive skin behind it. The very spot that always makes you putty in his hands, and with your hormones in full swing, it does a little more than just melt you. 

“Aemond,” you whisper, though he can also hear the trace of a moan in it, “easy.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and the ring of his baritone voice sends a shiver down your spine, “we should go to bed early tonight.”

You can’t help but to chuckle at his words. It’s his subtle way to ask for something without directly asking, though you know exactly what he means. You lean into him, pressing yourself against his side. 

Biting the tip of your tongue, it was impossible for you to stop your lips from pulling into a mischievous smirk. 

“Do you think your mother will notice if we leave now?” you ask, innocently. 

You’re greeted with a wide grin when your eyes meet Aemond’s, and the arm he has wrapped around you tightens just more, keeping you against his frame. 

His lips brush your ear again, trailing down to press a kiss to the side of your neck. “If she does, she can tell me later,” he raps into your ear, “besides, we wouldn‘t be gone for too long, sweetheart. Just long enough for a little… alone time. Who could blame us for wanting to savor the last weeks where it’s only the two of us, mh?”

Aemond looks around one last time, noticing how everyone around you is mostly focused on the children’s show. 

Bringing his hand to the small of your back, he gently guides you through the crowd of his relatives, before you’re on the way to his childhood bedroom. 

It’s furnished in a minimalistic style, making it obvious that Alicent has spent some time decluttering her children’s rooms to make them more presentable for whenever guests stay over. The room basically is Aemond’s, and the rest belongs to Alicent. 

Walking in behind you, he locks the door. You look around briefly before his firm chest is flush against your back with his arms around your waist, resting on your bump. He presses his lips to the curve of your neck, prompting you to tilt your head to the side, and a shuddered breath to escape your throat. 

The feeling of his hard, clothed cock against the curve of your ass drives you to insanity, making you eager for more. He grinds against you as his fingers travel over your curves, and greedily fist the fabric of your dress. 

“Let me help you undress, Mama,” he rasps against your skin, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

When he sinks to his knees behind you, you whimper quietly, immediately missing the heat of his breath and lips on your body. 

“Aemond,” you breathe, looking down at him as he pushes your dress up. 

The dumbfounded look that crosses his features with the skirt of your dress rucked up just shy beneath your bump has you chuckling, realization settling in. 

“You went commando?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you can basically see his excitement building, the bulge in the front of his slacks quite obvious despite him kneeling. “I was feeling… adventurous today,” you hum, a glint of mischief in your eyes. 

He can’t help but to grin at your comment, and, on his way up, Aemond starts to press several kisses to the outside of your thigh, his fingers following in their trail. 

Standing to full height again, looming over you, he keeps his hand beneath your bump, his fingers caressing your pubic mound. 

You squeeze your thighs together in a desperate attempt to soothe the aching at the apex of them, since his fingers aren’t touching you where you need them most. An anticipating moan slips past your lips, a shiver shaking your core. 

“I hope you’re prepared for me to be just as adventurous,” he hums, “... and thorough.”

His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress, tugging them off your shoulders to push the elastic fabric down your curves and onto the ground. It’s pooling around your ankles in a white puddle, leaving you completely bare to him with just a few touches. 

You shudder under his intense gaze, practically devouring you with just his lilac eyes, and try to break the tension by pulling him in for a kiss. 

You turn around mid-kiss, your protruding belly a barrier between your bodies. Before your hands can entangle into his strands, Aemond catches them and intertwines your fingers. He creates a small distance between your bodies, taking a few steps back and pulling you with him. 

His steps are deliberately slow, careful, and you’re encouraged to climb his lap as he sits down at the edge of the bed. Both his feet are firmly planted on the ground, supporting your swollen body. 

He groans as you trap him between your legs, his hands roaming your curves almost immediately. The knowledge that he was the one responsible for the changes of your body, and that everybody else knew that as well, does something to him, making him all the more hungry for you. 

It was even more addicting to see you sit astride him like a goddess, ready to claim what was yours already anyways. Him.

Feeling his clothed member throb beneath you, the urge to grind above him is as inviting as never, and you’re more than ready to give into the urge. Your wetness soaks his slacks, and the groan Aemond releases at the friction has you whimpering with him. 

Your lips meet for a fervent kiss, and while your hands rest on his shoulders, his are eager to explore the swell of your belly. His tongue finds its way past your lips, swirling around yours in a way that turns the kiss into all teeth and tongue. 

Dragging your teeth over his kiss swollen bottom lip, he tilts his head upwards and nudges the tip of his nose against yours. You lick over his lips once, but when you lean in to connect your lips again, Aemond stops you with his hand around your throat. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he rasps, his voice husky. 

You haven’t sat on his face in weeks, or rather ever since the round ligament pain kicked in and made even the simplest daily tasks difficult for you. 

Your eyes widen. “But– I–”

“No, you’re not too heavy,” he interrupts, cocking one eyebrow at you. 

There’s not even a chance for you to reject before he lies down and hooks his hands beneath your thighs, hoisting you up and pulling you towards his face. You sit on his chest, barely seeing his chiseled features from under your bump. 

As the position you are in truly settles in your mind, a bright blush starts to cover the apples of your cheeks. His angelic looks don't help either, strands of silver hair splayed out around his head like a halo, and his piercing lilac eyes fixed on you and you only. “But you tell me when it gets too much, no?” you ask, coyly. 

Aemond rubs his hands over your bare thighs in comfort, nodding. “Always.” Deep down you know it’s a lie, because he has told you on more than one occasion that he’d gladly leave the world suffocated by your delicious pussy, but you trust the feigned security he offers. 

“No promises about how long I’ll last, though,” you tell him. 

A gentle pat to your thigh is what has you eventually inching forwards until your knees are on either side of his head. 

With your bump being quite protruding, you can’t even see him anymore, you only hear his groans and growls when you cautiously settle in the new position.

The attempt to slightly hover your pussy over his face is fruitless the moment your husband’s hands fly to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you down onto his face. Just his nose perfectly teasing your clit has you moaning out loudly already, even though he hasn’t even used his tongue yet. 

And then it follows. 

Aemond greedily laps at your entrance as his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place and playing you like a fiddle. It circles around your clenching hole, teasing it but never one dipping it inside. 

You clench around nothing, and bring one hand to your bump while the other just rests above his hand on your hip, squeezing it. Chasing the friction and warmth of his tongue, you rock your hips back and forth as much as his grip allows, coaxing whimpers and mewls to leave your lips.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, the grip of your thighs around his face tightening. “I–I forgot how good you are at this.”

Seemingly keening at your praise, you’re almost disappointed when he pulls his hand off of yours to cup your ass cheeks, yanking you impossibly closer. The groans that vibrate against your pussy send shivers up your spine that make you lose yourself in the pleasure, not focusing on where his hands are. 

At this point, Aemond was feasting at you like a man starved, all but devouring you with newfound vigor. His nose flicks against your clit with expert precision every time he tilts his head or you move your hips, drawing you closer to your orgasm. 

His index finger comes into play, teasing your throbbing folds for a split second. His true intentions, however, only show the moment it starts to circle around your other hole. 

“Fuck, Aemond, I-” you manage as he carefully dips his finger into your hole, the added stimulation almost immediately tightening the coil in your belly. A muffled groan of appreciation shakes your core as he feels your unused hole tighten around his finger. 

You roll your hips against Aemond’s mouth on the race to completion, any thoughts of being too heavy for him long gone, and replaced by nothing else than raw need and desire. 

It’s almost too much. Straddling the fine line between overwhelming and just the right amount. His nose rubs your clit, his lips lap hungrily at your swollen folds, and his index finger fills you pleasantly – he is redoubling his efforts. 

You keep dragging your hips back and forth in rhythm with his movements, fucking his face on the brink of your release. 

“Oh God, you-you’re so good– Aemond, I’m–I’m–” you ramble, breathy whimpers filling in between the words. 

Hearing him slurp and groan beneath your trembling frame brings a blush to your face and stokes the fire in your belly, the sounds fanning through the room like your moans and whimpers. 

When the coil finally snaps, you throw your head back in ecstasy and clamp your thighs around his head, hot, white pleasure licking its way up your spine. His name topples off your lips more than once, accompanied by desperate mewls and whines. He is relentless, licking you through your orgasm. 

You don’t wait long enough for the aftershocks to fully subside, the overstimulation of his tongue dragging through your folds becoming too much, and cup your pregnant belly as you heave your frame off of his face, shifting backwards down his body. 

“Fuck, I–I need you,” you all but beg, eagerly tugging on the collar of his black shirt. 

Aemond seems to share your enthusiasm, and is quick to sit up again, meeting your lips for a deep kiss. Only when you cup his cheeks do you feel that they’re covered in your arousal, the taste of you on his tongue clouding your mind. 

Your belly is between you again, but Aemond manages to swiftly undo the zipper in the front of his slacks nevertheless, and shoves them down just enough to free his aching cock. 

“So desperate for my cock now, mh?” Aemond pants against your lips, a smug smirk tugging on the corners. 

His hand wraps around his stiff member, fisting himself raw twice, thrice, before another pat served to your thigh encourages you to raise your hips. He aligns himself with your soaked entrance, and you feel his tip prodding gingerly at it. 

As you sink down on him, your hands tightly gripping the collar of his shirt, you release a shuddered breath. Your husband, on the other hand, escapes a relieved groan, his head tipping back for a moment. 

With your limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you bow your head forwards, lowering yourself on him until he is balls deep inside of you. “Mh, fuck, you didn’t even bother to take off your pants,” you taunt, “so desperate to be inside me.”

Aemond’s words die on his tongue as you start to sensually roll your hips over his, the added weight of the bump not allowing you to bounce up and down on him with the vigor you had used before your pregnancy. 

But your husband doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes journeying into the back of his head at the sensation. 

Moving his hands to grope and grasp at every inch of your body, they eventually settle on your full breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples between his nimble fingers while you unravel astride him. It prompts you to arch your back, all but shoving your breasts into his face. 

“So fucking good,” he grunts, embracing it and wrapping his lips around your pert nipple while his arms snake around your body. 

He licks and sucks at your little bud like he has done with your pussy before, and, just judging by the smacking and humming sounds he makes, it’s possible there ooze a few droplets of milk out of it. 

Aemond places his feet firmly on the ground, and starts to buck his hips up into yours, seemingly impatient for his own release as he meets the sensual rolls of your hips and bullies the spongy spot inside of you with more determination. 

Loud, wet sounds from where your bodies meet echo off the walls, indistinct to you with all you can focus on being his lips at your heavy breasts, and his cock deep inside of you. 

You bite your bottom lip and stop the rolling of your hips, making it evident that you were close to your orgasm. The tingling at the base of your spine makes it impossible to move any further and you rely on him to take over. 

Aemond pulls back and watches you gleefully as the force of his thrusts makes your body squirm and jerk, eagerly anticipating you to topple over the edge for the second time. 

“You’re gonna cum on my cock already?” he asks, almost mockingly. 

You frantically nod, breathing a yes.

His hands come to your hips, and with his fingers digging into your flesh, he drags your hips back and forth, your clit rubbing against the hem of his shirt with each movement. You’re not able to gasp more than yeses and pleases, clenching tightly around him. 

The intensity of his thrusts increases while you have stopped moving, toes curling as the taut string inside of you snaps without a warning and white stars cloud your vision. 

“Mh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, clawing at his shoulders as you ride out your high, grinding and rolling your hips against his. Your walls clamp around him like a vice, and he chokes on a husky groan. “Oh God, I love you.“

And even though your orgasm subsides slowly, Aemond refuses to slow down, keeping his heedless pace and pursuing his own completion. 

He has his lips around your other nipple by now, sucking and nibbling on it, the vibrations of his groans coursing through your veins. “Daddy, mh, cum for me, please,” you whine, desperate for his cum. 

Your body, however, contradicts your words and moans, your thighs squeezing his in a desperate attempt to stop him from pounding into your overstimulated pussy – but to no avail. 

“God, please.”

His pace is as reckless and merciless as before, his cock all but forcing its way in and out of your quivering walls as he doesn’t listen to your desperate pleas.

Pulling back from your nipple with a lewd pop, a string of saliva connects the dark areola and his swollen lips as he gazes up at you with half-lidded eyes. “Hush now, Mommy,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss you. The nickname coaxes a smug smirk on his lips. “Taking me so well, such a good girl for Daddy.” With just his praise, a warmth overtakes your body that drowns out the burning, your chest swelling. 

You sling your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in the silver strands of his hair in a way that is destined to ruin the little updo he had put it in this morning. 

“Mh, fuck, I’m gonna–” his words are cut off with a stutter of his hips, and he feels his throbbing cock spill deep inside of you. 

You ride him through his high with lazy rolls of your hips, biting through the overstimulation, and clench and unclench around him as you milk him for every drop of his seed. 

If he hadn’t gotten you pregnant already, he surely would have knocked you up after this. 

Aemond languidly fucks up into you now as the last spurts of his warm release fill you to the brim, grunting and groaning until the euphoria fades. 

He collapses on the bed, a blissed out expression on his face, and reaches to trace his fingers over the swell of your bump up to the curve of your breasts. Rolling the darkened buds between them, he smirks as he watches you squirm, his softening cock still buried inside of you. 

“You know,” he starts, folding one arm behind his head. His voice is softer than before, but has a teasing edge to it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew by now what we’ve been up to.”

You laugh breathlessly and plant your hands on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over it. “But at least they don’t have to worry about you getting me pregnant by accident,” you tease. 

“True enough,” he chuckles softly, “Fuck, I’m–I just can’t help myself. Seeing your body swell just because of my seed fucking does something to me.”

His words make you blush, and you appreciatively run your hands over your bump. 

You lean forwards and cup his face, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He smirks against your mouth, and subconsciously bucks his hips into yours as he feels you clench around him. 

With a groan rumbling in his chest, he pulls back. Something dark flickers in his eyes, his intentions evident when he speaks again. 

“Once our boy’s born, I’ll make quick work of making you a mother of two.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @goldyfishsstuff @connorsui @ammo23

[scuderiahoney]

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion pt 2

hockey au part 2: a lil backstory, Max Verstappen’s Pizza Theory, breakfast for dinner, and the beginnings of a physics study club. 5.7k words

warnings: mentions of sports related injuries, alcohol, and a creepy guy at a party.

You met Lando your freshman year, in an intro level writing class. Lando Norris may be great at hockey, but he was and still is absolutely atrocious at writing, which you discovered quickly when you’d been paired up with him for a partner project. He was the most talkative person in the whole class, and also the most likely to fall asleep. You couldn't blame him. It was an 8 am class, and from what you could tell, he had early morning hockey practices nearly every day.

He’d noticed the Timberwolves Soccer sticker on your laptop case, the one you’d been picking at the edges of at any available moment, trying to peel it off. It wouldn’t budge. He’d tried to use that as a common interest, a way to make a connection. He hadn’t known how much of a touchy subject it was. How could he have? The two of you barely knew each other's names.

You’d been angry at the world, at the time. Fresh off a life changing injury, still dealing with the physical therapy afterwards and stuck feeling like it was all so painfully obvious due to the knee brace on your leg. You’d only come to the stupid school to play on the soccer team, anyways. A month into your freshman year, injured and off the roster, with your chances of ever playing again looking bleak, you’d had a hard time trying to find a new reason to be there.

Before you met Lando, the soccer team had been your main source of friends. When you got injured, it all went to shit. At first, you hadn’t blamed them for the distance. You were dealing with something none of them even wanted to think about. But when you had to have surgery and none of them even bothered to text and check in, you’d begun to feel bitter. It had felt so lonely, in a town where you knew nobody, and the few people you’d connected with had slipped away. Lando had helped change that. His team had helped change that.

By the time you had to have a second surgery during winter semester, you’d been fully adopted by the entire Timberwolves Hockey team. They’d sent cards and flowers that filled up the room. Lando had visited every day, at least one of his teammates in tow. Max hadn’t been team captain at the time, but he’d taken the lead on getting a schedule set up to have people help carry your things to class for you while you were on crutches. You’d found a family, a reason to stay at the school, even without your beloved sport. You’d never be able to thank them enough for it.

Now you’re in your junior year of college and sitting in the stands at a hockey game instead of on the field at a soccer game, but the people on the ice are all your best friends. They’re losing, quite terribly, if you’re being honest. The stands are half empty. They’re just… off, today, in the second game of the week. Not quite in sync. You can see the frustration on all of them even from all the way up in the stands. Charles and Carlos are bickering on the bench. Max is skating messily. Lando looks lost on the ice, like his skates have a mind of their own. Even Oscar is struggling.

When the buzzer sounds for the end of the game, you stand up from your seat and head outside. Lily’s not here tonight- she has to work- so you’re on your own as you head toward the house. You text Max and ask if you should order pizza. He replies with an enthusiastic yes, a list of requests, and $100 on Venmo.

You have the pizza waiting, along with paper plates and Gatorade, by the time the first one of them walks into the house. It’s Oscar. He shuffles into the kitchen and looks at the pizza boxes with a wrinkled nose.

“Are you guys having a party?” He asks.

You sort of hate the way he says it. You guys. Like it’s not his house. Like it’s not his team. You know the feeling, really, of sort of just drifting along with nothing to cling onto. You tilt your head at him and slide a bottle of Gatorade across the counter towards him.

“No,” you say, and his shoulders relax slightly. “Usually after a tough game, Max likes to do some sort of team bonding. So. Pizza. He didn’t tell you?”

Oscar shrugs. “He probably did. Dunno. I was kind of out of it, and I snuck out as soon as the coaches were done yelling.”

You wince and nod in understanding. “I used to be the same way after bad games.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve hinted at until his head jerks up from where he’s been staring at the bottle in front of him. “You play sports?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. You suppose he’ll hear the story eventually, but maybe now isn’t the best time. Maybe he doesn’t need your pity party while he’s trying to have his own. Maybe it’s nice that he doesn’t feel bad for you, just confused by you and your constant presence around the hockey team.

“Used to,” you say. When his face flickers with confusion, you hand him a paper plate. “Have some pizza. Captain’s orders.”

He stands there, staring, looking so unsure.

“You can take it up to your room if you really want, I won’t tattle” you say, and he twists his mouth. “Honestly, though? I hate to watch you guys lose, but sometimes these nights are some of the best. You should stick around.”

He pulls a piece of pepperoni pizza from the box and sets it on the plate. Then he takes a seat at one of the kitchen island barstools. You hope he doesn’t hear your sigh of relief.

An hour later, the kitchen, dining room, and back deck are full of people, and they’re all complaining about the game. Charles and Carlos are at the table, no longer angry with each other, instead complaining about a defenseman on the other team. Lando’s draped over Alex’s shoulder, loudly fake crying over god knows what. Oscar’s on Alex’s other side, laughing loudly at Lando’s dramatics.

You’re pouring drinks for the three of them- you’d offered when you noticed the empty cups. It’s not a party, but the alcohol helps numb the bitter feeling of a bad game. Max is standing nearby, looking proud. He elbows you.

“Pizza theory,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

You laugh. “Yeah, Max. Another one for the pizza theory.”

He’s had this running… experiment, of sorts, for a couple years now. It started after a string of bad games your freshman year, his sophomore year. He’d pointed out that when the team had pizza together after a loss, the next game was always a win. So he’d begun trying things out and writing down the results- you’ve seen the Google document, now co-organized by Charles. Pizza leads to wins almost 95% of the time. Chinese sits at a healthy 70%. They tried Subway one time and all got so sick off of it they nearly had to cancel the next game, so they never tried again.

You’ve told him before that you don’t think it’s really about the pizza- it’s about the time spent together, and the space to be just teammates again. It’s not like they’re apologizing or talking strategy, but put a bunch of greasy food in front of them and they’ll start to unwind. Mend bridges. Build new ones, even, you think, as you watch Oscar and Alex chat, heads leaned close together.

They win the next game by one point. It’s an away game, but you watch it from your apartment with Lily and a couple other friends, grinning the whole way through. You have pizza in honor of Max’s theory. Charles nearly tackles Oscar onto the ice when he scores. When the camera zooms in on the smiles on both of their faces, your heart melts. Lando howls like a wolf at the end of the game, which is simultaneously endearing and cringe inducing. When they get back to the hotel, he FaceTimes you from the elevator. It’s full of hockey boys with big grins on their faces. Max, hair still dripping wet from the shower, his arm slung around Lando, is smiling brightest of them all.

“Pizza theory!” he yells, and you can’t fight a grin in return.

“Pizza theory indeed,” you reply.

Oscar’s head pops up on the screen. You can only see his eyes and forehead, and he seems to know, because he wiggles his brows. It makes you laugh.

“What’s pizza theory?” He asks.

“You have much to learn, young grasshopper,” Lando quips.

“We’ll show you the Google doc later,” Charles promises. “Right now, we are going to the pool.”

…..

Oscar doesn’t join in the game afterparties for weeks. You don’t take it personally, but you do wonder why he doesn’t want to celebrate with his team. You even ask Lando to make sure he knows he’s invited. Your friend just looks at you like you’re crazy, which you suppose you are.

In the end, the party he does show up at isn’t even one after a game. It’s a bye week, and Seb gives them Saturday night off of practice, so they throw what starts out as a hangout and quickly morphs into a full on party. There are people spilling out into the lawn. Lando’s in charge of the music and taking it very seriously. And Oscar is in the kitchen, chatting with Alex over their red plastic cups. It’s an odd sight, but a welcome one. You’re trying not to stare.

Instead, you’re standing nearby, listening to Charles and Carlos argue. It’s over something stupid, you’re pretty sure- it almost always is. Max is standing next to you, hiding his amusement behind his own plastic cup. The three of them have a weird dynamic. Charles and Carlos have known each other for a while- they played together on a team before they started college. Max and Charles go farther back, though. They’re childhood rivals turned captain and alternate captain. They’re all oddly competitive over who likes who more or less. It’s entertaining, to say the least.

You’re really only half listening, using them to take appropriate breaks from watching Oscar. You’d tried to convince yourself you were just keeping an eye on him at first, that you were making sure he was okay and having fun. Now, two drinks deep, you’ve stopped making excuses in your own head. You just like the way he looks in the glow of Lando’s cheesy LED light strips. They’re purple tonight. Oscar’s cheekbones are painted purple because of it. You know there are freckles there, dotting his skin. You wish you were close enough to see them.

Eventually, you leave the guys to their arguing, tear your eyes from Oscar, and start to wander the party. There’s a lot going on, and there are a lot of people in the house that you’ve never met before. That happens, at these sort of events, you’ve found. The unplanned ones end up being an odd mix of people. So when you find yourself leaning against a wall and a guy you don’t recognize comes up to talk to you, you’re not exactly surprised. When he plants his hand next to your head on the wall, though, that does surprise you.

“I hear they call you Bunny,” he says, leering over you.

You hate the way he uses the nickname, the way it sounds on his lips. He leans close, caging you in. You swallow tightly, trying to peer over his shoulder and spot any one of your friends. It’s no use. He’s tall and broad and blocking your view. You say a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that one of your friends notices your absence.

“My friends do, yeah,” you say, hoping he takes the hint. “Actually, I have to go find-“

He cuts you off when he leans closer. You press yourself back against the wall. You can smell the cheap beer on his breath. Your heart pounds in your chest. Fight or flight or freeze, time to choose.

“Come on, sweetie,” the guy says. “Be a good bunny and-“

Someone’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. That’s all you see before he’s ripped away from you. It’s like you can breathe again, suddenly, relief flashing through your brain like the purple lights in the kitchen. It’s followed quickly by concern, though, when you catch sight of what’s going on.

Oscar has him pinned against the wall, one hand on his shoulder, his other fist cocked back, elbow bent, ready to throw a punch. There’s fury on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Oscar doesn’t really fight. Not now, not at his previous team, not before then, either. You know it because Lando mentioned it when talking about how levelheaded he was. Plus, there are no helmets or pads to protect him here. Just him and his apparent anger.

“Mate,” Max says, carefully, appearing almost out of thin air. “Cool down, yeah?”

Oscar grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. You blink widely at the sight in front of you. Max’s eyes flicker to you, to the way you’re huddled against the wall, and understanding washes over his face.

“Piastri,” Max says, which seems to clear a bit of the fog from Oscar's head. The younger teammate turns to look at his captain and falters slightly. “I think you’ve proved your point.”

Oscar takes it for what it is- a thinly veiled command. Fighting on the rink is one thing. Fighting at a party they’re definitely not supposed to be having is another. Once they’re in motion, fights are difficult to stop, even harder to control, really. It'll get out of hand, so, so quickly. Seb would have their heads on a silver platter, and Max is always responsible for the actions of the team- it comes with being captain. He drops his fist and backs away slightly. Max nods.

The guy sneers at you, then Oscar, and then he spits on the floor near your feet. “Dumb bitch-“

In the blink of an eye, he’s pinned back to the wall, this time by Max, both hands on each of his shoulders. He tosses a look over his shoulder at Oscar.

“Get her out of here?” He says, and Oscar nods frantically.

He takes your hand, gentle as ever. You follow along nearly blindly as tears begin to well up in your eyes. Oscar weaves through the crowd, a man on a mission, and heads for the stairs. You dodge a couple who are making out on the top step, and he makes his way to his bedroom. They keep the rooms locked during parties- he punches his code in and ushers you inside. You nearly laugh through your tears when you see number 44, Lewis Hamilton, staring down from the poster on the wall. You wonder if Oscar knows he and Lando have matching ones.

He sits you down on the bed, reaching to turn on the lamp. He moves around the room quickly, and he tosses you a hoodie from his drawer, which you pull over your head gratefully. You hadn’t noticed until then how you had your own arms wrapped around your body, like you were hiding. You shake your hands out, flexing your fingers, trying to get the feeling back in them.

He sighs and reaches for the door. “Okay. You’re okay. Just- I’ll close the door behind me and-“

“Where are you going?” You ask, suddenly feeling panicky. You think it’s clear just from the sound of your voice, too.

“To get Lando,” he says, freezing in place, hand on the doorknob as he looks at you.

You sniffle. “Max will find him. Could you- can you- I don’t want to be alone, really, so-“

“Fuck. Shit. Sorry,” Oscar says.

Then he does the last thing you’d have expected. He sits down on the bed next to you, close enough to touch, and then wraps an arm around your shoulders. You gasp at the feeling, but lean into it, feeling a bit of relief running down your spine. His hand covers your whole shoulder.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, and you nod. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s okay,” you answer, unsure what he’s even apologizing for- almost leaving or touching you. Either way, it’s fine.

The two of you sit there in the relative quiet for a minute or two. Downstairs, the music is loud as ever. Oscar’s hand is heavy on your shoulder, and you’re still a bit stuck in fight or flight mode. Maybe you’re just frozen, really. You can still smell the beer on the other guy’s breath, can still see the anger on Oscar’s face, can still feel the panic when he was about to leave you. Your chest is tight, fingertips still buzzing.

“Were you actually going to punch him?” You ask, breaking the silence in the room, trying to find something to distract yourself.

Oscar huffs. “The first time, probably not. But when he called you a…” he shrugs. “If Max hadn’t been there…”

You turn to look at him. “Why?”

He blinks, almost taken aback that you’d even ask. “You know. Take care of the team and all.”

You sniffle. “But I’m not on the team.”

“Might as well be, all the time you spend here.”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off. “You don’t… you don’t care about me. You- why would you get into a fight for me?”

He’s quiet for a moment. You’re waiting for the canned answer. Because nobody else was around. Because I knew it’d earn me brownie points with the rest of the team. Because-

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “For making you feel like I didn’t care.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. His hand squeezes your shoulder. Your heart squeezes in your chest. You hadn’t meant for this to go this direction, and now your face is hot and your throat hurts and there are tears welling up behind your closed eyelids.

“I just… I showed up here, and everyone already has their friend groups and buddies and-“ he huffs again, and realization starts to dawn on you. “And they all love you, and they’re super protective of you. And I’ve been so busy trying to find my place here and not step on any toes, I guess I forgot to try and make friends, too, you know?”

You sigh. “I don’t bite, you know. I’m very easy to be friends with. I can be low maintenance if that’s what you need. Or- what’s Lando call it? Low frequency?”

Oscar laughs. “I know.”

You turn to look up at him, and your breath hitches when he reaches up and wipes a couple tears from your cheeks. An hour ago, you thought he couldn’t care less about you. Now you’re sitting in his room, and he’s wiping away tears with a tender touch that makes your stomach ache. His eyes trace your face, like he’s looking for injury, for a source of the pain. It’s overwhelming.

“Okay. So stop ignoring me in class? And in general?” You say, trying to redirect things.

He groans, dropping his chin to his chest. “That was- it wasn’t even on purpose, I just didn’t notice and then when I did it felt too late to say anything, so-“

You break off into a fit of giggles. He drops his arm from around your shoulder, and you miss the warmth immediately. You try not to let it show as he drags his hands over his face and echoes your laughter with his own. When you lean against his shoulder, your side pressed to his, he stays steady and lets you do it.

“It’s okay,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “Fresh start, yeah?”

He nods. You stick your hand out to him. He laughs and wraps his own around yours, shaking firmly.

“Awesome. Because I have a feeling you’re smart,” you say. “And I’m seriously going to fail our physics class unless you help me.”

Oscar laughs, and the way it takes over his whole body makes you smile. His head bumps against yours, but you can’t even find it in you to mind. It’s enough that he’s laughing around you.

“Okay, but you have to help me, too,” he says, hand still wrapped with yours, and he squeezes it. “I wanna fit in here. I mean, I’m not even from this continent, you know. So trying to find my place has been…”

Your heart aches for him. Suddenly it all makes sense. You know the feeling of being an outsider all too well. So you smile and nod and shake his hand again. “Deal.”

Lando comes and finds the two of you only a few minutes later. He knocks on the door, and Oscar opens it just a crack before he lets his teammate in. He leaves the two of you with a quick nod, seeming to understand that his job here is done. Lando takes you back to his room a few minutes later, his arm around your waist and his head knocking against yours. You pass Max in the hallway, who exchanges a look with Lando and reaches out to squeeze your arm. You’re sure he’ll interrogate you tomorrow to make sure you’re feeling okay.

Lando doesn’t even question the fact that Oscar was the one to take care of you- you suppose to him, it just makes sense. Teammates looking out for teammates, or in this case, their teammate’s friend. He just checks in on you, cleans up the last few tears from your face, and then suggests you stay the night. You don’t exactly want to go back downstairs and through the party, so you agree. You change into a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, though you keep Oscar’s sweatshirt and put it back on, too. Lando gives you the bed and pulls out the air mattress that he keeps on hand for this, and the two of you fall asleep to the sound of the bass shaking the walls of the house.

…..

The family dinner the next day is loosely breakfast themed. The guys are all dead in the morning, so you take it upon yourself to go do the shopping. And for that, you drag along your trusty assistant, Logan Sargeant. He’s one of few people on the team with his driver’s license, since so many of them are international students and never bothered getting one, and he has a car. Besides that, he’s a rookie, and he’s contractually obligated -meaning Max has politely asked him- to help you whenever you ask. He picks you up in his tiny Toyota, and then you’re off to the grocery store.

He carries the list while you stroll the aisles. “I’ve never heard of literally half the stuff on this list,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “That’s because you’re uncultured.”

You reach up on one of the shelves, snagging a jar with a yellow lid and label. He checks it off the list, brow furrowed.

“I thought this was breakfast for dinner night,” he adds, scrunching his nose up.

You turn to him, giving him an exasperated sigh. “It is. There’s just… a secondary theme. Don’t worry, my American boy, you’ll get your omelette.”

“Omelettes are French!” He cries out, huffing as you start to walk down the aisle, away from him. “The word is literally French!”

“Whatever you say, Miami,” you tease. “What’s next on the list?”

You buy Logan a coffee from a local place on your way back as a thank you for his help. In return, he tells you he forgives you for your comments about him being American. When you pull up to the house, you can see Lando and Charles in the living room. They come outside quickly, ready to help carry the bags in.

You head for the kitchen, one very specific bag in hand. When you walk in, you find Oscar, perched on a barstool, head pressed against his fist as his elbow rests on the counter. Max is on the phone in the dining area, chatting away loudly in another language. You can tell Oscar has a headache, just from the look on his face.

“You’re just the guy I was looking for,” you say, brightly but not too loud.

He blinks a couple times, then points at himself. “I’m an awful cook, if that’s what you’re implying.

You laugh and shake your head. “No, no- not that. But it’s breakfast night, right? So-“ you pull a jar of Vegemite out of the bag and set it down on the counter. “I got this. And then I went a little crazy in the international aisle of the grocery store. Oh, and I got sprinkles? The internet said something about fairy bread and I’m intrigued-“

You pause when he reaches for the jar, and his fingers brush yours. When you look up, there’s a look on his face you don’t quite recognize. It’s almost unbearably soft. You pull your hand out from under his so he can take the jar.

“You got Australian snacks,” he says, so quietly and almost reverently. “You…”

You shrug. “We talked about finding your place. One of the best ways I’ve found to do that is to tell people a little bit about yourself. It doesn’t have to be deep, could just be…”

He leans up and peeks in the bag, and his eyes go wide as he gasps, “TimTams!”

You laugh. “Yeah, could just be TimTams.”

He grins up at you, big and wide and so, so endeared. It’s a whole different side of him. You feel unbelievably proud of yourself for the idea.

Lando comes into the kitchen, hands full of bags. “Yeah, thanks, guys, we don’t need help.”

Charles is right behind him. “It’s fine, actually- hey, you bought Oscar cookies?”

Oscar hugs the package to his chest, suddenly possessive. You laugh and reach into one of the bags Lando is holding. In your hand is another package of TimTams.

“I got two of everything,” you tell Oscar. “To share and to keep.”

He smiles again, and lets the TimTams fall from his chest. “You all have to try one.”

Max gets off the phone and helps unpack things, setting out the stuff he’ll need for dinner tonight. You watch on with a fond smile as Oscar introduces all the snacks to anyone who’s willing to listen. Lando, Logan, and Charles sit with rapt attention as Oscar tells them childhood stories about all the snacks. Meanwhile, Max starts making pancake batter, and you start prepping the other ingredients.

Max elbows you lightly as the other guys laugh together. “You did good.”

You smile at him, shrugging. “We had a nice talk last night.”

Max cocks his head, smiling softly. “Before or after he tried to punch a guy out for you?”

Your face heats up at the comment, and you look away from Max and back to the food in front of you. “Last I remember, you had that guy pinned to the wall.”

Max makes a noncommittal noise. “I should’ve let Oscar punch him.”

You want to argue. To tell him that you’re not worth the trouble of that, and that he was right to tell Oscar to back off and send both of you away. But when you look up at him, the look on his face is a mixture of concern and determination. You blink, and he nudges his shoulder against yours.

“He deserved to be punched,” Max says, and you shrug. “And if you ever see him again, you call one of us. And maybe at the next party, you-“

“I’m fine,” you insist, picking up a plate and heading for the dining table. “Promise.”

More and more teammates file in, and now Lando’s the one forcing them to try TimTams, and encouraging Oscar to tell a story about being 5 and eating them in a pool, or something along those lines. You listen, even with your back turned, and hope that this helps Oscar feel a little bit more at home.

Later, after dinner, while everyone else is cleaning up, Oscar finds you in the living room. He holds out a plate. On top of it, laid out perfectly and carefully, are three TimTams.

“You didn’t try any earlier,” he says. He shifts on his feet when you take the plate. “I wanted to say thank you. Again.”

You smile up at him, laying your book on your chest. “Not a problem, Piastri. It was the least I could do, after you helped me last night.”

He frowns slightly, nose wrinkling up in mild disgust. “You know you don’t owe me for that, right?”

You nod as you pick up a TimTam off the plate. “But I can still say thank you. So. Thank you, again.”

He nods, and his face goes soft when you take a bite of the cookie and look up at him. It’s like he’s waiting with bated breath, desperate to know if you like them or not. You break out into a wide grin at the taste and nod eagerly up at him.

“Yeah, okay,” you say, eyeing the cookies on the plate. “I get the obsession.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement. One of your arms is resting on the back of the couch, and as if on reflex, he brushes his hand against yours. His skin is warm and soft. Your breath catches in your chest.

He backs away to disappear upstairs, then, with a soft “Goodnight,” that you echo, but not before you catch the tinge of red on his cheeks.

…..

In physics class on Monday, you watch Oscar waver in the doorway. He takes a stilted step towards the seat he normally sits in, across the lecture hall, and then he stops. You blink in confusion, taking a sip of coffee from your travel mug. He seems to take a breath, and then he turns- you pretend you’re not watching as he walks towards you instead. You pretend your heart isn’t racing as he walks up next to you. It shouldn’t be racing. Why is your heart racing?

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, politely, quietly, like it’s the first day of class.

You bite back a laugh when you look up at him, because his cheeks are red and he looks so, so proud of himself. “It’s open,” you say, smiling up at him.

He nods, sets his bag down on the desk, and then collapses into the chair next to you. He stares at your travel mug enviously as he slips his laptop from his bag, and you do laugh at that, at the tight furrow in his brow, at the pout on his lips. He glares at you, then, and then it all dissolves into a yawn. Something about it makes your chest ache- maybe it’s the way he pulls his hands into his hoodie sleeves. He looks like he could curl up right there and fall asleep.

“Early practice?” You ask, smiling sympathetically.

“So early,” he says, rubbing his eyes blearily. “I hate Seb.” Then he frowns, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t. But I do love sleep.”

You laugh and elbow him lightly. “I’ll bring you coffee on Wednesday. As long as you make good on your promise to help me study for this exam.”

His eyes light up, and he elbows you back, smiling brightly. “Easy trade. We’re going to get you an A+.”

You roll your eyes. Before you can respond, the professor calls the class to order, and you both open your laptops. But Oscar’s there, and he’s agreed to help you study, and when you lose your place in the notes halfway through the lecture he helps you get back on track with a sweet smile. It definitely doesn’t make butterflies swirl in your stomach.

Two days later, you walk into the kitchen, paper bag in hand, and you’re greeted with bright smiles and eager hands. Lando grabs for the bag, and Alex isn’t far behind him. Even Max, who’s cooking something on the stovetop, seems to perk up.

“Hey, hey,” you scold, snatching the bag out of their reach. “Not for you.”

Lando furrows his brows. “You’re my best friend, you show up at my house, and you have food that’s not for me?”

You shrug. “It’s for my study group,” you explain, holding the bag high above your head as you walk towards the dining room.

Oscar pops his head through the doorway and smiles at you. He takes the bag from your hand. “Hi. Ready?”

Lando blinks at the two of you in bewilderment. “Um?”

“We’re gonna get an A+ in physics,” Oscar says to Lando, drumming his free hand on the doorframe.

You scoff. “I’m unsure if that’s possible, at this point. But I’m hoping to at least pass.”

You head for the dining table and sit down. Oscar already has all his study materials spread out, so you do the same. When you look up, Lando is having some sort of almost silent conversation with Oscar, talking in hushed tones and facial expressions that do very little to tell you what’s going on. You see Oscar shake his head, then nod, then shake his head again. Max is watching them, too, in amusement. You exchange a glance with the team captain, and he shrugs. His food is burning on the stove- you can smell it. Alex’s far too calm announcement of that fact breaks up whatever was happening between Oscar and Lando.

Oscar turns back to you, brows raised. “Ready?”

Behind him, Max opens the kitchen window and waves smoke out of it.

You nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You unpack Chinese takeout containers and dish out food on plates. Oscar’s teammates wander through occasionally, sticking their heads into the dining areas to say hi and ask how things are going, but for a while, it’s just the two of you. You find that Oscar’s a great study partner. He’s kind when you ask questions, willing to explain things in a way that you understand. And, when you get bored, you have him to look at. The serious look on his face, the little furrow in his brow, the soft curve of his lips when you answer a question correctly. He’s nice to look at, that’s all.

You walk home later that night feeling better about your odds on the physics exam, and better about the whole situation with Oscar. You think you might finally be winning him over. Halfway to your apartment, you pause on the sidewalk, overlooking the campus park. It would be shorter to just cut through the park. Take the more direct route. You study it for a few moments in the hazy blue post sunset light. Then you turn down the sidewalk and continue on your original route home.

Read Part 3, Losing The Dream!

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[thetriumphantpanda]

nobody sees, nobody knows

Alright, here we are, me adding my two cents into the dbf!Joel trope which we all love so much. I've read so many incredible fics like this so hopefully mine can stand up with them all. This will be a series, so strap in for more of our favourite neighbourhood DILF.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Back to Texas with a degree under your belt and a school girl fantasy to fuck your dad's best friend. What could go wrong?

Warnings | I mean, dbf!Joel comes with his own warning right? Other than that, swearing, alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), dirty talk, and fingering.

Word Count | 3.3K

PART 2 | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about summer in Texas that just hit differently. The way the heat crawled on your skin from the moment you woke up to the moment you tried to sleep at night. The way your father used it as an excuse to cook primarily on the grill, regardless of the food, and the way your mother always made sure the fridge was stocked with cold drinks. The way traffic seemed to cease to exist during the high points of the day, meaning you went to the store every day at midday to buy ice cream. The haze you got from sipping cold beer by your parents’ pool which made you want to do reckless things like you’d done in New York before you realized that the beady eyes of your parents would be all over you if you tried. Reckless things like tell Joel Miller you’d wanted to fuck him for years. 

Every time you’d come home from school, and he’d be there you could have sworn he’d just gotten more and more attractive. The last time you were home, for Christmas and New Year’s, you could have sworn he’d started at the gym, his biceps bulging in the arms of his fitted t-shirt, when your dad commented on it, he's chalked it down to particularly heavy lifting on the job he was working then. He’d had his hair cut in a way that made his face even more handsome and you’re pretty sure the last few times you’d been home he’d noticed how you’d flourished too. 

There were moments where you’d catch his eyes as they drew themselves up your legs, or the time you decided to test your theory and wear a low-cut top and your best bra to a dinner party. His eyes had trained on your chest for most of the night, there was a moment where you’d stood up and leaned over the table to pick up the salt instead of asking him to pass it. He’d choked on his drink and your dad had slapped his back to try and help him. At least you knew he was thinking like you. 

Neither of you had tried crossing the line though. Past the point of no return. You wanted him to make the first move, save yourself the embarrassment of rejection if it came, but it felt like waiting for Joel Miller to kiss you was like waiting for rain in the drought Texas was currently experiencing. Useless and disappointing. You wished sometimes that you could burrow into his brain and figure out what it was that he was really thinking about you. You suspected there would be some code of honour he was sticking to because you were his best friend’s daughter – sure it might complicate things, but you weren’t going to be back in Texas forever – what was the worst that could happen during the secret, torrid affair you’d been cooking up in your head since you arrived back from college a week ago? 

 “Did you hear me when I spoke to you?” Your mother’s voice pulled you from the daydream you were having whilst polishing the cutlery. 

“Sorry mom, I was miles away.” 

“I know!” She exclaims, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you came back, you’ve been away with the fairies,” She sighs, “I said, once you’ve set the cutlery out back can you help your dad with filling the fridge with the beer, please?” 

You hum in agreement which is enough to send her back to the endless chopping she seems to be doing at the kitchen counter. It was just a cookout with the Millers and few other family friends to celebrate your return, but you think your mother thinks she’s catering for a garden party at the White House with the number of sides she’s preparing. 

You make quick work of the rest of the cutlery, wanting to avoid any more questions about why you seem miles away all the time – you can’t exactly tell your mother it’s because you’re thinking about how Joel might eat your pussy.

“Need any help, old man?” You greet your dad in the garage, he’s on his knee’s pulling out bottles of Budweiser to stack in the fridge. 

“Here, grab these and start putting them in,” He’s smiling, he’s always been an overly happy and laid-back man, “I hope we’ve got enough in.” 

“How many people are you expecting?” You chuckle, taking a bottle from him to add to the growing number already stacked on the shelves. 

“Probably ten or so,” Hu shrugs, “But one of those people is Tommy Miller and he’s not changed a bit since you’ve been away.” 

“Between your drinks and mom’s sides we could host the entire neighborhood.” You joke. 

You continue to fill the fridge up with drinks until there’s no room left. Your dad stores the leftover crates next to it for refilling throughout the evening, “Now, go and make yourself look nice, everyone’ll be here soon.” 

*

You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t picked your shortest and lowest cut dress for the evening. It was a pale blue colour, with pink flowers dotted about the material. It fell to your mid-thigh and you had to keep reminded yourself to kneel down instead of bending over, in case people who you didn’t want to look caught an eyeful of the scant lace covering your ass. 

There are a few people milling around already, cold beers in hand, mainly some of your dad’s older friends, who have all congratulated you on graduating and then moved on to talk about mundane neighborhood gossip. 

“Now, where is that smartass?” You hear from the sliding doors; it’s Tommy and he’s bounding over to you to give you a hug. 

He scoops you up into a bone breaking hug, “Congratulation’s girl, your dad said you graduated top of the class!” 

He’s set you down and you can see Joel standing awkwardly next to him, “He’s exaggerating, I wasn’t top, although pretty close to it,” You turn to Joel, “Hey there.” He bends down to give you a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. 

“Good to see you back, sweetheart.” 

“Good to see you too, Joel,” You chirp in response, “Where’s Sarah?” 

“She’s at camp for the first part of the summer,” He explains, “Back in a couple’a weeks, she’ll be thrilled to see you again.” 

“Boys!” Your dad’s booming voice interrupts your conversation, “Good to see you both!” He turns to you, “Why don’t you go and get these two some beers, I need to speak to them about fixin’ up the attic.” 

You turn quietly and head for the garage. Of course, you’d become waitress at your own welcome home party. It takes no time at all for you to come back with three beers, two for the Miller brothers and one for yourself. You hand them off wordlessly, but you don’t miss how Joel grips the bottle just above your fingers, brushing against them. Of all the places for him to grab the bottle, that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? 

The rest of the evening goes by as expected. You spend most of it running around helping your mom set the food out, fetching more beers for everyone and trying to field questions from everyone about what you’re going to do in Texas with an MA in Archival Studies. You bite your tongue every time, and reply with something like, “I think I’ll probably work in an archive.” 

The night is winding down, your mom already in bed having finished her wine too quickly, your dad sat outside in the quickly fading sunlight with Joel and Tommy and a few other stragglers. It fell to you to make aa start on the dishes, which is what you were currently doing. Rinsing them off over the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher, pausing long enough each time to take a sip of lukewarm beer. 

“They got you tidyin’ up your own party?” You hear from behind you. It’s Joel. 

“I’m the only one sober enough not to break anything.” You shrug without turning around to face him. 

“Seems a little unfair if you ask me, sweetheart.” 

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and help?” You counter, “Then I can be sat outside drinkin’ beer with you all.” 

You hear his boots on the floor and then he’s next to you, reaching around to grab the pile of cutlery on the side, he opens the dishwasher further to put the cutlery in their designated tray and then stop, “Has no-one ever taught you how to stack a dishwasher?” 

You pause in your rinsing to look up at him for the first time, “What do you mean?” 

“This is awful sweetheart,” He chuckles, “You’ve got the bowls and plates in the wrong place – you’ll be doing three washes if you carry on like this.” 

“Well, go on then, maestro, show me how to stack it.” 

He’s unloading everything you’ve put in so far, apart from what you suspect he thinks was his expertly placed cutlery, and you’re watching as he’s stacking in completely differently to you. Annoyingly he’s not wrong, the way he’s doing it means you’ll likely fit everything in at once, “Can’t believe you’ve lived on your own for five years and didn’t learn how to stack a dishwasher.” 

“Joel, I was in a dingy studio apartment in the ass end of New York, you think I had a dishwasher?” 

“Well, consider yourself taught now, I don’t ever wanna see a dishwasher looking anything less than perfect, you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear, Mr Miller.” You watch as his eyebrows raise at your new greeting, oh. He liked that. 

He picks up your almost empty beer bottle and hands it to you, “Go on, down the rest,” He’s grinning, “Then go and sit down and I’ll get you a fresh one.” 

You decide to push it a little further, “Yes, sir.” You watch as he swallows deeply at your words before you’re brushing past him, far too close than necessary to go and sit down. 

It’s another hour of sitting around in the garden before everyone else is gone – Tommy is finishing off his beer and telling Joel he’ll be heading to his to crash. 

“I’m going to call it a night too,” Your dad says, “Stay and finish your drink though Joel, there’s no rush, I’m sure this one can keep you company with her stories from New York.” 

And then you’re alone with him, finally. He’s taking a long drink from his beer bottle, which you mirror, realizing suddenly that you didn’t eat much, and you’ve drunk far more than you probably should. You’re not drunk, but there’s a pleasant buzz through your body that’s making your eyelids a little heavy. 

When the light goes off in your parents’ room, you figure it’s safe, “I’ve seen you staring at me, you know.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You make it hard not to, sweetheart.” 

“Do you want me, Joel?” You don’t know where you’ve come from all of a sudden, but this confident girl isn’t someone you recognize. 

“It ain’t a question of wantin’ you sweetheart, it’s a question of doin’ the right thing.” You watch as he rubs his hand over his forehead in frustration. 

“But you do,” You push him, “Want me?” 

“Course I do,” He’s swallowing thickly again, just like he did in the kitchen, “But I can’t have you.” 

“Says who?” You pry. 

“Says the fact that I’m one’a your dad’s best friends, not to mention far too old for you.” He’s looking at you and taking another big drink from his bottle, like if he finishes, he can leave you alone. 

“No-one has to know,” You shrug, “Could be our little secret?” 

“You been readin’ too many of them romance novels,” He snorts, “It don’t work like that, if they find out they’ll fucking kill me.” He’s tilting his head to the window of your parents’ room.

You stand from your seat opposite him, walking around the table to stop just in front of Joel, “Come on Joel, have a little fun for once.” 

There’s a moment where you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, trying to weigh up being shot for touching his best friend’s little girl and finally satisfying the craving he’d wanted for a while now. Then, he’s putting his bottle down on the floor next to the chair he’s sat in. You watch closely as he shifts his position to sit more towards the edge of the chair, before one of his hands reaches out to grip the back of your thigh, just above the crease of your knee.

“You’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles before he looks up at you, “C’mere.” 

He’s pulling gently on your leg as he shifts back in the seat, guiding you so your hips are straddling his. You try not to press yourself too fully into him just yet, letting your clothed heat rest above his lap. One of his arms comes to wrap around the back of your waist, the other tangling in your hair at the back of your head whilst he looks at you with eyes that say he wants to devour you. 

“You gonna kiss me, Mr Miller?” You ask, innocently. 

“Oh darlin’, I’m gonna do so much more than that.” 

His head is tilting to the side and looking up at you from your higher ground, perched on his lap. Then his lips are on yours and God all those years of longing were worth it. They’re pressed tentatively against your own, but you can feel they’re slightly chapped. His hand resting in your hair grips a little tighter and he’s moving your head slightly so that when he opens his mouth against yours it’s the easiest thing for you to open yours right back and let his tongue into your mouth. 

You let out a gasp, swallowed into his own mouth when his hands drop back to your thighs before they’re trailing up the small skirt of your dress to cup the cheeks of your ass, “You wear this for me?” He pulls away, speaking before he’s trailing his lips along your jawline, “Thought you’d get me worked up in this tiny little thing, naughty girl?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

He huffs a breath out of his nose as if to say, of course it did. He’s trailing his hot mouth down your neck now, dragging his teeth along your skin before licking with his tongue to soothe any red marks he might leave. Your head is thrown back as his hands drag you down so you’re sitting flush against him. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans when your clothed pussy makes contact with him. 

You’re whining as his hands are on your hips under your dress, the hot skin of his hands setting fire to you, “What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his tongue trailing down to the valley between your tits. 

“Fingers,” You rasp, “Make me come with your fingers Joel.” 

He lets out a low chuckle against your skin, “Needy little thing, already beggin’ me to finger fuck her.” 

But he’s already obliging your request, one of his hands is moving down from your hip to the front of your panties, running his thumb over the material from top to bottom, “God, I can feel how wet you are already,” You look down and he’s grinning, “I’m gonna take these off, sweetheart, but you gotta promise to keep quiet okay?” 

You nod in agreement before you’re lifting your hips up, just enough for Joel to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pull them down enough so his hands can touch you. He mimics the same movement he’d done over the material, this time his fingers touching the bare skin of you seam and he’s groaning when he feels the slick gathered near your tight hole. 

“God, you really are wet, aren’t ya?” He chuckles, a flush creeping over your cheeks, “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” He reassures, “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.” 

You feel one of his thick fingers slip inside you, just a little, before he’s dragging the slick he’s gathered up to run light touches over your clit. You bite down on your lip to keep you from crying out into the dark, hips bucking into his hand to try and get more friction from his fingers. He takes the hint and is pressing his finger more firmly into your bundle of nerves and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep quiet. 

When Joel’s hand drops from your clit you almost cry from frustration, put then he’s sinking two of his fingers straight into your soaking pussy and the relief is palpable. He’s moving them in and out of you, curling them in just the right way that has your hips moving in time with him, literally fucking yourself on his fingers. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck, placing kisses to his skin as you ride his fingers. 

“This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks, his free hand coming to cup the back of your head against his neck, at least this way you could make some noise – testing out your theory you let out a throaty moan, listening carefully as his skin muffles most of the sound. 

“I need… god Joel, my clit, please.” 

With his fingers still buried inside you, working you to the edge, his thumb moves to your clit, resuming the circles his finger had been drawing over it before, “I can feel your pussy gettin’ tight around my fingers,” He’s turned his head so it’s buried in the hair at the side of your head, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” 

You push back from him a little, looking down between your bodies where you can see his hand working you and that’s really all it takes. Your legs are shaking and you’re biting down on your lip hard enough that you can taste blood as pleasure bursts through you – not even you had made yourself come like this. Ever. Joel’s fingers have stilled inside you, but he’s still tracing your clit with gentle movements of his thumb, reveling in the way you jerk through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He coos at you once he’s pulled his hand from your pussy. 

You’ve collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath, but you’re already subconsciously grinding your hips into his, God you want more. You’re about to reach for his belt when you can feel something vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. 

He’s mumbling an apology, lifting you just enough to fish his phone from his pocket. He answers without looking at who is calling. You can hear Tommy’s voice through the phone from your place, draped over Joel’s lap. 

“You just turn it to the side, jackass,” Joel is mumbling in answer to Tommy’s question on how to work his shower, “You’ve used it a million times,” Tommy say’s something you can quite make out, “No, not that one, the one underneath it,” Joel is sighing, “You were not this drunk when you left, if I find you’ve finished the good whiskey I’m gonna kill you,” Another sigh to a question you couldn’t quite hear, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Disappointment is pooling in your stomach. You don’t want him to go, not when there’s so much unfinished business here, “I gotta go, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“But what about this?” You ask, reaching between you to cup his cock through his jeans, “Let me help you.” 

His hand is gripping your wrist, “I would love nothin’ more, but I gotta go before Tommy floods my house,” Another kiss to your lips, “Next time.” 

“You want to do this again?” You ask, almost surprised. 

He takes the hand that had been buried in your pussy not minutes before, lifting the fingers he’d fucked you with to his mouth before sucking them right in front of your face, “Now I’ve gotta taste for you, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow, “Of course I wanna do this again.” 

[tropes-and-tales]

Mending Fences

Day 15:  Virginity (Rhett Abbott x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Childhood friends; yee-haw angst; idiots in love; pining; smut (PiV, protected and unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 6954

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by an anonymous type!

AN2: Believe me when I say this is not beta read and has not been edited at all. Shitty first drafts, all. Shitty first drafts foisted into publication.

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

Wabang remains largely the same.  Maria leaves town and Rhett despairs to have missed his chance.  He throws himself into the ranch, into rodeo.  He drinks.  He scraps with the Tillersons. 

Perry and Rebecca make him an uncle, which delights him.  Royal makes his disappointment in his younger son no secret, which hurts Rhett deeper than he’ll admit to anyone.

Three years.  Cecilia mentions you from time to time.  When she runs into your uncle in town, she gets the news, which she conveys over the dinner table to the rest of the Abbotts.  By the time it trickles down to Rhett, it’s just facts:  how you like college, how you’re getting good grades.

Rhett doesn’t think his mother knows about your falling out.  He thinks your uncle can guess at it:  when Rhett sees the man in town, he’s met with a stony stare, curt words.

He hates the way he left it with you.  Every time he thinks about it, his stomach twists and cramps at the wash of shame that courses through him.  There are many times during those three years apart that he thinks of you, that he has the idle thought to reach out.  He has your number, your email.  He could reach out.  He could apologize.

He always thinks of you when he’s working on the lower field of the Abbott Ranch.  It butts against your family’s ranch, a quarter mile of shared fencing, and part of the reason why his mother and yours had been such good friends—and why you and Rhett had been childhood friends too.  There’s a section of fencing with a gap perfectly sized for a child’s body, and both you and Rhett had squeezed through it plenty of times as you went to each other’s houses.

He doesn’t know why your friendship faded.  You used to be inseparable as children, the best of friends.  You used to play in the Abbott barn with Rhett until Royal shooed you both away.  Rhett used to sleep beside you in a tent in your backyard, your mother within earshot and ready to usher you inside if either of you lost your nerve after a night of telling each other ghost stories. 

And when your parents died, Rhett did everything he could to help, in his own childish way:  he clowned around to try and coax a smile from you, he offered awkward hugs when you cried.  Once, he even baked you cookies (with Cecilia’s help).

The drifting apart came in middle school, he guesses.  That’s when the boys and girls started to separate.  That’s when Perry made sly jokes about you, called you Rhett’s little girlfriend, and Rhett bristled at the taunt while you looked hurt at Rhett’s bristling.  You spent less time together:  Rhett fell in with the other boys who drove their trucks outside of town for bonfire parties on the range and dreamed of rodeo and buckle bunnies while you turned inward, studied harder, started dreaming of life outside of Wabang.

When he works on the Abbott ranch’s lower field, he sees the gap in the fencing and marvels that he was ever small enough to squeeze through it…and yet it gives him a pang to see it, to remember those golden years of his childhood he spent with you. 

He could reach out.  He could apologize.  He could, after an opening salvo, express his own confusion and frustration about why you had asked him to take your virginity in the first place.  He guesses that you trust him—or trusted him—but he can’t pretend it didn’t unnerve him all the same.

He could reach out, but he doesn’t. 

Rhett doesn’t see you again for three years.

-----

It comes with no warning, the next time he sees you.  There’s been no chatter about you returning to Wabang for the summer.  You’ve spent other summers at college, working internships and taking classes, so Rhett didn’t expect to see you this summer. 

Rhett sees you in the town proper, just like that, like it’s just another day.  Which it is, except there you are:  standing outside of a restaurant, balancing a flat box of pizza in one hand while a six-pack of beer dangles from the other hand.  You’ve been cornered by one of the older Wabang residents, the mother of one of your high school classmates, and judging by the expression on your face, Rhett guesses you’re calculating how to extricate yourself from the situation.

He's idling in his truck and only has a moment to study you.  You look exactly the same—same face, same hair—yet you seem completely different.  It takes Rhett a long moment to realize why; he doesn’t piece it together until he’s pulled away and is driving towards the ranch.

You seem different because you seem taller—because you’re standing straight.  Perfect posture, shoulders back.  Rhett’s never seen you stand like that before:  as a teenager, you had a way of walking bent over a little, your shoulders rounded over and in like you were trying to pull in on yourself.

-----

He catches glimpses of you here and there.  He hears people mention you—college girl back from the great wider world—and Rhett can’t quite account for the feelings your name or face stir up in him.  Sometimes it makes him duck his head, slink around guilty, like others could read those terrible words his said to you the last time he saw you. 

Pity-fucking the town orphan, he had said.  The words are seared into his memory, as permanent as any tattoo.

Other times, though, the mention of your name or a glimpse of you fills him with a lightness, an airy feeling he remembers from your childhood together.  Like all he has to do is slip through that gap in the fencing to go find you, to take your hand in his for some adventure.

-----

It’s funny how some of the stringent cliques of high school soften once everyone graduates.  Rhett still hangs out with his friends from then, since none of them have left Wabang, but interlopers come and go and are no worse for wear for it. 

The bonfires still occur out on the range but there’s less stridency about who does and doesn’t belong, who was and wasn’t invited.

You never went to a bonfire in high school.  You weren’t exactly friendless back then, but you hung with similarly quiet and studious girls.  Girls who spent their Friday nights sleeping over at each other’s houses, watching movies and dreaming about lives far from Wabang.  But one early summer night, you turn up at the bonfire, in tow with Billy Tillerson and his girlfriend and a handful of other friends.

That riot of feelings.  Guilt and hope in equal measure.  The beer Rhett has already drank doesn’t help.  He’s just tipsy enough, his thoughts just fuzzy and sluggish enough that when you turn up in the circle of firelight, he openly gapes at you, and it draws your attention.

Three years after that terrible fucking night at the hotel, Rhett Abbott is finally looking you square in the eye.

Pity-fucking the town orphan, his memory hisses at him, and a sick wave of shame washes through him.

But if you’re remembering the terrible thing he said, Rhett can’t tell.  You stare at him in the flickering firelight, but then you tip your head at him, a scant nod, and the corners of your lips curve into a semblance of a smile.

It’s been three years, so it’s better than nothing.

-----

He sees you again in the next few weeks, here and there.  At the bar, around town.  Each time, you exchange nods of recognition but little else.

Cecilia gets wind of you being back for the summer, and she spends a Saturday morning baking up a double batch of your favorite cookies—pumpkin chocolate chip.  She underbakes them a shade so they stay soft in the middle, just as you and Rhett always liked them best when you were kids, and then she thrusts the foil-covered platter into her younger son’s hands with the directive to deliver them to you.

Maybe Rhett never gave his mother enough credit.  Cecilia seems to know about the rift between you after all.

“Life’s too short to stay mad,” she tells him before she sends him on his way. 

“Who says anyone’s mad?”

She rolls her eyes, a universal expression that all mothers seem to have that says I’m your mother, you’re not pulling a fast one on me.

“Her mom and I were best friends, but we had our spats.  We never let it turn into a cold war, though.  Talk it out, yell if you have to, but work through it.”  She pats his shoulder, and her eyes have a film of tears as she remembers her best friend, your mother, dead now for these long years.  “Life’s too short.”

-----

Something about his mother’s words make Rhett take the old path to your house—through the lower field, to the gap in the shared fencing, though he has to climb over the fence now that he’s too big to squeeze through the narrow space between the posts.

Each step towards your farmhouse brings back a million memories.  There’s the overgrown bank of Rocky Mountain iris.  Rhett remembers how you cut a bouquet of them (uneven, stems weeping sap) for when his childhood dog died and was buried behind the Abbott barn.  There’s a wide fire pit where your father used to patiently supervise as the two of you caught marshmallows on fire for s'mores.  There’s the flat patch of prairie where your parents pitched a small pup-tent that you and Rhett used to sleep in during warm summer nights.

It baffles him that he used to sleep right beside you, tucked in his Power Rangers sleeping bag while you slept in your Sailor Moon one beside him.  It baffles him how childhood can be so completely innocent, and how it can slip away in an instant.

The house looks the same from the outside, and when Rhett knocks at the back door, he finds that he’s…not excited, exactly.  But not dreading it.  You were his best friend, and his mother is right.  Life is too short.

Your uncle is the one who answers the door, and the cool expression on his face pulls Rhett up short.  But he says nothing other than “c’mon in, then,” and once Rhett steps into the house, your uncle hollers for you somewhere deeper in the home.  Tells you that you have a visitor and that he’s heading into town for supplies.

Then Rhett hears the familiar cadence of you running down the stairs, and it tugs at something in his chest—you ran down those stairs the same way as a child, hitting the top three carefully, then rushing down the rest.  You must meet your uncle near the front door because he hears the two of you murmuring, but he can’t make out the words.  Then the door slamming, the roar of your uncle’s truck’s engine, and then you’re standing in front of him, the same semblance of a smile from the bonfire.

*****

The two of you sit outside near the fire pit, the platter of cookies between you.  You have no idea what bit Rhett’s ass, but after the barest bit of small talk (“How’s it going?” and “How’s college?”), he immediately launches into the big shit.

“I hate how we left it,” he starts.  “That night.  You know.”

You bite back a snort, and you pluck another cookie from the platter, break it in half, pop it in your mouth.  You chew slowly, give yourself time for that old wash of shame to course through you, then ebb away.  It still makes your face burn hot, three years later.  Every time the memory surfaces, you shove it down, but not before you remember the mortification of getting cold feet, of standing in front of him half naked while he called you the town orphan.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“I should have never said it.”

You shrug.  “S’fine.”

“It’s not.”  He sighs, takes his ball cap off and swipes his hand through his hair.  “I’m sorry.  I shoulda said it sooner.  Should have apologized that same night.”

You glance over at him.  You take in his profile:  his jaw twitches at how tight he must be clenching it, and his blue eyes are fixed out in the field, the stretch of land between your ranch and his.  He’s so damned handsome, but you often forget the fact because you still think of him as just the boy next door, your childhood best friend, and you didn’t think of him in terms of “handsome” or not back then.

You shift your gaze back to your shoes.  “I should have apologized too.  I should have never put you in that position in the first place.”  A beat, and you add, softer, “I’m sorry, Rhett.”

You hear movement beside you and feel his eyes on you.  “You don’t have to apologize for that.”  He sounds surprised, and it makes you turn and look him in the eyes for the first time since you sat down.

“I do.  It was awkward, and I made it more awkward, and it was stupid.”  You shake your head, huff in frustration to remember the girl you’d been three years ago.  Not that long, really, but you’ve grown up a lot since then.  “I was an idiot.”

Rhett chances a smile.  “You’re a lot of things, but idiot isn’t one of them.”

“Yeah, but it was stupid to ask you.”

His smile slips a bit; he leans back a shade.  “It wasn’t stupid—”

“I mean, I put you in a weird position.  That’s all I mean.  And it was stupid for me to be so worried about it.  It’ll happen how it happens.  We aren’t…I mean, we weren’t…”  You trail off, huff in frustration again.  “We used to be best friends.”

He sighs too.  “Yeah, I know.”

“And then we weren’t.”

“I know.”

“And I guess I was getting nervous about leaving Wabang, and nervous about going away to college, and I missed my friend and had this…this problem, I guess, so…”  You hold up your hands, helpless, and it makes Rhett smile again.

“Not everything is a problem that you need to solve,” he says, and he sways towards you, elbows you in the side just like he used to do.

You laugh a little.  “That was, though.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“Says the guy who never had that problem.”

He laughs, elbows you lightly again.  “You give me too much credit.”

That makes you remember the tenor of the situation three years ago.  High school.  Rhett pining over Maria.  She left Wabang, you heard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him now.  “I heard Maria left town.”

He shrugs but doesn’t say anything about it.  He reaches out for another cookie and eats it, licks a crumb off his thumb.

“Anyway, I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things so weird,” you add.

He chuckles, elbows you a third time.  “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry I made things fucking awful.”

You elbow him back finally, the answer to his outreach, the old call and response from your childhood.  “I missed you, you know.  In high school and in college both.”

“I missed you too,” he replies, and it feels good, like you’ve excised some old wound together, and now you can perhaps be friends again.

*****

The two of you don’t go all the way back to childhood, but you build something else.  Tentative at first, stilted moments of conversation when you see each other in the wild, but each time feels a little easier.

You’re interning with the town veterinary clinic, and you join the old doctor as he makes house calls from ranch to ranch.  You help steady horses while he vaccinates them.  You smear on paste for ringworm, hold his instruments when he cleans a hoof abscess.  You help him birth breech cattle; you stroke the muzzle of an old dog when it’s put to sleep. 

Rhett sees you when you join the vet at the Abbott ranch one day.  Royal’s favorite mare has a bad back hoof, and it makes Rhett smile to see you so professional.  You question Royal about the horse’s diet; you question the vet about what he thinks.  The vet asks you for your opinion, and you pause before you answer, look off into the distance thoughtfully before you tell him that a supplement of copper and zinc will help.

Cecilia invites you in afterwards for lemonade, and you accept gratefully.  The two of you chat, and Rhett is left as a third wheel so he gets to look his fill of you.  You seem more…comfortable with yourself.  He noticed it that first day when he saw you again in Wabang.  You sit up straight; you don’t curl in on yourself like you want to be invisible.  He remembers you from high school, how you always seemed to be mid-cringe…and it reminds him of that night in the hotel, how you had cringed away from him, shirtless as he got frustrated because you had been nervous.

He knows he apologized and you apologized and it should all be behind you, but it still makes him feel queasy with shame.  Pity-fucking the town orphan.

“Your mom would be proud,” Cecilia tells you, and you duck your head, mumble something, and just like that, you’re that high school girl again.  It makes the queasy wash of shame cede to a wave of protectiveness in Rhett.

Then you stand up and thank her for the lemonade, and she makes you promise to join them for dinner soon.  When you nod at Rhett, you try to step past him but he blocks your path.

“Hug tax,” he says, but it makes you burst into laughter.  Your mom used to do that:  block yours (and his, when he visited) path, demanded hugs as payment for passage.

“I smell like horse manure and sweat, Rhett Abbott.”

“I guarantee you I smell worse, but rules are rules.”  He holds his arms open, and you laugh again, step into them for a moment.  When he whispers “you stink” into your ear, it earns him a squawk of outrage and a pinch to his side, but you laugh the whole way back to your truck.

-----

You join them for dinner a few nights later.  You get to meet the newest Abbotts, Rebecca and Amy, and you break up the general tension that radiates off of the dour Royal like a miasma.

The dinner is largely uneventful.  Rhett catches you matching faces across the table at Amy, which makes the little girl laugh.  Cecilia asks about your years at college so far, and Perry jokingly asks if you’ve had any boyfriends since Rhett.

“No, none,” you reply simply, but it makes Rhett think.  It makes the gears start to turn.  He always assumed your so-called problem was solved while you were away, your virginity shed in some dorm room or apartment or at a party.  But he searches back to that conversation you had when he brought you the peace-offering cookies.  What did you say as you stammered out your own apology?

It’ll happen how it happens. 

Present tense, not past.

-----

He verifies it over that same weekend.  There’s another bonfire.  You turn up with the same crew as before—apparently you’re friendly with Billy Tillerson’s girlfriend.  Now that you and Rhett are back on good terms, he approaches you halfway through the night, and the two of you peel off a little separate from the rest.

“Big fan of the Tillersons then?” he asks, his tone mock-disgusted.  You hear the underlying playfulness and laugh.

“There’s a certain brand loyalty there, yeah.”

Rhett pulls a face, which makes you elbow him.  “Why?”

“Well, their cousin Drew took me to the winter formal sophomore year.”

“So?”

Another elbow to his side.  “He was my first kiss.”

“Gross.”

You laugh again.  “It could have been worse.  He popped a mint beforehand, at least.”

Rhett grunts at that, but he lets the moment lie for a beat before he asks, in a tone he hopes is casual, “did Drew Tillerson help you with your other problem too?”

You laugh again, but there’s less merriment in it.  “Negative, Ghost Rider.”

Maybe he shouldn’t push it, but he’s had a few shots of Fireball chased by plenty of beer, so he plunges head-first.  “Someone at college, then?”

That doesn’t elicit a laugh.  “No,” you reply, and now there’s an edge of tension in your voice.  A tread lightly edge.  Which…Rhett Abbott rarely treads lightly—he more often charges headfirst like a bull, and that’s exactly what he does now.

“Someone I know?”

“No.”  He glances at you, catches your narrowed eyes fixed on the fire.  “Leave it, Rhett.”

He doesn’t leave it.  He plunges head first.  “So it’s still a problem?”

It must be.  You must still be a virgin because you’re so discomfited.  You obviously hear judgement in his voice—judgement that doesn’t exist, of course—because you hike your shoulders up around your ears and hunch away from him.  You look so much like your high school self, suddenly insecure and cringing, and you mumble something about it not being a problem for you, so it shouldn’t be a problem for anyone else, and then you duck away to go find someone else to talk to.

-----

The two of you hang out through the summer.  He works at the ranch and you have your internship, but you fall into the habit of spending the evenings together.  The weekends.  You go to the rodeo with him, watch from the stands.  Sometimes you sit with Perry and Rebecca when they come, and Perry makes sly comments to Rhett afterwards.  He calls you his girlfriend, just as he had teased when you were kids, but it hits Rhett different now.

Things with you feel easy.  Low stakes.  You’re friends again, and you slowly open up to each other.  Rhett tells you a little about Royal, their difficult relationship that has only grown more strained the older Rhett has gotten.  You talk about college, how lonely it can be since you are so focused on your studies.  Veterinary school is more competitive than med school, you tell him, so how can you make time for friends?

The corollary is how can you make time for love?  How can you make time to lose your virginity?

When you asked him to take your virginity three years ago, he had been confused and a little uncomfortable about he.  He couldn’t understand why you’d ask him, but with three years’ worth of added life experience, Rhett guesses that you asked because you trust him.  Wabang isn’t that big of a town.  There’s a dearth of available men you could have asked, especially back in high school.

Three years later, the memory makes a million emotions flit through Rhett.  A nostalgia for when life was slightly easier back then.  Shame that he had said what he did, sadness that he didn’t reach out sooner, that he let the bad feelings lie for three years.

But you had trusted him, even back then, so he wonders if you trust him now.  Would you ask him again, if you weren’t so embarrassed?  What if that evening in the hotel room had gone differently?  What if, instead of getting frustrated with how nervous you were, he had been a gentler man—what if he had handed you your shirt, pulled you into a hug, laid down on the bed with you and watched a movie instead?  What if you had fallen asleep together instead, just like when you were kids?

He has to wonder if that disastrous evening has made your virginity an even bigger deal.  That you had a plan to lose it, and that plan had gone horribly, so now it’s more of an issue.

Pity-fucking the town orphan.  The memory stings.  There were so many kinder things he could have said. 

Well, he has a semblance of a second chance now.  He sees you nearly every day.  You laugh with him again, have long chats.  Maybe he can do it over again, better the second time around.

-----

He’s the one who asks, the second time around.

The two of you are in his truck, driving back from Wabang.  Your truck is in the shop, so Rhett picked you up from work, but he takes the long way home.  You fiddle with the radio, scan through the static until you find the old country station out of Jackson.  There’s an old Loretta Lynn song playing that you hum along to, and you seem to be in a good mood, so Rhett plunges headfirst into it.

“If you wanted to try again,” he says, and his voice is rough at the edges.  “I was gonna offer…”

He trails off, and you stop humming along, and Loretta finishes her song, gives way to Merle Haggard singing about how his mama tried.

“Rhett,” is all you say, but his name is both a sigh and a warning. 

“I’m just saying.”  He swallows, tightens his grip on the steering wheel.  “I messed up before.  Ruined it.”  He glances over at you, but your face is turned away from him.  You’re looking out the window at the Wyoming dusk as the sun sets.

“Rhett, c’mon.”  Less a warning now, more a plea.

“I want to,” is all he says, and you don’t reply.  You don’t say anything else other than to murmur your thanks for the ride when he drops you off, and he doesn’t talk to you again until you call him days later and say, “okay.”

-----

Three years later, he does so much better.

He keeps it simple this time.  He remembers all those sleepovers in the pup tent, your parents within earshot of any nighttime terrors.  He remembers sleeping beside you, waking up to dawn bleeding in through the nylon of the tent, dew coating everything when your mom would unzip the little door and tell you that there were chocolate chip pancakes ready for the two of you. 

You’ve never been a high maintenance sort of girl.  You’ve always loved the wilderness around Wabang, the endless sky and wild storms and purple mountain ranges in the distance.  Where better than to do this than under the night sky, out on the range?

Rhett lays down a thick bedroll in the bed of his truck, then covers it with blankets.  It’s a banner night in Wyoming:  cool but not cold, the warmth of the summer day bleeding away to a comfortable coolness.  The bugs are few.  The sky is a velvety blue-black above you, the stars a scatter of diamonds tossed across it.  The faintest band of orange glows in the west, the last bit of sunlight before it’s full dark.

You’re just as nervous as before, but Rhett keeps his head this time.  He’s not a boy masquerading as a man this time; he’s older, smarter, has more experience.  Three years ago, Rhett only had a handful of sexual encounters to his repertoire—a handful of disappointing moments, drunken rendezvous with girls from high school, a couple of flings.  Nothing deep or meaningful.

He smooths his hands over your arms, then reaches up and cups your face.  He studies you a moment, takes in the unsteady way you’re breathing.  You’re his oldest and dearest friend, and he feels a weird twinge in his chest.  He chalks it up to nervousness on his part, but he’ll wonder later if perhaps it is love.

“Okay?” he asks, and you nod.

He bends his head and kisses you, and it’s the same as before.  You’re tentative with each other, but you warm up to him quickly:  you kiss him back, tease at him with a shy little sweep of your tongue, and when he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, you’re right there—sighing against him, sinking your teeth lightly into his lower lip before you suck against it.

You must have kissed, at least, in college.  You’re better at it now.  The thought should encourage him—he won’t be your only experience—but he feels an odd wash of jealousy.  He pictures you making out with someone better than him, better looking and smarter and on track to being more successful. 

He takes it as slow as you need.  He lets you set the pace.  He strips you out of your clothing, and he allows you to strip him out of his, and you don’t cringe from him this time.  It’s likely because it’s dark outside; Rhett can’t see much, but you feel amazing under his searching hands, soft and warm.  When he trails his fingertips over your bare skin, he feels how you break out in goosebumps, and he marvels at how sensitive you are.

Rhett’s learned a lot in the intervening years.  He’s no longer an eighteen year-old fumbling through sexual interludes.  He has a better understanding of women.  He spends a long moment stretched out beside you in the bed of his truck, working his fingers into your tight heat, feeling how wet you get as he eases you into this.  He pushes one finger, then a second.  He scissors them inside you, feels the slick muscles of your core push back against him.

“Just relax,” he whispers against your neck, and he kisses you there.  He feels your pulse under his lips, and he nuzzles against you, takes in the scent of your skin.  A moment later, he feels you relax a fraction, the tight grip on his fingers released just a bit.

He can feel you relax more as he kisses you, as he fingers you.  You’re warming up to the moment, pushing past whatever insecurities you have.  The setting helps, he thinks.  It’s not some anonymous hotel room with beige carpeting and the faint scent of old secondhand smoke.  It’s outside, the open range of your home that you love so much.  A waning moon and a million stars burn above you.  It must be a million times more magical than a three-star hotel by the interstate exit.

It's certainly better for him.  It takes him no time at all to get hard, even if he’s nervous.  You’re his oldest, dearest friend, and he’s never thought of you as a woman, really.  He’s never considered you as a sexual being, so it’s a revelation to see your naked body under the faint moonlight.  It’s a revelation to touch you, to cup your breasts and to put his lips against your pebbled nipples, to grind his cock against your bare hip to relieve the tension that coils tight and hot in his belly.

Rhett stretches out on the bed roll.  He fumbles for his discarded jeans, finds the foil packet.  He scrambles to roll a condom onto himself, and then he encourages you to take charge, to take your first time into your own hands.

“You’re in charge,” he murmurs.  He takes your hand, threads his fingers through yours.  He tugs you towards him until your face is pressed near his, and he brushes his lips against yours.  “Just like ridin’ a horse.”

You snort softly.  “Am I gonna need a riding helmet for this?”

He grins up at you.  “I won’t buck you off.”

He guides you as you straddle him, grasps the softness of your hips as you settle over him.  He grips the base of his cock, gives himself a couple of strokes, then holds himself steady as you lower yourself, slide against his length, and even through the latex he can feel how warm you are.

Then you reach down and take him in hand, and it should feel weird, his best friend wrapping her fingers around his cock, but it doesn’t, and Rhett doesn’t question why because you may be a virgin but you understand the mechanics of this, and you notch the blunt head of his cock at your entrance.  When you start to slowly lower yourself onto him, every blessed thought drains out of his head, and every bit of his attention focuses on where he’s entering you—the unbearably tight grip you have, the way your hands settle on his chest as you brace yourself.  You take it slow—so goddamned slow—stilling, taking a breath, then pushing onwards. 

When you’re settled onto him, when you’re sitting flush against him, Rhett breathes out a harsh, punched-out breath, and he asks if you’re okay.  His voice is rough.  His throat feels too dry.  It feels unreal.  His oldest, dearest friend, the girl he used make s’mores with and trade ghost stories with…you’re naked, you’re nodding at his question, you’re sitting on him, and his cock is buried in your depths.  He’s just taken your virginity, and his throat feels too dry and too tight, and his brain struggles to think of the perfect thing to say to you, but your body starts to move above him and he never has a chance to say it.

Your rhythm is clumsy at first, too fast, too jerky.  Rhett grasps your waist and guides you gently.  He sets you in a slower, more even rhythm; you ride him steadily and you make the cutest little whimpers each time to settle back on him.  Each time you do, the coil of tension in his lower belly tightens more, and Rhett breathes carefully to avoid coming too soon.

He slips one hand from your hip and reaches to where you’re joined to him.  He finds your clit, slick and swollen, and he traces an infinity symbol there, around and ‘round with his thumb that makes those cute whimpers turn into outright moans.  He senses that you’re holding back, but you’re in the middle of nowhere.

“No need to be quiet,” he tells you.  “Lemme hear it, baby.”

You moan louder at that, the command or the sweet-talking nickname or both, and he notices that you start to pick up the pace, riding him faster, so he does the same—he rubs against your clit harder, faster, because he feels his own orgasm coming up fast at him.  His balls feel heavy and taut, and he’s so damned close—

“C’mon, let go,” he growls, but his sedate passivity crumbles.  He sits up underneath you, jerks a squeal from you as he sits up and wraps his arms around you.  He pulls you closer to him, and the change in position grants him another quarter-inch into you, and it makes the base of his cock grind against your clit with each bounce in his lap.

“Let go,” he orders; he mumbles it against your lips.  “I wanna feel you come, baby.  Wanna feel you come for the first time,” he says, but when you open your mouth to respond, he kisses you, shoves his tongue into your panting mouth, licks against you as you whimper from deep in your throat.

Then he feels it.  He feels it—the way your orgasm breaks through you, the hard snap of your hips as you arch against him, as your cunt grips him:  your breasts pressed against his bare chest, your arms tight around his shoulders.  You drop your head on his shoulder, and he feels your mouth there.  You stifle the sounds of your pleasure against him, and he’d admonish you, but as your orgasm tears through you, he feels the sharp bite of your teeth into his skin, and it unlocks a kink Rhett never knew he had because the sting of pain is what makes the tension in him snap.  He groans out your name, manages a shit—fuck—baby, then he comes too, ropes of his cum spilling in the condom as you tremble in his arms.

-----

In the end, Rhett Abbott claims your first time that night on the range, under the stars.

He gets your second time too, later that same night:  him on top of you, you with your legs wrapped around him, making good use of the spare condom he brought along.

He gets your third time as well, the next day.  It’s a quick moment, a bona fide quickie in the Abbott barn, the scent of clean hay and sweat as he bends you over the railing of an empty horse stall.  He pulls out in plenty of time, pants as you turn around to grasp him and jerk him off the rest of the way, his cum spilling over your warm palm.

And your fourth time.  He sneaks into your bedroom, and though your uncle is out of town for the night, Rhett still pretends you need to be quiet:  he spoons you from behind, hikes your leg over his and slides into you.  He breathes quietly as he fucks you gently, and he clasps a hand over your mouth as you come, and when your teeth nip into his calloused palm, he groans and comes too.

The next morning, your fifth time as you sit on the kitchen counter and wrap your legs around his ass as he drives into you. 

Rhett never examines his feelings around it.  When he’s alone—baling hay, fixing fences along the ranch parameter—he doesn’t let his thoughts ruminate over you too much.  There’s a truth there, buried under all the sexual interludes and underneath all the shared history and hurt, but he doesn’t excavate it. 

He only lets the facts stand.  You’re his oldest, dearest friend.  You are sexually compatible.  End of story. 

*****

You have plans to meet Rhett in town, at the bar.  You’ve had a long day at your job, deworming a flock of sheep, and you smell terrible, so you stop home to shower and change your clothes.  You stare at your closet critically; you’ve suffered for lack of a mother in your formative years.  You don’t quite understand how to be a woman—you know there’s different lengths of skirts, for example, that work best depending on one’s height or shoes, but you’re damned if you know what those rules are.

Still, you want to look nice.  You want to look nice for Rhett.  Under torture, you’d probably admit it, but you can barely even admit it to yourself:  you’re in love with him.  You have been for a while.  You loved him when you were children in that vague, puppyish way kids love each other.  You loved him when you were in high school, pined from afar and moped over sad songs on the radio because he never looked your way.

And now here you are.  Hope bubbles up in you from time to time, when you’re alone and considering what your future might hold.  You always had a deep, bleak dread that you’d always be alone—sudden orphanhood can warp a psyche, you guess.  But for the first time, you have tentative moments of hope. 

You find a sundress, the cotton a little faded but in the low lights of the bar, no one should notice.  You pull on a pair of strappy sandals.  You dust your face and neck with some of your mother’s old luminating powder, and the scent of it makes a sharp blade of melancholy lance through you.

Then you drive into Wabang, and your stomach gets those fluttery butterflies as you park, slip your keys into your purse, and walk in. 

It takes a moment to find him.  He usually posts at the bar when he’s waiting for you, the door in his line of sight, but when you enter the din of the bar, he’s nowhere to be found.  Maybe he found a buddy and is chatting with him.  Maybe he’s in the bathroom.

If your hope bubbles up in you, effervescent, then your hope is easily popped when you find Rhett.  He’s not in the bathroom and he hasn’t found a buddy, but he’s found Maria Olivares.  The wayward dream girl has returned, and she’s as gorgeous as ever (she must understand skirt lengths, you guess), and her lovely face is tilted towards Rhett as she laughs at whatever he says.  And worse, his handsome face is lit up like a damned Christmas tree, laughing too, and your hope is popped and burnt to the ground and the earth around it is salted because Rhett has never looked at you like that.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, and you turn on your heel and fast-walk out of the bar.  The path back to your truck shimmers, wavers in front of you.  You realize it’s because your eyes are full of tears, and when you realize it, they break free, start to course down your face.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself, and you repeat it over and over:  as you get into your truck, as you turn the ignition, as you peel out of the parking lot and as your tires throw up an arc of gravel.  You repeat it like a mantra, and you fix your attention on the road.  You drive home; you leave Rhett at the bar, and it’s a confirmation when he doesn’t text you until the next morning asking where you’ve been.

By then, though, you’re already halfway gone.  It’s August, after all, and school is starting again soon, and leaving Wabang a few weeks early is easy enough.

[sully-s]

Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

[axelsagewrites]

Can I request a modern! Jacaerys x Fem! OC fic where Rhaenyra is best friends with the OC’s mother and both Rhaenyra and the OC’s mother try to get Jacaerys and the OC to be friends and like each other but they absolutely hate each other ( like actually hate ) even when they were babies. Then, they grow up near each other and go to the same school but they still hate each other severely. During high school Jace becomes popular, and becomes the captain of his soccer team, and even gets a girlfriend while the OC is not popular by any means and is very shy and reclusive. They go off to uni, and the OC finally shows up to a frat party ( Jace’s frat ) and the tension sort of at its height, and that night and the OC accidentally ends up pregnant and they learn to love and live with each other during her pregnancy. Thank you so much if you can do this btw!!!

Jace Velaryon*Frat Party

Pairing: jace x f!reader

Word count: 1982

Warnings: rivalry, mentions of bullying, frat jace, flirty frat cregan, implied smut but nothing explicity, hate sex, accidental pregnancy, drinking

Masterlist Here

Part Two linked at end

You had no clue how someone so sweet and loving and kind and amazing could birth such an idiotic insufferable twat. Yet somehow Rhaenyra had managed to do just that. Your mother was friends with Rhaenyra, lovingly dubbed aunty Nyra by you, and were so close that they deliberately moved into the same neighbourhood. This was all be swell if not for the fact that her eldest son Jace was just such a dick.

Your mothers tried to make you like each other and constantly set up playdates but you would simply ditch Jace to play with Luke until you realised, he’d only been so quite because he was giving your barbies haircuts. Eventually some time in middle school they gave up trying but still forced you to go on joint family vacations and similar hellish events.

There was a time in your freshman year of high school you almost became friends. That summer had gone surprisingly well with you both finally being civil enough to talk to each other. Then school rolled around again and Jace got onto the high school soccer team. You congratulated him and even was debating plucking up the courage to ask him to go out to celebrate since despite how much you hated him even you thought he was cute. Then he and sara snow came waltzing out of school and in hand and you went right back to hating him.

It wasn’t just because you were jealous, which you were but refused to admit, but because Sara snow had tormented you all of your first year. And Jace knew this. He knew she would taunt you and make pig noises at you in the corridor but yet here he was sucking face with her in front of your locker which was sadly right above his.

It only got worse when he dumped her then became the captain of the team. Then came a string of girlfriends who’d fawn over him relentlessly in school. To say it was hell was an understatement especially since it always seemed to be the girls that would tease you or laugh when you walked past. Highschool sucked to say the least but finally after all these years of hard work you got the letter.

Youd got into your dream school and were set to be moving to the dorm soon. A new start, new friends, another chance. Finally. Your bubble however was popped by your usual enemy. Jace fucking Velaryon was going there as well. You basically ran him down at the joint celebratory dinner your parents threw you both to say that if he dared ruin university for you the same way he ruined high school you’d make sure he’d never kick another ball again.

So, for the first two years you had peace. You had a small circle of friends, great classes, amazing grades, and your hair finally began to cooperate with you. Aunty Nyra even joked uni had given you a glow up when she saw you this summer. What you didn’t see was the way Jace’s eyes followed you as you left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve never went to a frat party,” Aly said as she began to raid your closet, pulling out a dress and holding it to herself, “This poor dress. it deserves to see a little fun,”

You snorted at your friends as you helped straighten Sansa’s hair. “You wear it,”

“Or you could,” Sansa retorted, backing off when you held the straighteners in a way an angry mother holds a wooden spoon.

“Either you wear it, or I will,” Aly said as she tossed it on the bed and continued her raid. Your roommate Sansa had recently become friends with Aly and in an unexpected turn so had you. you and Sansa were far quieter than her, but Sansa always seemed to come back from hanging out with her with a huge smile, “Girl look at this top,” Aly broke your train of thought as she held up a black low-cut top, “How you not gonna go out when you own all these clothes?”

“My aunty got me them,”

Aly rolled her eyes as she continued her search, “Well I’m stealing the top but you’re wearing that dress,” she said and before you could even protest, she cut you off, “You are far too hot to be at home in sweats on a Saturday night. We are going,”

You sighed as you finished Sansa’s hair, but she turned to look up at you, “Cmon,” she whined, “one hour and if you don’t like it, we’ll all come back here and watch the polar express,”

You sighed yet again before pausing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After all your confidence was far better than what it once was, and you had a good few friends you knew would also be going. Your eyes wandered to the dark red dress on the bed. “Fuck it,” you said, snatching up the fabric.

“You’re coming?!” Sansa grinned, flinging herself off the bed, “Finally come on sit down. Its makeup times!”

-

Sansa and Aly worked their magic and soon you were walking arm in arm with both girls to the frat. And you had to say they had done a good job if you do say so yourself. Even if you were currently freezing that was. “Boys,” Aly greeted with a wide grin as she walked up to the boy at the door, Cregan you were sure.

“Troubles here,” he joked, his eyes wandering up and down, “And you brought a friend,” he said, eyes turning to you, and it was like the wind was knocked out of you when you saw his face, “Nice to meet you I’m Cregan,”

“Hi,” you grinned, quickly introducing yourself before rushing inside with a giggling Sansa and Aly.

“He was so checking you out,” Aly nudged your ribs.

“Okay maybe this was a good idea,” you laughed as she dragged you and Sansa off for some drinks.

-

As you stood filling your cup with cheap beer there was a set of gorgeous brown eyes watching your every move, “Dude you know that girl?” Cregan asked as he walked over with more drinks for him and Jace.

“She’s my neighbour,” he said, taking the drink and trying not to let his eyes wander again.

Cregan let out a low whistle, “If she was my neighbour, she would not be here alone,” he laughed prompting Jace to shove his elbow into his ribs, “Hey man!”

-

Meanwhile you had somehow been convinced to head to the dance floor. Perhaps the three drinks Aly had got you and the buzz in your head had helped. The night had been going surprisingly well. So far at least. You hadn’t even realised Jace was here. That was till you felt two strong hands grip your hips, “Not such a goody two shoes now,” Jace’s voice was low, his breath tickling your neck.

You turned around with a drunken grin as you attempted to push him back, but your attempt was futile, “What did you miss me too much?” you joked.

A grin spread across his lips, “You’re drunk?” he asked, his head tilted like a puppy.

“Watcha gonna do about it? tell on me?” you teased as you crossed your arms. Not knowing it gave Jace an even better view of your tits. “I’m just having a little fun,”

He chuckled as his hands returned to your hips, his head dipping slightly in a way that made butterflies spark in your stomach, “Why don’t you show me how to have a little fun then doll?”

Your eyes flickered down, scanning his face for a moment before grinning, “Follow me then,” you said as you lead him to the drinks table.

Several drinks later you awoke in dark blue sheets and a soccer jersey wondering where the hell your dress went and a strong arm around your waist. The low pounding of your head and Jace’s snores brought you back to reality. “Fuck,” you muttered as you tried to ease out of his grip.

Your eyes fell to the floor where your dress had apparently ended up last night. You debated which was worse, walking home in last night’s dress or Jace’s jersey. You quickly decided to steal a pair of his joggies as well and just ball up the dress and take it with you. as you crept out the room you ignored the faint snoring in the background.

Part of you wondered if it had all been a bad dream. That was till your phone buzzed.

Jace

You stole my jersey

You

What you gonna do? Tell on me?

You sighed as you flung your phone to the side and shoved your pillow in your face to scream. Funnily enough what you had been doing only last night as well.

-

It was the next day when a heavy knock came at the door. when you opened it, eyebrows knitted, you were met with an infuriatingly hot site. Jace’s arm was lent against the door meaning he was able to glare down at you perfectly, “I want my jersey,”

“Sorry do I know you?” you asked, crossing your arms with a tilted glare.

Jace scoffed slightly before grinning, “You seemed to remember my name fine the other night,” this time you scoffed but not before Jace pushed his way in. “Where is it?”

“Get out of my room!” you protested as Jace shut the door behind him and started rummaging. As his hands went to grab your sheets you pulled at his arms to keep him back but not shockingly, he was able to push you off with ease. “Hey!”

“What’s this?” he said, his hand reaching for the jersey that had been under your duvet however your face went red when he lifted it. a wide grin spread across his stupid face, “What’s that princess?”

“Don’t princess me,” you stuttered as he went to grab the pink silicone you’d left on your bed. “Don’t!” you whined as you grabbed his wrist, accidentally ending up face to face with him yet again.

You could feel his hot breath fanning your lips and you saw his eyes dip for a moment as a pit grew in your stomach. Before you could think what to do next his lips had crashed onto yours, his jersey slipping from his grip as his hands moved to cup your face.

Your hands grabbed at his t-shirt, pulling him in closer till you were stood pressed against his hard chest. His hands moved to your back, finding the small of your waist. Jace sat down, bringing you with him to staddle his lap. You gasped when you felt his bulge pressing into your thigh.

His lips moved to your neck, kissing every last bit of skin he could reach. “This is a bad idea- “

“Why don’t you shut up and enjoy it princess?” Jace cut you off, his hands slipping beneath your shirt. “You enjoyed it the other day,”

You groaned as his fingertips explored your skin before finally sighing, “Fine but it’s just sex,” Jace rolled his eyes at you but didn’t bother to respond as he flipped you onto your back, his hands moving to pull off your shirt.

-

You knew having a enemies with benefits situation ship with Jace would eventually come back to bite you in the ass but the two pink lines staring back at you felt like being plunged into ice water. “You okay Hun?” Sansa called through the door, wondering what had been taking you so long.

You unlocked the door but refused to stand up. Sansa walked in; concern written over her face when her eyes finally spotted the test in your hand. Looking up at her you could only say one thing, “I’m pregnant,”

Part two here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

[extremefrogrefrigerator]

all of the characters in interview with the vampire (2022) are so complex and are all subjected to such wild experiences but jesus CHRIST imagine being louis de pointe du lac's sister. the story starts out and your brother louis has a sketchy fucking job but you let it slide because Hey At Least He's Supporting The Family. and then one day he's like hey i have a new friend and you're like who is he and he's like French Individual. which of course is disappointing but hey! let's invite this french man over to dinner whats the worst that could happen. and turns out that the worst that could happen is mr oui oui cuntatron 9000 with his his little ponytail acting as if he has 47 large sticks shoved up his anal cavity bashing your Other brother about religion in a passionate monologue about how much he hates god and also he's not eating anything? Whatever it's your wedding day soon!! so your wedding day happens and it's banger, tap dancing and shit, but womp womp the next day your other brother Tragically dies but hey at least you've still got louis! JUST KIDDING during the vigil this blonde french fagatron tiddles and toddles up to your brother and he's like "we fucked last night why did you ghost me" to him and of course you don't have the capability to process this at the moment in your grief so you're like Whatever! but then on the night of said vigil louis proceeds to fuck off for several months where did he go? good lord how worrying. but then luckily he fucks back into the picture several months later when you host a little party! but he's got that blonde french fuckhead with him, who insults the banjo band you have in your front yard and is wearing a stupid little had but whatever! louis come inside please it's been forever. and also louis is wearing these little fucking sunglasses now so youre like Take those off what the fuck are those. and his eyes are all fucked up and Not Normal but you're like Whatever! and then he's like You Are Going To Have Twins and you're like What and he's like You Are Going To Have Twins It Will Happen ! and you're like I heard you the first time What and then he fucks off again with the blonde guy . but then turns out that you DO fucking give birth to fucking twins. you see louis and his gay ass sunglasses a few more times over the years but for the most part he's absent and also kicks your door down that one time with like. Way too much strength for a human being and also you've been hearing rumors on the town that your brother and The Worst Blonde Individual Known To Man are fagging it up homosexual style in their shared one-bedroom townhouse and and also why do you only ever see him at night? and you're not quite sure what Is Fucking Wrong with him so you think it over and you're like Hey I Think We Have To Disown This Guy .i know just how to do it let's put his gravestone in a graveyard and "bury" him and have an epic Surprise Grave Reveal when he comes over! because like what else can you do?? and then you never ever see him again . also it's like 1910

[gucciwins]

birthday blues

Y/N doesn't celebrate her birthday. Harry wants to change that.

Word count: 9381

A/N: it's my birthday! and I thought you deserved something nice. I feel sometimes birthday can be very up and down. somehow tears come by every year. I always wanted to write a birthday story and what better day to post it than on my birthday.

warnings: mentions of a parent death

happy reading!

+

365 days

That’s how long it took the sun to rotate the earth. That was also how many days it took for Y/N to turn a year older. 

Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with family and friends. Where they shower someone with gifts cake but mostly love. It’s something Y/N hasn’t felt since she was young. Her mother made sure Y/N was reminded that the sun shined bright for her. She made all her dreams come true until she couldn’t. Y/N lost her mother, Isla, to cancer. She fought a long battle, but it seemed losing her mother meant losing her father as he lost the love of his life. Her older brother, already close to eighteen, understood loss but didn’t realize how grief could change a person because as soon as Caleb turned eighteen, he was gone. Only calling during the holidays but never coming home. 

Y/N saw how others were celebrated on their birthdays as she grew up, from being invited to birthday parties to the grand gifts they would receive, primarily knowing that her friends had someone show up for them. That never happened for Y/N. 

She moved away from home for university, and there was no argument from her father. She began her life where she hoped to create a family of her own, and with time, she had. Y/N never believed in having a large group of friends, but wherever she went, she made a friend along the way. 

Aurora is Y/N’s best friend. She met her at a book club, their local bookstore hosts. Y/N complimented her fiery red hair; Aurora took one hard look at Y/N and claimed they would be best friends. Y/N brushed her off instead asking her out for coffee, and well, it seemed Aurora was right. She always is Y/N had come to learn. 

With Aurora in her life came new friends; she was invited to dinner parties, coffee days, and to join in on mundane errand days. Y/N had never felt so invited and loved by her friends, but she made sure to give it right back. When it was Suki’s birthday, Y/N knew she wanted an ice skating day with all their friends but could never convince everyone to go; well, Y/N turned on the charm, and off they went. At Edward’s graduation party, she brought his favorite cake from the bakery across town. For Tina, she found a vintage sweater she had been searching for since she was seventeen and learned who Vivienne Westwood was. Y/N was the friend who went above and beyond for everyone because she knew they deserved it.

Year after year, they would ask Y/N to celebrate her birthday or accomplishments, but Y/N always promised them she didn’t like celebrating her birthday. After two years, her friends decided not to fight it and respected her wishes. She’d start her day the same way each year: head to Heart Coffee to buy a croissant and an oat milk vanilla latte. She’d head to the park, where she’d sit by the lake, seeing all the people run by. Then she’d cook herself a small meal and stay home to watch her favorite show (Parks and Rec). It’s a simple plan, one she liked and her friends respected. Her friends would get her gifts, sometimes books, kitchen supplies, or even the sweater she had been eyeing and saving up for, but that’s as much as she allowed to be celebrated. 

Then Harry came into her life. 

Aurora was having a bonfire to celebrate the start of Summer. Y/N loved the beach, searching for shells, and mostly, being in the water. Y/N had offered to help set up because she wanted to maximize her time in the water. Her mum always told her she was born a mermaid in another life for how much she loved water. Y/N spent her time in the water, and once she felt the sun begin to set (Aurora yelled for her to come in), she took a final dive and dashed to her car to change into warmer clothes. As she was closing her car’s trunk, Y/N bumped into someone. She quickly apologized, knowing she was in a hurry to return to her friends because she was hungry. 

“My fault,” a strong voice responded. 

It sent chills down her back. She looked up to meet his eyes and found mossy green eyes staring at her. “Sorry,” she apologized again. “I’ve got to go.” Y/N pointed behind her to signify she had people waiting for her, and before he could stop her, she ran off. 

Y/N tried to brush away his pretty face, but her brain seemed frozen. She’d never seen someone so pretty. He had curls peeking out behind his hood, and his long eyelashes were something she’d forever be jealous of while she’d dream of what his pink lips might taste like. Y/N, with a drink in her hand, allowed herself to escape to her thoughts. 

“Babes, you’ve got a pretty tan going,” Aurora commented as Y/N set her bag down.

Y/N felt her face warm, knowing tomorrow she’d be more burnt than she liked, but being in the water was worth it. 

“So the mermaid has legs,” Frannie teases Y/N as she sits in the sand. 

“So it seems. Got any gummy worms?” Y/N plays along, knowing her friend would understand the significance of the candy from one of their favorite movies.   

There was a lot of chatter going around. She patted Frannie’s thigh, telling her she was getting another drink, but before she could do that, Tobias, Aurora’s boyfriend of two years, called for her. 

“Y/NNNNN!” She giggled because it was clear he was a few drinks in. “My sweet baby, I want to introduce you to my friends. We’re in a band.” 

“Were.” A man with an Irish accent answers. 

“Shush, Niall. Y/N loves musicians.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “only if they play the piano,” she corrects. 

She turned to look at the people Tobias wanted to introduce her to, and she took a deep breath when she recognized the guy with the gray hood, a smirk on his face.

“Right, whatever. My good mates from left to right are Niall, Sarah, Devon, and Harry. Mitch is off getting drinks. He’s the dude with really long hair. You’ll see him,” Tobias assures her. “Now, this is my best mate Y/N.” Y/N giggles. “Don’t tell Aurora, she’ll fight anyone who calls Y/N her, and I quote “bestie.””

Y/N hums in agreement. “It’s lovely to meet you all.” She shakes their hand in greeting. She saved Harry for last. Y/N tries to hide she’s looking at his long fingers, but when she looks at Harry, he’s staring at her with a wide smile. 

“Piano hands.” 

Y/N feels her face flush because he’s referring to the comment she made a few minutes ago. She takes a step back and excuses herself. “Off to get a drink. It was lovely to meet you all.” 

Harry steps forward as if to follow her, but Tobias stops him with a shake of his head. Always protective. She looks over her shoulder and finds Harry already staring at her. She laughs to herself. Maybe she’ll get the courage to talk to him after two more drinks. 

One drink later, Y/N was watching the waves crash in when she heard someone coming closer. She thought it was Aurora who was escaping the loud music for a moment, so she patted the seat next to her, but to her surprise, it was Harry. 

“Hi,” she greeted softly. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry smiled at her. “You’re hard to get alone.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “That’s Mum and Dad for you.” 

“They’re protective of everyone like that?” He asks.

“Yes, but more so me.”

“Is it because you’re too sweet?” Harry asks curiously.

“Or to mean,” she counters. 

Harry laughs, “I doubt that.” 

Y/N turns her body to look at him, squinting her eyes suspiciously. “You don’t know me.” 

He shrugs, “I don’t, but you shook my hand when we met. Don’t think that’s happened in such an informal setting.”

Shit. 

Y/N lets his words sink in. So it was weird to shake hands, but her mum always taught her to be polite, and she'd shake their hand if she couldn’t be a hugger. Were handshakes weird? Did that mean Harry thought she was strange? Well, there goes her chance with him.

“Y/N, Sweets? Where’d you go?” Harry calls for her attention, seeing her lost in her head. “I’m that boring, huh?”

She’s quick to shake her head. “Sorry. That was so rude of me.” 

“Only teasing.” 

“Don’t like the party?” Y/N gestured behind them, knowing that was much better than sitting with her. 

Harry scoots his hand closer to hers, only an inch apart the slightest movement, and they’d be touching. “I meant it when I said you’re hard to get alone. Aurora asked me fifty different questions, and one was about my car insurance.” 

Aurora was odd, but she always had her best interests in mind. 

“Think she’s scared I might get taken away from her.”

“She did say something about 60/40.” 

Y/N lets her head fall into her lap, “that’s embarrassing.” 

“Take it everyone’s sweet on you, Sweets.” 

Y/N feels herself melt at the moniker. Harry is too charming for her, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a chance.

“Are you?” 

Harry takes it in stride. “Definitely.”

“Hmm…”

Harry takes her silence as rejection. “Take it, it’s not mutual?” 

“I’m afraid you never asked me a question.” She feigns innocence. 

Harry grins, “would you like to go on a date with me?” Y/N stays silent. “How’s that for a question?” 

Y/N stands up, brushes away the sand, and offers her hand to Harry. He takes it, careful to not pull her off balance. “Yes.” 

She walks back to her friends, leaving behind a stunned Harry. 

“Did you say yes?” He yells, hurrying to catch up. 

“I did.” 

“Why?” 

Y/N laughs, confused. “Was I supposed to say no?”

“Tobias assured me you would say no, so I thought no harm in trying.”

Y/N steps close to Harry, removing any space they head between each other. “Listen here, Harry. As much as I love Tobias, he doesn’t speak for me. So, if you ever have a question for me, just ask.”

Harry nods. 

“Good. Now I’d love a s’more, care to join me?” 

Harry, enamored by Y/N, is quick to agree.

He spent the remainder of the night glued to Y/N’s side. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to know everything about her, from her birthday to her favorite number. She asked him about the pets he had growing up and who his three favorite female artists were. Y/N told Harry his answer could change her response to their upcoming date. Harry named Stevie Nicks, Kacey Musgraves, and Megan Thee Stallion. Y/N told him she approved. He sighed in relief, telling her that his heart was close to beating out of his chest. 

Harry’s friends began to pack up to leave, but he noticed Y/N didn’t, so he stayed put Y/N tucked against his side and said it was time for him to go, sensing all the looking Harry’s friends were directing at him and he was ignoring.  

“Don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ve got my friends, Harry. I was fine before you and will be fine once you leave.” 

Harry frowned, “fine isn’t good enough.” 

“You’re a tough cookie.” 

Harry makes no move to get up.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

He perks up, “I’m listening.”

“You text me when you make it home.” Harry nods eagerly. “I’ll text you when I make it home. If you’re awake, I’ll let you call me to wish me goodnight.” 

“I’ll be awake,” he promises.

Y/N doesn’t know how true that is, but it does get him to finally follow his tired friends to their car. She watches him walk away when Aurora comes up behind, resting her head on Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Tobias bet me $50 bucks he could keep Harry away from you.” 

“What did you do, Rora?” 

“I offered him a blowie if he let you be,” Aurora laughed, “I saw the sparkle in your eye. Don’t love him more than me is all I ask.” 

Y/N giggles, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good. I told him 60/40, but 70/30 is a better deal for me.”

Y/N felt like throwing up. She changed her outfit three times, restyled her hair twice, and messed up her eyeliner for the first time in months. Her date with Harry was tonight, and while she had a massive crush on him, her nerves were getting the better of her. 

Before she could change her outfit another time, her phone rang, notifying her of a knock on her door. The security camera she had installed was a significant help. She pulled up the app on her phone and saw Harry wearing a black knitted sweater with two swans kissing. A bouquet of flowers in his hand. He kept pacing the front door, and Y/N felt settled, knowing he was nervous, too. 

First dates can be awkward, and small talk is boring, but as soon as she opens the front door, Y/N knows it’s different. Harry shows her a bright smile, telling her how beautiful she looks. Y/N lets Harry open her car door; for dinner, Harry decides to take her to his favorite Italian restaurant. It’s ten minutes from the beach. It’s a family-owned establishment where all the dishes are made from scratch. Harry promised Mama D’s offers a pink sauce that’s to die for. Y/N let Harry order for her, and she was not sorry; the food was delicious. She knew she would return, but that wasn’t the best part. No, it was spending time with Harry. 

She learned how smart he was. He is constantly reading a new book, whether poetry or history books; he always has his hand on something new. Y/N proudly told him she loved her romance books, that she had only recently begun to get into fantasy, but that her favorite series growing up was “The Hunger Games.” She went on a slight tangent explaining what the books meant to her and how, from time to time, she would pick it up to read it all over again. When she realized she had probably said too much, Y/N felt her face burning and wouldn’t dare to meet Harry’s stare.

“Sorry,” she apologized. 

Harry shakes his head, “no, don’t do that.”

“What?” Y/N asks confused. 

“Apologize for what you’re passionate about. It’s a part of you; don’t make it seem insignificant,” his words settled deep in her heart. “I could write you a ten-page essay on why The Notebook is one of the best romance movies to exist.” 

“With citations included?” Y/N teased, easing the tension she was holding. 

“Well, of course,” Harry plays into her banter. 

It’s clear by the end of the date that Y/N is head over heels for Harry, and the feeling is mutual. Harry sat across from Y/N at the start of the meal, but after their dinner and a glass of wine, he slipped into the seat next to her. He played with her fingers that rested on the table, his entire body turned to her, giving her his undivided attention. Y/N and Harry stayed at the restaurant until they closed. Their waiter, Devin, told them he didn’t want to rush them, but they did need to clean up the outside patio. Harry knew it was time to go but didn’t want the night to end. 

“Fancy a walk?” Harry asked Y/N as they stood by the car, pointing toward the beach where she could hear the waves crashing on the shore.

“Lead the way.”

Harry reached for Y/N’s hand, but Y/N was the one to intertwine their fingers, keeping a tight grip on him. Harry gave her a squeeze to assure her he liked it. The moon shone down on them as they walked towards the calm waves. They walked in silence; there was no need to fill the void with talk. Simply being together was enough for them. 

He was aware this was a first date. Yet, Harry knew what he was feeling was something he would never experience again, entirely because of Y/N. 

“Harry?” 

“Yes, Sweets.” 

“Can I confess something to you?” 

Harry stops walking, hearing the tremble in her voice. “Hey, of course you can. Anything you want.” 

“Well,” she takes a deep breath. “When we met, I thought you might be a little cocky because you have this larger-than-life personality, but truthfully, you're the sweetest person I have ever met.” 

Harry feels his cheeks turn red. He did not see this coming. “Sweets, you mean that?” 

“I do. You make me feel safe and cared for. I-I know we don’t know each other too well, but I would like to keep seeing you if you’re interested,” she whispers the final word as if all her confidence was sucked away. 

“Y/N, look at me.” She lifts her gaze to meet his. Y/N can see how bright his eyes are with the moon's light. “I would love to keep going on dates with you. You called me sweet, but Y/N, you’re the kindest, smartest, most beautiful person I have met in all my years of life. I’d love to keep spending time with you even if it was simply to go grocery shopping.” 

“Good,” she whispers. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

“Come one, Sweets. The night is still young.” 

Harry and Y/N spent the remainder of the night sitting on the cold sand, telling each other everything they could think of because while neither would say it out loud, they knew they had met their soulmate.

+

Y/N loved playing dress-up. She loved exploring her fashion, knowing she’d get suitable and horrible outfits, but each one would be a story for her to tell. Y/N loved going to flea markets on the weekends and went to her favorite thrift store every time the kind worker shot her a text, there was a large donation that came in. Her mother once took her to an estate sale, and Y/N got to see pieces of someone else’s story. Y/N loved visiting the homes but also because she got to find some of the most insane items. Y/N had found a vintage baby pink Chanel sweater and a never-worn pearl necklace. It was her most precious piece of jewelry. 

When Harry learned that Y/N loved going to vintage and second-hand stores, he planned a date night to take her to all the hidden spots his mother had shown him. It had been a few weeks of dates, Y/N and Harry being exclusive, enjoying their time together. Harry had planned a few dates, but so had Y/N. With final exams looming close, he wanted to make sure that Y/N knew that spending time with her was his priority, so he wanted to take her to one of her favorite activities. 

Harry had specific tastes, loving to wear vintage shirts, sometimes paying too much for one he couldn’t live without. Harry loved being able to share this passion with Y/N but mostly enjoyed spending time with her. He understood they both had schoolwork and needed to make time to study, but Y/N was great at making time to see him, so he decided he could do the same. She stopped by for breakfast after her morning pilates class. Harry would send her flowers to arrive at her office. It was a simple gesture, but Y/N appreciated it each time.

“Did you know Dee can’t stand Prim?” Y/N tells Harry as she looks through the rack of skirts, trying to find a velvet skirt. 

Harry frowned. “Prim the cat?” 

“Mhmm…the very one. Says she’s demonic or something,” Y/N shrugs.

“Prim is the sweetest little baby. Always curl up in your lap for a nap.”

Y/N looks back at him with a big smile, recalling the memory of them over at Sasha’s house for game night. Harry sat to her right as they watched Frannie and Brandon try to beat their score in charades when the small black cat came right over to her with a tiny meow and settled in her lap. Y/N ran her hand through Prim’s black coat, coxing her right to sleep. Harry made sure to capture photos for her. Even made it his new lock screen.

“Yeah, told Dee she probably needs to bring Prim a snack to befriend her.” 

Y/N pulled out a black skirt; she looked it over, trying to decide if she wanted it, when Harry spotted something over her shoulder. It was a maroon velvet skirt with a split on the leg, and he knew it was exactly what she was looking for. 

“How about this?” 

She turned around to see Harry holding up a skirt. It looked in perfect condition, not a tear in sight. “What if it doesn’t fit?” 

“We can always alter it. I’m amazing with a sewing machine,” Harry shares. 

Y/N grabs it from him, adding it to the pile of clothes she’s already holding in one arm. “Fine, I’ve been convinced.” She giggles, knowing she would have taken it no matter what because Harry was the one who found it for her. 

“Did you find that knitted cardigan here?” Y/N asks him, exiting the shop, the bag of clothes in Harry’s hand as he uses his other hand to hold hers. 

“No, my Nan made it.” 

Y/N’s eyes gleam in excitement. “That’s amazing. Did she teach you?” 

Harry laughs. “No, I'm really bad with needles. Nan says I’ve got too big of hands.” 

Y/N lifts their intertwined hands, looking down at his black nail polish contrasting her red. “I think you’ve got perfect hands.” 

Harry kisses her temple. “Thank you, sweets. Are you up for a coffee?”

“And a croissant?” She asks excitedly. 

“Well, of course. Only the best for you.” Harry pulls her close and leads them to a coffee shop up the street. 

Harry knows he’s never been happier. He’s glad to have Y/N in his life.

+

Y/N had spent the summer falling in love. Harry had been the perfect gentleman. She had never met someone as kind as him, and when he asked her to be his girlfriend, there was only one clear answer. 

Yes.

She held back from screaming it. Her excitement was hard to hide, but thankfully, so was Harry’s. They spent that night back at Y/N’s apartment kissing. Harry had the sweetest lips, and Y/N always wanted more after one taste. He brought warmth into her life, which she would always be thankful for. 

Now, in Autumn, she spent her time with her studying, going on dates, and sharing lots of kisses. Y/N got to meet Harry’s family: his mother, who has a big love for cats; his older sister, who’s a lawyer and the best baker to ever exist; and his step-father, who is heaven-sent. Y/N shared she was nervous to meet them all because of how much Harry talked about them, but he assured her they’d love her. 

They settled on brunch together, which went as well as Harry expected. Y/N shared what she was studying, where she was from, and how sweet Harry was raised. His mother, Elise, was over the moon with her kind words. When Y/N excused herself to the restroom, his mum could not stop gushing about how perfect Y/N was for him. His sister, Aaliyah, was more challenging to win over. She seemed to think she could read everyone perfectly. It was her job as a lawyer, but sometimes Harry wanted her to simply be his sister. Y/N spent the breakfast sharing stories asking about Harry growing up. His stepfather shared his favorite memories of Harry growing up. How Aaliyah tried to always sell Harry away or ship him off in a box. It never worked, but she tried so hard.

It took a slight turn when the conversation shifted to Y/N’s family. “Has Harry met your family?” Aaliyah asked. 

Y/N felt her hands begin to sweat, and as if he could sense her nerves, Harry reached down and intertwined her hand with his, letting them rest on her lap. 

“No, uh, he hasn’t.” 

Aaliyah frowned, “Now that doesn’t seem right. Are you ashamed of him?” 

Y/N jumps back as if she had just been slapped. She knew his sister cared for him, but being accused of being ashamed of Harry was not something she ever wanted to happen. Y/N took a deep breath and decided to share the deepest parts of herself with Harry’s family, something she did not like to talk about and only mentioned to Harry, never giving him the whole story. 

“My mum Isla passed away when I was ten. She was my hero and my biggest supporter. It’s not something you ever really heal from; grief lessens, but you’ll always miss them.” Y/N wanted to look away. The look of pity on their face was not something she wanted. “My—my dad loved my mum. He always said she was his other half, and well…when he lost her, it’s like we lost him too. My older brother is eight years older than me. So when my mum passed away, he was getting ready to leave for university. Once he left, he never came back. He calls on the occasional holiday but loves life in America.” Y/N is surprised she’s not crying yet but pushes on. “It’s hard living in a house when you’re the one who essentially raised yourself. Dad worked, came home and mourned, then went back to work. An endless cycle. I had family members try to help him, but they knew it would be better if I left.” Y/N could feel her hands shaking and her knee continuously bouncing, but she did it; she made it through her story. “Sorry if that was an overshare.” Y/N excuses herself, needing a minute. 

She walks out front, and that’s when her tears fall. 

“For fucks sake,” she groans, knowing tear stains are hard to hide. 

“Y/N,” Harry calls for her softly. “Are you okay?” 

Harry. Her sweet angel. Y/N’s sure her mum put him on her path because her love for him is something she’s never felt before, but it makes her feel whole. Y/N lets herself collapse in his arms, no longer caring about her tears. 

“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “They must think I’m a mess.” 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” 

“It’s true,” she defends. 

Harry lifts her head to have him look at her. “You don’t have to be perfect or have to have your life together. You just need to remember you’re not alone. You’ve got so many people that l–adore you.” 

Y/N takes a moment to let it all sink in. Harry’s right. She’s simply overwhelmed and thankful to have him here. 

“Is your family upset with me?”

“Not at all, baby,” he assures her. “I think Mum was reprimanding Aaliyah, actually.”

Y/N laughs at his excitement, “let's go back.” 

“Are you sure?” He checks one final time.

“Mhm. Do you think your mum will share photos of you?” 

“Only one way to find out,” Y/N let him lead the way as she felt her heart calm down, knowing she was in safe hands.

+

Y/N could not be prouder of Harry. He had passed all his exams with flying colors (Y/N did, too), all while getting promoted at work. It was a campus job that paid decently. He did it for the scholarship offered but had come to love his role in helping other students. Y/N had done well, too, but that didn’t matter to her, not when she wanted to celebrate Harry. She planned a special night out for him with all of their friends. Harry loved a good party, and she wanted to give him precisely that. She had told him to prepare for the night, claiming it was a surprise. 

Harry didn’t think much, knowing her surprise ranged from a bouquet of flowers to getting dessert and the occasional new clothing she found for him. He didn't know what to expect tonight because when she showed up at his apartment in a little black dress, he was close to pulling her into his apartment and not letting her go. As good as that dress looked on Y/N, he knew it would look better on his bedroom floor. Harry noticed Y/N’s excitement and knew he couldn’t keep her locked up, but it did not stop him from pushing her up against the wall and happily messing up her lipstick. 

Once he noticed it was getting hard to control himself when he pulled away. “Look beautiful, sweets.” 

Y/N giggled, pressing a kiss to his stained lips. “Thank you.”

“Should we head out?” Harry asked, grabbing his coat and helping Y/N slip hers on. 

“Mhm…”

The car ride was short, driving close to the university. He noticed they were outside the bar they come to for karaoke some nights. He loves belting out an Adele song from time to time. Y/N hurried out the door, her excitement unable to be contained. Y/N waited at the door for him, her hand outstretched for him to take. He kissed her wrist and gestured for her to go on. 

Walking in, everything looked normal. People were sitting around at the tables, not a seat in sight at the bar. Y/N offered Grady, their favorite bartender, a wave. The crowd parted for Y/N as if she were an angel walking by. He was always mesmerized by how her presence caught the attention of everyone around her. 

Y/N led them to the back room, which was reserved for large parties. Harry was confused; she had said the surprise was for him, but it didn’t make sense when there was nothing to celebrate. His birthday wasn’t until February, and she knew that. Made a clear point to add it to her calendar as Harry Styles’ Birthday with a yellow heart next to it. A simple gesture that made his heart skip a beat. When they entered the room, Harry noticed all their friends gathered around. Mitch was laughing with Niall while Sarah approached them with three drinks in hand. She quickly passed Harry a vodka cranberry while Y/N got Sprite. 

“Your girl sure knows how to throw a party,” Sarah raises her glass in a cheer. 

“I-I.” Harry has no words. 

Sarah laughs. “Did you really not know? I thought she would have told you. Y/N was so excited she thought she might burst,” she teased. 

Y/N smiles, leaning her head on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s for everyone,” Y/N reminds her. 

Sarah clicks her tongue. “You said, and I quote, ‘Harry aced every exam. He had the highest grade in each class. It deserves to be celebrated.’ Or am I wrong?” 

Y/N feels her face heat up because Sarah’s words are true. She said it because it was true. He deserves all his accomplishments to be celebrated, from acing an exam to turning in an exam. Uni isn’t always fun; if she can make good days for him, she feels like she did something good for someone she loves. 

Harry excuses them, pulling them to the corner of the room. A few people try to get his attention, but he’s on a mission to get his girl alone. Harry corners her, his emerald eyes locked with her soft eyes. “You’re an angel,” he whispers. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

Y/N has no answer because she feels the same way. “I feel the same way.” 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” he gestures around them. 

She nods, “I wanted to. You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Harry can no longer hold back. He connects his lips with hers. His hands settle on her waist while Y/N fists the front of his shirt. The passion was burning him; he craved the feeling. Y/N was lost in the feeling that she had forgotten they were in a room with their friends. She jumps back when she hears a loud holler and a yell of Harry’s name. Y/N lets her head fall on his chest, her cheeks burning while Harry tries to coax her to look at him. 

“Y/N, love. You’re amazing.” 

A large smile splits on her face; before Harry can kiss it away, Y/N holds his hand and pulls him to the dance floor, their drinks long forgotten.

“Let’s celebrate, baby!” Y/N shouts, laughing as Harry twirls her into him. Her laugh rings loud, and Harry knows she’s the best thing to ever happen to him. As Y/N dances in front of him, one thought rings loud in his head. 

He is completely and utterly in love with Y/N. 

+

Y/N didn’t enjoy her birthday, but it didn’t mean she didn’t celebrate her friend's special day. Frannie loved spending time with her friends, so with the help from Aurora, they planned a dinner party at Aurora’s shared apartment. They set up two long folding tables with chairs and pushed the couches back for extra space. Y/N decorated the apartment with streamers, balloons, and banners with the help of Harry, who got on the ladder for her when she couldn’t reach something. 

The dinner was set for 5pm. Thankfully, Frannie’s birthday landed on a Saturday, so everyone will be free from uni for the week. Y/N had place cards made for everyone. Harry even had a little heart next to his name. He would be sitting right next to Y/N, with Mitch to his left. They were his two favorite people because while he was good at having Y/N’s attention, it seemed when she was in a large group of people, she always became the life of the party.  

At 4:30, everyone began to arrive one by one. Aurora was set to get there at 5 with Frannie. They had told Frannie it would only be dinner with the three of them, but she was in for a big surprise. The door opened at 5:01, and everyone screamed, “Surprise!” 

Frannie dropped the flowers she was holding in shock. 

“You did this!” Frannie pointed at Y/N, who was leaning against Harry’s chest. 

Y/N brushes her off, “it was all of us.”

Harry knew she didn’t like all the attention, yet Y/N always went out of her way to show everyone how much she loved and appreciated them. It made him wonder how her friends would celebrate Y/N this year. He knows he tried but sometimes never can’t measure up. He loves buying her flowers, always treats her to coffee, and gives her kisses tenfold because he knows it makes her smile. 

He sees Frannie, gives her a tight hug, then settles down at the head of the table. Harry likes how easy conversation falls around him. He talks about a new album that recently came out with Mitch. Y/N jumps in, saying the closing song is her favorite. Sarah shared how the campus job is giving her 40 percent off on all merchandise, so send her a list of what they want. 

Y/N rests her hand on Harry’s thigh as she slips into conversation with Aurora and Brandon, talking about the lab Aurora did earlier in the week. Y/N jumps in every few minutes to show she’s listening. Harry selfishly wants to pull her away, wanting her attention back on him. 

Harry traces random shapes on her hand, letting Mitch talk his ear off as he picks at Y/N’s chipped nails. He makes a mental note of painting them for her tomorrow. 

“I love you, Harry,” she whispers in his ear. A soft kiss is placed on his cheek as she goes to pull away. Harry reaches out and sets her in his lap, not caring that all their friends are watching.

“Say it again,” he begs in a husky voice.

“You've heard me say it before,” she giggled, thinking about their midnight walk when Harry confessed under the stars how he had fallen in love with her. Y/N kissed him, not needing him to beg her to say she loved him. She’d say it over and over again for as long as he asked. “I love you” had become his favorite phrase. 

Y/N sits in his lap for a while; Harry knows she’s tired and close to falling asleep as he feels her settle deeper in his lap. She jolts up when Aurora asks for help with the main dish. Y/N kisses his lips, promising to be back quickly. Being at the apartment all day getting everything ready took a toll on her, and he knew that after eating, she would want to sleep for a long time, but Y/N would not leave because she would see it as rude. Harry composes an idea as dinner continues. 

The meal is enjoyed, and he has the perfect idea when dessert is passed around. He feigns a yawn, making sure Y/N is watching him. He apologizes, giving her a brief kiss. 

“Do you wanna go, H?” Y/N asks. “I know we’ve been here all day.” 

He shakes his head, “no, you can stay.” 

Y/N frowns, not liking that option at all. Harry has been staying over lately, and she’s gotten used to him in her bed. She debates on what to do because she knows cleaning up will be a bitch and would hate to leave it all to Aurora. Sarah notices her mood change and asks her what’s wrong.

“You alright?” 

“Ready to call it a night, but worried about the mess,” Y/N looks around mentally, trying to see what she can throw out and save. 

Sarah waves her off, “go home, babes.” 

“But–”

“Nope. We’ve got this. You set up, we take down,” Sarah tells her like it’s obvious. 

Y/N reaches forward, tugging her friend in for a hug. “You’re the best.” 

Y/N begins to make her rounds, bidding goodnight, sharing her fair of I love you before landing at Harry’s side, her hand in his. Harry quietly thanks Sarah and walks out with his tired girlfriend. She sinks against him as they walk down the steps leading them to the street where they parked 

“Remind me to never set up a party,” she groans as she throws herself into the passenger seat. Harry bites back a laugh instead, leans in, and helps Y/N buckle up. She gives him a tired grin. “You’re the best.” 

“Do you want me to set up a bath for when I get you home?” 

Y/N perks up. “Does that mean we’re going to yours?” 

Harry has the bigger bathtub, so he knows what she’s asking. If he’ll be joining her. “Text Mitch to stay with Sarah.” 

“Oh, are we using the citrus one?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

Y/N sighs against her seat. “Oh, how I love you, Harry.” 

Harry’s heart fills with warmth. This love is everything he’s ever wanted in life.

+

Y/N loved her friends. She loved seeing them smile, helping them out, and, most of all, celebrating them. All her friends took care of her, but Y/N always seemed to go above and beyond for each of them. It was something her Mumma taught her. “Give graciously because it will come back to you.” She likes to think it’s come back in ways she never imagined. 

Brandon had always been an excellent friend to Y/N. He had her back when she failed her first exam. He held her hand when she got lost at the pumpkin patch the year prior. Y/N was thankful for everything he did, from helping her set up her first tattoo appointment to taking her to the mechanic and ensuring she wasn’t being ripped off. He was a good friend, and she wanted to celebrate this new opportunity that had opened up for him. He had started a new job in IT a few months back, and Y/N knew how much he enjoyed it. It was better than biology, but soon, his job offered him pay for his education under a different major: IT Security Protection. It was the easiest, yes, but the only problem was that he’d have to go to a college in the States. This was a celebration and an early goodbye because he wasn’t set to leave until the New Year. 

This time, the event was at a club. Everyone was ready to let loose after a hard week, and the celebration was a perfect opportunity. Harry promised Y/N he’d watch after them, only limiting himself to two drinks and ordering them an Uber home when it was time to go. Except for the fact that Y/N was making sure her friends were enjoying themselves. It seemed Samantha got into some drama with Frannie, and they’ve been butting heads. Harry knows Y/N is a great mediator, but he wants Y/N to be able to go out without worrying about fixing problems. His girlfriend is heaven-sent, but he wants her friends to be there for her like she is for them. 

Harry hoped they would prove it on the most important day for Y/N. 

+

Harry takes note of all the grand gifts and events Y/N goes on to plan for her friends. It’s something he knows Y/N loves doing, but what does she get in return? Harry knows her birthday is soon and wonders what her friends have planned. 

A few friends gathered to go out for drinks. Harry had not left his seat beside Y/N except to buy their drinks. Y/N leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth, promising she’d be gone a second, needing to use the restroom. Harry made sure she made it safely before getting everyone’s attention. 

“What are you planning for Y/N’s birthday in a few weeks?” Harry asks, popping Y/N’s cherry from her Shirley Temple in his mouth. Y/N stated she hated them but always ordered extra because she knew Harry would eat them.

Aurora frowned, “What do you mean?” 

“Her birthday. December 3rd. How do you want to celebrate? Was thinking of renting out the backroom of her favorite restaurant, inviting some friends, drinks all night, and cake. You know we’ve got to take care of her sweet tooth.” 

“She doesn’t celebrate her birthday,” Frannie tells him. 

Harry frowns; that doesn’t make sense. Y/N had told him all about how she celebrated with her mum when she was growing up. How her Mum would wake her up to breakfast in bed and slip in next to her, telling Y/N her favorite memories from when Y/N was an infant to her current age. It filled him with so much happiness that she got to experience it. That she had that much love in her life, and while he knows she has lost it in some way, it will always be with her. Frannie’s words ring over and over in his head.

 Y/N never mentioned not being a fan of her birthday. 

“What ya mean?” Harry needs a clear answer. 

“She refuses to celebrate her birthday with us. It’s been like this since I met her, Harry,” Aurora tells him, but he’s not so convinced. 

“Have you asked her? She’s got fond memories of her birthday, and if we let her stop celebrating, this day will mean nothing to her. Y/N makes all of you feel special every chance she gets, from celebrating graduations to the newest tattoos. You mean the world to her, but what does she mean to you?” 

Harry is getting heated, so he excuses himself. He was going to find Y/N and hoped to convince her to let him take her home. He’s too frustrated to keep sitting at a table of their friends who refuse to do something kind for Y/N simply because she said she didn’t want to celebrate once a few years ago.

“H, honey? You okay?” Y/N asks, concerned when she finds him leaning against the wall beside the restroom.

“Got a headache, Sweets. Wanted to see if you wanted to stay, and I’ll suck it up to keep you company.”

Y/N is quick to disagree. “No, no. We’ll go back to yours. Let me take care of you.” 

Harry loves his girl. She deserves the universe; if he can try to give it to her each day, he knows she will always feel loved. 

+

Harry woke up bright early, under purple covers. Y/N curled up into his chest, almost her entire face hiding under the covers. He hated moving, knowing she might wake up with any wrong move, but he managed to settle her and went outside. He did his morning routine quickly, then headed to the kitchen, where he made sure he had everything for French toast, her absolute favorite meal last night. 

While cooking the French toast, he ordered her iced vanilla oat milk latte to be delivered. He hated delivery fees, but today was a special occasion, and he would do anything to make her day memorable. 

As he placed the French toast on a plate, Harry noticed the front door camera and hurried over before the person could knock. Harry received the drinks with a giant smile, giving the guy a ten-dollar bill in thanks. He found the tray Y/N told him she likes to use under the sink. He put the French toast and a cup of water on the tray. Grabbing the flowers, he rushed out to get up the street from Lady Silvie and her coffee. 

He saw her beginning to stir, her hands moving around as if searching for him. His heart tightened in his chest at how much he loved her. Softly, he began to sing “Happy Birthday.” Y/N, in confusion, froze before shooting upright. Harry walked closer to the edge of the bed until he knelt on the corner, placing the tray over her lap. 

Y/N’s eyes were filled with tears at the sweet gesture her boyfriend did for her. She mentioned her birthday in passing, hoping he wouldn’t remember, but her dear Harry remembers everything she has ever told him. She had told him stories of how she celebrated with her mum growing up, the only person Y/N has confided in since moving here. Not that she didn’t trust her other friends but because he was patient with her and broke down every single wall she had. Y/N had never felt she could truly be herself with anyone, and thenHarry came into her life. He helped her begin to love every part of herself. 

“Happy Birthday, Sweet Y/N!” 

Her tears break free. 

She can’t even get a word out because her tears keep coming. Every birthday after her mum passed, she dreaded waking up. Most of the time, she slept the day away or treated it as any other day, but today, she woke up with a full heart as she woke up to her boyfriend singing. It’s something Y/N will always hold close to her heart. 

Harry is her best friend, the other person who knows her inside out. With a single look he knows what she’s saying. 

He crawled onto the bed, carefully moving the tray to avoid spilling anything, and pulled Y/N into his lap. It’s one of his favorite positions to be in.  

“Happy tears?” 

Y/N nods. 

“I have a nice day planned for us. Are you up for it?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing circles in her back. 

“You do?” She asks, surprised. 

Harry chuckles, “of course, it’s my favorite person’s birthday.” 

Y/N’s smile is bright. She lets Harry wipe away her tears and then gives him a chaste kiss. “I’m very lucky to have you in my life.” 

They eat breakfast with Y/N in Harry’s lap as she feeds him bites of her fruit. It was very domestic and everything he looks forward to with his future with Y/N. Harry cleans breakfast, asking Y/N to meet him in the living room. She comes out, hair brushed and wearing his hoodie. He has a few gifts sitting on her coffee table. 

Y/N jumps on the couch as she waits for Harry to give her the go-ahead with the presents. She opened her gifts and found items ranging from silk scrunchies to glitter bath bombs. Y/N thanks Harry with a kiss after each present. Harry hands her an envelope, promising it’s the last one. Y/N looks at him suspiciously but opens it slowly. It’s a piece of paper, and she can’t believe her eyes when she unfolds it. 

She reads it again and again.

“Is this real?” Y/N inquires. 

Harry laughs, “very much so.” 

“You got us tickets to SZA,” she says slowly, as if she’s waiting for Harry to tell her it’s not real. 

“It’s our favorite album. I-I thought it would be special. Something to look forward to,” he promised. 

“I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry spends the rest of the morning showing Y/N how much he loves her.

After spending a lovely morning in bed, Harry convinced Y/N to get ready and took her to her favorite bookstore, where he helped her pick a few books from her “tbr,” of course paying for her.  They took a stroll by the lake before deciding it was too cold. Then Y/N decided it was time for an early lunch, and they ate tacos from Y/N’s favorite restaurant. 

It was a perfect day. 

One that helps one final surprise for her. 

+

Harry had requested that she put on her favorite dress and get ready. There was somewhere he wanted to take her.

Outside the restaurant, Y/N asked Harry what they were doing as she saw a full parking lot and a familiar car, but her gaze didn’t linger long as Harry captured her attention.

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked.

“With all my heart,” she answered without hesitation. 

“Then follow me. No questions.” She took his outstretched hand and let him lead the way. Harry told the Hostess the name of his reservation and was told to go down the hall to the right. 

Harry felt his heart pounding as they neared the door that would lead them to all of Y/N’s friends, who were ready to surprise her with a party. Something in him stopped a few steps away. Y/N frowned because something was wrong. Harry seemed like he was going to throw up. 

“H, what’s wrong?” 

Harry lets go of her hand and brings them to rest on her cheek, needing her sweet eyes on him. “I-I-I love you, Sweets. I love you so much. Behind that door are all your friends, ready to celebrate your birthday with you. Selfishly, I want to steal you away, but they’re excited to spend this day with you. If it’s too much and I crossed a line,” his voice cracked. “I apologize. So if you don’t want that, we can go right now.”

“You planned this,” she whispered. 

Harry sighs, “yes, they told me not to, but you shower everyone with your love, and you deserve the same, if not more.” 

Y/N feels her throat close up and knows she’s going to cry as soon as Harry leads them to the party. 

She steps closer to him, with no space between them. Harry looks at her with so much love she knows he’s honestly her other half.  Y/N pulls him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him with everything she has. Y/N spills everything in the kiss. All her love wrapped in a kiss for Harry. He gives her back the same energy; both lost in the taste of each other don’t pull apart until they’re fighting for a breath. Y/N laughs against his mouth. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Harry kisses her again. “I love you, Sweets.” 

“Let’s go in.” 

He leads the way, knocking on the door three times, telling her that was the code for her arrival. Harry lets her in, and that’s when her friend's screams ring in her ears. Everyone Y/N considers a friend is here. The room has balloons and streamers around. There’s a cake that looks so yummy and a table full of presents all for her. Her friends stare at her with smiles. Y/N is so overwhelmed she doesn’t even know who to approach first. Aurora chooses for her, pulling her in for a tight hug. 

”Happy Birthday, bestie!” Y/N laughs as Rora twirls her around. Rora pulls her back in, wiping away a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.”

Y/N shakes her head, “no, no.” 

Rora brushes her off. “You’ve been there for me since I met you. I’m sorry I didn’t always do the same.” 

Y/N appreciates her friend’s apology, but she was partly to blame. She never fully let anyone in, afraid they’d leave her just like everyone else, but Harry showed her that wasn’t the way to live.

“You’ve got a good one,” Aurora told Y/N, pointing at Harry, who was talking with Mitch and Brandon. As if he could feel his eyes on her, he turned around, sending her a dimpled smile. 

“You okay?” He mouthed.

“Perfect.” She replied. She blew him a kiss and continued around the room, talking to her friends.

As the night continued, Harry ensured Y/N always had a drink in hand, whether a vodka cranberry, or water. He ate dinner with her and helped her cut the cake when she asked for his help. All the cameras were on her, and she had gotten overwhelmed. Harry slipped his hand on top of hers, and together, they cut Y/N’s slice of cake. 

No one had left yet, but Y/N needed a breather, so she stepped onto the patio overlooking a beautiful lit-up forest. Y/N heard silent footsteps behind her. She turned around to find Harry with his coat in his hands. 

“Don’t want you to get sick, my love.”

Y/N smiles, stepping close to him and letting him help her put it on. She was staring at Harry with so much adoration. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have him in her life. Y/N leaned in close. The music flowing out of the room had her wrapping her arms around his waist. His hands settled on her waist as he held her tight, that familiar feeling that if he didn’t hold tight enough, she might disappear. 

Harry leaned his forehead against hers, letting each other fall in love all over again.

“This was the best birthday,” she whispered as they swayed to the music in the distance. 

Harry lifted his hand, brushing a strand of hair back. “Just wait until next year,” he promised.

Y/N looked forward to it. 

+

send me a message!!!! I want to hear all your thoughts

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Senator!Coriolanus Snow x Baker!Reader

Senator Coriolanus Snow is a very wealthy man. Being the Plinth heir, due to some unfortunate circumstances during the summer of his 18th year, he had more money then the gods and could afford anything his black, dead, withered up, too small heart desires. Most of his desires were luxury sedans, luxury penthouses, high end fashion, and a permanent place in the governing politics of Panem.

And talk about politics, Senator Snow’s currently running for President of Panem- on the Old Guard Party ticket. His opponent’s some up and comer that's new money and has ties to district blood. Snow cringes at the thought of a district blooded fool from the Liberty & Labor Party beating him and ruling the country; corrupting Capitol City with extreme and revolutionary views.

Views that infringe on those traditions that Panem was founded on; everything that the Old Guard stands for. Being from ‘Old Money' and one of Panem's most esteemed, respected, and founding families, Coriolanus views himself as a Capitolite that's above those of District birth. Especially after spending the summer of his 18th year in the Peacekeepers amongst the savages of 12.

Coriolanus has the means to buy anything he wants that's high quality, but he finds himself visiting your modest bakery every morning for some pain au chocolat and sweet coffee. Your morning customers usually look all wide-eyed or feel a bit nervous when the regal senator walks in and right up to your counter only for you to smile and give him a friendly wave.

The door chime going off signals his arrival every morning. You can't help, but smile at the man who your father, Colonel Javani Halvir, is endorsing for president. And after your father brought Senator Snow, who you remember attending the Academy with a few years back, to your bakery for a quick morning business meeting, well, Coriolanus was hooked on both the goodies you make and you.

Yes, the imposing platinum blonde senator that's got a demeanor as cold as his name: Snow, has quite a crush on you.

“Senator Snow, your usual?” You ask, greeting the man who had just walked up to your counter with a smile, before turning to grab a small paper pastry bag.

“Yes, darling, I'll take my usual.” Coriolanus nods, watching you go over to the display case that the chocolate filled croissants are in. “But, please, call me Coriolanus or Coryo even.” He orders, although it seems like a request with how his baritone seems lighter then it's usual octave, as you bag up his croissant.

“Coryo?” You question before quickly realizing that it's a shortened form of his name- Coriolanus. Placing his pastry bag down on the counter, you wonder, “Do a lot of people call you that?”

“Nobody that did is left in my life.” The regal platinum blonde man confessed. Honestly, his confession took him aback since he would've lied to anyone else if they asked him that. But there was just something about your doe-eyes that had the lie dying on his tongue; had him being truthful with you.

And that's a rarity considering Coriolanus is a snake that charms and lies to everyone.

Everyone, but you it seems.

“Y/N, I only let my closest friends and family call me Coryo; perhaps we could further explore a friendship starting tonight during a business dinner your father invited me to?” You hear him tell you as your back:s to him while you're fiddling with the coffee press; filling him up a to go cup of coffee. Black with sugar- the only way he'll drink it.

Did you want to explore a friendship with Senator Snow, the presidential hopeful and frontrunner that your father, Colonel Javani Halvir's endorsing? It would surely make your dad happy, having you befriend the son of his late best friend- General Crassus Snow. But you're not sure if you want a friendship with a man who's life is in a political microscope.

It's no secret that the press stalks Coriolanus. Since he seems like a choir boy, you highly doubt that he is, the press is trying to find something on him to expose. And you don't need that kind of bullshit in your life.

Not after your bakery is finally seeing some success. The last thing you need is a friendship with Senator Snow wrecking the hard work; all the blood, sweat, and tears you put into making the Sunrise Bakery into a success. Into more than a hobby that's sucking up your father's money- those were your mother's exact words for how she feels about you being a baker.

“I won't be home for that dinner, Coriolanus. I'll be here prepping some things for tomorrow morning.” You tell the platinum blonde, who is low key scaring away your customers cause of how imposing of an aura he has, while turning around and placing his coffee on the counter.

The senator masks his disappointment with a tight pull of his lips. Pulling out his wallet and handing you his card, as he does every morning, he tells you, “You should go home for dinner, Y/N. You do need to eat and I'm sure you can always come back here and do your prep work once dinner's over.”

You don't even know why, maybe it's the slight sparkle on Coriolanus' icy eyes, but as you take his card you slightly smile and say, “Well, I guess I might be able to make it home for dinner.”

“I'll see you then, and if not then I'll surely see you here tomorrow morning for my breakfast.” He smiles, showing off his pearly white manically, while taking his card from you and putting it back into his wallet. Grabbing his pastry bag and coffee, he simply smiles and wishes you a good day before walking away from you.

Before he can reach the door, you call out to him. “Coryo, I hope you enjoy your pain au chocolat and sweet coffee.”

A triumphant smile crosses his was as he looks over his shoulder, giving you a nod and wave goodbye before exiting your bakery. Coriolanus knows deep in his soul that you calling him Coryo was a step in the right direction. That, before long, he'd be making you as obsessed with him as he is with you.

And he as all the time in the world to make his feelings for you turn into a mutual attraction since, after all, the senator frequents your bakery everyday.

Patience is a virtue that Senator Snow possesses and he's determined to wear down your senses with it by visiting you every day until you see that his obsessive love is exactly what you need in your life. Just like the pain au chocolat you bake is one of the things he needs in his life, the other being you.

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[stevesbipanic]

To my most lovely @undreaming-fanfiction Happy Valentine's Day love youuuu 💕💕💕 I hope I managed to do all three of your prompts justice (small routines, learning new things about each other, and ghosts of your past) ENJOY!!!!! And Ty @artbean for putting this together 💕💕💕

After five years together there's not a lot of things Eddie doesn't know about Steve.

He knows that Steve likes to colour co-ordinate the calendar on their fridge and that his favourite day of the month is the first since he gets to write out everything on a clean slate.

He also knows that Steve has a particular way he does his hair, and that it was a big deal just seeing it done let alone being taught how to do it, it helps he now knows Steve loves a good head scratch.

He knows that Steve is an early riser and always goes on a run, but will shower and curl back in bed with him if Eddie is still asleep.

He knows that there's an order to how and when he checks on their family. The Sinclairs are first, making sure he's waited until Lucas should be back from training and Erica back from Tracey's, calling there too if there's a sleepover. Next is the Wheelers, Nancy promising him they're all ok if they're visiting and Mike letting him know if she's available that night if she's at college. Then the Hendersons, Claudia inviting him to dinner in the background as Dustin regales his day. Max is next, letting Steve know if she wants to stay over that night. The Byers are the end of the kids, El and Will promising him it's really over. Wayne is near the end, back from his shift safe and sound. Before they dated Eddie was during this time too, helping him to sleep just hearing Steve's voice. Robin is last and she'll be on the line until they're both safely in dreamland.

Eddie loves learning new things about Steve, especially when now they're further and far between. It comes as a suprise when it's something as simple as tea that teaches him something new about his sweetheart.

They're visiting Steve's grandma, who was a lot cooler about the whole boyfriend thing than Steve's parents were.

"Your grandpa, Otis, had a friend, Freddie, who kept a picture of his boy in his pocket, would've gotten him in a lot of trouble back then but love like that was worth dying for."

She had been I'll lately so him and Steve had taken a drive up to visit her, now living in a retirement home in Indy. She was a riot in Eddie's opinion, and made a mental note to make sure they visited her more, he was happy to drive them, anything for Steve.

They were halfway through a game of Scrabble, where Eddie had successfully convinced Steve that Megadeth should be allowed (it shouldn't), when the question was raised.

Edith, yes Eddie also got a delight out of the fact that they shared a name, buzzed her nurse who popped her head in knowing there were visitors.

"Everything good, Eds?" Eddie's eyes twinkled in mischief, he was teasing Steve about the name similarities when they got home.

"A spot of tea, darling? I'm parched and I'm sure these lovely boys are too. Steve, sweetheart?"

"Oh yes, milk and two sugars please, but cubes on the side instead of scoops of it's not trouble."

Eddie's heart skipped a beat at his answer, "Eddie, you want a tea?"

"Oh um, yes, same as him, please ma'am."

"Such polite boys, we need more grandsons like you visiting," she laughed leaving to make the tea. It was surely just a coincidence that Steve took his tea like that, he's sure plenty of people do.

The real suprise came when the tea was set down, cubes on the side, and Steve picked one up and mixed it in, leaving the other alone. The game continued, Eddie eyeing that lone cube, a similar one on his own saucer. When Steve took his last sip of tea he picked up the cube and popped it into his mouth, crunching it. Eddie did the same.

"Done that since you were a kid, always a sweet tooth."

Steve laughed, "It's how my nanny did it when we played tea party with Carol."

Edith smiled, "She was a lovely woman, shamed they moved outta town."

Something settled deep in Eddie's heart. The rest of the afternoon it sat there, and through the goodbyes and hugs, all through the drive home too.

Eddie didn't mention it as they made dinner, Steve doing the chopping and as always Eddie dutifully stirring. The feeling sat there through the night as they watched tv, curled up in a blanket built for one not two. Nothing was brought up as they cleaned up, Steve washing, Eddie drying. It wasn't until bed, in the safety and quiet of their room that Eddie asked.

"Your nanny? What was she like?"

Steve's eyes lit up, "Oh she was the best, noone as good before her and no-one as good after. She loved taking me to the park, sometimes if his dad said it was ok her son would come too, he was fun, built the best sandcastles. She always baked me cookies too, especially if Carol was coming over for a tea party. And she would tell me the little extra sugar was a treat and that I should always have something a little sweet in life."

Eddie's eyes were tearing up by the time Steve finished, "Eds, baby are you ok?"

"What was her name?"

Steve's eyebrows crinkled, "Sarah, why? Oh." He said, remembering the dark curls that surrounded her face, the ones on her son, the boy laying across from him.

"Your mum, oh Eds, so when the tea? I'm sorry." Steve knew about his mum and how when she died it left Eddie all alone.

"Can't believe in five years, we've never had tea," a wet chuckle followed Eddie's words.

A sad smile graced Steve's face, "We should have more, need a bit more sweetness in my life."

Eddie smiled at him, "Knew there was a reason I called you sweetheart, and I clearly won you over with my awesome sandcastles."

A laugh burst out of Steve and that sound was sweeter than any sugar Eddie could eat.

[strawb3rrystar]

totally didnt trip and run here…why would that happen.

anywho, stolas x stellas cousin!gn! reader :3 idrc if its platonic or romantic this man needs a friend/someone to care ab him and actually show it (staring at blitzø)

if platonic, then it could be that they have a marriage of convenience and stolas is off put but them but they reassure both him and octaviva that they arent like their cousins lol and from there they befriend stolas and be his rock for whenever blitzø shuts down and pushes stolas away

if romantic then it could just be a silly slow burn with stilas veru confused bc he loves blitzø but also is beginning to like his new spouse?! (then they could talk and the cousin could be like “dude we dont gotta be exclusive. esp since u still like the imp dude. if u want, take thing slow, see where u end up and how you feel.”)

and when reader shows affection stolas is taken aback bc all the people in his life aren’t really forward with their own affections?

soz if this is lengthy 😭😭 i love this sad bird sm and just want him to have someone to rely on that isnt his kid or his BF

It wasn't just a marriage of convenience.

Pairing: Stolas x GN! Stella's cousin! Reader

Warnings: Stella slander (im sorry), very slight blitz slander (again, sorry)

Word count: 816

✰Masterlist

Stolas wasn't too keen on remarrying, especially when he found out it would be his ex-wife's cousin. He expected to be just like the rest of your snobby family.

The first time he met you, your beak upturned in a smile that could've been fake. But there was no faking the look in your eyes. The way you were hanging off every word as he talked. That was the most genuine thing about your family. Your eyes always gave you away. Stolas learned that quickly with Stella. Even when she was trying to be nice, her eyes always revealed her true feelings.

After the wedding, Stolas realized the heels of your fancy shoes didn't echo in the hallways like Stella's did. Her footsteps always sent chills down his spine because they were always filled with fury. No matter where you were in the palace, you could always hear her coming.

The first time you threw a ball, it wasn't for a selfish reason, it was for your friend's birthday. Unlike Stella's amazing idea of a 'not divorced' party. She would glide across the ballroom with fake poise, her head turned up at everyone who was below her. But you move so effortlessly and with such elegance that you could put your cousin to shame.

It felt odd to be living with you at first. To be sleeping in the same bed. But you mostly kept to yourself during the day. Stolas finally could get some peace and quiet now that Stella's constant torment was gone. During dinner, when you were all sat at the table, you would have an actual conversation with him. Octavia seemed to like you as well, the two of you would talk about things that she liked. And you would hangout in the library at night.

You weren't trying to be a new parent for Via. Or a new spouse for Stolas. You were just simply existing in the same space. Not trying to disrupt the environment before you. Maybe that's why he was just so drawn to you. You cared about his problems, listened to him, but didn't pry. Even when your cousin was brought up, you were never angry. You were just an observer.

But now Stolas was in a dilemma. He likes Blitz, but now he also likes.. you? It sent his head into spirals, rethinking the last year of his life. It was so bad he couldn't concentrate on the words in his book. Because just a few feet away his spouse sat at their vanity, putting some eye drops in their eyes. Stolas takes a deep breath, going over every outcome in his head. Before he knew what he was doing, the words were coming out of his mouth. "Uh, hey?"

This gains your attention, and you turn to him. But not just your head, you did a full body turn towards him. Satan you were so beautiful. Stolas would compare your beauty to that of the stars. Your head tilts every so slightly, your eyes fill with affection. "Yes?"

"I'm having a bit of a problem.." Stolas admits, setting his book on the nightstand. By the time he looked back at you, you were already sitting on the bed with him. "What kind of problem?"

"I think I'm starting to love you..." He mumbles scratching the back of his neck and then smoothing down his feathers. "Why is that a problem?"

You already knew about his relationship with Blitz as he would often express his issues to you. It was a very simple question, but it made Stolas even more confused. "Because I can't like two people at once."

He shakes his head, his hands in his lap. You raise an eyebrow, then chuckle to yourself. "Stolas, we don't have to be exclusive. Especially since I know how special that Imp is to you. We can take things slow, see if we like it. If not, we can go back to how things are, I won't be upset."

His eyes widen at your words. His body felt like it was on fire. But not the 'I'm horny' kind of fire. More like 'I love you so much I think I'm going to explode' kind. "Could I.. kiss you then?"

You smile, the type of smile that made his heart melt for you. You inch over to him, taking his wing in yours. "I would love nothing more than that."

It was one of the most love filled, passionate kisses that Stolas had ever experienced. His claws grabbing at you like you'd slip away if he didn't. Your claws touch his face delicately, as if he were a glass figure that would shatter if you pressed too hard. When the two of you pull away, Stolas buries his face into your neck. And the two of you cuddle into each other for the rest of the night.

Star's notes -> You know I love it when I get requests from you Adonis!!! <3

(Thank you, @sweetadonisbutbetter for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @samohxt2-0 @sunshines-bright @astrolovedy @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter

@little-miss-chaoss @sunr1s3-strab3rr1 | Join the taglist

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

WILDEST DREAMS.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x pregnant!Reader

Neither of you would have thought you‘d ever end up like this — dating for hardly a year and you pregnant with Aegon‘s child. Yet he still has another surprise up his sleeve.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, pregnant sex, pregnancy, lactation kink, semi public sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, praise kink

WORDS: 3.5 K

NOTES: Thanks to @lovelykhaleesiii for this amazing request! This can be read as part of the Mine and Mine only universe. 🤭

White Harbor has never looked more peaceful than it does at this moment. 

Just two days ago, the sky above the harbor was lit up by fireworks with thousands of people watching, and now the only lights you can see are the ones on the docked boats, and the street lights and buildings surrounding the harbor. 

Instead of a formal dinner with his friends, just like he has celebrated every year, Aegon has chosen to invite his younger siblings and their respective families to White Harbor to celebrate the New Year, renting a penthouse overlooking the impressive harbor. It was meant to be a trip no longer than three days, however, all parties involved have quickly decided that it would be better to extend the trip by a few more.

You and Aegon have been dating for hardly a year, meeting by chance in the very same spot you sit in right now, and, after you have found out that you both live in King’s Landing, decided to enter a situationship because you enjoyed each other’s company but weren’t looking for something serious. 

Until he got you pregnant by accident. 

After you both agreed to keep the child, you could swear you had spotted a few tears brimming in his eyes as you handed him the positive pregnancy test, you could observe from day to day how he became more and more absorbed in the father’s role. 

You’re seven months pregnant by now, and, except for the ridiculous amount of milk your body already provides for the child, you have little to no symptoms. The child has been moving quite a bit ever since you’ve hit the six month mark, but you have gotten used to it by now. 

Aegon’s arm is draped over the back of your chair with his fingers drawing mindless patterns along your upper arm, and you two bask in each other’s company and the silence surrounding you. You’re nursing your second glass of non-alcoholic wine, one hand resting on the swell of your bump and feeling the kicks of your child. 

While your eyes are fixed on the tv in the adjoining living room, the Disney movie still running that was meant to keep Helaena’s children occupied during dinner, Aegon has his eyes solely locked on you, watching you gently caress your protruding bump. 

He places his hand over yours, the sudden warmth prompting you to meet his loving gaze. 

You lean into his embrace, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his all too familiar, comforting scent. 

“You know they won’t come back, right?” you ask, voice slightly muffled because of the position of your face. 

Aemond and his wife left two hours ago to feed their little boy and bring him to bed, and have not returned ever since to do God-knows-what. Helaena and Cregan were a bit more persistent with both their children occupied by the television, before they eventually departed to bring them to bed, too. 

That left Aegon and you all by yourself without the hurry to get to bed. 

He chuckles at your words. “I figured as much,” he says, pinching your chin to bring your lips up to his. “We have this evening all to ourselves now.”

Knowing exactly what he is hinting at, your eyes take over a half-lidded gaze almost immediately, your hormones having you feel positively bubbly.

“And I suppose there are plenty of ways we can entertain ourselves in the meantime,” you purr against his lips, pecking them once. He has parted his lips when you pull back, clearly having anticipated you to deepen the kiss and not pull away after just one chaste peck. 

A growl rumbles in his chest as he’s figured out your teasing, and his voice is husky when he speaks again, “are there now?”

His eyes spark with the joy of mischief at his own words, sending a shiver straight down your spine. 

Aegon’s hand drops lower onto your hip, drawing you closer to him to the point you have to get up to straddle his lap. Just at the sight of the pregnant you climbing him, he could feel his crotch growing tighter, much more at the realization that it was his seed doing this to you.  

The skirt of your dress rides up your thighs as you make yourself comfortable to accommodate the space your bump creates. The fabric rucks up just below your belly, and your bare skin is too inviting for your boyfriend not to rub his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs. 

You rest your hands on his shoulders, and lean in to connect your lips with his. Aegon meets the kiss with passion, his arms snaking around your frame to pull you closer. Your lips press together with urgency, your tongues exploring each other’s mouths. 

You run your fingers through his short, silver curls and hold him tight to you as the kiss deepens. You’re both eager to get as close as possible to each other, and you feel the evidence of your proximity and his desire pressing against your clothed and swollen pussy. 

Aegon draws back slightly, and you chase his lips for another kiss. It was passionate but short-lived with him lowering his head to kiss your jaw. 

He caresses the swell of your belly as he trails his lips to your neck, shoulder and then your collarbone. You whimper and whine at the heat on your skin that follows his lips, tilting your head to the side to grant him even more access. 

Teasingly slow, he hooks his index finger beneath the strap of your dress and drags it down your shoulder, completely unphased as he starts to nibble your skin. He proceeds to do the same with the other strap, letting them dangle in the cooks of your elbows with your arms bent.

He brushes his hand over the side of your bump up to your heavy breast, cupping it through the fabric. “You haven’t worn a bra all day long,” he rasps against your collar bone, looking up at you with dark blown eyes. “Such a little minx. Bet you didn’t even think about how badly I would have to hold myself back, huh?”

The touch to your breast sends a tremble through your body, and you arch your back into it. Biting your lip as you look down at him, you whisper teasingly, though there is a hint of glee audible in your words, “not one second.”

His piercing blue eyes widen for a moment, the true meaning behind your words slowly settling. When he squeezes your breast, you tug on his hair in return, causing him to groan, and with his head already tilted up, he presses his lips to your jaw. 

“You’re a very, very naughty girl… mommy.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, and his words make your body hum with desire. 

You lick your lips, and bow your head to meet his, kissing him deeply. You start to grind over his clothed cock, eliciting sharp and heavy breaths from him and quiet whines from yourself whenever your lips parted for air. 

Resting your forehead against his, you rub your hands over his shoulders, squeezing them. “Mommy can be very naughty,” you say, pecking his lips once. “If she gets what she wants…”

“And what does she want?” The grin he has on his lips is perfectly audible, you don’t even have to see it. He knows all too well what you’re going to say, he just wants to hear it.

“You, daddy.”

You can tell he’s taken by surprise at the nickname, since you’ve never used it with him before, his eyes widen as he pulls back to regard you. But nevertheless, a low groan leaves his lips. 

Having always been insatiable and hungry for each other, it’s no surprise which direction it all takes when Aegon cups your ass and lifts you up to carefully sit you down on the table, standing between your parted legs. You bury your fingers in the hairs on the back of his neck again, and watch him carefully.

“Say that again.”

With a cheeky grin on your lips, your eyes visibly trail from his to his lips and then down to his crotch, the bulge perfectly visible. “Daddy,” you reply to the command, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. 

Aegon groans again, and when his hands tug on the front of your dress, you shimmy out of the straps to allow him to free your full breasts. It’s impossible for him to tear his eyes off of them, watching mesmerized how your nipples harden as the chill air hits them. 

You don’t even have to say anything for him to lean in and wrap his lips around one bud, skipping the teasing to suck on it immediately, swallowing your milk like a man starved. The stimulation and relief it brings has your back arching once again, all but shoving your breasts against his lips and into his hand. 

He’s pinching your other nipple between his fingers, coaxing drops of your milk to dribble down the curve of your breast while his lips greedily lap at your other. 

“Fuck,” you mewl, scratching your fingers over his scalp in a comforting manner. 

Aegon’s spurred on by the way your body writhes beneath his touch and your legs clamp around his hips, locking him in and prompting him to rut his hard cock against your clothed pussy. 

But as much as you yearn for the relief his lips bring you, the aching between your legs is too much and needs to be soothed by him. 

“I need you, Aeg,” you whine, grinding yourself against his hard-on. 

A deep groan rumbles in his chest at your words, stoking the already blazing need you have for each other. To your surprise, he pulls back from your breast with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your hard bud and his swollen lips. 

They are curled into a smug smirk, the expression that so often blesses his chiseled features. “What was that?” 

You sigh, biting your bottom lip to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You know what he wants to hear. “I need you… daddy.”

Like a man possessed, Aegon pushes the skirt of your dress up and reveals your cotton panties. You haven’t worn thongs in ages, and he’s used to them by now, though it took him some while. 

Noticing the damp spot in the center of them, Aegon scoffs. “God, fuck, how I‘ve missed you,“ he husks, his eyes solely focused on the outlines of your swollen folds against the cotton. He‘s not talking to you, obviously. “So eager to be filled by me, baby, mh?”

He fists the fabric between his fingers and just rips it apart as if it‘s nothing, briefly meeting your pouting gaze. “I’ll buy you prettier ones,” he replies. 

His hands curl around your thighs to pull you closer towards the edge of the table, and you lean back and prop yourself on your hands, watching almost eagerly as he undoes the zipper of his pants and pulls out his cock. The tip is covered in an angry red, beads of pre cum glistening at the slit, looking all too painful and begging for relief. 

Fisting the base of his cock, he drags it through your swollen folds, soaking it in your arousal before he presses the tip against your entrance, meeting resistance. You brace yourself for the delicious stretch, and release a shuddered breath when he finally breeches your hole. 

Aegon doesn’t know where to look and touch you. Every inch of your body looks far too inviting, and he’s sure he could cum just knowing that he’s the one responsible for the swelling of your body. The half lidded gaze you flash at him doesn’t help either, driving him mad. 

A husky groan slips past his lips as your walls squeeze him ever so tightly, throbbing and twitching as you choke him like a vice. “Fuck, keep squeezing me like that and I’m not gonna last long,” he rasps. 

One hand comes up to grope at your breast, while the other rests on the swell of your bump, splaying over it. 

As he pulls his hips back, you wrap your legs around them in a fruitless effort to force him back into you, but he is stronger and merely keeps the tip of his cock inside of you. 

“So eager to have me inside of you?” he teases, and your reply dies on your tongue as he thrusts sharply back into you. 

There’s a suppressed urgency in the way Aegon snaps his hips into yours so quickly and harshly, repeatedly bullying the sweet spot inside of you that makes you putty in his hands. The vigorous pace of his pounding leaves you scrambling for support, and you opt to prop yourself up on your elbows instead of your hands to steady yourself. 

Your head tilts back, and your mouth falls open, but you quickly clamp it shut to stop any wanton moans to fall from your lips. You can’t risk being too loud, as you don’t want anyone in the bedrooms far down the hallway to hear what you’re up to. 

The pleasure envelops you, and when you look at him, you spot him biting his bottom lip harshly, clearly struggling with staying quiet just as much as you do. What seems to distract him at least a bit is the way your breasts jiggle each time his hips meet yours, sending tremors through your body. 

Toe curling pleasure overtakes your body, and you can’t help but fondle the breast that isn’t groped by him, teasing your nipple to the point beads of your milk dribbled out of it again. The sight has him groan out, a tad too loud for the both of you.  

“So fucking pretty carrying my child,” Aegon grunts, the praise making your pussy throb with pleasure and your head fuzzy. He gathers some of your milk on the pad of his thumb, bringing it up to his lips to suck his digit clean. “Pussy or tit – you just taste divine.”

The obscenity of his words coax a renewed wave of your arousal to ooze out of your cunt, soaking his throbbing cock and the table below. You don’t want it to end just yet, but with the knot in your belly tightening, there’s no way to escape. 

Your heels dig into Aegon’s ass cheeks to slightly decelerate the pace of his thrusts and force him to go even deeper, intensifying the sensations you feel. 

“Fuck… please,” you whimper with your face contored in pleasure. 

Aegon wrinkles his nose, looking at you from under the strands of hair that have fallen into his face. “Need something, mommy?”

Your hips roll against his as best as they can, the swollen belly not making it easy, and your mouth falls open again with breathy whimpers leaving it. “I-I’m close,” you mewl, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Wanna cum, daddy… please.”

You spot the hint of a smile dancing over his features, before he peels your hand off of your breast to bring it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

His other hand has found its way down to your pussy, skilled fingers dragging over your bundle in the rhythm they have long internalized. He knows you like clockwork, knows what gets you going and what makes you take just a little longer. 

“Cum for me,” he pants against the back of your hand, not once breaking eye contact with you. 

You collapse on the tabletop, the coldness of the wood hitting your flushed skin sending a shiver up your spine that goes so devilishly well with the fire that suddenly courses through your veins. 

Just in time with your orgasm washing over you, Aegon places his hand over your mouth to stifle the loud moans and whines, knowing damn well that even though he can hold himself back, the same doesn’t apply to you. 

You squeeze his cock so tightly as you fall apart beneath him, your back inevitably arching off of the table. 

“That’s it, mommy,” he coos while he fucks you through the orgasm, the toe-curling pleasure overtaking your every being. He watches in awe as your face contorts in pleasure, taking pride in it since it’s him that’s responsible for it. 

Only as he feels your body relax and your breathing turn more shallow than heavy does he bring his hand back down to your breast, the aftershocks of your high clearly subsiding. 

Aegon keeps on going despite the overstimulation taking its toll on your body now, clearly racing for his own completion. His other hand shows mercy on your sensitive clit and instead pays attention to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. 

“Taking me so well, fuck, just a little longer,” he rambles, his head bowing forward to watch where he‘s repeatedly disappearing inside of your tightness. 

Your head lulls back again, and your walls flutter and clench from the overstimulation, in dire need to take his seed and bring it to an end. Both your hands fly to the edge of the table for leverage, while his hands grope every inch of your body they could grasp. 

Being overstimulated by him isn’t new to you, yet the moment the discomfort melts into plain pleasure always mesmerizes you. 

Your body feels as if it’s on fire with the knot in your belly tightening for a second time, the high approaching faster and harder than before. 

“Would’ve fucked a child in you if you weren’t pregnant already,” Aegon mumbles, and you can hear the strain in his voice, seemingly having troubles staying quiet. 

You whine in return, and it must have been the way your walls choke him for a second time, but Aegon brings his hand between your bodies again, pressing his thumb to your sensitive clit. 

“Cum with me,” you all but whine, eager to have his seed paint your walls. “Fill me up, daddy, pleasepleaseplease.”

The interplay of his cock bullying your sweet spot and his thumb dragging over your clit has you toppling over the edge once again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to silence yourself. 

But even if you wanted to moan, you couldn’t, not with the white, hot pleasure coursing through your veins. 

Your lips part with no sounds leaving them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

It’s not long after that Aegon comes undone, announcing his own orgasm with a stutter of his hips and a hoarse “Fuck, I–” escaping his throat. 

Your clenching walls are milking him for all he got, making sure every drop of his cum is accommodated and doesn’t go to waste. 

Two more thrusts are given to your fluttering pussy before Aegon stills his hips, collapsing forwards with his hands braced right next to the swell of your bump. 

He’s towering over you, a lazy smirk on his lips as he meets your gaze, and beads of sweat cling to his flushed skin. 

You rub your bump in circles as you look up at him, calming yourself as you regain your breathing. 

And you want to speak, but Aegon beats you to it.

“Marry me.”

A gasp escapes you as you process the words, and your belly immediately churns with arousal and desire. 

As his words ring in your ears, you lick your lips and gaze up at him lovingly, though something mischievous glints in your eyes. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

His face softens, but his lips curl into a smirk. “I was waiting for the right time, but I didn’t know whether it would come at all.”

You giggle at his words, and also roll your eyes, as it was typical Aegon. But even if the moment isn’t perfect, your heart still beats rapidly, having a hard time to handle the overwhelming emotions his proposal causes you. 

“But there’s still going to be a real proposal, right? With a ring and all that?” you tease playfully. 

Aegon chuckles and helps you sit upright again, cupping your belly with both hands. “Of course, you’ll get a beautiful ring and everything else that comes with it. You really think I’d half-ass something like this? You deserve the most extravagant proposal.”

You sigh, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body, his softening cock still inside of you and the weight of his words. 

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

[neesieiumz]

brontide || ──────── r. braun.

day three - SPITTING / HUMILIATION / EXHIBITIONISM

『 synopsis 』 ⸻ a night with your friends gets you into way more trouble that you're looking for.

『 warnings 』 ⸻ mafia!au. mafia-boss!reiner. the mafia part is implied but not explicitly mentioned. he also owns a sex club. sm*t. minors do not interact. humiliation. exhibitionism. spitting. emotionally-abusive ex-boyfriend. who happens to be floch. and who also happens to be in prison for five years. he calls you sweetie/sweetness. he's been obsessed with you the moment he saw you and sent your ex to jail so he can have you. one of reader's friends are also a part of the mafia and basically escort her to go to the club so she can get snatched up.

『 writers notes 』 ⸻ first day of kinktober! been planning this since august and I'm gonna finish it! By god's grace, of course!

『 word count 』 ⸻ 6.4k words

masterlist. next part in kinktober.

Laughter echoed into the night, and the entire group huddled together ambled alongside the wet sidewalk. Your arms were hooked around the arms of your friends, walking in sync with them as the rest of your friends followed behind you all. The air smelled fresh, of wet petricor and tar, evidence of the recent rain that fell over the city. You felt light as if your head could fall off your shoulders, the slight buzz from the round of margaritas you all had during your dinner together. The original plan was to continue the party at your favorite club, but you found the line to be too long and it was slowly ruining your buzz. So now you were walking through the town, hoping to find something to continue the fun you’ve had tonight. 

Before, you’d never thought you’d be out like this, with friends, wearing short dresses and a huge smile on your face. Seven months ago, you were a whole different person, quiet, frightened, and controlled by your ex-boyfriend. However, miracles could come in the newest forms as he suddenly found himself thrown into prison, which inadvertently caused your freedom. Ever since then, you found yourself living more and more free, living more and more for yourself. You packed up most of your things, sold what you could of his things, and moved cities and jobs, finding a career or even higher pay. With your ex-boyfriend out of the way, as well as removing him from everything you could, it helped that he was in prison, and it made everything in your life in order.

“You know,” you felt one of your friends whisper into your ear, “I’m glad you could come out with us tonight.”

You had met her not too long ago, the two of you running into each other while you were in the middle of running errands. Since then, you’ve assimilated yourself into her friend group and all of you are becoming really close, really soon. However, swamped with work, at your new job, you hadn't had a chance to step out and have a fun night off with your new friends, who were all pushing for the time with you, especially since you told them about your ex-boyfriend. Learning about how before he went to prison for robbery, and how  he kept you isolated from your friends, family and controlled your money

You smiled at her, lifting your hand up to brush a few of your braids that were blowing in your face, “I’m glad I finally found the time to come out.”

She smiled at you, glancing down at your dress, “and I see the choice of dress you wore. Isn’t this the one I had to convince you to buy on one of our shopping trips.”

The dress was black and short, with a long slit going up the side, with thin straps holding it. On the slit, connecting the two pieces of fabric were multiple bedazzled thin pieces of fabric. It was different from what you would usually wear, but as you glanced down at it, from the fabric to the low-plunging neckline, it held a certain freedom that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The two of you gave each other a smile, as the entire group approached the newest location, a club that had opened up recently. It was brought up by Michael, who was your friend’s boyfriend, and mostly everyone agreed to finish the night out there after dinner. The name of the club was plaster at the top, glowering in a pure white. The rest of it was covering dark red LED tassels, it was opulent in nature, and the towering building had your heart clenching for a moment. You lowered your head, now gazing at the very long line peeking out the door. 

“That line seems… long,” you mumbled, as you all got closer and closer. 

Your friend glanced over to you, squeezing your arm, “no worries, Michael knows people, he’ll get us in.”

“Tessa!” 

The two of you turned to see Michael waving at her, gesturing for her to come to the front. You were about to let go of her arm, but instead, she held onto it tighter, taking you along with her. The rest of the group made way for the two of you as you all reached the doorway. You could hear the jeers of the rest of the line, seeing your entire group waiting at the entrance skipping the rest of the line. You stood right before the bouncers guarding the door. They were huge, wearing tight, black shirts and heavy cargo pants. They held tablets in their hands as they glowered down at you all. 

“We’re ummm…” Michael started, “we’re friends of the owner. He should already be expecting us.”

The bouncer glanced between the group before his eyes landed right on you. His hard stare caused you to slightly flinch, but Tessa’s grip on you only held tighter, keeping you in place. Your heart pounding away in your chest, you saw the bouncer glance down at the tablet before looking right back at you, before turning towards his coworker. The two of them whispered for a moment, and then the coworker picked up his small radio before entering into the dark nightclub. 

“Come in.” is all the bouncer said, before moving out of the way.

You glanced around at the group but you had no time as you were pulled into the building and into the dark space. Inside, it was dark, you almost couldn’t see ahead of you if it wasn't for the white strobe lights constantly moving and flashing around the room. The music was dark, with a huge bass boom, you couldn't feel your own heart beating. You pressed your hand against your chest, hoping for a reminder that you were still alive. Before you knew it, the group broke up all going in different directions, you could barely see where the rest of them went. You could feel Tessa’s arm pulling you away, past all the ladies standing and moving about it.

Before you could even think, you were standing against the bar table, your mind barely getting used to the loud music, and the constant movement all around you. The bar table was the only thing with consistent lighting, with low back wall lights, lighting up the different stacks of liquor, as well as low-hanging black lights as well, causing you to see the working bartenders making different orders. You glanced over to your left, hoping to see Tessa or some form of her standing right beside you but you couldn't. If you held your hand out in front of you, you probably wouldn't be able to see any of your fingers. You let out a shaky breath, soon realizing you couldn't hear yourself breathing. You glanced around you once more, not able to find any semblance of your friends anywhere around you. You felt weird, out of place even, you didn't know where to go. You turned your head around once more, taking note of everything around you. At the same time, an empty stool opened up, allowing you to sit down and rest your feet. You were still looking around, but still, all you could see was the strobing light, now a mixture of blue and gray, and the crowd of bodies.

Suddenly a hand tapped on the one hand you had placed on the counter, causing your already jittery body to jump, your body flying right back around, facing the bar counter. In front of you stood the bartender, with short, blonde hair, and a white towel laid across his left shoulder. He wore the same uniform as the bouncer, with a black shirt and you could see the hems of the heavy cargo pants. 

He stepped back a moment, his hands in the air as he took note of your jumpy attitude, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, “sorry, I’m just a little jumpy, it’s my first time in a place like this.” You yelled over the loud music, leaning over the counter.

He smirked at you, “Well, I’m sure you’ll have a good time.” That's all he said before sliding you over a tall martini glass. 

It was filled to the brim with brown liquor, with a little bit of foam brimming at the top of it. You tilted your head at you, a questioning look on your face. 

“I don’t… I don’t remember ordering anything.”

The man shrugged, “it’s on the house, for you know… your first night here.”

That was the last thing he said to you before walking away, before tending to others sitting at the bar. You looked at him as he walked away before facing the glass one more. Slowly, you reached over to the counter, picking up the glass by the stem before bringing it over to you. You brought it up to your nose, taking a whiff of the cocktail. You could smell the slow-churned liquor, strong and expensive in smell. You glanced at it one last time, before taking a sip, the smooth mixture sliding down your throat easily. A slow, warm tingle rose up within you as you took another sip. Stepping away from the bar, slowly immersing yourself in the crowd. The crowd was moving all around, dancing in waves and into each other. You stood around, looking into the crowd of dancing people, seeing if you could find your friends anywhere, mixed in with the crowd. 

With nothing, you decided to move on, sipping on your glass as you slowly stepped around the perimeter of the club. You could feel eyes on you, prickly-like needles poking and prodding at your spine. Turning around with swiftness, you found yourself glancing up at what seemed to be the second floor, seeing people standing about up there. There was some level of privacy, with only semi-opaque windows showing off what seemed to be a private party. Your eyes glanced over from the railing of the second floor, your eyes guided to what seems to be a stairwell, located not too far from you. You could see two bouncers standing there, with a velvet rope keeping the general populous away from what seemed to be a more private crowd. 

“Hey!”

You gasped, feeling something cold prodding at you as you turned around, seeing the friend you walked into standing right behind you, her boyfriend not too far from her.

“Hey, I was looking for you!” you yelled over the music, taking another sip of your drink.

She smiled at you, giggling and crashing into you, most likely unstable from however much she drank, “sorry, me and Michael got lost in the crowd and we ended up joining someone’s randoms section! You should join us!”

The moment she said that Michael, the boyfriend, came up to her, pulling her away, whispering something in her ear. Your friend’s joyful expression soon faded, the two of them delving into whispered arguments, furrowed expressions on both of them now. Not wanting to get in between them, your eyes soon wandered towards the stairwell again. Two people, a couple, soon stepped up to the bouncers standing there, exchanging words between them. The bouncer glanced down at his tablet, much like the ones in front of the club, and scrolled through it, before nodding at his partner, who unlocked the velvet rope, allowing the man and woman to enter and soon walk up the stairwell to the more private party. 

“You curious?”

You jumped for the third time that night, your head whisking to the right, before seeing a tall figure standing over you. The first thing you notice about him is his olive green eyes, it was like they shined within the strobe lights. He had long dark hair, which you could tell was pulled back in some kind of bun. You couldn’t help but glance down further, seeing him wear a suit, his hands tucked into his pockets. He tilted his head, before the two of you turned your heads at the same time, staring at the stairwell. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “I guess I am, why? What’s up there?”

He mused, “can’t tell you that, but I can get you in, if you’d like?”

You narrowed your eyes on him, “why should I trust you? I don’t even know your name, and why would you do this for me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “feel like being nice for a very pretty lady, think of it as my act of kindness of the day.”

He pressed his hands around your waist, before guiding you towards the stairs. At this point the thought of your friend and her boyfriend flying out of your mind as you headed closer and closer to the flight of stairs. Your mind racing with a never-ending stream of thoughts, and your heart pounding away at your chest, you honestly had no idea what you were doing. You took a final sip of your martini, just as you stood with the man in front of the bouncers. 

The two workers took one look at the man, not even bothering to look at the tablet before the one handling the velvet rope unhooked it immediately, allowing the two of you to pass. 

“Enjoy your time, Mr. Jaeger, Mr. Braun is sure to be expecting you.”

Braun…?

That name was familiar to you, you had no idea how, but you heard it before. However, before you could dwell on it, your escort, denoted as “Mr. Jaeger”, pressed his hands into you, guiding you up the stairs. You took one last moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of your friend, but you could no longer see her standing where she was last left, and neither could you see her boyfriend either. You shrugged the thought off, remembering the short conversation with her about joining someone else within the club. The sounds of the club became more muffled the more and more you climbed above them. Mr. Jaeger took his time to take you towards the more privatized area. You saw an empty table, glancing down at your glass before placing it on there, hoping someone would pick it up. 

The door to the area wasn’t covered by bouncers, but it was hidden from where the general population could see the few viewings of whatever was going on within the room. Jaeger is what you’ll call him until you can learn his real name, open the door, gesturing for you to walk inside first.

It was much like the crowd downstairs, but smaller, and with fewer strobe lights. It looked to be a private party taking place. You could tell by the banner that hung up in which you could vaguely make out the words “Happy Birthday.” Everyone was up in a ball in the middle of the floor having the times of their lives, with people scattered about as well. You ignored the white powder on some people’s tables as you maneuvered yourself through the standing people. 

Before you knew it, you had made it out of the crowd, stepping into a cleared-out area.

You took a moment to glance behind you, seeing the heavy crowd, and all the bodies moving about. Turning around, you suddenly found yourself face to face with a door. It was watched over by two heavily tattooed bodyguards. The men guarding the door looked different than the bouncers, each of their arms heavily tattooed, wearing heavy utility belts around their waists. Your curiosity was slowly taking hold of you, as you tilted your head at the men. 

Suddenly, the two men in the center took a few steps to either side, parting like the Red Sea, as the door behind them suddenly opened. Your eyes caught onto the first boot that walked out of the darkness, your eyes trailed up slowly as the rest of him appeared from the pitch-black, darkness into the low, gleaming light. The first thing you noticed was his hazel eyes, they gleamed through the light, capturing your pure attention. His blonde hair contrasted against his dark suit, his hands tucked into his pockets as he stepped down the rest of the way. He stopped, just right in front of you, and the two of you locked eyes. You took in his entire form. Your head tilted just a little, as you looked upon his face, the clean-shaven look, the broad form, realizing that he looks so familiar, that you’ve seen this man before. 

Memories flash before you, tan walls, bright lights, sliding chairs, and tables, black suits, and a mean smirk staring down at you. You glance up, jumping as you realized the man has gotten closer to you, no longer standing on the steps in front of the door.

“It’s been a while, sweetie?”

Braun… 

It was like lightning had struck you, as your mind flashed back to almost a year ago. 

“Babe, what is this place?” You couldn’t help but ask as you looked around the fancy lobby area. 

However, he didn’t answer you as he walked up to the hostess behind the table, talking to her before guiding the two of you somewhere. You tried to speak up again, asking him about this restaurant he took you to, but he only hissed at you, before focusing on the table before you. It was a long table, filled almost to the brim with prim and proper-looking people, all talking amongst themselves. 

“Mr. Braun, I’ve brought more of your guests.”

The scattered chatter spoon became hushed whispers as almost everyone looked up at the two of you. At the head of the table,  hardened hazel eyes looked up at the two of you standing there, the intense stare causing your back to straighten up as he glanced between the two of you. He had his folding in front of him, resting on his elbows and he produced a glare so menacing towards your boyfriend, the only thing you could skin them to was the hard and nasty stares your grandmother used to stare down at you whenever you broke her stuff.

“Mr. Forster, I should have you arrested for stalking,” the man started, waving away the hostess.

Your boyfriend, despite the obvious and sudden sweat that dripped down his face, as well as his shaky hands, spoke, “yes, Mr. Braun, I understand, but I just really need some of your time to talk about this new business venture.”

Business venture… so this wasn’t a romantic dinner like you thought it would be. YOU could feel yourself deflating as your boyfriend suddenly let go of you. He reached down, pulling out the seat closest to him, immediately, sitting down, leaving you to be the only one standing. Flustered, you began to reach for the seat next to him, hoping to pull it out and sit next to him quietly.

“Stop.”

Everyone froze, as the words echoed through the nearly empty backroom of the restaurant. You looked up only to find his eyes on you, which only caused everyone else’s eyes in the room to look at you. 

“You crash my event and make yourself known, the least you can do is pull out your own girlfriend’s seat, huh Forester?”

Floch, already flustered and embarrassed, only turned red as he stuttered against his words, “Oh, oh right, sorry, Mr. Braun.” Your boyfriend began to move to get, to pull your seat out for you. 

“I’m not the one to say sorry to, and don’t bother moving,” is all Braun said, before snapping his fingers.

All of a sudden, a man wearing an all-black suit appeared right behind, causing you to jump a little. He pulled your seat out for you, making a quick gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a seat sweetness.”

Quietly, you thanked him before sitting, squeaking as he pushed into your chair for you. Glancing up, seeing Mr. Braun’s eyes on you as you settled down into your seat. 

— — —

Seeing those same hazel eyes sent you in a whirl spin. Almost a year passed and you could still remember them staring into your eyes just like that day. 

“Mr. Braun… the dinner party…”  your words tasted acrid as you spoke them, inadvertently bringing up the memories of your ex-boyfriend. 

His chuckle sent electricity down your spine, seeing him step a bit closer towards you, “just call me Reiner… glad to see you remember me, huh?”

“Yeah… I’m surprised you remember me?” You winced at your words, internally yelling at yourself for the awkward choice. If he noticed it, he didn’t say anything about it, only moving towards you even more.

“Can’t forget a pretty face, now can I?”

Your mind was yelling at you to move, but you could barely bend a knee as he towered over you, his hands no longer tucked in his pockets, instead, he reached up, his hand slightly pushing past your long braids that frame your face, before caressing your cheek. You couldn't help the shaky breath, the clench between your legs as you got a whiff of his string cologne. 

“Come with me.”

It was a demand, not a question.

He took you by the arms before leading you up the platform he had once descended from. You couldn't help but glance back at the retreating party behind you, seeing the crowd get smaller and smaller as your vision soon became surrounded in black. The two of you moved through the darkness, the music changing from the EDM-focused club music to something a lot slower, and a lot more sensual, combined with a lot of bass. 

It was as if you stepped into a new dimension. 

The atmosphere was different from the one downstairs. That one was exhilarating, heart–throbbing. 

This one was heart-stopping. 

Your heart felt strained, trying to pump blood throughout this entire experience. Your inner ears constantly vibrated and fuzzed as you took a step into the crowd. Every movement felt like it slowed down, you could barely see two feet in front of you, much like downstairs, but somehow, it felt… different. It felt as if the bodies were closing in on you with every step you take. You rubbed your cold hands against your skin, hoping to warm it up a little and gain a sense of grounding within you. You let out a shuddering breath, feeling the temperature around drop with every step you take. The music was loud, almost deafening even, you could barely hear yourself think. All you can do is take one step at a time, trying to warm yourself through the cold environment. You couldn't help the way you held onto the man taking you deeper and deeper into this new-founded area, digging your nails deep into his arms to steady yourself into this anchor of a man. 

The two of you soon pull up to this table, surrounded by other people as he guides you to a velvet-cushioned seat, before sitting right beside you. All the men sitting around were huge, wearing suits of all different fabrics and cuts. in their hands either held expensive cigars or lit up, causing the area around them to smell like smoke. This caused your face to grimace, moving your hand up to your nose to block the smell. 

“Smoke’s getting to you, sweetie?” A low voice came up to your voice.

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, a hand grabbing at your face before turning it to the right. 

“I always hated the smell, Floch used to smoke cigarettes, and would stink up the apartment too.”

“Heh, you’ll get used to it,” is all he said, reaching out as someone handed over a perfectly wrapped and sealed cigar.

That same person lit it for him, before bowing and taking their leave. You watched them just as he inhaled the first smoke. The smell hit you, your nose slightly wrinkling at the tobacco. Reiner’s arms kept you close, putting you up against the smoke as he looked down at you. 

Before you lost your nerve, as you turned to him, your hands rubbing down your arms to calm the chills that ran up your spine, “Why did you bring me here?”

Reiner glanced down at you, blowing smoke out from the corner of his mouth. He then leaned down towards you, his heated breath from the cigar ghosting over your ear. 

“Look around Sweetness, what do you think this place is?” He whispered into your ear. 

Your eyes glance around the room, landing on the different people moving about. Some people were standing around smaller stages, watching strippers easily glide themselves up and down the pole. However most of the people were standing around couches, you could barely see what they were looking at. Looking closer at one of the couches, seeing one of the bodies move, your eyes widen at the scene. You saw a man—no, two men, one towering over a woman and the other one having her on his lap. You couldn’t see everything, but you knew what was happening, what the other people were watching. Reiner must have heard your gasp when you spotted one of, what looks to be many events, happening on the couches.

Your legs crossed, a dull sensation washed over you. Suddenly, your hyper-awareness activated, feeling Reiner’s hand on your thigh. His hand continued to trace circles in your thigh, his actions causing your head to feel slightly fuzzy, combined with the smoke in the air, from the cigars and the heavy smoke machines. You could only sway with the beat of the music, your body grazing against Reiner’s body. His arm that was once weighing on your shoulder slid off, before trailing up your face, pushing past your braids, caressing the left side of your face. The roughness of his hands grounded you just a bit, your dropping eyes fluttering open a little to look at the man with you. 

“Did you like what you saw, sweetie?” He whispered to you, his lips grazing the outer shell of your ear.

You nodded your head, vigorous in nature, gasping as he didn’t move his head from your ear. Rather, he leaned even closer, dipping down a bit before pressing slow and soft kisses against your neck. It had been a long time since you’d had anyone touch you. Seven months since you broke up with Floch and even longer even since he had gotten arrested. A shaky breath left your mouth, your hands reaching up to his suit, gripping onto it for balance. The hand was touching your thigh slide up, slipping in between your legs, his fingers grazing up against the slightly damp fabric of your thong. The size of his hands, as well as his strength, made your legs begin to spread apart. You couldn’t help but glance around the room, feeling all eyes were on the two of you. Suddenly the hand that pressed against your face, its grip tightened, a gasp leaving your mouth as you suddenly faced him again. The sudden hard stare caused you to squirm, your eyes darting about. 

“Look at me, don’t look at anyone else… just focus on me,” he commanded, before releasing his grip on your face.

Before you could even think, his hand flew down to your hips, lifting you up and placing you right onto his lap. The first thing you felt was his erection, pressing against your barely covered pussy. His legs spread wide as well, easily taking up the space upon the seats you were sitting on. The people around you all easily made space, but you could tell that they were all watching, their eyes felt like lasers burning holes into your psyche. Yet, all you could do was focus on Reiner before. Your heart was racing, and you felt heat flushing throughout your entire body,  from his actions to the people staring down at you. 

“Reiner–” you stared before you were cut off by him suddenly pushing you forward, your lips landing on his. 

He tasted like scotch, with an aftertaste of smoky cigars. Despite your known aversion to anything tobacco, you found yourself deepening the kiss. Your hips began to grind against him, hoping to find that perfect rhythm. Underneath your dress, your clit throbbed again the thin fabric of your thong, your pussy throbbing with every movement you made. Reiner’s hands slide down your back, before cupping themselves underneath your butt, underneath that the fabric begins to rise up and crumble up around your hips. You could feel the air hitting in between your legs and the deep feeling that your thong was on display for those around you to see. 

Spit began to drip down from your lips, evidence of your intense makeout. Slowly, you pulled your lips back, your lungs immediately inflating with air. Reiner’s hands began to massage, almost kneading the flesh he clung onto. By this, your thong was soaked, and the area around his erection was slightly damp with your juices. His finger thumbed at the thin strap of fabric, pulling it as far back as he could before letting it go. The loud snap stung against your skin, your back arching into the pain, eliciting a slightly painful yelp as your pussy clenched around nothing. 

“Reiner!” you shrieked, your hands and nails gripping his back and shoulders, digging into his clothing. 

You could feel him smirk against your skin before his fingers lifted up your thong strap before popping against your skin once more. Every throb of pain had you clenching around nothing, soaking your thong and his pants even more. By now, your dress had ridden up to your waist, so everyone was able to see just what he was doing to you. No one said anything, they only watched as he grabbed at your thong, beginning to pull the thin fabric down your legs. Your nerves wreaked havoc on your hands, seeing how they trembled as you began to slide them down from behind his neck to his chest. You lifted your legs a little bit, helping him get your thong off. 

He held them in front of you, shaking them like a cat toy with a sneer on his face, and an evil grin. You tried to reach out and grab for them but he pulled them back, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he laughed at the way you lunged at him. Reiner pocketed them, before putting his hands right back on your butt, like they belong there. You gasped as his fingers teased along the opening of your cunt. He leaned over, his heavy voice echoing in your ear as he spoke to you once more.

“Second thoughts, sweetness?” he asked you. 

Despite your sudden fear, you shook your head, your hands suddenly gripping the fabric of his suit. 

“Good,” he smirked, “because I’d hate to not be able to give all these people a nice show.”

That was the last thing he said before suddenly lifting you up, letting go of his cock. You squealed as he suddenly turned you around, fully facing the audience you had amassed. Your heart almost dropped, you could barely even see the back parts of the room, with the way the crowd had amassed itself. You hadn’t relaxed just how many people were watching you. Their eyes never left you, you could see their hungry eyes taking in the scene before them. Your dripping pussy, Reiner’s cock, the way you whined and grinding into him, everything. You couldn’t help the way tears welled into your eyes, but at the same time, a forceful tingling heat wracked through you. The humiliation you felt rocked you, yet all it could do was make your pussy even wetter. Their eyes were magnets, sticking to your every reaction. 

He stretched your legs wide, the sticky sound of your pussy easily bringing in more of the crowd. Hips fingers, continuing to tease you, dipping down into your hole, smearing some of your juices at your clit. He spread your lips even further, having no problem to let all these people watching you get fucked. You let out a sharp gasp as you felt his thick finger beginning to prod at your hole, your juices dripping down onto him. Melting as he further plunged his finger into you, hissing at how tight you were. Your eyes glued to his hands, only able to watch the way he slowly began to ravish you, bit by bit. You bit your lip, restraining your budding moans as his finger slid deeper into you. 

“Reiner—“ you choked, your head thrown back as his thumb pressed up against your wet clit. 

Your hips ground against his hands, clenching around his fingers. Rocking against him, succumbing to the way he pulled different reactions from your body and your lips. Your moans echoed through the room, and you could hear the muffled grunting of some of the men watching you. You could hear their whispers, wondering who you were. You could hear the jealousy on some of the women’s lips, complaining about how someone as unknown as you could gain Reiner’s attention. Writhing underneath his hold, you couldn’t help the way their animosity elated you. You cried out as you felt his fingers brush up against your g-spot, your back arching away from his front side. 

“Fuck— I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum—“ your words were high pitched, feeling the sudden building ache rushing through you. 

Suddenly, you were left out cold as you felt his fingers abruptly pull out of your cunt. You had no time to whine or complain as a gasp left your mouth and your body jerked suddenly, feeling Reiner beginning to stand up behind you. His hands slide down to underneath your knees, further spreading your pussy open. You crossed your arms, heart racing as you felt his angry red tip prodding at your entrance. For a moment, you glanced up, and standing behind a couple people, you could see familiar olive green eyes, with his tan hand tucked in his pocket, holding a glass of liquor. 

Before you could fully register the sight, your body convulsed as you felt the tip of his cock easing into your sopping wet cunt. There was no need for foreplay, with the way you had been dripping all over Reiner from the moment he placed you on his lap. 

“Oh my– oh my god,” you whined out, your head thrown back as he pressed his dick into your further, hearing him grunt as you felt yourself slowly stretch around him.  

“Big—“ you cried out, “its too big, fuck, I can’t—!” 

“Aww," he suddenly interjected, “can’t what? Can’t handle it?” His voice was deep and laced with condescension. 

Your body trembled at his words, and despite the humiliation, hearing the slight chuckle in the crowd, your pussy clenched around, sucking him in even further. Toes curled, you could do nothing while stuck in his hold but take it, desperate moans fleeing your mouth. You could feel his hot breath against your neck,, his own deep-seated, needful groans echoing in your ears. Although your eyes were shut you could still hear the makings of the crowd around, still watching you take every inch of him. 

Suddenly, one of his hands left your leg, before sliding across your neck and face. It wrapped itself around the front of your neck, before pulling it and your head back. His face towered over your own, and your eyes were almost jerked open. His thumb was able to reach your wet, plump lips, pulling the bottom one down slightly. 

“Open.”

It was a single command, one you fulfilled lustily, your lips parting and your tongue falling out. With nothing else, he inhaled sharply before a decently-sized globble of saliva dripped down from his mouth onto your own. Most would find the action distasteful, but not you. Your body completely wrecked with lust, could do nothing, squeeze your eyes shut, a large moan leaving your lips as his spit slid down your tongue in your throat. You melted in his hold, your juices soaking your dress, thighs, Reiner’s pants, and even a little bit of his shirt. 

Reiner ravished you, and the feeling of his cock pummeling you continued to push you more and more over the edge. Your entire body jerks, the feeling of your climax building up within you once more. His heavy pants and the heated smell of sex permeated off of both of your bodies, but it was the quieted, hissed sound of a few people watching, trying their best to stay quiet as they reached their own climax. 

“Coming!” Your words were loud but slurred from succumbing to your incoming orgasm. 

With your toes curling, your body thrashed within his hold as your cunt squeezed around his dick. Your body melted further into him as your juices poured out of you, your pussy throbbing. Your hands reached out, clutching onto the air as shaky gasps escaped from your mouth. Underneath you, you could feel Reiner’s actions becoming more erratic, his groans following along with him. With no other warning but a groan, you gasped as he came all inside of you, his cum painting your walls white. Tears streaks stained your face as you heaved in and out. Slowly, you felt Reiner slowly putting your legs down, still keeping you close to his body. You winced at the way your legs felt, seeing how they were stretched beyond their means. The crowd slowly began to dissipate as they realized you and Reiner’s bout with lust was basically over. Some still stayed, keeping their eyes on the two of you as you tried your best to clean yourself up. 

You gasped as you felt him slowly pull his cock out of you, a cool emptiness filling you. With whatever strength you could pull, you grabbed the hem of your dress, covering the mess the two of you made. You could feel both his and your cum dripping down your thighs, ignoring the way it trailed down your smooth legs. As you sat beside Reiner, waiting for him to get situated, you felt a wave of tiredness rush over you. You stretched, letting out a yawn. With no other warning, Reiner suddenly stood up, taking you into his arms. You could not fight him off as he held you tight. Through your teary and droopy eyes, you could see the crowd parted for the two of you. He walked deeper and deeper until the smoke and darkness fully covered the two of you. Your body had no strength as your body went limp, falling into a deep slumber.

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[strawbsstarz]

Sunday Mornings: Draco Malfoy x reader

fluff fluff fluff!!!!!!!!!

~

Being a Malfoy meant being busy. Draco's childhood consisted of schedules on top of schedules, especially when he went home during the holidays. His parents were so influential in the wizarding world that his attendance in every tea party, every ball, and every dinner was a must. When the socializing season was over, he still wasn't free. His schedules consisted of horse riding, lessons upon lessons about the family history, taxes, basically everything he needs in order to become the successor. Lucius was, at first adamant with Draco's lessons, he wanted him to start as early as possible. However, his original plan was interrupted by his wife. Narcissa had somehow managed to convince her husband to wait a couple years more, wanting to allow Draco to be a kid for as long as possible without interfering with the duties he had to do.

Even as Draco moved to Hogwarts, he kept himself busy. He grew accustomed to his previous years of busy schedules and appointments, that it felt so empty without it. This new freedom he has makes its presence known the first week of the school year.

There's no doubt Draco was excited about Hogwarts and finally being able to learn magic, but he didn't expect it to be so....relaxed? He was busy with classes for half the day, yes, but what else was he supposed to do in between? What else could he do before lunch? dinner? At first he found himself sharing his free time teasing the other kids with his friends but it made him feel so unproductive. It made him feel like he was behind schedule by a long mile, and he didn't know how to spend his time wisely.

He tried to go to the library, researching more about previous topics he's learned from before, but it was all the same. He already knew the information these library books had to offer to him. He felt restless and uneasy, having nothing to do, that was until he met you.

It was so baffling to Draco, the first time he saw you, how instead of being productive and studying, doing your work, he found you sprawled on the Slytherin common room couch cuddled up in a blanket peacefully slumbering.

Is she mad? He thought to himself. He knelt down next to you and shook you, asking you what you were doing. You woke up disoriented squinting up at him,

"napping?" You said with a groggy voice before pressing your head once more on top of your arm to return to the sweet dream you were having, "just give me five more minutes..."

Draco stared blankly at you. How can you waste such precious time by going to bed? It wasn't even curfew yet, in fact, it was hours before curfew.

When you were awake and conscious of your surroundings, Draco didn't find you half as bad as he thought he would. You were sweet with a lot of spunk to you. He found you so admirable, so chaotic, so free, and before he knew it, he was tripping and falling for you.

He could never thank you enough for everything he's felt and done when he's with you. Two years of dating and you still surprise him. Even though you found similarities in one another, you still were in some way complete opposites. You were the type of person to go with the flow, to wing it. Draco needed a schedule, he needed reassurance of how his day will be.

On Saturday nights you always spend the night in his private dorm. It took so long for you to convince him to have a free day. It took many kisses to persuade him to at the very least stay in bed with you. Often you'd groan about being cold in the mornings needing his arms around you. He knew that you knew that he couldn't ever resist you. He knew that you would always monopolize this very fact to make him cuddle you for a half hour more before he had to leave to start his day. He always groaned, and complained how needy you were, but he would always kiss your forehead right after, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you closer nonetheless.

Without you in his life, Draco would have never truly felt the bliss of naps, lazy days and staying in bed doing nothing. He loves waking up to the smell of your hair, to your soft breathing, still asleep. He loves your arms that drape around his waist while you're snuggled up against his chest. He always felt his heart squeezed every Sunday morning at the sight of you. He would rub small circles around your back, or gently play with your hair while he waits for you to wake up.

After a couple of minutes he knows you're awake, but you refuse to look at him, refuse to open your eyes. A small smile falls on his face, because he knows that your little negotiation every Sunday morning would start if you opened your eyes. He doesn't say anything, though. He just lets you think that he hasn't noticed your consciousness yet, but you know. You know he's aware of it, which all the more makes your lips curl up into a smile, snuggling closer to him. He chuckles at the action before placing a kiss to the top of your head, an act of affection that's full of love.